Shelby - Mandy Harbin Page 0,47
weeks I’ve been doing a lot of research. I’m intrigued. Like, maybe it could be something to try if Dave’s game. No way would he go to a club like this without a reason, but if I can get him there for work and we both check it out then maybe he might open up to it.”
“And what if you don’t like it once you get there?”
She chewed her lip before finally saying, “Regardless, I think it’s worth a shot.”
“I don’t know—”
“Look, Shelby. It’s perfect. I’ll be there working—and I will be working—and Dave gets exposed to something he otherwise wouldn’t. If I approach him with the idea out of the blue, he’d think I was crazy…or worse, take offense. If I get him in the club and let him absorb it on his own, then maybe he’d be open to experiment a little.”
Slowly, Shelby nodded. Viola had thought this through, and what she said made sense. Except for one detail. “And you’re dressing up because?”
She flicked her blonde locks and turned back to the clothes. “Because I’m not stupid. If we go and Dave sees me wearing jeans, it’ll be harder for him to fantasize about me. I need to look the part so his brain will be willing to cast me.”
“What about Showalter?” Her throat tightened around his name. She hadn’t said his first name aloud since he’d reprimanded her. She was torn between wanting to use it because of the closeness it represented and not wanting to use it because that was Mason’s wish. Regardless of her verbalizing it, he’d still be Mason to her in her mind.
“What about him? He’s your objective, not mine.” She shrugged her shoulders and kept searching.
“True, but it doesn’t make sense for my overprotective friend to show up dressed for sexing and not chaperoning.”
Viola turned and put her hand on her hip. “I’m your friend. I’m not dead below the waist. It’s completely plausible for me to dress up to come to this club. Hell, from what you said about the night you met him, you’d dressed like a Domme in your attempt to look the part of someone into the lifestyle. It’s probably common practice for patrons to dress for the occasion. As your concerned friend, I’d be more worried about being kicked out because of some dress code violation if I show up in my sneakers. Your friend wants to blend in.”
Though it wasn’t as ideal, Shelby knew it had the potential to work. She’d told Mason at their first scene that Viola would come busting in if she didn’t meet her afterward. As far as he knew, her friend was crazy enough to do it…and crazy enough to show up dressed in an outrageous outfit because she believed that was what people wore to clubs like his. “Okay, but maybe you should be one hundred percent the pissed off friend. If you talk to him or any of the partners, you could even complain about whatever you have on.”
Viola wagged her eyebrows. “Does this mean I wear something really outlandish?”
“Whore it up, baby. Whore it up.”
Viola squealed and rushed over to another section of clothing while Shelby hid her smile. They spent the next forty-five minutes rummaging around, looking for the perfect ensembles. She didn’t have any luck finding an official French maid costume, but she did find a short Alice in Wonderland style dress that she could use. The right accessories and a feather duster, and no one would be expecting a White Rabbit to pop up anywhere around her.
But it was tame compared to what Viola had picked out. It looked as if it was made with belts and nothing else. Very bondage-inspired.
After they paid for the haul, the girls headed to Viola’s car to drop off their goods before grabbing a bite to eat. Shelby felt her phone buzzing in her purse, but had her hands too full to fish it out. Once they got to the car, she felt it go off again, but this time, she heard the sound alerting her of the text message she’d received. She shoved her bags into the backseat, pulled out her phone, and gasped.
Mason had called.
Mason had sent the text.
“What is it?” Viola asked when she saw Shelby staring at her phone, not moving.
“Showalter.”
Viola rushed around the car. “Let me see.”
Shelby yanked the phone back out of her grasp. “I haven’t even read it yet.” She was almost too afraid to see what he had to say.
“What