D Is For Dress Up

Welcome back to the Fleshbot Book Club-your chance to get a sneak peek at some of the hottest erotic literature out now. Today's selection comes from Cleis Press's D is for Dress Up, edited by Alison Tyler.

The following excerpt is from "She Knew," by Clare Moore.

Deep down, she knew she was going to get screwed.

She'd helped him pick out his clothes for his new job. She'd helped with three jackets and five pairs of pants, and about six shirts. He had been back a couple of times in the last two weeks. She'd helped him put on and take off jackets. She'd measured his inseam and his shoulders and his chest.

On his third visit, he didn't bother going into the dressing room to change pants. He just dropped them there in front of her, and stood in his tight boxers. It was probably then that she went a little higher in his crotch when he was trying on another pair of pants. She touched his balls with the back of her hand, and kept on measuring.

He began to get bigger, and he turned away, embarrassed.

He paid for his selections, and asked her out, for Friday after the shop closed; for tonight. She knew she was going to get screwed. She thought about it all day. She thought about when it would happen, and where. She thought about what she should wear, so it would be easy for him, with a simple dress that would lift over her head in a flash, showing maybe a black lace bra.

Maybe a soft satin blouse with a hundred buttons, so that it would take forever to open her up, with only a T under it. She hadn't decided, when she dressed in the morning, and now had only about an hour
before he would walk in the door.

You had to wear the right clothes for a first screw. It was just a matter of how much time it should take and how hard it should be to get there. The last customer had long since left. She had to decide.

By the time the bell rang over the door as he walked in, she was ready. She was standing in the middle of the three dressing mirrors, so he saw her from front, back, and sides. She stood with her hands on her hips and her legs apart, in a mannequin pose.

He stopped when he saw her and crossed his arms as he stood there and took her in from bottom to top.

Brown wingtip shoes with black over-the-calf socks.

Very snug pleated and creased dark blue trousers with a faint pinstripe.

No belt.

Dark blue suspenders, buttoned to her pants, and tight against her chest.

A matching blue double-breasted jacket, buttoned.

A thin elegant white striped shirt, buttoned up to her neck.

A tight white armless striped undershirt, over her bare breasts.

And a silk blue-and-maroon print tie, properly knotted, hanging down her front.

No bra. And silk boxers. Black.

She was going to get screwed, but wanted it different. And wanted it to take time. He walked up to her. She pulled closed the curtain in front of the mirrors. She reached into her inside breast pocket and took out a deck of cards. She held them out to him in the palm of her hand.

He cut the deck. 7.

She cut it. 4.

She took off her jacket. One hardened nipple slipped from behind the suspenders, and pushed out the shirt.

He cut again. 10.

She. Jack.

She removed his jacket for him and hung it on the hook. It was one she had sold him.

Next, his belt. He insisted it was not part of his pants.

Her shoes.

Her socks.

His tie, his shoes, his socks.

He cut. King!

Ace!

He started to unbutton his shirt. She unfastened his pants instead.

He dropped them and stepped out of them. He was bulging in his boxers.

It was down to his boxers and shirt. She still had her tie, suspenders, shirt, pants, and underwear.

His shirt!

He took the deck and shuffled it. He stepped back off the platform and sat in the dressing room chair, in only his boxers. He drew a card, not looking at it, and tossed it toward her. It landed on the platform face up. 3.

He drew another card and, without looking at it, held it up for her to see. 5.

He got up, went to her, and undid her tie, brushing against her breasts as he removed it.

He went back to the chair and tossed her a 9. He held up a Queen. He pointed to her pants. She pointed to her suspenders, shrugged, and slipped them to her sides. Both nipples were hard.

8. 9. She started to unbutton her shirt, slowly, pulled it out of her pants, then pulled the shirt open to reveal her breasts and slipped the shirt off. He started throbbing in his boxers.

She walked over to him and drew a card. Ace. He drew. Ace! He held the deck to her. She slowly shook her head, and unfastened and dropped her pants. She stepped back and pointed to the mirrored platform.

He walked to it, shaking his head. Facing the mirrors, he slid his boxers down and kicked them off the platform. He didn't turn around. She could see him, erect, from three views. He shook his head and put his hands on his hips, and turned around, stepping off the platform.

He drew one last card. The fourth Ace. He held it up for her to see. She knew she was going to get screwed. She knew it was going to be now. He slipped off her silk boxers and grabbed her in his arms, and pushed her back against the mirrors, and thrust himself into her.

Excerpted from D is for Dress Up an anthology edited by Alison Tyler and published by Cleis Press.

The book is also on sale at Amazon.

Copyright (c) 2010 by Cleis Press.

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