~~~This is a prequel, spin-off from Ties~~~
Briar Hayes has lived her entire life being polite, never daring to express the crazy and wild thoughts running laps in her head. At almost twenty-five, stuck in the throes of monotony, she finally snaps...
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* "This?" A bright orange thong dangles from the tip of my finger. Chaz is already on his bullshit in a store where I've been browsing. Some stuffy, high-end place, price tags preposterous.
I'd ducked into the first shop I spotted after leaving the bar, wanting to clear my head. Anyway, I need to find a dress or something to wear tomorrow night. Chucky-boy isn't paying me any mind, robotically saying yes to every object I hold up, too preoccupied with a potential pussy. What else is new?
"Yeah, sure, that'll work." With his arms extended along the back of the sofa, in the middle of the small boutique, he fixates on a flirty brunette. The brunette who's supposed to be helping me. An employee at this establishment who's been using any excuse to bend over in his line of vision. We getit, you're offering your ass. Congrats.
She'd started out attentive and bubbly, bombarding me with options. The second this hooker waltzed in she did a one-eighty, trying to figure out if he was with me with me.Please. He'd scoped her chin-rest tits and proposed his signature service via a "let's fuck"look.
I huff and spin the panties around my pointer, though I'm not annoyed. He couldn't give less of a rip about this stuff, and neither could I.
Moneybags rented some rooftop venue for tomorrow. Private catering, DJ, open bar—he sold me with the last bit. But I didn't come equipped with party attire.
Chaz grants me a speck of his attention, though not before licking his lips at the chick. I respond with a terse smile, pretending to be perturbed.
I've got a penchant for p's today.
"Such a hussy." I catch the axes being hurled at me—more vicious than daggers. "No, not you." Stiff arms fall slack to the neglectful worker's sides. "I'm talking about him." I steer a lazy finger to Chaz, who has zero shame and gives zero fucks. He laughs it off.
Her taut face softens a tough, though her eyes stay narrow. I don't know if she still thinks I'm competition or something? What I do know is that her dress—a black strapless, small dip at the top—is just what I'm looking for.
"Do you have another of that?" I gesture to her dress with a hopeful smile.
"We only sell one of everything." Her reply is superbly snip. "This is a high-end boutique, we don't need tourists running around with the same outfit on. So no, we—"
"Take it off then." Chaz flashes me a devilish gleam before just barely focusing on her. She blushes, but when his stance doesn't waver her nose tips in the air.
"I don't think we're the same size," she says in a snide tone.
Rude.
He glares at her, abandoning any signs of flirtation, and to an outsider it would seem he's angry, though I notice the twitch of his lips. This is him, his role.
