Missy called me a half hour later. "Okay, where am I meeting you?"
"Victoria's Secret."
"Oh. Um. Okay."
I grinned. "See you in a couple of minutes."
I clicked off and resumed staring at the models on the massive poster displays in the front of the store. I knew they were fake. I knew they were airbrushed beyond belief. But that didn't make them any less unbelievably hot. I stared at every curve, the curves down below and the tight, perky curves up top.
No real person had a body like that. Me and Missy, at eighteen, came close. But our tight, supple youth would fade away in a few years. Probably in less than a decade. And even at our best, I knew we'd never look as good as the supermodels that adorned the front of this and every other lingerie store in the world. Hell, I knew that the models themselves didn't match up to this look in person. This was the product of makeup, perfect lighting and people who were way too good at Photoshop.
So they were fantasies. So what? That didn't make staring them up and down any less pleasurable. Knowing the truth did nothing to chill the budding warmth growing in my stomach.
"What's up, perv?" Missy sidled up next to me and joined me in staring at the posters.
"Not much. Just enjoying the view."
"You know they don't look—"
"Anything like that in person," I finished. "I was just thinking about that. But so what? I'd still fuck'em."
She giggled. "And now, you can."
"And now I can. Come on. We're going to make a few initial selections before Scott shows up."
"Oh, boy," she said reluctantly. "Are we doing what I think we're doing?"
"If you think we're putting on a show for that poor, sweet boy who won't know what hit him, then yes, you are totally correct," I said. "We're going to get him hornier than he's ever been before in his life."
"Pretty cruel to work him up like that and then not deliver."
"Who says we aren't going to deliver?"
