Monday
Heath sat on the single bed and alternated between texting on his phone and surveying Aislen as she dressed in her newly arrived prizes. He raised his eyebrows as she wriggled into a lace dress and pirouetted in front of the mirror.
“Needs a corset,” she decided, diving back into the cupboard to find an under-bust.
“And a slip?” He suggested. “I can see your panties.”
“That’s sort of the point of a lace dress, otherwise, why would they make it out of lace?” She clipped the corset closed and then walked up to him. “Be a sweetie,” she put her foot between his legs, the pointed toe of her stilettos nudging his groin. “Do up the strap. I can’t bend over with the corset on.”
He slid his hand down her calf, his eyes on hers, before he buckled the shoe. “Seeing your panties might no
