‘My what?’

‘Your clothes. So we can fit your costume.’

I glance behind me, expecting – hoping – to see a fitting room.

Mr. Handsome sighs. ‘This is the fitting room, Miss Adams.’

I laugh a nervous laugh, and the babble comes tumbling from my mouth. ‘It’s Jocelyn and Michelle, isn’t it? They set this up. Just the kinda crazy thing they’d do.’ Another laugh. A dismissive flap of my hand. ‘So anyway, if you wouldn’t mind, erm…’

He raises a questioning eyebrow and I swallow the lump in my throat.

Without a word, he pushes to his feet, takes off his jacket and drapes it over the arm of his chair. My pulse races way too fast as he rolls up his shirt sleeves.

He takes the bat from my hands then pulls me to my feet. He’s so close. And he smells so good. Smells like sex on legs.

‘You’re wet,’ he says and my gasp confirms he’s right about that. The heat between my legs flushes right up to my face.

‘And that’s good,’ he goes on, ‘because you are about to experience the best, the craziest, the most outrageous sex you have ever had. And I, Kirsty, will be with you every orgasmic step of the way. Right?’

‘Right,’ I say in a squeaky voice.

‘This is no TV show, Kirsty. This is no setup. Right?’

I swallow. ‘But–’

‘No buts,’ he says. ‘Well, apart from yours.’ He laughs at his own joke. ‘Now, take your clothes off. Unless you want me to do it for you.’

‘I… I don’t even know your–’

‘Mr. J,’ he says, ‘call me Mr. J.’

‘Right.’

‘Right,’ he nods at my chest and I swear that despite my bra and thick jumper I feel my nipples tighten under his glare.

‘There’s nothing to be shy about,’ he says, ‘I know every freckle and mole on your body.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes, I do. Just like I know your favorite position in the shower, how you like to use the tiles to push that silly cucumber-shaped shampoo bottle up your ass.’

I gasp again.

‘…How you like to cock one leg over the corner of the washing machine when it’s on spin cycle.’

Another gasp.

‘…How you kneel on your bed every night and rub one off while reading trashy porn on your Kindle.’

‘It’s not trashy porn,’ I say.

‘At least you’ve stopped gasping,’ he replies.

‘This is a dream,’ I say, because it has to be. He couldn’t possibly know these things.

Mr. Handsome – sorry, Mr. J. – shakes his head. ‘This is no dream, Kirsty.’ He reaches for my arm and pinches it. I yelp and flinch away from him.

‘You are wide awake, and you are at the start of something massive, something rare, something few people get to experience, and you, Kirsty Adams, should embrace it, and go with the flow, let good old Mr. J. show you the time – and the cocks – of your life! Right?’

‘Right.’

‘Good. Now, take those clothes off.’

I’m shaking. I’m sweating. And my pussy is so wet I can feel it in my panties, but my hands are moving to the hem of my jumper, and before I know it, I’m peeling my jumper over my head and letting it drop to the floor.

Mr. J. nods his approval. His eyes flick to my jeans.

And I’m kicking my sneakers off, pushing my jeans down and stepping out of them.

My bra is old and off-white, it’s been through the wash so many times. And my panties are red. And big. A totally horrible mismatch.

‘All of it,’ Mr. J. says, and stares at my cleavage.

‘Seriously?’ I say in barely a whisper.

He leans forward, his mouth so close to mine. ‘Seriously,’ he says.

I’m trembling now. ‘This is no TV show, is it?’

‘No.’

‘You’re going… you’re going to… fuck me?’

‘Only if you deserve it,’ he says.

My clammy fingers fumble with my bra clasp. I give it a yank and hope for the best and it comes free. I shrug the bra away from me, push down my panties and step out of them and stand before Mr J. with my hands clasped behind my back, my tummy sucked in, and my tits held high, quite proud that my nipples are flushed pink and hard as bullets.

‘Now we’re talking,’ Mr. J. says.

He touches a hand to my tummy and I can’t help flinching. Can’t help the trickle of juices that dampens my thigh.

‘Open your legs for me,’ he says and my feet are shuffling apart for him.

When his warm hand touches to my thigh, I can’t help the little moan.

When his fingers slide over my wet pussy, I can’t help the little shudder.

But when his hot touch lands on my asshole and he pushes a long finger inside, my legs buckle and I fold into him. He holds me there, my nakedness pressed against him, his finger up my ass, the hard ridge of his forearm pushing at my clit as his finger searches inside me, and I come. Just like that I come, a whole lot of shuddering and a whole lot of wetness and I don’t know what to do with myself.

He straightens me up, holds me until I get my balance. ‘Good girl,’ he says, ‘that’s a tight little ass you have there.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, my breaths still ragged.

‘Don’t thank me yet,’ he says, and then with a sly smile and a twinkle in his gorgeous eyes, ‘it’s show time!’

He’s grinning at me, like he’s going to impart something amazing, or scary. Scary – I think it’s going to be scary. I’m about to ask him if I can put the costume on now when he holds up a finger to stop me.

‘I’m about to show you something extra special,’ he says, ‘something that might blow your mind a little, but I need you to focus, Kirsty. Embrace it, yes?’

I swallow away my dry mouth. ‘Okay.’

Another sly smile. ‘Brace yourself,’ he says and lands a hand on my shoulder.

There’s a strange sound in my ears, like the sound of a whoopee cushion farting, then everything goes black and I have the feeling of being lifted into the air…

…and dropped down to earth again.

The blackness blinks into brightness. I’m standing outside the shop – in the mall – naked as the day I was born and the place is teeming with people.

I hear the shriek coming from my mouth, see my feet running toward the shop door. But it’s locked, and Mr. J. is grinning through the glass.