“I’m taking you shopping.”

We’re at the table in the room eating room service breakfast. Prynne stares at me, her toast halfway to her mouth. It’s so reminiscent of the first morning I saw her in the restaurant of this very hotel, I want to laugh. The main difference is, this morning she’s naked. I wonder what that girl-next-door sitting at that table in the restaurant would think of this image.

“Shopping? Why?”

“I believe I owe you a pair of underwear.”

She laughs and kicks one leg out at me under the table. “You don’t have to. I have plenty more where those came from.”

“Who says it’s for you? I mean, I’m just going to steal them back anyway. Time and public place to be determined.”

She purses her lips into a twisted smile and shakes her head. “So this is how it’s going to work, you buying me underwear just so you can take them from me?”

“Well, I’m more interested in the act of taking them rather than the prize itself.”

“Does that mean I get to steal your food first?” she asks, right before plucking one of the pieces of bacon from my plate to chew on.

“Hey, do you want me to starve? I’m a growing boy here.”

She tilts her head to sneak a look under the table. “Not from what I see, though it’s still an impressive sight.”

“I can think of a few ways you could help out.”

She brings her head back up and raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Come here,” I say, putting down my fork.

She pauses, her breath catching slightly. I can tell exactly where her mind has gone.

“That’s not what I want.”

She swallows the bite of bacon in her mouth and comes over to sit on my lap.

“As much as I can’t wait to fuck your brains out, I’m happy to move at whatever speed you want. After all, I think we’ve proven that there are plenty of ways to satisfy each other’s needs in the meantime.”

She gives me a dazzling smile and a quick peck on the lips, which I find is exactly one of those ways to satisfy me.

“In the meantime, we have some shopping to do, so finish your breakfast and get dressed,” I say, spanking her on the ass for good measure.

“Ow!” She protests, scowling at me as she rises. She rubs the place where my hand met her ass as she returns to her seat and I find yet another way to satisfy my needs.

This waiting thing may actually turn out to be more fun than I thought.

“I was thinking of something you said last night before I fell asleep.”

Prynne turns to me in the car.

“I think you should call your sister.”

That has her straightening up and twisting around to face me. “It’s not that simple, Rhys. Like I said, there’s the risk—”

I stop her. “I think you’ve been using that one instance of hacking as a shield, an excuse to keep you from getting back in touch. There are ways around that risk and I think you know it. You’re just scared about how they’ll respond after all this time.”

I watch her cheeks get inflamed with anger and she sits up straighter to face me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t get mad, Prynne,” I say softly. “You’re lucky. You have family out there who probably do care about you, love you enough to respect your wishes for a life of anonymity. It’s not something you should take for granted. Trust me, I know.”

I can see it in her eyes, which are filled with venom. But underneath there’s the sting of truth she wants to hide.

“What’s the worst that could happen if you, say, used my phone to call your sister right now?” I ask, sliding in closer.

She just stares at me, but now I can see the fear in her eyes. She’s held onto this idea of herself as Prynne Dawson, lone wolf, alone in the big bad world, for so long that the thought of actually doing something to rectify it is scary.

We stay like that for a few moments, neither of us breaking the stare. Finally, she sighs and relaxes into her seat to stare ahead. “I don’t know. I mean, she’s my sister but it’s been so long. What would she say to me?”

“I hate your guts? You’re a terrible human being? How dare you get in touch after all this time?”

Prynne breathes out a soft laugh and shakes her head with a smile. “No, Hope isn’t like that.”

“Then do it. Today. Right now. I’ll be right here next to you holding your hand.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” I urge.

She laughs even harder now, which causes me to blink in surprise. “No, I can’t. You obviously don’t know anything about the Flanders Flock when it comes to Sundays.”

It takes me a moment to get it before I too start laughing. The P in my WASP pedigree is what one might call a very soft P for Protestant. That meant Christmas and Easter church attendance when growing up, if that.

“Okay so no calling today,” I concede.

“Especially considering what we’re about to do,” she points out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually feels the sin creeping through over the phone.”

We both laugh at that and when we settle down I slide even closer to her and put my arm around her shoulder. “So tomorrow then. I’ll cook dinner and you come to my place and we’ll do it together, okay?”

“Okay,” she replies with a smile. I can already see her beginning to relax about the ordeal.

“Here we are,” I announce as the taxi pulls to the curb.

Prynne cranes her neck to look out the window to see where “here” is. I’ve chosen Agent Provocateur, which is filled with slightly more daring fare than the pink lacy things still making themselves at home in my apartment. I’m curious to see what this butterfly looks like with a slightly more exotic pair of wings.

When I lead her inside I can actually feel the wonder radiating off of her. She stares at the various intricate pieces that look more like erotic works of art than simple undergarments.

“This place is…” she can’t even finish, she’s so in awe. Mostly at the lone customer, who might as well be a living advertisement for the store, assuring us that we have definitely come to the right place. Despite the sex kitten appeal the customer radiates, she somehow reminds me of Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz. Her platinum blonde hair is in a bob of bouncy curls, like something out of the 1920s. It’s a combination of sunshine, sugar, and sex.

“Oh, I just don’t know,” she frets, holding up a complicated ultra-sexy pink thing in one hand and a complicated ultra-sexy black thing in the other. She catches us looking and her bright blue eyes light up.

“What do you think? Pink or black?” she has an accent that practically oozes Georgia peaches, pecan pie, and moonshine, sounding like a more syrupy version of Prynne’s when she allows her twang to come out and play.

I have no idea who she’s talking to, but both Prynne and I respond.

“The pink.”

“The black.”

We look at each other in amused surprise. The woman just laughs in such a pleasing trill that both of us smile.

“I guess that settles it then,” she chirps with a shrug.

She places both pieces on the counter to purchase, then turns her attention to us as the saleswoman rings them up and takes her time packaging them.

“Well, well, well, don’t you two make an adorable couple.” Her eyes fall on Prynne, who actually flushes with pleasure. “Definitely black for this one, Mister.” She says with a wink my way. “She has a naughty side.”

As the pink in Prynne’s face intensifies, her smile grows wider.

The woman turns to me and adds, with a narrow gaze, “though you look like trouble yourself.”

When the purchases are boxed and bagged, she takes them and swings around to head out of the store, passing us as she goes.

“You two be sure not to behave yourselves in here now,” she teases with that fun laugh again. We both watch her exit, then exhale at the same time.

“How in the world can I compete with that?” Prynne asks,

I shoot one raised eyebrow her way. “That’s a challenge I’m prepared to tackle.”

She turns her attention back to me and a sly smile appears on her face now that the Southern Charm has exited the building.

“Well, as the lady said, let’s start misbehaving.”

With the store to ourselves, the saleswoman is indulgent. On the advice of counsel, we stick to black, which still leaves far too many avenues open for exploration. She did have a point though, black is definitely Prynne’s color.

With a bourbon in my hand and champagne for Prynne, the next few hours are definitely not appropriate for a Sunday, soft P included. Prynne models various items, becoming more and more risqué with each one.

Much like the customer before us, we can’t decide, so I buy everything.

“Good grief, it’s way too much money!” Prynne protests

“I think you’re forgetting whose lingerie this is,” I remind her, then lean in to whisper in her ear, “Or at least will be, once I rip them off you, maybe in an elevator with the security camera on us, or behind some trees in Central Park, or maybe at the club I wanted to take you to on our first date.”

She’s giddy enough from the past several hours of fun and champagne to giggle and protest no further. I feel like a goddamn king as I exit the shop. Prynne is hanging onto my arm with one hand and swinging the multiple pink and black bags in the other.

“Excuse me.”

We’re both too slightly buzzed to be annoyed by the intrusion, turning to the stranger with idle smiles on our faces. He’s with another man who has a camera held up already filming us. It has an immediate effect on my mood, turning the dial past sour and all the way to fucking pissed.

“What the hell!” I growl.

The man completely ignores me, his gleaming eyes focused solely on Prynne. “Is it true that you’re Faith Flanders of the Flanders Flock?”