“It’s all stuff made to look old, but none of it is old,” I hissed to my husband, Jacob, as we wandered the “antique” store.

“I know. But she’s here and she’s hovering, so just pretend to look,” he said from the side of his mouth, referring to the shopkeeper.

I rolled my eyes, a bad habit I can never seem to break.

I touched a small bureau that was clearly new, painted, and then sanded to look “distressed.”

“Not only is it all basically new, this shop is deceptive,” I whispered.

“Deceptive how?”

“It goes on for miles. I’d like to run right out the door already, but we have to follow this fucking maze of rooms all the way to the back.”

He grabbed my hand and growled, “Behave.”

The proprietor, a short woman of about 60, with a dark-brown dye job, meandered into the next room. She adjusted items as if she was working, but she was following us. Maybe not following us, but hovering as if I was going to shove her “THIS WAY TO THE BEACH” sign — probably made in China — into my tiny purse. Either that or she wanted to be available to help should we need it, which we wouldn’t.

We stepped down two steps into a room of clothing. “Now some of this is vintage,” I said.

“Thank God.” Jacob chuckled.

“Why?”

“So you’ll stop picking on this poor woman’s shop.”

“But it’s all new — ”

That’s as far as I got before he grabbed my shoulders and hauled me in for a rough kiss. “Shut up,” he said, not unkindly.

I saw the owner flit by the doorway like a ghost, but I thought — even as overzealous as she was — she’d realize that following us into the little room would be over the top. She disappeared from view as quickly as she’d appeared.

I giggled. “Let’s look at the old clothes.”

Jacob plopped a cowboy hat on his head and turned toward me. “Yes?”

“No!” I selected a fisherman’s cap and put it on. “Yes!”

He looked in the tall mirror on the wall. “Um… no.”

I took out a Hawaiian shirt circa 1970-something and held it up.

“No,” he said.

He selected a polyester shirt from the same era. Palm trees and a tropical sunset were stamped across the fabric. “Now this… ”

“No!”

I pushed the hangers to the side, examining the clothing. Most of it was older than me. When I hit a pale pink full slip with lace around the straps and crisscrossing the bodice, I stopped.

“Now this… ” I held it up.

“For me?”

I rolled my eyes — again. “No, not for you. But me… I’d look smoking-hot in this.”

That’s when my eyes found the two brown curtains with just a sliver of light showing between them. A small space that served as a dressing room.

I glanced up to the outer room to see if our hostess was hovering, and lo and behold she wasn’t. I pulled my shirt off over my head and unhooked my bra. Before I could pull the slip on, Jacob reached out and stroked a thumb over my nipple. It went instantly erect and sensitive. He did it again until I hummed softly. Then he moved to the other nipple giving it equal attention.

“Better hurry and put that thing on,” he said.

I slid the slip down over my head and let it settle around my breasts and slide down over my capri pants. “The pants kind of ruin the ensemble,” I said.

His eyes were suddenly bright but intense in the dim light. “I agree. Take them off.”

I shimmied out of my pants and then my underwear. He ran a finger from the bodice of the antique slip down to my belly button. Then lower to outline the curves of my pussy with his broad finger.

“I teased his cock with my tongue, swirling it around like a lollipop.”

“She’d walk in if I pushed you up against that wall and fucked you,” he said.

“I know.”

Even as I agreed, his hand slipped up beneath the hem of the slip, caressing my thigh all the way up to my pussy. He cupped my sex in one big hand and then leaned in to give me a rough kiss.

I bucked my hips to get closer contact with his hand and grabbed the back of his neck to return his kiss. I slid my tongue into his mouth and tangled it with his. Then I rubbed my hand across the fly of his jeans. He was as hard as a rock, and I wanted him.

“Come on,” I said.

He broke the kiss and studied me.

“The dressing room,” I whispered. “Or the slightly curtained area to try on old moth-eaten clothes, if you prefer.”

I took his hand and began to lead him.

“We can’t.” He was smiling. “She’ll pop in at any moment. She’s a popper. She’s a stalker. She’s like a wraith.”

“Hey, it’s legit. I’m trying on this lovely old slip, and I’d like your opinion.”

I pushed past the long chocolate-brown curtains into a small room that held a few boxes and bags and a broom. A full-length mirror was on one wall. I pushed the curtains together as close as I could but knew should the owner drop by to see how we were faring, she’d still be able to see our feet. Oh, well. I was willing to take a chance and risk it.

“Do you like it?” I turned in a circle, dragging his fingertips along the smooth fabric.

“I do.”

He pushed his hands up beneath the slip again and slipped a finger inside my pussy. “Someone’s wet.”

“Very,” I said, grinding against his hand.

I backed up a step and dropped to my knees. I unbuttoned his jeans and pushed my hand into his boxers to pull his cock free. I teased the tip of his cock with my tongue, swirling it around like I was licking a lollipop. Then I sucked the head into my mouth but nothing more. My fingers wormed into his pants and cupped his balls. Jacob let out a rough sigh, and I smiled. Finally, when his hips shot forward involuntarily, I pushed my mouth down his shaft to the root. I began to slide up and down his erection, swirling my tongue, sucking hard, and changing my pressure and rhythm to keep him off balance.

His hands were tangled in my hair, and he let out a half growl, half grunt. His big hands cupped my face and held it still as he began to use my mouth to his liking. Excitement rushed through me, shimmering low in my belly before puddling in my cunt. I felt a flood of wetness escape me.

“Up,” he growled, using my hair to pull my mouth free.

He shoved me against the wall across from the mirror and gathered the slip up around my waist. When he raised my leg, I hooked it around his waist and pressed back against the wall hard to stabilize myself. “Hurry,” I said. But knowing that the owner could walk in at any second and see our feet — there was no escaping them being visible — turned my excitement up to a desperate level.

He grabbed my hips in his hands, squeezing hard so that it was nearly painful, then he angled me and shoved into me roughly. His cock entered me easily; I was wet and turned on, and I moved my body to meet his. One hand was splayed against the taupe-painted wall, the other was on his shoulder, holding on for dear life.

He pressed his lips to my ear. “You’re filthy. You know that busybody’s going to walk down here. You know she’ll see us in here. She’ll see what we’re doing… ”

“His cock entered me easily; I was wet, and I moved my body to meet his.”

He fucked me harder, and I pressed my teeth to his shoulder and bit him through his shirt. He growled at me, and I smiled, so close to coming. So very close.

He rocked into me, and my head banged the wall. I knew the sound had to be audible from the other room, but I didn’t care.

“What will she think of the slut in the slip fucking her man in what barely constitutes a room?” he whispered in my ear.

I moaned, my cunt growing tighter with every thrust and every word.

“You want her to know, don’t you? You want her to find us. Because that just makes it all better, doesn’t it?”

He pulled free of me suddenly, and I whimpered. Then he turned me roughly and pressed my hands flat to the wall, body bent and ass straight out, the antique slip tangled around my waist. “Stay,” he said.

I waggled my ass at him, and he tsked. He gave me one good swat on the ass, and the report from the strike was damn near deafening. Imagined or not, I swore I heard the whispery sound of steps coming our way. Like nurse’s shoes on a highly polished hospital floor.

He thrust into me deeply, one hand on my hip, the other tangled in my hair, yanking it like a lead. I bit my lip and tried to hang on. I wanted to come so badly I could taste it, and it was right there, but I wanted to come with him. I wanted it to be a simultaneous reaction of pleasure and risk.

He was on to me. He leaned in close, still fucking me hard and fast. “You want to come. You know you want to — so come. Because I’m not quite done with you yet.”

That was all it took. The promise of more. I let go and the orgasm took me under, making my knees dip and my body sway. But his hand was anchored in my hair and his other on my hip, holding me steady. “I’ve got you,” he said, and my eyes drifted shut.

His cock slipped free of my pussy and briefly skated over my back hole. I swayed again as he tried to reinsert himself into my slick cunt. “No,” I said. “Do it. Fuck me there.”

The floorboards nearby creaked, and I saw lights flash in the darkness behind my closed lids. She was coming. I almost laughed, seeing as I’d just come myself.

He pushed fingers inside my pussy, gathered my wetness, and spread it on my back hole. I heard him spit and then there was more wetness being applied. His cockhead pressed against my tight crimp. I released a deep breath, relaxing my body and welcoming his dick in my ass. I pushed back slowly, and he breached me. This time he emitted a full-on growl.

His cock slid into me slowly, and he said, “Fucking tight as hell.”

And then we were moving, him slamming into me and me thrusting back. I slipped my fingers along my clit, tracing circles and flicking it as my pleasure built. The hand in my hair gripped tighter, my scalp singing from his clutching fingers, but the sensation made our encounter that much better.

I glanced to the side and saw the shopkeeper’s feet visible beneath the meager curtain barrier. Her feet encased in sensible loafers. She just stood there. Not saying anything, no moving toward us, just standing sentry.

I swallowed a gasp and rocked back against Jacob’s driving cock.

“Shh,” I said as softly as I could.

He caught on and stifled his sounds, but he didn’t stop fucking my ass. Not for a second.

His fingers on my hips gripped me tighter, and I could feel a fine tremor had started in his arms. He was about to come. I took my cue and pinched my clit. I rubbed faster as my excitement spiked and the pleasure in me grew.

“Fuck,” he whispered softly. Then he buried his face against my shoulder and tried to hide his sounds of bliss. His body bucked against me as his cock emptied into my ass. I came with my tongue tightly caught between my teeth in an effort to stay as silent as possible.

We both straightened up, and I smoothed the slip against my body. I cleared my throat and said, “Hello?”

“Yes?” the woman said, but nothing more. The poor, poor woman.

“I think I’ll take this slip I found. My husband was… ” I had to swallow a giggle, especially when Jacob shook his head in that way he has when it comes to me — half amusement, half exasperation. “Helping me with the straps.”

“Very well,” she said from beyond the curtain. “I’ll go up front and wait for you.” I saw her shoes disappear and then buried my face against Jacob’s chest and laughed.

“Helping you with the straps,” he said against my hair. “Very convincing.”

“I tried.”

“That you did, you filthy thing,” he said, patting me on the ass. “Let’s go buy your dirty, dirty slip now.”

“Well worth the ridiculously high price,” I said.

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