The Naked Truth [Ryden]

Fourteen: Gee Way's Questionable Taste In Underwear

The cashier swallowed heavily as the six-foot-tall woman set her items on the counter, pursing her red-painted lips as she ran a hand through tangled black hair. She was slender, pretty, even - but there was something about her that didn't quite add up. Something about the cheekbones, or the less-than-feminine hands, or the chest...definitely the chest.

She looked down at him as he stared at her, and he hurriedly began scanning her items. Don't judge her...don't judge her...don't judge her...

"What?" She snapped, and he blinked at her, at the sound of her voice. Maybe she just had a deep voice. It was possible. Some women had quite deep voices. His mother had a deep voice for a woman. But - but under the thick choker she had on, he could've sworn that there was an Adam's apple. "What?"

"Nothing. Sorry." He stuttered, picking up a black lacy bra and panties set, a black sheer vest, a black silk thong...two black silk thongs...a black and gold corset he didn't even know they sold...

He raised his eyes to meet those of the woman's, hazel-brown and lined carefully with black eyeliner. She was really damned pretty, but what if she was a dude? He had nothing against that sort of thing, of course not, he'd once caught his own father trying on his mother's dresses and still hadn't told his mom, but still... She was wearing a weird corset-dress thing, black of course, black and silver, and it barely reached mid-thigh, with stockings beneath it (as he noticed that, he scanned through a pair of very risky stockings), and he didn't dare think about her underwear.

"Do you like what you see or somethin'?" She said, cocking her head to the side. She bit her lower lip, and the cashier's head swam. "Sorry, honey; I have a boyfriend."

Just then, a man walked behind her, stopping to whisper into her ear, "I've heard red's more your color."

She turned around, raising an eyebrow, to see Ryan Ross leaning against the till bank. "You're not my boyfriend." She said, and Ryan couldn't help but grin.

"I think I would know if I was, Gee." He replied, glancing at the cashier, who looked like he was about to have a heart attack, because holy fuck that was Ryan Ross, Ryan fucking Ross, and if that was Ryan fucking Ross, and he'd just called her Gee, then - then -

"That'll be eighty-three dollars, please." He choked out, staring at Gee Way with a mixture of incredulity and a weird sort of horny disgust.

"The things I do for my Frankie." Gee sighed, inserting his credit card into the machine and tapping out his pin with black-painted nails. "Thanks, sugar. Oh, and -" he handed the cashier a slip of paper out of nowhere, throwing him a wink as he gathered his bag and left the shop, Ryan Ross following behind. "So, Ryan Ross - if you hate me so much, why follow me into this wonderful lingerie store?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Way." Ryan replied, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't even follow you into Hell."

"But why not? I've heard it's quite fun."

The model scoffed. "Your kind of fun involves whips and chains and buttplugs Christian Grey would be jealous of."

And Gee's perfect eyebrows rose once more as they entered a dimly-lit coffee shop - incidentally, the one in which The Plan had first been devised. "Excuse you, but that asshole doesn't know shit about whips and chains and buttplugs. He just knows how to treat people like dirt and has selective hearing. I, at least, have some respect. Caramel latte, please." He turned to Ryan. "What do you want?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He did not trust this place, even less than he trusted Gee Way.

"Make that two." He led them both to a booth toward the back, sitting down and running his fingers through his hair, making an effort to untangle it. It wasn't working. "Like I said, you'd be better off calling Heisenberg 'Daddy' and getting him to make you scream." He crossed his legs, smiling at Ryan. "So. You wanted to talk to me?"