Chapter 4

"Get. Your. Hand. Off. My. Ass." Amy said, biting off the end of each word.

"Toots, with that coat and anything else you get, you are bought and paid for."

She turned to look him in the eye. "You could never buy me. Now get your hand off my ass unless you want to lose it."

"What a tiger!" Grant said, not moving his hand. "What was all that earlier about Mrs Domesticity? Hmmm?"

She slapped his hand away. "Miss?" she called to the clerk. "If you have any jewelry on the premises, I would like to see your most expensive."

The clerk smiled and wrung her hands together.

Amy had picked out a necklace and two bracelets, and was looking at shoes again when the clerk came up and opened a white box to reveal a black negligee.

"If you really want to keep the Mister's attentions and affections, these are wonderful items," she told Amy.

Amy pursed her lips. "Let me see your most expensive lingerie, then."

"Uhm, this is our finest lingerie, ma'am. You... seem to have excellent taste and have only wished to see our best and --"

"Okay, okay. Let me try it on. Send the 'Mister' to the dressing room doors."

"Yes, ma'am," she said, smiling and wringing her hands again.

Amy looked at the girl's hands. "You work off commission, don't you?"

"Ma'am?"

"Never mind."

Amy tried the lingerie on in the dressing room. "Oh, Grant?" she called.

"Yes?" she heard his voice from outside.

"Remember what you said about being bought and paid for?"

"Yes."

She stepped outside, dressed in the black negligee, spun around twice, and wiggled her ass. "This," she said in a husky voice, "Is what you will *never* be able to pay for."

"I have a friend that could fix that problem, you know."

"And what problem is that?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"That left boob sagging lower than the right one. A little snip snip with the knife, and you could look as normal as any other woman."

"You shit!" she said, her lower lip trembling despite herself.

"Oh, don't cry. I mean, it's noticeable, certainly, but it's not particularly hideous. It doesn't turn my stomach to look at it, anyway."

"You fucking shit!" She spun around and moved back into the dressing room.

It was ten minutes before she came out, her eyes still red.

"Hey, Amy, I'm really sorry. Really, you're boobs aren't all that bad."

"Shut the hell up," she said emotionlessly.

"And look on the bright side. Allen seems like such a nice guy that he would never make a big deal about them."

Amy felt him looking at her, but gave no response. The shitheel.

"And will this do it for you today?" the clerk asked, still wringing her hands.

"Yes," Grant grinned, "Quite."

"Very good, sir." She began totalling the items and making a bill.

Amy, meanwhile, wandered back out the the vehicle, feeling numb. She guessed that she had asked for it, rubbing his nose in it like that. And she was sure there was nothing wrong with her breasts. But that didn't keep what he had done from hurting.

The chauffeur opened the door, and she stepped inside.

"So? Did you get him to buy you a coat? An expensive one?"

"I don't feel like talking about it," she said flatly.

Allen clucked his tongue. "I guess you did, then. Something I couldn't afford to get you, I guess."

"Allen, stop. I just did it you make him pay for showing off all night. There, now, please, I don't feel like talking any more about it."

Allen looked at her through squinted eyes. "You know, he may be right. You really don't have any limitations set on you."

She looked at him tiredly. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

She looked back out the window. Fine, then. Let him act that way.

"Whoo-eee!" Grant said, getting into the car as the chauffeur loaded the boxes into the trunk. "That is one hot little filly you've got there, Allen. Everyone in the store has the same opinion. I tell you, she was trying on and showing off some hot lingerie numbers!"

Allen jerked his head to look at his wife. She refused to return his look.

"She has one sexy little body! I guess she shows off your sexual prowess just fine, my man. Just remember what I said earlier about limits."

"Yeah, limits," Allen grumbled.

"I don't feel like going anymore," Amy said, not looking at the men, but staring out the window instead. "Take me home now."

"Amy, you are really --!" Allen bit off his words, getting a hold on his anger. "No. No, I am not taking you back home. You have acted like a spoiled little brat tonight. Amy, you were modelling lingerie?!"

"Allen," she turned to look at him. "You don't understand. It was --"

"I don't care, Amy. I don't even care." He turned his head to look out his window a moment, then turned back to look at her. "You are coming tonight, and you will behave. Enough said."

"Allen!"

"Enough said!" he growled.

Amy glared at him a moment, then at Grant, then looked sullenly out the window.

Grant tapped on the window to signal the chauffeur, and the vehicle began moving again. They rode for about fifteen minutes in silence until they arrived. The chauffeur came around and helped them all out.

Inside the restaurant, the front waiter recognized Grant immediately and escorted them back to a private, reserved area, where another couple was already seated.

"Allen, Amy, I want you to meet Douglass Lockhead and his beautiful wife Ginger. They work for one of my previous affiliate corporations. Douglass, Ginger, these are the Keiths. Amy here played with my daughter when they were both children, and Allen, though I've just met him, seems like one of my oldest friends."

"Glad to meet you," Allen said, extending his hand to Douglass.

"Likewise," Douglass said, shaking hands. "I think I've heard you speak of Amy," he said, extending his hand towards her.

"Hi," Amy said dully, ignoring Douglass's hand.

"If you gentlemen will excuse us ladies, I think we need to powder our noses," Ginger spoke up and led Amy by the hand to the powder room up the hall.

"So what is it?" she asked Amy once they had entered.

"What's what?" Amy asked tiredly.

"You're upset over something."

"Gee, does it really show?"

"Don't be sarcastic. We ladies have to deal with our emotions. Otherwise, they'll just get away from us and make us into ugly bitches."

Amy stared at the woman for a moment. "We had a fight. That's all."

"It's hard for us women to understand men sometimes," she said, opening her purse and removing a makeup case.

"And sometimes they're just assholes."

"I guess it can seem that way," she said and giggled. "By the way, I know someone that could fix that."

"Fix what?"

"Your nose, silly," Ginger giggled. "I mean, I know everyone around here is much to polite to comment on it being crooked, but I think you would feel better if you had it fixed. How did you break it, dear? In a fight with some boy when you were a child?"

"Excuse me, but my nose has never been broken," she said icily.

"Oh." She dusted a little more powder on her nose. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." She put the compact back in her purse. "But if you ever do want to get it fixed properly, I know a wonderful surgeon."

Amy walked out of the powder room then, and Ginger followed her back to the table.

Douglass stood and took Amy's hand. "It's a tradition at Lambert's to dance before the dinner."

"I really don't feel like dancing just now."

"Oh, come. A beautiful woman like you wouldn't deprive a hard-working soul like me a simple dance, would you?" He smiled. "Please?"

"I... I really just don't feel like --"

"Come," he said, pulling her out away from the table. Amy finally relented and put her hands on his shoulders.

They danced like that a few moments, then Douglass pulled her closer. "A pretty face like yours shouldn't frown so much."

"I've just had a very rotten day. That's all."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Not really, no."

Douglass's hands wandered over Amy's back as they danced, and twice wandered to her buttocks, but he moved them back up before she could say anything. The third time he tried that she pulled away from him. "Well, I think that's enough," she said and walked back to the table.

Ginger was sitting on Allen's lap when Amy reached the table. "Oh, Amy!" she said, "You've got such a yummy husband!"

"I think you mean 'scummy', dahling."

"What's the matter, 'honey'?" Allen asked. "Afraid someone might be interested in me while you're out there copping feels while you dance?"

Amy made a face and pulled her chair out to sit down.

"Hey!" Grant barked out. "Did your husband give you permission to sit?"

"I don't *need* my husband's permission to sit." She started to seat herself, but stopped. "I don't need to take any of this. Allen, I'm going home now. Are you going to get me there, or do I need to call a taxi?"

"Amy," he said, then kissed the blonde Ginger on the lips, "You are not going anywhere. You've been without limits for far too long. That's my fault, really. But for your own sake, I'm going to have to begin asserting them now."

"Allen, you can go to hell."

"Amy, step back from the table," Grant told her.

"You are a bizarre bunch of people."

"Step back from the table."

"Allen!"

"Do as he says, dear."

"Allen!"

"Amy, step back from the table. I won't tell you again."

"Allen, make him stop!"

"She *is* a stubborn one," Ginger said, rubbing her hand around on Allen's chest.

"Allen, please! Make him stop! Let's go home!" she whined.

"Amy..." Grant threatened.

Amy stepped back from the table.

"Douglass," Grant said.

Douglass stepped behind Amy and began unzipping her dress.

"Stop that!" she wriggled.

"Amy, be still," Allen told her.

"But Allen! He's --"

"Be still!"

Amy stood still, while Douglass unzipped her dress all the way and eased it down the front off her shoulders.

"Allen! He's going to expose my slip!"

Douglass groped her ass through the dress, and Amy wriggled again, accidentally letting the dress slip to her waist.

"Allen! Make them stop now!"

"Amy, hush."

"Douglass, finish the job."

Douglass pushed the dress down past Amy's waist, leaving her standing there in her white silk slip and panties.

"Look at her nipples through the slip," Ginger remarked. "Oh, you can tell she is really liking this!"

She knew that the blonde was right. Why?! Why was she so thrilled by all of this? She had never been turned on by anything like this before!

"Aaalllleeeenn!" she wailed, writhing. "Make them stop!"

"Honey, we're just setting some limits for you to respect."

"But, Allen..."

"Take off your slip, little girl," Grant ordered.

"Allen! Please! Make them stop this!"

"Do it, Amy."

"But, Allen --"