“Whoa!”  Missy dropped her remote when Pickles stepped into the room.  He looked… good.  He was wearing a nice suit.  His hair was even tied up.  She sat up in the bed.  “Where the hell are you headed, handsome?”

“Douchebag album release banquet,” Pickles mumbled. 

“You guys get banquets?  We had a party with some shitty DJ and finger foods.”

“That sounds more fun than whatever this is gonna be.  I dunno who plans these.  And Offdensen said we had to dress nice for this shit.  Those record executive dildos are gonna be there or somethin’.  God, I hate these things.” 

Missy grinned, looking him down.  From a glance, she could tell his suit was expensive.  It had to be custom tailored, because it fit him perfectly.  She was used to seeing him in baggy jeans and ripped t-shirts or just his underwear that seeing this was like looking at a whole new man.  It was one of those weird situations where seeing a guy more clothed than usual was a bigger turn-on than him being nude.

“Well… You clean up nice,” she said.  “Like, really nice…  Goddamn.”

“Aww, you’re just sayin’ that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  He then looked back at her, noticing that she was still wearing nothing more than the raggedy band tee and her panties that she woke up in this afternoon.  “Wait… Aren’t you coming?”

“Uh…  No?  I didn’t get an invite.”

“No one invited you?” Pickles said.  Irritation had his pitch increasing slightly.  “You’re my fuckin’ girlfriend!  Someone shoulda said…  Oh.”  He paused, like a realization struck him mid-sentence.  “Shit, I probably was supposed to say somethin’ to you about it, huh?”

Missy shrugged.  “Maybe?”

“Well…”  Pickles frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets.  He was quiet for a moment, looking at her like a kicked puppy.  “You, uh… want to?  There’ll be booze.”

“When is it?” Missy asked.

“Uhh…”  He lifted his arm to look at his watch.  “In, like… an hour.”

“An hour?  Shit, Pickles.  I can’t go looking like this.  I’d need to shower and do my hair and makeup.”

“You can do those on the jet over.”

“And a dress,” she added.  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“You got that black one you wore to the awards show.  I think it’s under my bed still.”

“People are going to think I can’t afford another gown…  And it’s probably wrinkled.”

“Aw, c’mon.  No one’s gonna care, Missy.  I wore this shit to, uh…  Something.  I don’t even remember.  It’s not new.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Pleeeeeeease…”

He looked at her with pleading eyes and folded hands.  She tried to look away, but she could still see him pouting in her peripheral vision.  He made it so hard to say no.

“Fine,” she huffed, throwing the blanket off of her and rising to her feet.  She pointed at him as she walked to the bathroom.  “But you owe me.  Big time.”

~

It was a long night.  Excruciatingly long.  The free champagne only went so far when it came to spending a night surrounded by a bunch of stuffy jackoffs while wearing the most uncomfortable heels known to man.  The one reprieve was Pickles.  The drunker Missy got, the more distracting he became.  God, that suit was doing something to her.  Her eyes were glued to him, and at this point, she didn’t even care.  It was just so damn flattering.  His shoulders looked broader; waist looked slimmer.  He didn’t have much of an ass, but from what she could see when he stuck his hands in his pockets is that those pants framed it so well.  She was surprised she wasn’t drooling all over herself.  The irony of the situation was she couldn’t help but imagine taking her time to slowly rid him of all of that.

She completely zoned out in the middle of a conversation.  First, she’d take the jacket off, leaving him in that sexy button up with the red tie.  Then, she’d play with the tie a little bit… Loosen it up, maybe tug him by it a little before untying it and leaving it hanging from his shoulders.  Next, she’d carefully work her way down the buttons of the top…

“Miss… Missy… Yoohoo!”

Missy snapped out of it, seeing him waving his hand in front of her face.

“Huh?” she said, shaking her head.  “Yeah?”

“I was gonna ask if you wanted another drink, but I think you hit your limit, honey.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said. 

He snatched two flutes of champagne off a tray as it passed by, handing one to her.  As he chugged his down, she sipped hers while watching him.  The fantasy from began to continue, and she ended up downing all of hers too.  He still owed her big time for this, and she was going to really enjoy the after-party payback.