Page 56 of Under the Radar
“Here you go. Feel free to use the dressing room on the far wall.”
A waiter slipped a plate of dessert samples in front of Mac as he struggled to focus on the food tasting. Snapping his napkin into place, he forked a tiny piece of lemon tart. It was delicious, but the only sweet thing he craved right now was Mo Reardon. He’d peel that wet-look lingerie off of her one inch at a time. Helga’s perky voice burst through his earpiece and he stopped chewing.
“Oh, yes. You look stunning and those heels are perfect. Do you like it?”
“Wow. It certainly uplifts my bust. But it’s snug, and I have no idea what to do with all these straps.”
“Let me show you. Arrange them so they’re comfortable, line them up with the zipper pull and cinch. There you go.”
“And the key?”
“Well, the only way to get out of this bodysuit is by unlocking the straps. The key fits into the back of the zipper pull. This feature is what makes it part of our naughtier line. We call it The Iron Maiden.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You give the key to whoever helps you out of the bodysuit. Just keep it in a safe place.”
Mac moaned. The entire table stopped talking and stared at him. Oh, shit. He set the fork down and lifted his water glass in toast to the pastry chef. “I do believe this chocolate ganache is beyond exquisite. You’ve outdone yourself, Henri.” Celebratory cheers and backslapping commenced among the staff.
Mac rose, confiscated a tray of sample desserts and graciously exited the private dining room. He had big plans for these sweet treats. After listening to Mo and Helga discuss The Iron Maiden, he could fly a flag on his boner.
Thank goodness he’d worn trousers today with a built-in cup.
* * *
Mo dumped her purse in the bathroom sink. She could barely breathe in the too-small bodysuit. Where the hell was the key? She’d tucked the little bugger in the teddy by her left boob, and couldn’t find it. Where’d it go? She’d already been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes.
Mac knocked softly on the door. “Can I interest you in a glass of wine?”
Mo sifted faster through the contents in the sink. “Not right now. Thanks for asking,” she chirped. Scowling at the perspiration on her face, she stared resolutely into the mirror. Where is it? Leaning closer, Mo gasped. The outline of the little key was several inches to the left of her waist. How the heck did it get down there? The bodysuit was so tight her tits wouldn’t even bounce.
Omigosh.Mo shoved her hand down the middle but couldn’t move her fingers past the bustline. The leather had no stretch, as if glued to her body. Okay, okay. Taking a deep breath, she eyed the leg opening. Maybe her hand would fit where the torso joined the thigh? Placing her foot on the toilet seat to make the distance as short as possible, she wriggled two fingers in at the bottom but the fabric’s taut resistance stymied further progress. Crap! Swearing at the frozen zipper pull and straps wasn’t accomplishing anything. I need help. Opening the bathroom door, she reached back and wrapped a towel around herself.
Mac was sitting in an arm chair with his long, steepled fingers resting against his lips.
Well, here I go.“Could you assist me, please?”
A bemused expression crossed his face. “Of course. What do you need?”
Mo dropped the towel. “I bought this bodysuit, and I can’t get it off.”
Mac gave a low whistle and rose from his chair. “You naughty girl, aren’t you full of surprises?” He slowly circled her body trailing a finger on her hips. “You bought an Iron Maiden. I never figured you as the bondage type.”
Wha—what? “This is a bondage outfit?” Shit. “All I wanted was a wet-look teddy, and I stuck the key inside by my boob, but somehow it moved, and now it’s down here,” she murmured, pointing to the key.
Mac quirked an eyebrow.
Mo held up a hand. “I know, I know. You’ve warned me not to store things in my cleavage. Now is not the time to remind me. I’m very uncomfortable and it’s stuck to my skin.” She put her head in her hands. “I really need your help.”
Mac ran his hands down her arms. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it off. The challenge with an Iron Maiden is that the material kind of melts onto your body. It’s part of the whole pain versus pleasure experience.”
Omigosh. Her brow furrowed. “Will it hurt to take off?”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”
“How do you know these things?”
Mac tapped his earpiece. “I heard you in the lingerie shop and Googled it.” He pulled a chair out from the table. “Sit here. I’ll stand behind you and work my hand down through the top.”