The Unidentified Redhead by Alice Clayton

A “you go, girl” thrill rolled through me, but it could have also been the lack of oxygen from the denim restricting my air supply. I couldn’t believe how tight these jeans were, although I was damn proud to be wearing them. I pulled with all my might as the zipper finally closed, leaving me breathless. Okay, hold your breath,” she said, and grabbed the button of my jeans. I’d like to get the girls back under wraps,” I answered, struggling to stay on the bed at this odd angle. a little help? I’m giving a full salute here. “Do I need to get a pair of pliers and pull the zipper up myself? Didn’t we see that done in a movie once?” she mused. “Sweet rack,” she said, acknowledging my bra. And, mother-of-pearl, she was almost always right. Holly had always had a way of getting me to do things she wanted me to do, under the guise that she knew what was best for me. I was laid out flat on the sheets in a charming lacy peach bra, halfway in and out of the damn jeans that she had convinced me to buy, even though I knew I was in no way young enough to work them in the way they deserved to be worked. She came barreling through the door, stopping short when she saw me struggling on the bed. I was in the process of trying to get my butt into a new pair of low-rise jeans that were so very, very low, they might have been illegal. “That’s what she said,” I muttered, and laughed quietly to myself. “Did you actually just say that to a half-naked girl? Seriously, you should know better. “Is this an ‘I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly’ situation?” You do realize I have seen you naked before, right?” Holly shouted through the bedroom door. And she finally got her Bernese Mountain Dog. She enjoys gardening but not weeding, baking but not cleaning up, and finally convinced her long-time boyfriend to marry her. Alice Clayton worked in the cosmetics industry for over a decade before picking up a pen (read: laptop).

The Unidentified Redhead by Alice Clayton