“Undercover Love” by Shaun Avery


I had been buying more and more clothes lately, trying to make him notice me, but so far nothing had worked. That's why tonight I was taking the direct approach, and heading over to see him.

Getting in to see him wasn't easy, but I've always been a resourceful, maybe even sneaky, kind of girl, and a little shattered glass grazing my arm through my new blouse didn't bother me too much. Nor did the sound of alarms, which I managed to blank out, concentrating instead on the passion that coursed through me, that left me breathless as I observed my love, silhouetted against the window.

"My darling," I said. "I've come for you."

His back to me, he made no reply, but this didn't bother me; I hadn't expected this to be easy, and his playing hard to get would only make our eventual embrace all the more volatile. Which is just how I like it, after all.

"I've noticed you watching me," I told him. "Like what you see?"

He did not reply with words, but I could feel his eyes watching my reflection in one of the many mirrors dotted around the place, and his gaze made me feel wild, made me feel naughty, so I started dancing, rubbing myself, sliding my top up to display a small portion of my smooth, flat stomach, tantalising him. Still he did not come to me, but I was glad of that; I was enjoying putting on a show, and saw no need to stop yet.

"Too dressed for you?" I asked, feeling bold all of a sudden. "Don't worry, that can be changed." And with that, I began to strip, letting all of my clothes drop to the floor, trying to ignore the wind that flew in through the shattered window behind me, sending a chill through my firm buttocks.

"You like that?" I asked, and walked over to him, stroking his shoulders through the top he was wearing.

He seemed reluctant to take the lead, but I put this down to the fact that he had been standing in the same spot for weeks on end. I knew that he had been waiting patiently for me, and that was why I had broken into the clothes shop to be with him.

But no matter how hard I kissed him, the man that my jealous friends told me was just a mannequin would not kiss back.