Page 112 of Thug

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Gray

Standing in the bathroom doorway in my panties and bra, I scowled at Price. “Why won’t you tell me where we’re going? That’s just crappy. How am I supposed to know what to wear?”

He stretched his arms out wide. He was dressed in a clean wife beater, faded jeans, and a pair of white socks.

He checked his watch. “Look at me,” he said. “How am I dressed?”

“You always wear the same thing,” I complained. “Jeans, boots, your kutte, and a wife beater.”

He walked to the doorway and picked up his boots. “I wear a tee shirt every now and again.”

“Is it against the rules to go without your kutte?” I asked. “Other than when you’re at home, I’ve never seen you without it.”

“If you’re on your motorcycle, whether you’re with the club or alone, it must be worn. If you’re not on a motorcycle, it’s your choice.”

“Because you never ride anything but a motorcycle, you always wear it?”

He sat on the corner of the bed and pulled on his boots. “Correct.”

“So, we could be going to the Opera and you’d still be wearing the same thing.”

“We’re not going to the fucking Opera,” he insisted. “Now, or ever.”

“You’re exhausting,” I huffed.

“Wear a nice top, but not too nice. Not too revealing, either.”

“I don’t have anything nice that’s not a little revealing. Is a little cleavage bad?”

“Tonight?” he looked up. “Yeah.”

“Just tell me.”

He gave me a dirty look. “Get dressed.”

Men were ridiculous. They could put on jeans and a tee shirt and fit in just about anywhere. The world was critical of women, and we were chastised for our choices. If we wore sneakers, jeans, and a tee shirt to a nice restaurant, we were labeled a lesbian. If we wore a little black dress to Taco Bell, we were labeled a slut.

We couldn’t win.

“Fine,” I said. “I don’t have too many options, anyway. I’ve only got like three outfits here.”

He checked his watch and stood. “Ought to make picking one easy.”

I picked my best jeans, a pair of 2” heels, and a sleeveless black V-neck top. After getting dressed I did a pirouette. “How’s this?”

Pacing the floor, he glanced at me. “You look great.”

I put my hair in a ponytail. “Not many options with the hair.”

He continued pacing. “You’ll be fine.”

“You seem nervous,” I said.

“About what?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I guess I’m asking.”