Poppy pushed the front door open, expecting an empty house, her mother still at work. Instead, the low murmur of voices from the kitchen stopped her. She dropped her backpack silently onto the tile floor.
It was the familiar voice of Uncle Drey, intertwined with her mother’s lighter, conversational tone. A similar now familiar tension tightened in her stomach.
Poppy crept forward, her sneakers making little to no sound. The kitchen doorway was ajar. She could see them seated at the table. Two mugs of coffee sat between them.
“…I have no idea,” Drey was saying, his voice low.
Her mother laughed, a soft, knowing sound. “Welcome to marriage, Drey. Maybe you’ve got a better eye for what women want than you thought.”
“Yeah, maybe dresses, jewellery – who has any idea?” Drey muttered, but his tone was heavy.
Poppy decided to make her entrance. She pushed the door open fully, letting it swing with a soft thud against the wall. “Hey! I’m home,” she announced, her voice artificially bright.
Both of them jumped, turning to her with startled expressions that were a fraction too slow to mask something else—a flicker of guilt, possibly?
“Sweetheart, you’re home early,” Tess said, recovering quickly. “I thought you had that study group.”
“Cancelled,” Poppy said, her eyes locking onto Drey’s. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms under her breasts, emphasising their curve. “Uncle Drey. You giving my mom fashion advice?”
Drey shifted in his chair, “Just… Your aunt’s birthday is coming up, and I have absolutely no idea what women want.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much,” Poppy said, her voice dropping, lacing the words with a meaning.
“No, really, I’m completely hopeless,” he said, just as a new plan formed inside her little red head. After all, her last one worked a treat.
“I could help,” Poppy offered, her voice smooth as she leaned her hips against the table, putting herself squarely in his line of sight. “I mean, I am a woman. And I know what’s in style.” She watched his eyes flicker down to her chest for a split second before darting back to her face. “We could go to the mall, just us. I’ll be your personal shopper… for Auntie Katie,” she wanted to say for herself, but she decided he would find that out very soon if her new plan worked.
Drey’s brow furrowed, but a faint pinkness crept up his neck. “Would you do that?”
“We ARE doing it,” she countered, her tone light but leaving no room for argument. She turned to her mother. “Mom, tell him it’s a good idea. Get him out of your hair for a while.”
Tess shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Honestly, Drey, take the help. God knows you need it,” she laughed.
“It’s settled. Get your coat.” She was already picturing the lingerie section, even if that one was pushing it, but she could still do the slinky dresses, heels, jewellery – anything he found attractive she would sense. She wouldn’t be picking out gifts for her aunt. This would be a shopping trip for her, a secret audition where she would model everything for him, gauging his reactions, collecting the things that made his breath catch. He would be choosing presents for her; he just didn’t know it yet.
***
“Relax, Uncle Drey,” she said, her voice a soft tease. “We got this.” She took his arm as they got into the mall; it was not busy.
He just grunted in amused response, seeming happy she was on his arm.
Poppy guided him past generic stores toward a fragrance shop she knew he’d never enter alone.
“Let’s start here,” she announced.
“Ok, so scents, let’s find one you like,” she said, already lifting samples.
“Not better finding one Katie likes?” he said.
“Nope, the secret is women want what men like, so we find your tastes, and we find her gift.”
She plucked a tester strip. “Close your eyes,” she instructed, stepping so close her breast brushed his arm as she waved the strip under his nose. “What does that make you think of?”
He inhaled slowly, his eyes shut. “I don’t know… a garden?”
“Too vague.” She discarded it and grabbed another, a warmer, spicier fragrance. Poppy let him sniff each strip until she saw his face soften at the one he liked best.
This time, she didn’t use a strip, instead misting a tiny cloud onto her own neck.
She offered her bare skin to him, her pulse point just inches from his face. “And this one.”
His eyes opened, dark and focused. He leaned in, his breath warm on her neck as he breathed her in. “That’s… good.” His voice was low, a little rough. “It’s really nice—intoxicating, really.”
“See? Progress.” She held his gaze, letting the moment stretch. “Now we know what you like.” She turned to the sales assistant. “We’ll take a bottle of this one, please.” She didn’t specify it was for her aunt.
With purchase in hand and back on his arm, they left. “I was thinking dresses next.”
“Sure,” he said and let her lead.
She led him past a shop window displaying lace and silk, its mannequins posed in suggestive contours. Poppy felt a magnetic pull toward that dark intimacy but kept walking, her grip on his arm firm. ‘Not there, too soon,’ she told herself.
“The dress shop is just ahead,” she announced, steering him toward a brighter, more open boutique. Racks of colourful fabrics stood like organised soldiers under the sterile mall lighting.
She released his arm and immediately grabbed a simple black dress with a dangerously high slit. “This one,” she stated. “Honest opinions only.”
Poppy picked a selection of dresses he liked; she ditched the ones he didn’t seem keen on, realising his eyes told her a whole lot more than words.
The changing rooms were vacant. Poppy slipped inside, leaving Drey sitting awkwardly outside.
The rustle of fabric was the only sound for a moment. Then her voice, slightly muffled, came through the gap. “Okay, close your eyes.”
He did, and she swept the door fully open. The dress was deceptively simple, clinging to her hips and breasts before falling away in that long, revealing slash. She turned slowly, a full rotation on the carpeted platform. “Well?”
Drey’s mouth had gone slightly dry. “It’s… wow.”
“Helpful,” she laughed, a light, teasing sound. She pivoted again, making the skirt flare. “What about the slit? Too much?”
His eyes were fixed on the line of her leg. “No. It’s… it’s fine.”
“Ok, the others,” she said and went back behind the curtain before repeating the process, each dress shorter and tighter, her uncle clearly and rapidly becoming more comfortable around her.
She emerged in a short white number, the type you need to keep adjusting to stop riding up too far. “This one’s pretty hot,” she said, her voice dropping as she smoothed the fabric over her hips.
He cleared his throat, a rough, strained sound. “I… suppose,” but his eyes said it all; he drank her in, he loved the dress, and she could tell before she asked.
“But do you like it?” she pressed, taking a step closer, well within his personal space. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. His gaze was a physical weight, hot and lingering on the dip of her lower back, a place he’d held during their frantic, silent encounter in her parents’ bedroom.
“Yes, I’m not sure Katie has the figure of you, but I like it.”
A slow, victorious smile touched her lips as she turned back toward the curtain, letting her fingers brush his shoulder. “We’re getting somewhere, Uncle Drey.”
He bought the items as Poppy got dressed, and they left.
****
“Only a few more stops,” she announced, steering him toward a glittering jewellery counter. The glass tops gleamed under the bright lights. “Earrings.”
She pointed to a delicate pair of diamond studs. “Those are classic.” Then she indicated a longer, dangling set. “But these are more fun, right?” She watched his eyes, saw them flicker with interest toward the danglers. “Let me see those,” she told the clerk.
She held them up to her own ears, turning her head from side to side. “What do you think?” The earrings caught the light..
He nodded.
This was it, she thought; this is what it could be like. This easy companionship, him buying her beautiful things and wanting to see her wear them. “We’ll take these,” she said, her voice soft and final.
“But it needs something,” Poppy murmured, more to herself than to him, her fingers drifting to her bare throat. She turned from the earring counter, her eyes scanning the displays until they landed on a slender silver chain with a single teardrop pendant. “There.” She guided him toward it, her hand light on his forearm. “It matches perfectly, don’t you think?” He nodded, his silence more telling than any compliment. “Let’s see it on,” she said, and the sales clerk dutifully unlocked the case.
Poppy swept her heavy hair aside, offering him the nape of her neck. “Can you?” The chain felt cool as he fumbled with the clasp, his fingers brushing against her skin and sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. She caught their reflection in the glass—a man, his concentration earnest, adorning a woman who watched him with knowing eyes. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, turning back to face him, the pendant settling in the hollow of her chest. He just stared at the spot where it lay.
“Okay, shoes next,” she announced, her voice bright again, breaking the spell as she reluctantly took the necklace off.
As they walked, her gaze kept snagging on that other shopfront. The mannequins clad in wisps of black lace and silk, posed in provocative arrogance.
She guided him into a shoe store. “We need to find the right heels,” she declared, pulling him toward a wall of glittering stilettos. She sat him down and began bringing pair after pair, Poppy would slip them on, then parade before him, pivoting on the plush carpet.
She finally found a pair of black patent leather heels with a thin chrome heel. “These,” she stated, striding with newfound confidence. She stopped directly in front of him, the toe of the shoe nearly touching his trouser leg. “What do you think?”
He let out a slow breath, his gaze travelling up from her feet to her eyes. “Those are the ones,” he said, his voice low.
“Good,” she purred, holding his stare for a moment longer before turning away.
****
Back outside, Poppy gestured with a nod toward the dark entrance of the lingerie store across the aisle. “Now for the real challenge.” She let a playful smirk touch her lips. “Don’t look so scared, Uncle Drey. I’m not a little girl anymore. I can help you pick out something… special for Aunt Katie.”
His posture stiffened, but he didn’t refuse. Poppy linked her arm through his, feeling the tension in his bicep. “Come on,” she whispered, leading him toward the intimate shadows.
Racks and glass front drawers of lace and silk satin stretched into the landscape of intimate potential.
Poppy led him past a display of practical cotton briefs, her stride confident. “We can skip the boring stuff,” she murmured, glancing back at his flushed face.
She stopped before a mannequin wearing a black chemise so sheer it was practically a shadow. “Now this,” she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “This says you don’t plan on wearing it for long.”
Drey shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his gaze fixed somewhere near the ceiling. “Katie doesn’t… go in for this kind of thing, and I don’t know her size.”
“I can guess her size; you just need to pick what you like,” Poppy countered, running a finger along the black lace trim of a bra and panties set he kept eyeing. She pulled the set from the rack. “This one?”
“I guess so,” he laughed nervously.
Poppy kept her eyes on him, encouraging more from him.
“Well, I guess I really like it,” he offered.
Poppy took her own size to the counter and let Drey buy it, thinking he had another gift for his wife. She did consider trying it on for him, but he seemed too nervous in the place.
****
“Poppy, how about dinner? I need to thank you properly.”
Poppy nodded and agreed.
Poppy’s heart gave a swift, sharp knock against her ribs at his invitation, the words “thank you properly” echoing with delicious possibility.
They walked in a comfortable silence that felt anything but, the weight of the shopping bags swinging between them a tangible record of the afternoon spent together. He led her across the wet parking lot toward a stout brick building with gleaming brass fittings.
Drey guided her through the crowd with a light hand on the small of her back, a touch that burnt through her top.
They found a small, high-backed booth tucked near the back. Poppy slid onto the cracked leather bench.
Drey settled opposite, his eyes immediately dropping to his phone as it lit up with a notification. “Katie,” he muttered, his thumb hovering over the screen.
Poppy watched him, the giddy fantasy of this being a real date. She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table to make sure his gaze would have to travel over her. “Everything okay?”
He shrugged, locking the phone and placing it face down. “Just wondering where I am.” He finally looked at her, really looked, and she saw the faint confusion in his eyes, the same look he’d had when clasping the necklace around her neck.
A waiter appeared, and Drey ordered drinks. “A cheeseburger, please,” he added.
Poppy smiled, “Sounds great, I’ll have the same.”
Drey began typing on his phone, distracted.
Poppy lifted the bags full of Aunt Katie’s presents. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
Drey never noticed or lifted his eyes.
The restroom was harshly lit and smelt of industrial cleaner. Poppy locked the stall door and worked quickly, shedding her college clothes like she was shedding inhibitions.
Opening the lingerie bag. She stepped into the black lace panties, then clipped the bra.
The new white dress slithered over her hips, its fabric whisper-thin. She fastened the necklace, the cool pendant settling at the top of her pushed-up cleavage.
She stepped into the heels and threw her old stuff into the bags; she took a deep breath and left the bathroom.
When she emerged, the pub’s noise seemed to hush for her alone. She moved through the crowd, a slow, deliberate vision in white, the heels clicking a definitive rhythm on the worn floorboards. Drey was still staring at his phone when she got back to the booth, standing beside the booth, ready for appraisal.
“Honest opinion, do you like it?” she teased.
He looked up. His eyes widened, travelling from the pendant to the thin straps on her shoulders. “Poppy,” he said, her name a choked exhale.
She leaned forward dramatically as she slipped into the booth to join him, knowing his eyes were firmly on her gaping neckline. “You did pick it all out.” She let him look as she spoke. “You picked out EVERYTHING, underneath the dress, too.”
His jaw tightened, a muscle flickering. He drained his whiskey in one go, the ice cubes clattering. “This isn’t… Well, don’t you look…”
She reached across the table, her fingers gently tracing the back of his hand. “We’re just having dinner. Like you wanted.” She let her touch linger.
He didn’t pull away. He just stared at her hand on his, his breath shallow. The battle in his head was a physical thing, tightening his shoulders. Then his hand turned over, his rough fingers intertwining with hers under the table. “Jesus, Poppy.”
The arrival of their burgers broke the spell, the waiter’s efficient clatter startling Drey’s hand back to his own side of the table. He exhaled, a shaky sound of genuine relief, as the plates were set down. “Looks good,” he muttered, a desperate attempt at normalcy.
Poppy movements slow and deliberate. She ripped off a piece of burger, the cheese stretching, and brought it to her lips. “Mmm,” she hummed, her eyes locked on his as she chewed, a flush spreading across her chest above the necklace’s pendant. “You have good taste in everything, I think.” The innuendo hung between them, thicker than the pub’s haze.
He didn’t move, just watched her mouth. Poppy took another slow bite, letting a tiny speck of sauce cling to her lower lip before catching it with her tongue. “You’re not eating,” she observed, her voice a low tease.
“I’m… distracted.” The admission was rough, torn from him.
“By what?” She knew. She let her knee brush his under the small table, a fleeting contact. The white dress he’d chosen rode higher up her thigh with the movement. “The food’s really good. You should try yours.” She said it like a challenge, like she was offering something else entirely.
“Here,” Poppy said as she leaned forward, the pendant dipping and dangling in her ample cleavage. She picked up his fork and stabbed at a few fries, then lifted it to his mouth.
“It’s just some fries.” The motion and words are slow and suggestive.
Drey opened and let her feed him.
“I can see you like that. I’m wearing the pretty things you picked out. Thank you, by the way.” Her foot found his shin under the table, applying a gentle, steady pressure. “They feel amazing.”
He flinched but didn’t pull away. A low sound escaped him, something between a groan and a sigh of defeat. His resolve was cracking; she could see it in his eyes, how they stopped darting away.
His eyes finally held hers, dark and clouded with a conflict that tasted better than the food. Poppy took another slow bite, her tongue sweeping a drop of sauce from the corner of her mouth. “You’re staring, Uncle Drey.”
“You’re wearing… It just…” he began, his voice gravelly.
“It’s ok, I like it when I make you stare; I like giving you something to stare at,” she eased him, her smile knowing. She placed her fork down softly onto her plate and leaned her elbows on the table, deepening the neckline’s plunge. Poppy then pulled the dress to the side and showed off the lace bra he had bought.
His eyes were wide and hungry.
Poppy…
