Dare Leads to Fitting Room Kiss

I still can’t believe I let Fiona talk me into staying past closing that night. The boutique was empty, the security gate half-lowered, soft pink lights glowing over racks of silk and lace. I’m twenty-two, usually the quiet one who folds tissue paper just so and never makes the first move. Fiona is twenty-four, openly out, all sharp smiles and easy confidence. We’d been circling each other for weeks—lingering glances when she demonstrated a bra fit, accidental brushes of fingers over the counter.

She locked the front door, turned, and grinned. “Truth or dare, Harriet. Closing-shift edition. No chicken.”

I laughed, nervous heat already climbing my neck. “Dare.”

“Try on the black Chantilly lace bodysuit. The one in the window. Full get-up. I want to see it on a real body instead of the mannequin.”