A Collar and Belle

Still sitting on his lap, clad only in sexy lingerie and her cousin’s jacket, Gwen poked at the prize dubiously. “It’s … a dog collar?”

“A cat collar,” Ben corrected, noting the silver bell. “But it will look good around your neck. Here, let me put it on you.”

“A-alright,” she agreed, eying the collar with sudden interest, “but, but only because you bought me these kicking heels.” She swung her feet out to admire the shiny black six-inch heels. They were so perfect for her long, athletic legs.

Then the collar snapped closed, and Ben fixed it uncomfortably tight around her neck, but she was sure that it looked good. Still, it was something she should be wearing for a boyfriend.

“There, you look beautiful. It belongs around your neck.”

“Th...thank you,” she purred at the complement. It was so snug and comfortable. “I’m never taking it off!”

“That’s good, because I’ve locked it on, and I’m keeping the key.”

“You…”

“Ahem,” the waitress coughed, reminding Gwen that they were not alone -- not that she wanted to be alone with the Dweeb, or anything – “Will you be ordering for your pet, sir?”