That job at Ameranth sounded good

"I'm actually feeling pretty good, but a couple days of regular sleep would probably help. You mentioned that your husband's company was hiring?"

Aimee smiled at you warmly for a moment, then turned back to the road. "Yep! A front desk position at their local lab. It's not the most exciting job, but I could get him to put a good word in for you! Us girls need to stick together after all." She giggled, and you found yourself smiling along with her. Aimee might not be the brightest bulb in the drawer, but she was really going out of her way to make you feel welcome.

The two of you spent the rest of the drive exchanging stories and getting to know one another, and by the time she parked the car, you were both laughing and feeling happier and more carefree than you had in days. "Thanks for dragging me out here, Aimee," you said, genuinely happy to be focusing on something besides your move. It felt good to have made a friend.

She turned toward you, beaming, and darted forward, catching you in a quick, tight hug. "Any time!" Her perfume wasn't as cloying today, but you were still glad to breathe freely when she broke the hug. "Now let's hurry before all the best deals are gone! We've gotta get you some clothes that will leave your interviewer speechless."

"If he's speechless, he won't be able to offer me the job!" You quipped, but Aimee just looked at you blankly a moment before giggling and shrugging back.

Your shopping experience started as an exercise in futility, as Aimee dragged you into shop after shop. Each was full of stretchy fabrics or sequined miniskirts that would look great on a dance floor, but they all revealed too much to be professional.

Aimee was determined though, and after more than an hour of fending her off, you gave in to her demands and started trying on a few new articles you could wear at home.

"You have such a great body," She gushed, as you walked out of a dressing room in an outfit that was little more than a slip and heels. "That one looks HAWT and I GUARANTEE that you'll have to fend your man off with a stick wearing that! ...Or just let him have his way with you, you know?"

"You don't think it's a bit much?" You asked, fingering the short hem and very conscious at the way the fabric clung to your butt and your chest. "I don't normally wear anything this... revealing."

"Stefi, guys are-"

"Stephanie," you corrected. It bothered you to hear your name shortened.

"Steph-a-nie," she continued, emphasizing each syllable with an eye roll. "Guys are only interested in one thing when it comes to women. You can ignore it, or you can take advantage of it! And personally, it's a lot more fun to flaunt what you've got." Aimee gave you a flirty wink, and then walked toward you, her hips rolling in a practiced sway. Surprised at the sudden attention, you backed into the open dressing room door behind you. She followed you into the room, then stopped less than a foot away and shook her hips and chest emphatically. She winked at you again. "Boys are interested in our bodies, not our brains. It's just a fact."

"Listen Aimee..." you started nervously, but she stopped you with a finger softly placed at your lips. Your eyes crossed briefly, focusing on her finger, and you caught the scent of peaches again.

"All I'm saying," she said softly, "is that you could TRY breaking out of your shell a little bit. Okay? You've got a great body, and from what I heard from Greg yesterday, you could use some pointers on how to show it off."

You felt a spark of indignant rage at the thought of this woman judging you and your relationship with your husband. Things weren't perfect between you and Greg, but you loved each other and we're happy together! What had Greg told her, anyway?

You took a deep breath, ready to tell her to mind her own business, and then started coughing as you inhaled a lungful of perfume from her wrist. Eyes watering, you waved her back and plopped down on the bench in the dressing room. Your breath was hot; the room spun wildly again... something was very wrong here. Seconds passed as you tried to catch your breath, waving Aimee back. Her perfume was nice, but it was taking some getting used to.

"Steph, are you okay?" She backed off immediately, giving you more space and a brief chance to get some air, handed you a tissue to clear your eyes, then sat down next to you as your breathing steadied.

Your head spun (or was it the room?) as you tried to collect your thoughts. What were you about to say? "You really think it looks hot?" You asked in a small voice. It must have been something about the outfit. "Greg hasn't been that interested in me lately... Last night we just went right to bed." It hasn't seemed like a problem at the time, but if he'd been talking about you with strangers...

"Fuck him!" She giggled, "...or *fuck* him. Either way, you look delicious and you should enjoy it."

*Fucking sounds nice...* said a voice in your head, *...fucking Greg, or whoever.*

You felt hot and your breath was coming too fast. Impulsively you pulled Aimee into a quick hug. "I'll try to be a bit less uptight."

"...and to have a bit more fun!" Aimee added, giggling again. Her laugh was infectious and you found yourself joining her. "A girl has needs, you know?"

*You need to fuck. Sex is fun.* You felt warm again, and inexplicably aroused. *It's been a long time.*

You took a few deep breaths, clearing your head. You needed to talk to Greg. "Let's focus on the clothes for now, Aimee. What else should I get?" Somewhere along the line, you'd decided to buy this outfit.

The next hours flew by, as you fleshed out your wardrobe with some new clothes, heels, and (laughing nervously about it) lingerie. You modeled each piece for Aimee, who made encouraging noises and gradually steered you toward the most fashionable choices.

At some point, the two of you paused to eat at the mall. The whole while Aimee went on about you're clothing choices, comparing then with celebrity fashions. Then she started in on the dramas of Britta Spears and Miley Sire that she's read about in some magazine. You could picture the cover in your head even without knowing the title. Some busty bombshell with her clothes falling off, and a headline boasting ten ways to have the BEST orgasms EVER.

*There's nothing wrong with wanting better orgasms though, is there?* That quiet voice asked you. *I bet Aimee has learned a lot about that.*

You finished your meals and returned to shopping. Before you knew it, you had spent almost 500 dollars and were packing several bags into her car, ready to leave the mall together.

The crowning achievement of your day at the mall was an outfit that you had picked out (with Aimee's approval) that you could wear to an interview. It was a black skirt, knee-length, with a white blouse and black jacket. Aimee hadn't liked it until you modeled it with some 4-inch heels she picked out. The result was just a bit more risque than you'd like, but that you felt would still look professional.

As you got into the car Aimee turned to you and asked, "So... back to my place? You can meet my husband and apply for the job at Ameranth!"