Fifty-eighth Street, Bergdorf Goodman was one of the oldest and most beautiful luxury department stores in Manhattan. It was the first store Serena’s mother had ever taken her shopping in, and even though it was stuffier and more old-fashioned than Barneys or Bendel’s, it seemed like the appropriate place to buy her graduation dress. She’d asked Nate to come along only because she needed a second opinion, although with his standard uniform of well-worn knit polo shirts or white button-downs and khakis, Nate wasn’t exactly astute when it came to fashion.
“I wonder where Blair met him,” Serena mused aloud as Bergdorf’s sleek ivory-colored elevator whisked them up to the third floor.
Nate didn’t respond. He was staring at Serena’s boobs. They were hard looking, like the small Empire apples that grew on his family’s estate on Mt. Desert Island, Maine. He had taken a couple of Coach Michaels’s Viagras on his way to pick her up and he was pretty sure he was beginning to feel the effect. There was a lot of pressure down there, like a handless hand job, and if he didn’t do something about it soon, things were going to get kind of messy.
Like, how soon?
The elevator doors glided open and Serena was immediately drawn to a rack of exquisitely made white Oscar de la Renta suits—swishy pleated knee-length skirts and fitted jackets with cool white leather belts decorated with adorable little white leather bows.
“I don’t know why I even care,” she continued as she fingered the suits without even noticing that Nate was staring at her like she was a slice of extra-cheese pizza hot out of a Ray’s Original Pizza oven. “Blair will probably never talk to me again.”
“May I help you?” offered a bulky middle-aged sales-woman with a gold Bergdorf’s name tag that read JOAN. Joan was wearing a purple Chanel suit that did nothing for her lumpy hips and piano legs.
“I need to try these on in a size four.” Serena pointed to three of the white Oscar de la Renta suits. Until now she hadn’t thought of wearing a suit to graduation instead of a dress, but it seemed to make perfect sense. She’d never been the frilly-white-dress type anyway, and there was something so crisp and final about the suits that made them totally perfect for graduation.
Nate was practically bursting as he followed Serena and Joan to the ladies’fitting room. He stood just outside as Joan hung up the suits, closed the heavy gray velvet curtain, and then hurried off to find something else she thought Serena might like. Now was his chance.
He yanked the curtain open. Serena had unbuttoned her uniform. Her white polo shirt was around her neck and she was wearing only a flimsy white camisole instead of a bra underneath. “Hey,” she greeted him with a shy smile. “It’s okay if you come in.”
Nate yanked the curtain shut with one hand as he unbuckled his belt with the other. Go, go, go!
Serena began to remove one of the suits from the hanger. Then she noticed Nate staring at her with his pants around his ankles.
Hello?
“Nate, what are you doing?” His brilliant green eyes glittered and his thin lips parted hungrily, like he hadn’t eaten lunch or something. She giggled and crossed her arms over her chest. “They don’t have cameras in these things, do they?”
As if either of them cared?
He grabbed her camisole and yanked it away from her body, ripping it entirely in half in the process. Serena dropped the suit on the dressing room floor and grabbed him back. For once, Nate wasn’t weeping into a fistful of soggy tissues. She wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.
Nate was eternally grateful that Serena was Serena and not Blair. Blair would have wanted to dissect his behavior. She would have wanted to make a fuss or have an argument, while Serena just flicked away the remains of her camisole and helped him off with his shirt. “You didn’t tell me you were all hot and bothered.”
Slightly.
Nate grabbed the
“I wonder where Blair met him,” Serena mused aloud as Bergdorf’s sleek ivory-colored elevator whisked them up to the third floor.
Nate didn’t respond. He was staring at Serena’s boobs. They were hard looking, like the small Empire apples that grew on his family’s estate on Mt. Desert Island, Maine. He had taken a couple of Coach Michaels’s Viagras on his way to pick her up and he was pretty sure he was beginning to feel the effect. There was a lot of pressure down there, like a handless hand job, and if he didn’t do something about it soon, things were going to get kind of messy.
Like, how soon?
The elevator doors glided open and Serena was immediately drawn to a rack of exquisitely made white Oscar de la Renta suits—swishy pleated knee-length skirts and fitted jackets with cool white leather belts decorated with adorable little white leather bows.
“I don’t know why I even care,” she continued as she fingered the suits without even noticing that Nate was staring at her like she was a slice of extra-cheese pizza hot out of a Ray’s Original Pizza oven. “Blair will probably never talk to me again.”
“May I help you?” offered a bulky middle-aged sales-woman with a gold Bergdorf’s name tag that read JOAN. Joan was wearing a purple Chanel suit that did nothing for her lumpy hips and piano legs.
“I need to try these on in a size four.” Serena pointed to three of the white Oscar de la Renta suits. Until now she hadn’t thought of wearing a suit to graduation instead of a dress, but it seemed to make perfect sense. She’d never been the frilly-white-dress type anyway, and there was something so crisp and final about the suits that made them totally perfect for graduation.
Nate was practically bursting as he followed Serena and Joan to the ladies’fitting room. He stood just outside as Joan hung up the suits, closed the heavy gray velvet curtain, and then hurried off to find something else she thought Serena might like. Now was his chance.
He yanked the curtain open. Serena had unbuttoned her uniform. Her white polo shirt was around her neck and she was wearing only a flimsy white camisole instead of a bra underneath. “Hey,” she greeted him with a shy smile. “It’s okay if you come in.”
Nate yanked the curtain shut with one hand as he unbuckled his belt with the other. Go, go, go!
Serena began to remove one of the suits from the hanger. Then she noticed Nate staring at her with his pants around his ankles.
Hello?
“Nate, what are you doing?” His brilliant green eyes glittered and his thin lips parted hungrily, like he hadn’t eaten lunch or something. She giggled and crossed her arms over her chest. “They don’t have cameras in these things, do they?”
As if either of them cared?
He grabbed her camisole and yanked it away from her body, ripping it entirely in half in the process. Serena dropped the suit on the dressing room floor and grabbed him back. For once, Nate wasn’t weeping into a fistful of soggy tissues. She wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.
Nate was eternally grateful that Serena was Serena and not Blair. Blair would have wanted to dissect his behavior. She would have wanted to make a fuss or have an argument, while Serena just flicked away the remains of her camisole and helped him off with his shirt. “You didn’t tell me you were all hot and bothered.”
Slightly.
Nate grabbed the
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