I sidestep to the next display case. Beatrice tracks with me.

Scanning it, my eyes take in the various beautifully displayed rings. And then I see it. A magnificent rectangular amethyst flanked by two glittering triangular diamonds. The stone is the color of Brandon’s eyes. My favorite color. It’s calling my name.

“May I please see the ring with the amethyst?”

“Of course.” With a somewhat haughty attitude, Beatrice sizes me up. “I’m not sure if it’ll fit your finger. It’s a sample that’s made for a very slender hand.”

Inside, I’m simmering. She just called me a fattie. Well, I’ll show her. In a calm, collected voice, I assure her it will.

Doubt is written all over her face. “Very well. Let’s give it a try.”

While she removes the ring from the case, I plant my hands on the glass countertop.

Beatrice’s eyes widen with surprise. “Why, I think it’ll fit you just fine. You have the most elegant fingers I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you,” I say proudly. Thank you, Mama.

She sets the ring on another velvet pad. My eyes stay fixed on it. It’s so, so beautiful.

“This is one of our newest settings. Many young brides prefer a colored stone to a traditional diamond. This one consists of a five-carat amethyst of the highest quality. The Trillian baguettes weigh over a carat. I think it will look lovely on you.”

My heart and hands tremble in unison as I slip the exquisite ring onto my long, slender ring finger. It fits perfectly. Holding up my left hand, I admire it. My heart hammers against my chest.

Beatrice flashes a smile. “It fits you perfectly, and it looks absolutely stunning on your hand.”

“It does.” My voice is small and dreamy.

My eyes stay riveted on it. My pulse speeds up. Yes, this is the ring I’d want Brandon to give me.

Beatrice cuts my fantasy short. “Should I put a hold on it, dear?”

“Yes,” I mutter. A permanent hold.

“Wonderful. Why don’t you and your boyfriend come back over the weekend? You can show it to him. When he sees it on your hand, I’m sure he won’t be able to resist.”

I twitch a faint smile. “We’ll try to do that.” The tone of my voice is far from chipper. While Beatrice assures me the ring will be waiting for me, the assistant returns with a gift-wrapped blue box containing Katrina’s birthday present.

“Enjoy your lovely necklace,” Beatrice says as she places it inside a small Tiffany-blue shopping bag. Just like the one Audrey carried in the movie.

I take one long last look at the amethyst ring before I remove it from my finger. Reality stares back at me. Who am I kidding? Even if Brandon wasn’t engaged, he’d never marry an overweight nobody like me. My aching heart tanks. There’s no rainbow’s end for me.

Zoey

With now the heaviest of hearts, I run a few more errands for Brandon in Beverly Hills. I drop off a pair of his expensive Italian loafers at the “shoemaker to the stars” for re-soling, go to the beauty supply store to pick up more of his favorite grooming products, and then run into an exclusive wine store to pick up a bottle of Cristal—which I’m sure is for Katrina. Of course…he’ll propose a toast before he showers her with that gorgeous necklace.

I have one last chore before I head back: a stop at a store in West Hollywood called The Pleasure Chest. A package is waiting there to be picked up under the name “John Steele.” Another birthday present for Katrina?

When I step into the store, my eyes grow wide with shock. It sure as hell isn’t Tiffany’s. It’s an emporium filled to the gills with all kinds of sex toys and accessories for both men and women. To my amazement, it’s packed with customers, including many who look like they’re close to sixty. I guess with the huge success of Fifty Shades, everyone’s into kinky sex. An unsettling thought hits me: Is this the kind of sex Brandon and Katrina have? Or maybe tonight they’re going to experiment, and he’s going to surprise her with some birthday toys?

With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension—and an undeniable twinge of jealousy—I wander up and down the aisles. In the toy aisle, there are dildos and vibrators in every shape, size, and color, ranging from monstrous latex cocks to tiny vibrating bullets. I gravitate to one of the vibrators. “Sparky.” It’s molded like a huge pink penis and has an amusing rabbit ear attachment.

“Bubala, get that one,” says a petite silver-haired lady standing next to me. She’s got to be in her eighties and looks familiar—like maybe she’s on TV or something. I’m sure I’ve seen her photo in one of those gossip magazines. She blabbers on in what sounds to be a Yiddish accent.

“Trust me, the other ones are feh. My Luigi loves using this vun. OY! Vee have so much fun. He loves to vatch me come! He says it’s so sexy shmexy.”

Her adorable bluntness cheers me up a bit. I have to bite down on my tongue to stifle laughter. “Thanks for the recommendation,” I say while she throws a couple of vibrating eggs into her shopping basket and sprightly heads down the aisle.

I follow “Grandma” down the next aisle, where she loads up on blindfolds, paddles, handcuffs, and whips. Everything you need for the total BDSM experience. “Have you ever tried these?” she asks me, holding up a small package. Nipple clamps!

“Don’t they hurt?” I reply.

“I don’t know, bubala. Ve’re going to try them out tonight. Surprise your boyfriend.”

She takes off while I continue to explore the various accessories. Rhinestone-studded cuffs with a leash? I have to admit I’m as aroused as I’m awed. Kinky eye candy.

My inquisitive mind wonders—what kind of toys does Brandon use? In my wildest fantasies, I’ve never imagined him using any. But now in my mind’s eye, I picture him totally naked, wielding a whip. Handcuffed to a bed, I’m on all fours, wearing nothing but the skimpiest leather thong. My ass is in the air.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, Zoey.”

Oh have I! I nod my head feverishly.

“And do you know what happens to naughty girls?”

I flinch and squeak out “no.”

“They get punished.”

On my next harsh breath, he growls and strikes the leather against the flesh of my ample ass. I wince in pain. And then another lash and yet another, not stopping until I’m screaming out with erotic sobs. Satisfied, he sits down on the edge of the bed and flips me over his knees, He caresses my fiery ass. The pain dissolves into exquisite pleasure but not for long. Whack! A paddle crashes down on my sore ass.

“Do you like being spanked, Zoey?”

“Oh yes!” I moan out.

Whack! And then another and another. I lose count. My moans morph into whimpers that get louder with each strike.

In my mind, I feel the sting, but in my core, I feel hot tingles. Fire and wetness co-mingle between my legs. I have the burning desire to touch myself, to make myself come. A hand reaches down, but just as my fingertips crawl to my hot, throbbing center, a voice sounds in my ear. My hand flies off my crotch.

“Can I help you find anything?” An androgynous, spiky-hair male in leather fetish attire faces me. A salesperson. Piercings dot his nose, lips, and ears, and tattoos glove his upper limbs.

Mortification races through me. “No, um, I’m good. I’m just here to pick something up. Where might I find my order?”

The young sales associate tells me it’s probably at the cashier. Sheepishly, I turn in that direction.

The inky hair girl behind the counter could be the twin sister to that kinky sales dude. She’s similarly clad in black leather with an abundance of piercings and tattoos; maybe it’s The Pleasure Chest employee uniform. I ask her if she has a package for someone named John Steele. It doesn’t surprise me Brandon used a pseudonym. The last thing he’d want would be for it to get out that he’s some kind of pervert and frequents this place.