I’m almost afraid to turn around to look at Oliver, in the fear that he might not be wearing underwear, but I turn a bit anyways. He’s wearing briefs, but at least they’re underwear. I sigh in relief.

I shed my jeans so that I’m now in just my bra and undies. Oliver’s elbow lightly brushes the small of my back, and I jump. “Sorryâ€?, he says as he pulls the leather pants on. They are very, very tight.

I pull my dress on over my hips. “ You can’t wear a bra with that dress on. Here, let me help you.â€? He pulls my dress the rest of the way up, and zips it nearly to the top. I just stretch my arms out to my sides and let him fix my clothes. I’ll have to be Oliver’s Barbie doll, whether I want to or not. Or, whether I should want to or shouldn’t want to. He unsnaps my bra faster than I ever have, and pulls it from under the dress and over my arms. Then, he zips the dress the rest of the way. I’m amazed. He’s done this all without an accidental flash. “You look beautiful,â€? he says, handing me my black bra.