Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“All? Like, as in, my underwear?”
“Yes, all.” She lets the curtain fall.
I peek out to see if she flirts with Leka, but she doesn’t. She walks straight toward another door and disappears, leaving Leka sprawled out on the cream upholstered chair. He stretches out his legs, his jeans and dark boots an exotic contrast to the airiness of the room. While Catherine was focused on me, she’s the aberration. Most of the time, he draws looks from every female within shouting distance. A group of three women sitting in chairs in front of a different dressing room keep sneaking peeks at him.
Leka is oblivious. I haven’t been able to figure out if he knows he’s being constantly checked out and ignores it or really doesn’t understand the waves of interest that are set off the minute he steps into a room. And I don’t know exactly what it is about him that’s so attractive to everyone else. Objectively, he’s hot, but there are hot guys everywhere. There’s something different about him that speaks to women, and I don’t know what it is.
Maybe they sense his protective nature in the way he opens the door or is always keeping a watchful eye out. There’s a sense of wildness about him, too, as if he’s the predatory jungle animal let loose in a petting zoo. You know he’s dangerous, but you can’t help wanting to reach out and pet him. Or maybe it’s the way he holds himself. As he sits in the chair, you’d think he owned the place. He has that much confidence. Or perhaps it’s something else, something that my fifteen years of living haven’t allowed me to precisely define.
All I know is that if I set Leka down in the middle of a football field full of guys, every eye would gravitate toward him. I keep waiting for him to fall for someone, like Mrs. M said he would, but so far, he’s been stubbornly, wonderfully single. That doesn’t mean he’s in love with me. Nope. I’m still the little girl that he picked up in the alley.
With a sigh, I tug the velvet curtain closed. I take off my jeans and hang them by the belt loop on a hook. My I-love-tacos T-shirt comes off next. I stare at myself in the mirror. I have a marvelous figure? Is Catherine blowing smoke up my ass, or does she really believe it? I give myself a good once-over. I’m more hippy than I’d like. Jeans are hard to find. They are either too tight around the ass and too loose around the waist or vice versa.
My boobs are so-so. I’m not flat-chested, but I could easily get away with no bra except for the whole nip thing. A few weeks ago, Leka pointed out in a tight, unhappy voice that my headlights were showing. I didn’t immediately understand what he was saying until he awkwardly pointed a finger at my chest while staring at the ceiling. Looking down, I saw my nipples poking out against one of his borrowed T-shirts.
It made me feel strange that he noticed that. At first, I was embarrassed, but later that night when he was gone and I was alone, I thought about what it might feel like if it were his hand cupping the curve of my breast instead of mine. I felt my inner muscles tighten and an unfamiliar ache grow between my legs.
It made me think of when the girls at school talk about sex. How they touch themselves. There are lots of fans of the showerhead. Shelby Mayhew has a vibrator her older sister bought her. She brought it to school and let some of the other girls play with it over their clothes. There was a lot of lip-biting and butt shifting in the bathroom that day. I wondered what it felt like. I wondered what it would be like if it weren’t a plastic or silicone penis but a real one, attached to a real person. Attached to someone like Leka.
I drop my hand to my panties. A couple of weeks ago, during gym class, I overheard Allison whisper to her best friend, Rachel, that Allison’s boyfriend had gone down on her. That he’d licked her clit and that she thought she was going to die from the pleasure. Rachel couldn’t believe it. Neither could I. But I think of that now. I imagine that it’s Leka in front of me, sitting in the cream lacquered chair in the corner. That he’s the one drawing my white panties over my butt, down my thighs and dropping them to the floor. That it’s his fingers that reach behind my back and unhook my bra, releasing my suddenly sensitive breasts from the confines of the lace and wire.
He’d draw me close, his breath heating my stomach, making me clench all over. I wonder what that’d feel like? Would I want to die from the pleasure? My fingers curl against my skin.