Mastered by H. L. Maxwell Page B

fun.
    After
reluctantly leaving my breasts and slowly lathering up my pussy, I
spread shaving cream over my legs, and began the process of shaving
my lower-half. I languidly dragged the razor up my shins, calves, and
inner thighs, thinking about Jake's eyes on my center. Gently, I
gently spread some shaving cream along my slit and began stroke after
slow stroke, removing the hair that had always covered me.
    Sometime
later, I pulled myself out of the relaxing water and deliberately
dried off, applying lotion to my damp skin and reveling in the
smoothness of my entire body beneath my hands.
    Then
I did something I'd never done before; I walked naked through my
house. I walked naked through the kitchen. I walked naked up the
stairs. When I walked into my bedroom, I made sure to put an extra
sway in my hips since I knew the man next door would have a perfectly
clear view of my ass as I stood in front of my closet with the doors
opened wide.
    I
didn't have the courage to see if he was looking, but the thought of
him watching me prance around, my body on display, made me reach up
and cup the weight of my breasts, tugging lightly on each nipple
before selecting what to wear.
    I'd
always been a simple dresser. My past careers, past boyfriends, past
life choices, had dictated that all I needed to get by were a few
pairs of earth-toned slacks, one or two knee-length pencil skirts,
practical flats, and some color-complimenting cardigans. Nothing in
my closet said touch me . Nothing in my closet said I
deserve to be touched . I thought about running out and getting
something new, but it was already 7 and I still had to dry my hair
and put on makeup. He'd said be dressed to impress, and I wasn't
about to disappoint.
    Eventually,
I slipped on my favorite panties, a pair of pale pink boyshorts
trimmed in lace that my girlfriends had given me at my bachelorette
party. I knew that some people would have considered them tame, but
they were a nice step away from the cotton bikini-cuts I usually
wore. Glancing at the clock, I finally conceded that while my panties
may have been sexy, I didn't have many choices for my other clothes.
    Resolutely,
I tugged on a simple black pencil skirt, the zipper skimming my
taught sides. I paired it with a black camisole, tucking it into the
top of the skirt and showing my hour-glass figure. Since I didn't
have a bra to match my thin, silk panties, I went without, instead
selecting a tighter camisole that pushed my breasts together and let
them spill over the top.
    Needing
a little something extra, I added a thin blouse to my outfit. It was
a fitted number with three-quarter length sleeves, and everywhere
that should have been fabric was open black lace. It was also given
to me at my bachelorette party, and certainly never meant to be worn
in public, but it clung to my body perfectly.
    Closer
to eight, after curling my hair loosely so it draped in big, auburn
waves past my shoulders, the ends lightly teasing the tops of my
breasts, I began carefully applying my eye-makeup. I'd never been one
for makeup, instead opting for light blush and a little mascara to
bring out my green eyes, but tonight called for something different.
    Adding
a little smokey sparkle to my lids to match the mock-diamond
chandelier earrings, I lined my lashes with a coal-black pencil and
emphasized my eyes with a coat of mascara. I looked like someone who
knew what they wanted, and while I actually had know idea what that
might be, I tossed my hair over my shoulder and decided that night
was going to be about new experiences. I decided that night was going
to be about me.
    I
was just pulling on a pair of black high-heels, (the only pair I
owned), when the doorbell rang. Reaching the door, I paused for a
second, took a deep breath, and smoothed the front of my skirt before
opening it.
    Jake
looked up from his hands and took in my outfit. “Oh, wow.”
    I
smiled in a way that I hoped hid my nervousness.
    “Nervous?”
he asked.
    I
laughed.