I am so very excited to be a part of the First Undressing blog hop. In case you don’t already know, the challenge was to write a flash fiction piece about two strangers undressing each other on camera. There are some seriously fabulous stories in this collective and you can find them here http://audranorth.com/2014/07/first-undressing-blog-hop-august-5th-through-august-9th/. ENJOY!!
Shelby’s heart beat like a mad creature, pounding against her ribs like a wild beast against prison bars. Could she do this? The flyer taped to the door seemed so innocent: First Undressing—Sign Up Within. So why did she feel so naughty?
Married housewives weren’t supposed to crave what she did. Weren’t supposed to want to know what it would feel like to undress another woman. Would touching a stranger’s breasts—even the light graze of fingers sliding buttons free—feel the same as her very own? Or would it blow her mind and open up an entirely new avenue for her sexuality? Her heart thudded, sending blood rushing through her ears like the crashing of storm-tossed seas against cliff walls.
The scarred wooden door seemed to warn her away. Deep gouges cracked the weathered brown surface, screaming at her to turn back. If this was truly a worthwhile enterprise, surely the door would have been transparent glass and shiny metal? Even the old doorknob seemed to mock her. Tarnished and corroded brass, it looked as welcoming as an angry skunk.
But she couldn’t help it. She had to know. For so many years she’d questioned her fantasies. Were they just that—fantasy? Or was something deeper at work here? Did she need more than what she was getting? Or was this simple curiosity left over from everything she hadn’t done and should have in college?
Her hand shook as she reached for the knob. “Oh. You’re being ridiculous. Just get in there and strip a bitch,” she muttered, fed up with her ridiculousness.
“Strip a bitch, huh? You sound pretty tough for someone wearing Ann Taylor.” The sexiest chuckle she’d ever heard came from right behind her.
Startled by the husky rumble, Shelby tottered on the lovely purple three inch heels she’d only worn once. This must be her penance for indulging in vanity. Since she was going to be on camera, she wanted to look nice. Sexy. But thanks to the person right behind her, she might end up in a cast instead of being cast. Her ankles wobbled, sending tremors up into her already shaky knees. She was going down. With any luck, her ass wouldn’t bust loose from the tight gray wool when she hit the concrete.
“Whoa, there, little lady. Don’t worry. I’ve gotcha.” Hands—firm and hot—wrapped around the curves of her hips, steadying her and saving her from a clumsy fall. Unexpected desire shot through her core in a heady wave. “You ready for the reins now?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” she laughed, as she tucked a stray red curl behind her ear. “I’m not exactly myself right now.” She twisted the doorknob so hard it squealed and flung the intimidating wood out of her way. Heat flooded her cheeks as she practically ran into the building.
The sharp clicking of her heels on the dingy linoleum kept pace with her heart as she headed for the wall marked Information. The slow, steady thud of boot heels followed her.
“So who are you?” The warm molasses drawl of Texas stroked her ears, sending a lick of sin tapping along her nerves. Cowboys did things for her.
“What?” Shelby studied the board, searching for First Undressing’s room. She studiously avoided looking at her savior. Ignored the body heat that warmed her side from scant inches away. Christ on a cracker, where was the room number? She had to get away from this cat.
“You said you weren’t yourself. So who are you right now?”
“Someone else. Someone bold who knows what she wants. I never know what I want anymore.” She closed her eyes, embarrassment sweeping over her in a hot, prickly wave. What in the actual fuck was wrong with her right now? Blurting out personal details was never her thing.
“Me, too. Our spirits must be sisters today. I’m here for that undressing on camera thing.”
Shelby whipped around so fast her hair swung out, brushing against the cocoa brown Stetson of the petite woman standing next to her. Woman not man like she’d assumed.
“Surprised you, huh?” Whiskey brown eyes twinkled up at her from beneath the longest, blackest eyelashes models would kill for. Under the Stetson, silky straight blond hair cascaded down to slim but strong shoulders. Though petite, she was built like a brick shithouse, looking capable of throwing bales of hay or hog-tying assholes in bars. Her tight white T-shirt showed off teacup breasts to perfection. Legs encased in worn leather chaps over equally worn denim. Small gray cowboy boots peeked out from under the dusty chaps. One part adorable, one part badass and completely sexy, this woman was what little cowgirls dreamed of becoming.
“I’m so sorry. I thought—” The woman waved her apology aside.
“Don’t worry about it. Happens sometimes. Especially when someone as skittish as you is high-tailing it away from me.”
“Not you you. I hate being clumsy around people. And now that I’m here, I just want to get this over with. My nerves are shot and I’m not even in the room yet.”
“So let’s go rope this bull and see what’s what, shall we? We’re in Suite 113. Name’s Karson.”
Shelby took the elbow Karson crooked for her. “I’m Shelby. It’s nice to meet you, Karson. Thanks for saving my ass from meeting the ground out there. I bruise worse than peaches,” she joked as they started down the hall.
“Mmm…peaches.” Did Karson just cop a glance at her ass? The hat and Karson’s short stature made it impossible to know. Nevertheless, electricity zinged along her curves before settling like a swarm of feather-winged butterflies in her stomach.
“Here we are.” Shelby opened the door and let loose the excited chattering of what sounded like thousands of people. “You ready?”
Karson winked up at her. “As I’ll ever be.”
“After you,” Shelby smiled as she waved her companion through. Shared courtesy was part of it but really she just wanted to see Karson’s ass framed by those chaps before they got separated in the crowd.
Karson winked again, brushing a long tapered finger against the rim of her hat in a brief salute before she swaggered into the room.
Damn. Shelby sucked in a breath. Karson was worthy of a romance cover. Her slim back tapered down to trim hips and the most perfect butt on the planet. Small, high and round, her cheeks flexed with sensual strength.
A long table piled with paperwork was set up to the left of the doorway. A harried but cheerful brunette looked up at them. Her blue eyes bounced back and forth between Shelby and Karson. “Please tell me you two don’t know each other,” she begged.
“Not really, no. We just met. Why?” Shelby asked as she read a release form.
“Do either of you have a problem with being on camera together?” The brunette’s knuckles whitened on the pencil she clutched.
Shelby straightened. She looked at Karson. “I’m okay with it,” she whispered through the sudden lump in her throat.
Karson looked her up and down. Shelby tried not to fidget under her heated gaze. Karson’s whisky eyes brightened to a golden sherry. “Couldn’t ask for a better partner.”
The brunette’s pencil snapped in two. She blew out a breath, fanning her face with her hand as she reached for a walkie-talkie. “Francis? I found your dream pair.”
A short burst of static crackled before an excited woman answered. “Park Avenue and Cowboy?”
“Better. Both ladies,” she purred.
“Send them back as soon as they sign. Sign, sign, sign,” the unseen woman shouted through the speaker.
Once they signed, the brunette abandoned the table and whisked them through the buzzing crowd. Soon enough, they found themselves standing next to a full-sized bed surrounded by cameras and hot lights.
Karson captured all of Shelby’s attention. Nothing else mattered. Not the young man waving a light meter in their faces, not the people waiting. Only Karson.
“Action!”
“Undress me,” Shelby whispered.
Karson’s rough chuckle sent a shiver down Shelby’s spine as she flicked the buttons of her tailored shirt free. “Turn around,” she commanded.
Shelby obeyed. Karson’s calloused fingertips sent tingles racing along her nerves as she whisked her shirt off. The Stetson’s soft nap brushed her arm as Karson unzipped her skirt and helped her wiggle out of it. Her nipples tightened under the purple satin of her bra.
She glanced down, meeting Karson’s burning gaze from where she knelt at her side. “My turn.”
Shelby hung the Stetson on a bedpost. “Hands up, cowgirl,” she growled as she tugged Karson’s t-shirt off, baring her perfect little breasts covered in white lace. “I should hate you. You get to wear all the pretty bras.”
“My tiny tits are nothing compared to yours.” Karson’s breath caressed Shelby’s breasts in a hot wave. Desire curled through her core.
“We’ll call it even, then.” Shelby unfastened buckles, buttons and laces before she was able to push the leather and denim down Karson’s taut thighs. “Sonofa—”
“They’ll fit over the boots,” Karson whispered to her, raising a foot.
Leather and denim tumbled onto wool and cotton.
Shelby stood. Karson’s white lace bra and white cotton briefs were sexier than any Victoria’s Secret ad.
“Cut! Wow,” the unseen director huffed. “Ladies, if we weren’t using digital, you would’ve burned the film.”
Nervous, Shelby bent and scooped up their pile of clothing, clutching it to her bare midriff. “I could use something cold. Want to go get a drink?” she asked Karson.
Shelby’s stomach muscles quivered as Karson plucked her clothes from the pile, quirking a brow at her. “I’d rather eat a peach.”
Gina Fluharty 