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She lifts her eyes to mine and raises a brow, waiting. I know what that means.
Hooking my thumbs into the black lace of my thong underwear, I push them down and step out of them, so all I'm left in are Natalie’s four-inch black heels. I don't even have jewelry on, because Natalie insisted I didn't need it.
Madam Christine steps back and I swear I can feel her eyes on every square inch of my skin. It's like she's taking inventory and pinning my physique to memory.
"Spread your legs so they’re shoulder-length apart. Put your arms behind your head."
I breathe in slow and do as she says, my pulse thrashing in my neck. All I want to do is look at Natalie to make sure this is normal, but the rustling in my veins tells me not to.
“She needs waxing,” she says to Natalie. “Wax everything." Christine eyes her, and Nat mumbles in agreement.
I shave pretty well so I'm not sure what she means, but okay. I've never had waxing done before.
Christine steps closer to me and places two fingers under my breast and taps it. She taps it again, and it bounces softly. Cupping it gently, she gives it a squeeze. My stomach tightens.
"What size are you?"
"Thirty-four C, or D, depending on the bra."
"Beautiful," she says, and cups my other breast, giving it the same treatment.
She places both hands under my arms and then drags them down to my waist and around my jutting hips, slowly lowering herself to the floor until she's on her knees.
"Waist and hip sizes."
"My waist is a twenty-six. My hips are thirty-three."
"Do you work out?" she asks, eye level with my pussy, and I want to die of embarrassment.
She's looking up for my answer but all I can think about is how I'm turned on seeing Christine on her knees.
I lick my lips. "No," I respond, my voice a bit raspy.
"Why not?"
"I can't afford it."
She doesn't say anything and continues running her palms to my backside, cupping my ass cheeks. Looking over her shoulder, she says to Natalie, "Go to a Pilates or yoga studio, not a gym. I don't like my women looking like men. Clients want soft and supple. Some like to think they can break a woman if she's small, and we give them the illusion they can."
I wish Madam Christine would tell me these things directly instead of pretending I'm not here.
"Thank you, Natalie. You can see yourself out. I need to speak with Aubrey alone now."
I look frantically between both of them wondering what she needs to talk to me about alone while I’m buck naked. Natalie gives me no clue. She just nods and excuses herself from the room.
Christine remains on her knees and once the door closes, she does the same exact thing to my pussy that she did to my boobs. A little gasp escapes me as she taps on it, and she looks up, watching me. My stomach dips and a strange sensation cultivates inside my body that I don't know how to process.
"Have you ever been touched by a woman?"
"No." My answer is a whisper on my lips.
Something gleams in her eyes and I have no clue how to read it. All I know is that steadying my heartbeat is a lot harder than it's proving to be. She uses both her hands to spread my lips apart. Jesus Christ… I swallow hard as she eyes my pink clit.
"If a woman wants to be with you, are you willing?"
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I’ve never really thought about it. I'm not sure I’m opposed to being with the same sex, but I don’t know if I want to. I've always loved men and their masculinity. The alphas are the best. Their strength, how dominating and strong they are—they light my blood on fire. Yes, there are women I find downright stunning, but I never stopped to ask if I found them sexually appealing. Does that mean I’m willing to try?
