Lost in Light (9 page)

Thirty minutes later I sat defeated on the edge of my bed, watching Ansel joyously bat a catnip mouse we had rescued from the back of the closet around the piles of clothes.

I needed help.

Snatching up my phone from my desk I called Liam’s cell. His voice was thick with sleep when he answered.

“Rachel? Is everything okay?”

“I need help,” I said as I began hanging my clothes back in the closet.

“Is it Jake?” he asked, alarm creeping into his voice.

“Oh no! No, nothing like that. It’s something else.” I could feel my cheeks flushing as I glanced over at my computer, the email still on the screen.

“Anything for you, love,” he said. “No, everything’s fine,” I heard him add in a soft voice, presumably talking to Patrick. “What do you need?” he asked, focused on me again.

“Does that offer for shopping still stand?”

Liam’s laugh was soothing and made me instinctively smile.

“Of course, you want to go tomorrow?”

“Oh umm, I was hoping we could go today. I have a err… date this evening,” I said sheepishly. It
was
a date, wasn’t it?

“Really? With who?” he asked, his voice full of curious excitement.

“Just some guy from one of my art history classes,” I hedged, absently tugging at a loose thread on my comforter.

“I’ll be home in an hour,” he said as a coy chuckle rumbled in the background. “Better make it two.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the two of them.

“That’s fine. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye Rache!”

I had two hours to occupy myself before Liam got home. Jumping up off my bed I went into the kitchen to feed the suddenly starving Ansel, and make myself a cup of tea. With tea in hand I wandered back into my bedroom to see my alarm clock claiming that only ten minutes had passed. It was going to be a
long
two hours.

Blowing softly across the hot liquid I remembered Professor Davis saying something about BDSM and lifestyles the night before. Parking my tea and myself in front of the computer I pulled up Firefox to see if I could figure out just what it was that I was getting myself into. Words like restraint, intense sensory stimulation, bondage, hot wax, and blindfolds swam in front of my eyes on the screen. The restraint and blindfolds I could understand, but hot wax? Why would anyone want to pour hot wax on someone else? Did he want to do that to me?

My tea forgotten, I was sucked down into the world of Wikipedia and Google searches, reading about bottoms and tops, ball gags, spreader bars, and floggers. Each new nugget of information pulled me deeper into that world, scaring and titillating me all at once until I was a confused mass of agitated excitement.

The distant sound of Liam’s key in the front door brought me back to myself. Quickly turning off my computer I pulled on my jeans and a clean t-shirt, untied my braid and ran my fingers through my wavy hair.

“Hey you,” Liam said from the doorway.

“Hey you, too,” I replied with a smile.

“So what do you have in mind?” he asked, stepping over to my open closet to rifle through my clothes.

“A skirt or a dress? Maybe something a little, umm, sexy?” I ventured, my cheeks hot as I blushed.

“Just some guy, huh?” Liam asked with a laugh and a knowing smile. “What’s his name?”

“Matt,” I blurted, remembering Professor Davis’s email.

Best to stick to the truth as much as possible.

“Cool, let’s go shopping!”

***

Liam beamed as he pulled into the parking spot outside the H&M store.

“I’ve been dying to come here!” he said, stepping out of the car. Running my fingers through my hair I fought to bring it back under some semblance of control. Deciding it was a hopeless case I settled for piling it on top of my head and hiding it beneath the baseball cap I kept hidden in the glove box. I loved riding it Liam’s shiny red Mustang, but it was always a detriment to my hair.

“What’s the big deal? It’s just a store,” I groused as I shut my door. Glancing at my watch I bit my lip, it was already after eleven, less than eight hours until I had to be at Professor Davis’s house.

“What?” I asked when I looked up at Liam and saw the horrified expression on his face.

“Just a store? Oh Rache, you have so much to learn!”

If only you knew!
I thought with a rueful smile.

Grabbing me by the arm he pulled me headlong into the store, and my own personal hell.

I enjoy shopping for clothes as much as any other girl, but shopping with Liam could tax anyone’s patience. He is meticulous, almost ruthless, when it comes to shopping. He will attack a sales rack with the same tenacious savagery as a lion attacking a gazelle. He has to pour over every single rack and table, making sure that he hasn’t missed some spectacular find. I on the other hand suffer from a serious case of ADD shopping and am easily distracted by pretty, shiny things.

After an hour we had it narrowed down to three options – an awful mustard yellow skirt reminiscent of something my grandmother would have worn in the fifties, a skin tight patterned jersey dress that barely covered my ass, and a flared skirt in soft black lace that hit just above my knee and seemed to float when I walked.

Guess who picked which.

“Definitely the jersey,” Liam said, holding up the patterned scrap of cloth proudly.

“I don’t think so,” I protested, fingering the black skirt covetously.

“I thought you wanted to look sexy.”

“I do, but there’s sexy and then there’s giving the cow away for free,” I quipped.

“Fine,” he grumbled sourly, putting it back on the rack. Holding up the yellow skirt hopefully he sighed and rolled his eyes at the firm shake of my head. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“It looks like something my Gran would wear.”

“It’s called Retro, Rache,” he said in a loud and slow voice as if talking to a child.

“It’s called ugly, Liam,” I snarked back. Biting his tongue on whatever retort instantly came to mind he hung it on the rack with the jersey dress.

“The black one it is!” he said with feigned enthusiasm.

“I like it,” I murmured, delighting in the feel of the soft lace between my fingers.

“It’s boring,” Liam said flatly as we started weaving through the racks again towards a wall of accessories.

“It’s classy,” I protested, and then bit my lip as doubt began to eat away at my resolve.

Glancing up at me over a display of scarves he smiled softly and said, “Yes you’re right. It’ll show off your legs wonderfully.” Handing me a slim black sequined scarf he added “This will look lovely with it too.”

After paying for the skirt, scarf, and a pair of earrings we had chosen to match we stopped for lunch in the food court. I picked nervously at my food, the pizza tasteless and too greasy, my eyes repeatedly dancing to my phone display, watching the time melt away. By twelve-thirty I was damn near twitchy.

“What’s up itchy pants?” Liam teased, pulling a long string of cheese off of his own pizza slice.

“Just nervous I guess,” I murmured, pushing my half eaten food away, wiping the grease off my fingers with a napkin while frowning at it in disgust.

“You really like this guy, huh?”

“Yeah, I do,” I answered, ducking my head shyly and nodding.

“I’m glad to see you getting back out there so soon after that asshole Jake.”

Feeling a twinge of guilt in the pit of my stomach for not telling him the whole truth about my break-up with Jake, I could only nod and smile weakly.

Several quiet and slightly uncomfortable minutes passed during which I picked all the pepperoni off my pizza as I mentally ran through his list of instructions again.

1. You are to wear a dress or skirt that falls above the knee

2. You are not to wear any make-up

3. Your hair must be secured in a braid

4. You may wear a bra (something sexy if you like), but you are not permitted to wear any panties

5. You should be freshly bathed with all body hair removed

I flushed as I remembered his last point. I had never dared do something so bold, barely even entertained the thought. The idea of using a razor down there filled me with fear and anxiety. What if I cut myself? Plucking up my courage I dared a quick glance at Liam before blurting, “Hey Liam? Have you ever, umm, shaved, you know, down
there
?”

“All the time. I like the way it makes Vlad look,” he replied easily. “And it feels great when Patrick goes down on me.”

“Vlad?” I couldn’t help asking.

“Vlad,” he said with a smile pointing down to his lap. “The Impaler,” he added, cocking a brow at me.

As realization dawned my mouth dropped open and I just stared at him while he laughed heartily.

“Wow. I mean umm… wow. You really named it?”

“Of course! Haven’t you named your va-jay-jay?”

“Ah no,” I replied, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Liam just shrugged and wiped his mouth with a napkin, though the look of mischievousness didn’t go unnoticed.

“So, do you have any pointers?” I asked sheepishly, trying to steer the conversation away from the nameless state of my vagina.

“Of course, we’ll make another stop on the way home.”

***

It was nearing one-thirty by the time we got back to our apartment and my nerves were a nauseating mass in the pit of my stomach. I quickly stashed my new clothes in my room and then awkwardly stated that I was going to take a bath. Liam chuckled as he flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV.

“I’ll be here if you have any questions!” he called after me as I shut the bathroom door and set my bag of supplies from Walgreens down on the counter.

Looking up into the mirror I couldn’t help frowning at my reflection. I looked flustered and wide-eyed, nervous sweat moistening my brow and upper lip.

“Calm down, Rache,” I muttered under my breath. “You can do this, it’s no big deal. Liam does it all the time.”

Nodding at my reflection with far more resolve than I felt, I opened the plastic bag and pulled out all of the items Liam had selected and lined them up on the counter. Stepping back I eyed them spread out before me, each of them looking innocuous until I considered what I was using them for.

There was a comb and a pair of small but sharp scissors, a canister of shaving cream, a bottle of shaving oil, some unscented moisturizer, and a new fancy razor. I had told Liam that the one I already had would work just fine to which he had rolled his eyes and dropped the Schick Quattro into my basket while saying, “Your vag will thank you.”

Spreading out a small towel on the floor in front of the sink I shimmied out of my clothes and dropped them in the laundry hamper. Eying my body critically in the mirror, I fought to see what Professor Davis was seeing in me. At five foot eight I wasn’t overly tall, but I wasn’t petite by any stretch of the imagination. I had an average build, though I had always thought my breasts were a little too big and my hips a bit too wide for my frame. My skin was thankfully smooth and soft, and didn’t bear the ghostly paleness of my dad, though I had inherited his fiery red hair.

Sweeping my hair up with a clip I took a deep breath as I picked up the comb and scissors. Remembering Liam’s advice I propped one foot up on the counter, balancing awkwardly on one foot, and began to trim the hair with the small scissors.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I was able to set the comb and scissors aside, the wicked looking blades had terrified me. Turning on the water for the tub I added a couple drops of my favorite lavender scented oil and waited anxiously for it fill. The water was deliciously warm and fragrant as I slid into it, and it instantly washed away some of my nervousness, soothing my tense muscles.

Exhaling deeply I stretched out in the tub until the water lapped at my lower lip. I slowly moved my arms back and forth enjoying the almost weightless feeling. Closing my eyes I took a slow breath, drawing in the soothing scent of lavender. Ignoring the sound of the TV from the living room, I blocked out the thought of everything except Professor Davis and the hungry emerald eyes that seemed to see right through into the heart of me.

Absently I ghosted my fingers over my stomach and the tops of my thighs, before brushing them over my trimmed mound. It already felt more sensitive and I wondered, not for the first time that day, how different it would feel when all of the hair was removed. My hesitation was now tinged with anticipation and the beginnings of arousal. Deciding that I had spent ten minutes soaking in the tub as Liam had suggested, I got out and let the water drain as I dried off. Once again standing in front of the mirror with one foot resting on the counter I applied the shaving oil and then shaving cream to my softened skin and turned on the faucet.

Breathing deeply to still my trembling fingers I picked up the new razor, popping off the little plastic guard, and after giving it a quick rinse under the flowing water drew the blades across my skin for the first time. Rinsing the razor I repeated the action again and again, slowly and methodically sweeping the razor over my flesh until finally it was completely bare. Soaking a washcloth under the hot water I softly cupped my mound, feeling the heat soak into my skin, washing away the last traces of shaving cream and tugging on the arousal that hung low and heavy in my sex.

Stepping back I admired my handiwork in the mirror, relieved that I had not cut myself. It was odd to see myself without hair hiding my sex, my outer lips looking plump and pink, not at all ugly as I had feared. Daring to run my fingers over my freshly shaved skin I was startled by how much the sensitivity had increased. I bit my lip to hold back the moan that bubbled up from my throat, painfully aware of Liam just outside the door. Retrieving my robe from the back of the door I quickly put it on and busied myself clearing up my shaving supplies.

Emerging from the bathroom several minutes later I was embarrassed to find Liam peering at me over the back of the couch with a knowing smile on his face.

“How’d it go?”

“Ah fine, it was fine,” I stammered before ducking into my bedroom and slamming the door shut behind me, sealing off his rising laughter. I stood slumped against the door and ignored the sound of his footsteps shuffling towards the door.