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“Kara, let’s go.”
I take her hand, and she locks her gaze on my eyes. She takes control, and we walk to the door at the end of the hall.
“Last chance,” she chimes.
I nod to the door suggesting she opens it, and she follows my cue. The door opens, and she flips a switch, casting light on a wooden staircase. We descend to the bottom floor where she has boxes on top of boxes full of items, most of them marked fabrics. It’s not disorganized. It actually looks like a little warehouse. She has mannequin forms, hangers, and various drawings from clothing to interior designs posted on the walls. I can tell she spends time down here since there is a Keurig, a stack of paper cups, and a variety of coffee and teas.
I play with the fabric draped on the dress form, feeling its soft texture and viewing the sketch pinned to it.
“Do you come down here often?” I ask.
She turns away from her hunt to address my statement.
“Uh, yeah. When I need to escape, I hide in this spot and allow my mind to explore either by drawing, sewing, pinning pieces together. Anything to clear my mental, really.” She goes back to searching for the samples.
“I love what I see of your personal work. Have you sold many pieces?”
“I sell some customs during prom season. Those that aren’t bought I donate to women’s shelters and high schools for those who can’t afford dresses for the prom or other events.”
“Oh. I read about you in one of the community papers. They call you the prom fairy.”
She smiles when I talk about her good deeds.
“I imagined an older woman since they never posted a picture of you,” I add.
“I don’t do it for recognition. I know what it’s like to not be able to afford things.” She takes a ladder and stands it against a large wooden shelf with boxes.
The more I find out about her, the more intrigued I become.
“What’s with the ladder?” I ask, helping her to stabilize it.
“Oh. The box up there has the fabric squares for the design you like. You have to get the full vision to appreciate it.”
She ascends the stairs without thinking of her outfit, and I get a shot of her purple thong and her voluptuous, round, chocolate ass. If that top she’s wearing didn’t send me over the edge, getting a peek at her cheeks definitely does. My dick pushes against my zipper, and I adjust myself, turning away.
“Brent, do you mind holding the ladder?” she asks when it wobbled after I released my grip.
“Sure!” I exclaim, my voice cracking, and I bow my head. I grab the legs and hold them steady as I hear her steps descend.
“I’m really surprised you liked my…whoa.”
She slips on the last rung, and I react instantly, catching her before she hits the floor. The swatches go flying everywhere when she lands with a loud nervous laugh. I can’t help but chuckle with her. She grabs for her heart, and if she reached up to my chest, she’d know how fast mine is beating, too. But not for the same reason.
“Are you okay?” I ask through my nerves.
She calms down, trying to gain control of her breathing, wiping the water from her eyes. I take stock of her face, the fullness of her lips, the curve of her neck, and the deep brown of her pupils with honey-colored flecks. She’s fucking beautiful I think to myself. She sits up and helps me to my feet before gathering all the samples she was hunting.
“Sorry about that. I lost my footing. That’s never happened, I swear.”
She still has a giggle on her lips, and it makes me smile to hear it.
“I’m just glad I was here to catch you. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt on account of me.”
“I mean, if anyone’s hurt on the account of the other here, it’s you. I did fall on top of you.”
She catches me with a stare, biting her bottom lip, leaving me speechless.
“Shall we go back up and finish going over the designs? I think the one that caused all this trouble will be perfect, and we can start placing the orders for the things needed to complete the job if you approve.” She adjusts her clothes, takes the samples, and treads up the stairs.
