Page 76 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

Lacey

The dampness returned now with new purpose. I was going to lie down for her. I was going to lie back on the king bed in this cabin and let my best friend—

I didn't say no. Did I know how to say no?

I was more nervous than I'd thought I would be.

"If you're nervous, we could have some wine. That's the cruise spirit," she said. "We have a little bar." She went to the cabinet and pulled out two small bottles of white. "It's only two, so something light?"

Two small bottles. Already chilled. She didn't have to look for them.

I took the bottle she offered, unscrewed the cap, and drank straight from it. The chilled wine went down fast.

Janice watched me, sipping her own. "Lacey, I'm not going to bite. If you're this uncomfortable, I can teach you how to do it yourself. Or you can always go back for the schoolmarm suit you were looking at earlier."

"No." I shook my head, too quickly. "It's okay. You're right. I need to step into the modern world like you said. I have a lover now. I need to learn the ropes. I need—" I trailed off, because it sounded ridiculous out loud. And I realized with a shock: I wanted her to.

Nothing about the actual situation fit the breezy phrasing. Standing in a cabin in a tiny bikini while my best friend got ready to wax me.

Janice set her bottle down and tilted her head, studying me with the therapist gaze that always saw too much.

"Come here."

She patted the edge of the big bed. I hesitated half a second, then sat. The mattress dipped under my weight. Janice disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments and came back with a small kit: strips, warm wax, gloves, a towel. She tucked the towel neatly under me.

Maybe this wasn't a grooming touch-up at all.

Janice was about to wax my bikini line. Friends did this for each other. Right? The fact that my pulse was pounding in my neck was just embarrassment.

Janice reached for the ties on my bikini bottoms. My heart slammed against my ribs as she pulled the fabric away with unhurried fingers, leaving me bare.

My wetness glistened, now exposed. The shame made it worse.

Janice looked at me, between my legs, and she saw everything. I lay back on the bed and covered my burning face with both hands. Why didn't I close my legs?

My legs stayed open.

Janice pushed my knees wider apart. I was exposed in a way I never had been before, not even at the club. The club had been low light and strangers. This was full afternoon light and Janice. Janice was looking at my exposed pussy.

I wanted to say something. Janice, wait. Janice, are you sure about this— The sentence couldn't form. Janice's hand was already moving toward me with the wax stick. The sentence had had its chance and failed.

The warm wax touched my skin. Then a sharp rip.

Pain flared bright and vicious across my mound. I gasped, hips twitching. The burn went deep and stayed. My hips wanted to move toward the burn, not away from it. I didn't know how to process that.

Two more strips followed. Each rip sent a jolt through me. Each just raised the heat in my blood. On the third, a low, needy moan slipped out.

I froze, horrified. The sound had escaped me. I was lying on a bed with my legs spread for my best friend, and I had just confirmed that I was enjoying—what—the pain? What was wrong with me? But my legs stayed wide open.

Janice paused, her hand resting warm on my inner thigh.

"Does it hurt?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yes," I whispered, voice shaking.

Her tone shifted. Darker. Curious. "Do you like it?"

I didn't want to answer. Don't ask me. Don't ask me to confirm this about myself out loud. "Oh my God—oh my God—"