Alexandra's Awakening

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

I went to work, furiously rehearsing in my head the excuses for my hasty exit. However, when I poured them out to Jane, they felt flat. She knew the truth and I was a terrible liar. I was frightened of my own feelings and my physical body, and s*x, yes s*x. I would never confess that in so many words and thankfully, she didn’t seem compelled to explore my motives.

“You’ll have to come with me again,” she stated simply, and the subject was closed. Yet in spite of her easy acceptance, I knew she was aware of my fears. I could hide nothing from her.

On the way home that evening I drove by the bar, seeing the blinking pink flamingo in the twilight hour, beckoning me inside. My body reacted as I knew it would, warming, pulsing as it had the night before. What was I doing, anyway? I’d never go back there. Never!

That night instead of fantasizing about the bar with neon and flamingos, I imagined myself in a seedy roadside tavern. The ‘Red Rose.’ There were burly men in leather and dirty jeans, playing pool, guzzling beer, smoking joints and fondling their women like toys.

I dressed myself in leather pants and a cut off t-shirt that stretched across my breasts revealing every nuance of my erect n*****s. The men in the Red Rose didn’t make love, they f****d and screwed like hellions. They used their women hard, knowing the sluts would come back for more. My body ached to be taken over the nearest table, and f****d from behind, pawed at, used, demeaned. Yes! Yes! My body screamed back at me.

The gruff-voiced man ran his hands over my flesh, roughly squeezing my t**s.

“C’mon, b***h!” he growled, pulling me out the door into the firecracker night. Lightning and thunder in the distance charged the air with electricity and fired the animal inside the brute who held me close to his side. He dragged me to the edge of the woods, where, barely hidden by the brush, he threw me down on hands and knees…

Writhing in my bed, it didn’t take long. Tonight, as I imagined the crude violation, my hands pulled and tugged at my pubic hair. I even slapped myself and pinched my n*****s. Mad, angry thoughts pierced through all the pretty fantasy to these rough ones. I wanted rough. I wanted the Red Rose and its beastly men.

When the cumming was over, my shame was even greater, my outrageous thoughts deeply despised. Once the dream was just a fading memory, I completed my ritual, washing my hands and donning the pink nightgown that buttoned to my neck. I swore to myself that I’d never indulge myself that way again. All the while I knew I was lying to myself.

***

“Hey, girl, we’re going shopping tomorrow,” Jane said as we were headed toward the elevator at the end of the day. It wasn’t a question, or offer, but a stated fact.

“Okay, but—?”

“You need some clothes,” she cut me off, “ones that don’t hide that gorgeous body.” A wave of excitement swept through me as I understood her plan. No she wasn’t giving up on me after the debacle of our last fateful adventure.

“You have some place in mind?” I asked.

“There’s a boutique on 2nd Street, I think you’ll like it.”

My clothes were sweet. How many years I’d picked them knowing my mother would wear them, too. Stylish but sweet, not cheap, but prim. Cotton shirts, functionally cool shorts for summer. Neutral suits and knee length hems for winter. Every blouse or sweater I owned buttoned at the neck, making me a picture of propriety.

I wondered how Jane would dress me. Low cut tops. Short skirts. Filmy fabrics. My heart raced just thinking of them. All evening long, every time I thought of that shopping trip, I felt my crotch begin its slow dance with desire. Edgy, slinky, slutty dangerous clothes. I was embarrassed by my thoughts but too turned on to make them go away.

The next morning, I wore my blue spring suit, but rather than button my blouse to my neck, I left a couple buttons open, smiling giddily in the mirror as I did. No one could see my bra beneath, and I couldn’t be accused of being risqué, but at least I didn’t look so prim. The best I could do with what I had.

***

“No, Alex, take off the bra,” Jane demanded. Once we arrived at her favorite boutique, she pulled a dozen items off the rack with the assistance of a shop owner, a rotund but beautiful French women who spoke with a thick accent. Half the time they were conversing in French and I didn’t understand a word they said. When it came time to try on the clothes, Jane insisted on joining me in the dressing room – I don’t know when I’d last been shopping with a girlfriend.

“No bra?” I asked in response to her direction. My eyes must have been as big as saucers. “I can’t do that… I just…well…”

“Maybe not in public, but this isn’t public, is it? It’s an exercise in breaking rules. Time you got used to it.”

Taking a deep breath, I shed the bra, nervous about her seeing me naked, and quickly pulled the t-shirt over my naked chest. Jane eyed me with a whimsical smile, which made me wonder what she was thinking. She could be so damn intimidating, especially how she seemed so pleased by what she saw.

“So what do you think? Look at yourself.”

I turned toward the mirror and the first thing, the only thing that caught my eyes were my n*****s, sticking a good ¾ of an inch from my chest, poking through the thin fabric. Jane must have seen my look of horror as I turned away.

She only smiled. “C’mon Alex, take a deep breath and look at yourself. Really look.”

“What if I don’t want to look?”

“Do it anyway. You need to see yourself for who you are.”

No I didn’t. I wanted to shout right back, but I obeyed the order as if I had no choice. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to look at my prominent n*****s and appreciate, not despise them. I had no problem with this sort of thing in my fantasies, why now?

“You are one sexy woman, you just don’t realize it,” she exclaimed. Suddenly, she was on her feet, standing behind me, loosening my hair, fluffing it with her hands. The way she ran her fingers through the soft waves sent shivers through me, and I realized how aroused I’d become. I had the overwhelming desire to touch her back, but I squelched the idea. What the hell was I doing? I could feel my old self grabbing me back.

“Oh, I don’t know.” I shook my head. “This really isn’t me.”

“I beg to differ,” she answered, as she turned me back to the mirror with firm hands.

“It just seems so indecent.”

“There’s nothing indecent about enjoying your body, and letting other people enjoy it too. You’ll never get over being bored with your life unless you make some radical changes.” Her hands caressed my arms and my back, and I shivered from the touch. I couldn’t decide whether her affection was sisterly or that of a lover. I could feel the sensation all the way to my fingertips and more and more alarming, directly between my thighs. “Let’s face it, Alex, you’ve been under your mother’s thumb long enough. It’s time you discovered the real Alex under all your rules and appropriate behavior.”

Boy, did she hit me squarely where it hurt, although I certainly wasn’t surprised by her appraisal. I was tired of living my life to please my mother. Tired of her judgment and the way I judged myself because of her. I dreamed of an exciting life – handsome men, hot s*x, affairs of the heart, travel, adventure, laughing, loving, getting screwed, even if it meant a broken heart. I wanted a life! I hated who I’d become in my twenty-eight years. I was ordinary, nothing special, and I hated myself. Perhaps this could be a new start. Why not?

“It’s time you started living your fantasies,” she pressed. “You think too much.”

“My fantasies?” What did she know about my fantasies?

“You told me a lot the other night, in very few words. You certainly don’t think you’re the only one with racy thoughts?”

My mind was swimming. I felt afraid, but I don’t know when I’d been this excited.

As I looked in the mirror and stared at my chest, I liked what I saw. There was something about me I hadn’t seen before.

“I’ll buy it, and the jeans too,” I announced. I also chose a purple silk top with sequins around the low neckline. Jane said it was long enough to wear as a dress, but I wasn’t about to go that far. I could wear it over leggings. Then as we were leaving the dressing room, I impulsively grabbed a short denim skirt, that I initially discarded as way too outside my comfort zone.

“Really?” I noted Jane’s look of surprise.

“Yeah, why not?” I guess she was rubbing off on me.

“Okay then, tomorrow night you wear the skirt and t-shirt, we’ll go out again.” I hardly flinched at the thought.

That night, I came twice – so fast the first time that my body needed more. Rather than getting up right away after the first orgasm died away, I found the Red Rose tavern in my fantasies, arriving there on the back of a motorcycle, where in my dreams a burly biker roughly massaged my breasts and his bearded mouth fastened itself on mine. His tongue forcefully thrust its way between my lips and I could feel his warm crotch pressed tightly against me. I came quickly, before my fantasy man had a chance to remove my clothes or slide his c**k inside.

I couldn’t believe the heat of my desires. I smelled the musty odor of my hands and relished that raw perfume. This time, I didn’t wash the smell away. And the flannel nightgown . . . I let it hang inside my closet and slept nude.