Page 14 of Our Elliana

I stand there with my thumbs over the button to my pants, then pop it, unzip, and drag them to my knees. Understanding that I need to take off my socks and shoes to divest myself of the rest, I kick off the shoes and peel down the socks, making the removal of my khakis much less troublesome.

With all but my underwear gone, I pause. This is the most I’ve exposed to anyone outside my family, and even my mom hasn’t seen this much of me since I was too small to attend school.

And I’m not even done.

Taking a deep breath that hitches like a suppressed cough halfway up, I yank off my undies, covering my privates with my hands and angling that aspect of myself off to the side. If I yearned for the rug to swallow me whole before, that’s nothing to how I feel now.

My mortification is so all-consuming that I feel sunburned from my scalp to my toes. I’m sure every inch of me must be the color of the fire engine I frequently ride in.

“Huh-uh.” She wags a disapproving finger at me in a sharp movement. “Don’t turn away and don’t obscure those goods. I want to inspect the merchandise.”

I startle at this because it makes me feel like a piece of meat. Is this what women talk about here in the city when referring to catcalls and whistles? If so, the next time I hear another man pulling a stunt like that, I’m going to punch him.

She releases this unladylike snort. “I’m kidding. Well, mostly. But we’re about to get it on, honeybunny. If you’re not up for that, I need to know now.”

“I-I’m up for it,” I stutter out, my voice cracking like a twelve-year-old, but I make myself press my arms to my sides. I can feel her eyes on me, so I laser all my attention on her high-heel-clad feet. They’re dainty with a bright red shade on her toenails that strikes me as very feminine and lovely.

Pretty.

Not that I’m supposed to notice such things.

I couldn’t be any more embarrassed if someone tied me to her mailbox right now and started taking pictures. Yet my male appendage doesn’t seem daunted by such scrutiny. It somehow remains as stiff as a flagpole in spite of everything.

Kill me already.

As I’m wishing I could die, she climbs off the mattress—she’s so much shorter than me that I tower over her by a good foot and a half—then she crawls back onto her bed on all fours with her shoes dangling off the edge. She peeks back at me over her bare shoulder and slaps her round bottom.

My blood quits circulating.

Did she just spank herself?

“Okay then, let’s get this show on the road.”

EIGHT: Feeling Dizzy

NOAH