Fantasies R Us, page 5
“Isn’t it beautiful?” the prince asked.
“Yes, she is,” Jayne said, believing he was talking about the woman.
She felt his lips smile against her neck and the whisper of his breath as he explained. “I meant the act of making love—the sex. See how they enjoy it—how he touches her as he thrusts into her.”
Jayne looked at the man’s hand pressed against the patch of dark hair at the juncture of the woman’s legs. His thumb moved within the cleft just above where his glistening penis slid in and out, in and out, in and out.
She’d seen pictures…movies, educational and erotic. What she saw didn’t shock her. The moisture growing between her legs didn’t, either. But to be this close to it, to see it in the flesh…smell it…
“Would you like to know what it feels like to take a man inside you?”
She stared at the thick penis moving in and out of the opening between the legs of the woman on the bench. She saw how the woman’s skin clung to the man’s shaft like a hungry mouth as he withdrew and swallowed it eagerly when he plunged forward.
An ache grew in Jayne’s abdomen, an ache that rivaled the yearning in her heart. The woman on the bench had gone quiet, her body arched and still as the man’s thrusts turned short and fast. Then the woman’s body bucked and she cried out. The man’s face contorted, he grunted and the two fell together panting.
Jayne pressed back against the prince’s hard chest…and something else of his that was hard, something lower that shocked and thrilled her at the same time. His hands caressed her bare shoulders and he nipped at her neck as the pair on the bench smiled sleepily at each other. The woman glanced in their direction.
“I think we should move so those two can have their privacy,” the woman said to the man.
The man gave the woman’s breasts a quick kiss before she tucked them back into her bodice, then withdrew and tucked his flagging erection back into his pants. The woman sat up and smoothed her skirts down over her legs. The man offered her a hand up and they departed, leaving in their wake the musk of sex.
“Is that what you want, Jayne?”
It was the first time he’d called her by name and the sound of it burned through her like a downed shot of aged bourbon. She nodded. He slid his hands down her sides, heating the close-fitting fabric of her gown, making her skin beneath eager for more.
She turned in his arms and lifted her mouth to his. This time her tongue met his as he slipped it between her lips.
A moan rumbled in his throat. Emboldened by his arousal, she leaned into the kiss and slid her hands under his tux jacket. He was all hard, lean muscle. She’d expected nothing less in him. Still, the heat radiating through his fine shirt and the way his muscles rippled beneath her touch surprised her. Before she could ponder why, his arms tightened across her back, inviting her to explore further.
All thought fled her head and she flexed her fingers against his flanks. She loved how his muscles bunched to her touch—loved how it made her feel powerful and in control.
He swept his tongue across the roof of her mouth. He had his power, too. She sighed and sagged into his embrace. He pressed her against his arousal and she moaned into his mouth.
He lifted his lips from hers and trailed them across her cheek to her ear. “I will teach you the delights of sex.”
She had no doubt he could.
“I will make you feel things you’ve never dreamed of before.”
Hallelujah.
“I will give you what you want, Jayne.”
No, he couldn’t, because she wanted more than a weekend. But at the moment, she didn’t care. Not when his hands felt so good roaming across her body. Not when his body felt so good beneath the exploration of her hands.
Not when he mouthed such long sought for promises.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.
How she had longed to hear such words from a man. And she could believe them at this moment. Thanks to the Lavender Ladies, the optometrist Dr. Feel Good and Madame Amour, she’d been transformed into a vision of beauty. She even felt beautiful, thanks to the fine silk undergarments against her skin and the prince’s arms around her. She felt beautiful and ready for anything until…
Somewhere in the distance the chimes of a clock began to strike the hour. One, two chimes.
There was something important about time. Three chimes, four…
Cinderella. Shoot, she was Cinderella!
She pushed back in the prince’s arms and gasped, “What time is it?”
“Nearly midnight,” he said.
Everybody knew what happened to Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. In her case that would mean bye-bye glamorous red gown, sophisticated upsweep and every ounce of makeup hid her plainness.
Chime number five.
“I have to go,” she yelped, shoving herself out of his arms and dashing through the break in the hedge.
But once in the hedge maze, she wasn’t sure which way to go.
“Jayne,” he called from behind her.
Bong, bong, bong chimed the clock. How many was that? Six? Seven? Eight?
She picked a path randomly, hoisted her skirt and ran.
Bong.
“Jayne, wait.”
He was gaining on her. It was the shoes. No real woman could run in heels let alone stiff glass slippers.
She paused just long enough to kick them off. In the fairytale, Cinderella left behind just one shoe. But this was reality as that bonging clock kept reminding her. Any second now, she was going to turn into plain-Jane and her coach into a pumpkin…if she even had a coach.
A stone wall loomed before her as the last bong of the clock resonated through the night air, an ominous trailing sound marking the stroke of midnight.
“Oh God. Oh God,” she panted, not knowing where to go or what to do.
Prince Charming’s footsteps pounding the path behind her grew nearer. She was trapped and about to turn back into a plain-Jane.
But no. There was a door in the shadows of the bushes. A small wooden door. Praying it wasn’t locked, she lifted its rusty wrought iron latch and bolted out of the garden.
Chapter Five
“Ma chérie,” Madame Amour said, dropping a pin and straightening from her dress form. “What are you doing back here so soon?”
“Midnight,” Jayne panted. “The clock struck midnight.”
“Zo?”
Jayne swallowed, trying to coax some moisture into her mouth. “At the stroke of midnight, Cinderella turns back into herself. I become plain.”
Madame Amour tsked. “Ma chérie, der is not’ing plain about you. Come see.”
The dressmaker squared her in front of a mirrored panel. “See. You have not turned into a mouse.”
Indeed she hadn’t. She was still garbed in the red gown and her hair was still swept up on her head albeit a bit disheveled and the dress a tad wrinkled. Even her makeup hadn’t melted away.
Still Jayne frowned. “But in Cinderella—”
“Cinderella was a fairytale,” Madame Amour said.
Jayne met the dressmaker’s gaze in the mirrored panel. “Isn’t that what this is?”
Madame Amour smiled indulgently. “No, ma chérie. This is no fairytale. This is a fantasy.”
“One and the same,” sighed Jayne.
Madame Amour sighed. “Fairytales are for children. Fantasies are for adults. Did you get your fantasy, ma chérie?”
Jayne smiled. “There was a ball and Prince Charming danced only with me.”
“As it should be.”
“He called me beautiful.”
“But of course he did.”
“I was the envy of everyone there. Me. Plain me.”
“How many times must I tell you, ma chérie, you are not plain?”
“Thanks to you and the Lavender Ladies.”
“When handed a diamond in de rough it is merely a matter of polishing.”
“You are very kind, madame.”
The dressmaker shook her head. “We just helped the inner beauty come to de surface.”
Jayne broke away from Madame Amour. “No inner beauty speech, please. I’ve heard it million times.”
Madame Amour nodded sagely. “Tell me what else happened tonight with your prince.”
Jayne smiled shyly. “We went out in the garden.”
“Aaah. We get to de juicy part now.”
“We were hiding from this awful woman and her daughters. They were saying the most absurd things. I think they were my wicked stepmother and stepsisters. When the prince and I giggled, they nearly found us. But we ran off and ducked into this little alcove in the bushes…”
Jayne stopped abruptly, her face growing hot.
“And?” Madame Amour prodded.
“Er. Ah. There was another couple on the bench in the bushes.”
Madame Amour smiled conspiratorially. “And they were having a little tryst, no?”
“They were having a big tryst. And would you believe, they wanted us to watch?”
“Exhibitionists.”
“Yep.”
“And you and your prince were voyeurs?”
Jayne lowered her head and gave a little nod.
“How did watching dem making love make you feel?”
Jayne peered sheepishly up at Madame Amour. “It made me want the prince to do the same thing to me.”
“Aha! How was he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ma chérie, what do you mean, you do not know?”
Jayne blushed. “We didn’t get that far.”
“Did he not perform as you asked?”
“I didn’t exactly ask him to—ah—perform.”
“He did not perform as preordered, then?”
“Preordered?”
“Did you not preorder specific positions?”
“I-I didn’t know you could preorder. I mean, Fantasy Facilitator Ninety-Nine suggested the Cinderella and I agreed.”
Madame Amour clucked her tongue. “Ma chérie, Cinderella does not get laid.”
“But—”
“For de little death is what you come here for, is it not?”
“Little death?”
“Orgasm.”
Orgasm…and the ridding of her virginity. She’d blown it.
“You must alter this tragedy,” the dressmaker said.
“But how?”
Madame Amour punched a series of numbers on a touchpad fastened to her wrist. Instantly, Ninety-Nine appeared as bright-eyed and perfectly coifed at midnight as she’d been at midday. She smiled that wide vacuous smile of hers. “Aaah, Jayne. How did you enjoy your first night of fantasy?”
“She did not get laid,” Madame Amour said.
Ninety-Nine blinked at Madame Amour then back to Jayne. “Is this a problem?”
“I-I did intend for the fantasy to be—ah—sexual.”
“It is what Fantasies R Us promises,” Madame Amour stated.
“And it shall be.” The fantasy facilitator faced Jayne. “The fantasy progresses at whatever pace you dictate. Perhaps you did not require sex tonight?”
“She requires sex and she requires it now,” injected Madame Amour.
Jayne nodded, though she blushed deeply. “I have only the weekend.”
“Then by all means.” A holographic order screen materialized in front of Ninety-Nine and she poised her fingers over the keypad. “May I take your order?”
“I-I want sex.”
“What kind?”
“Kind? There are kinds of sex?”
“Oh, mon dieu, you are a virgin.”
Jayne’s blush deepened.
“You do not know what to ask for, no?”
“No. I mean, yes. I don’t know what to ask for. The whole point of this is to…experience the affair of a lifetime.”
“May I suggest a few things?” the dressmaker offered.
“Somebody better,” Jayne said with exasperation.
Madame Amour turned to Ninety-Nine. “She wants her prince to seduce her.”
“Gently,” Jayne interjected.
Madame Amour smiled. “Gently…the first time. Then she will have him teach her all the joys of being a woman.”
“All the joys?” squeaked Jayne. “In one weekend?”
“Hmmm,” hummed Madame Amour, her forehead creasing with thought. “Only a weekend of love for the petite one.”
Petite? Her? No one had ever called her anything so…feminine. It made Jayne smile a bit.
Madame Amour moved to Ninety-Nine’s side and began reading off the holographic keyboard. “She will have the missionary and the dog style.”
Jayne’s smile flagged. “Dog style?”
Madame Amour flipped a dismissive hand at her. “Trust me, ma chérie. You will like it.”
“But—”
“A sensual massage, no? To relax you.”
“That sounds good.”
“And butterfly kisses.”
“That sounds lovely,” Jayne said.
Madame Amour smiled conspiratorially. “These will get you started.”
“Started?”
“Trust me, ma chérie. Once you get started, you will want more.”
“B-but not too much more. I have only the weekend.”
Madame Amour winked at Jayne. “But what a weekend you will have. It is guaranteed here at Fantasies R Us.” She looked at Ninety-Nine. “N’est-ce pas?”
Ninety-Nine nodded, punched her holographic buttons and smiled that benign smile of hers at Jayne. “It is so ordered.”
The fantasy facilitator then disintegrated in a whir of retreating orbs while Madame Amour hustled Jayne off behind the changing screen.
“Teddies,” she shouted and her assistants appeared with a selection of slinky, skimpy garments.
“Do any of these suit your fancy, ma chérie?”
“Ah, er. What are they for?”
Madame Amour looked at her and sighed. “Your seduction.”
“Oh.”
“Perhaps nothing too revealing dis first time out. Somet’ing classic.” She turned to the assistants and clapped her hands. “The Wedding Night ensemble.”
In a bustle of activity, the assistants produced a long, silk nightgown of pearl-white, its lines simple.
“Everything off,” Madame Amour ordered, unsnapping Jayne’s lace bra.
Jayne clutched the scrap of fabric to her breasts. Madame Amour clucked.
“I have seen it all, ma chérie.”
“But I have never shown it all,” Jayne protested.
“A lovely body such as yours?”
“I don’t have a lovely body.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You will see. When your Prince Charming looks at you, he will not want to look away.”
Of course he won’t look away. Her Prince Charming was a cyborg programmed to fulfill her fantasy to be desired by a handsome prince…no matter how plain she was.
Though, when she stepped out from behind the changing screen, the silk fabric of the gown slipping across her bare skin made her feel elegant, even beautiful. Still, she avoided looking at herself in the mirrored panels. The red gown undoubtedly hid her many flaws. This gown clung to her like a second skin. No doubt it showed every ounce of cellulite and seeing that would kill the feeling.
“I-I’m ready,” Jayne murmured, the words barely escaping her lips.
“Not quite,” Madame Amour chirped and began plucking the pins and combs from her hair.
Jayne blinked at the dresser. “But the Lavender Ladies—”
“Gussied you up for a ball.” Madame Amour smiled indulgently back at her as she pulled Jayne’s upsweep down around her shoulders and finger-combed her curls. “A sensual woman in a sensual gown needs sensual hair.”
A quick head to toe survey, a nod and the dresser then took her by the shoulders, turned her toward an open panel and gave her a gentle shove into the next room.
The walls of the adjoining room were stone and the room circular like a castle tower. But it wasn’t cold or bare and it was romantically lit with candles. The fire in the fireplace cast the fresh rushes covering the floor in a warm, golden glow. To one side of the room was a very large bed draped in gold swags and gossamer curtains. Another fairytale come to life…or rather a fantasy…she hoped.
She turned, seeking the reassurances of Madame Amour. But the panel between rooms had already closed leaving not so much as a crack to reveal where it had been. Panic skittered through her, but only for a moment. This was her fantasy and she was in charge. Nothing could go wrong…as long as she remembered to make her wishes clear.
And right now, she had an authentic castle tower to explore, one scented with the dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling rafters and stonewalls draped with heavy tapestries. Her bare toes sunk into the fresh rushes cushioning the stone floor as she circled the small wooden table in front of the fireplace. A tray of grapes and cheese and a bottle of wine with two stemmed glasses sat on it. A table set for two. Her heartbeat quickened. This was really going to happen. She was going to drink that wine with her prince charming. She was going to nibble grapes from his fingers.
She was going to lose her virginity.
She twirled with excitement, the silk nightgown flaring from her calves and slipping over her curves. Soon her lover’s hands would slide over her skin in the same way. He would whisper sweet sentiments in her ears and gaze upon her with desire.
A cheval glass standing in a shadowed corner caught her pale reflection. She hurried past it. Better for the illusion if she not to see her imperfect body in clinging silk.
She stopped beside the bed—that huge bed draped in velvet swags and sheer curtains. This was where she was going to lose her virginity. The reality of it hit her like a drop on a roller coaster. Her heart slammed against her rib cage and her breath balled up in her throat.
She was going to lose her virginity…here. Maybe she wasn’t ready. She didn’t have to go through with this. She could end this fantasy. All she had to do was find that panic button Ninety-Nine had promised every venue was equipped with.
