Chapter Two: The Strip and The Touch
Kara was nervous. A little bit. Chris was just laying there on his bed, watching. She wanted to please him. But what if he didn't like her body? What if, after she'd undressed, he'd turn away in disgust, and then send her far away, back to the airport. Back to America. Back to New York.
She didn't want him to do that. If he did, she couldn't bear it. Kara had done a lot of thinking on the nearly eight hour flight from New York to London, and then the small plane up north to where he was.
As his eyes met hers, after wandering around on her still form, she inhaled slowly. He was Chris. The boy she was in love with, and had been in love with for the past two years.
Now she lifted up the hem of her tank top, embarrassment gone when she met the steady but gentle look of his dark blue eyes. His voice may have been commanding, but she knew that if she didn't want him to do this, he would stop and give her a moment to pause this.
His eyes darted away from hers, widening on the expanse of skin that was being shown. She felt a rush of pleasure when his pupils darkened. He was aroused, she knew, she had felt his hardness against her. But this time she could see it in his eyes.
Kara smiled tauntingly and she whipped the shirt over her head. She was now in only her black lace bra, tight darkwash blue jeans, and her usual gray Vans sneakers. The bra was a push up, an early birthday gift from her best friend Vivian. When she had told Vivian about her sudden desire to show up in Scotland, Vi had rose to the challenge, and bought her a new expensive but beautiful bra and matching lace hip bone showing panties. Now she finally knew she wanted Chris to be the only one to see her in them always.
Chris swallowed hard, sitting up, then leaning on his elbows, staring at her cleavage. It was modest, actually, only a average B cup, but to her, from his captivated look trapped on her breasts, you would've thought he found them absolutely perfect. Maybe he did.
Now she slowly slid her hands down her stomach, her own muscles tensing underneath. Her fingers danced over her jeans button, and it unclasped with a quiet 'schick' sound. The zipper was pulled down next, the noise a whisper in the silence. She wiggled her hips, and the jeans fell down in a pool around her ankles. She stepped out of them, pulling off her shoes at the same time. Clad in a bra, her panties, and black ankle socks, she bit her lip, looking at him.
"Should I take off the rest?"
His head snapped up. "What?"
She held back a giggle. He looked dazed, like she'd hit him in the back of the head with a four by four. "Should I take off the rest of my clothes?"
"Yes," he said hoarsely.
She reached up and behind her, expertly unsnapping her bra. The straps slowly slipped down her shoulders, to the crease of her arm. She held the bra up for a moment, still hiding her breasts, before letting go. The bra fell in a lacy heap on the floor. At first she didn't want to show him, she kept her arms crossed against her chest. But then she uncrossed them, and revealed her half naked self to him.
