With toes and soles adjusting, and pirouetting on apartment-grade carpet, Vanessa posed. Chest forward. Ass out. Arms up. Arms down. Casual. Sexy. And all those looks in-between. Such a dance she did, for she had a photo to take, just as she did every night around this time. Not for her social media. No, it was for someone in particular. Someone she didn't even know, had never spoken to, and whose name was nothing more than an unlabeled number in her phone, one that had been there since her senior year of High School.
It just popped up on the night of Vanessa's 18th birthday, as sat at home in her bedroom alone. An image file, from a number she did not recognize. At first, the young black-haired girl thought it might be a dick pic from some creeper, or an invite to prom from a one of her less popular classmates, one she expected to have begged a friend for her number. But no. It wasn't either. In fact, it wasn't from a boy at all. It was instead a selfie of a girl, one dressed from head to toe in sexy black lingerie. With it came no words. No explanations. No identifying information at all. She wasn't someone Vanessa recognized from school or work - her social circle or online. She was just a stranger.
A mystery without clues or calling.
An enigma without indicia or evidence.
At first, the busty 18-year old put the picture and the girl out of mind, assuming it was nothing more than a wrong number. And yet, as the image sat there on her phone, pushed further and further down her list of texts, it began to eat at her. Who was she? Why did she send the picture? Was she trying to communicate something? A subtle comment about the comparative sexiness of their bodies? Was she competition? So many questions Vanessa asked herself on that night, and yet, she had no answers. Such a state began to drive her crazy with anger, frustration, and jealousy, even though Vanessa had no clue as to who she was even jealous of.
Despite the futility of it, there she sat, trying to find something, anything to give her the answers she wanted. In search, she stared at the girl and her lace-covered body. She was beautiful. Sexy. Rebellious, judging by her hair. And worst of all: thin. Each being aspects Vanessa found lacking in herself, silly as some of those doubts may have been.
Finally though, after what seemed like hours, Vanessa decided to respond. And having made that decision she wrote. Sentence after sentence - paragraph after paragraph, only to delete everything a moment later. Some of her messages were friendly and complimentary, others angry and accusatory. But none of what she had written worked to convey and elicit what she wanted. For in truth, she didn't just want to know the girl's name, or why she sent the photo. No, she wanted to know everything. Wanted everything. Not just knowledge, but touch, taste, and smell. Not because she was some pervy lesbian, but instead because ... well ... frankly ... she didn't quite know. It was that confusion that left her unable to respond, though she wanted to so badly she could taste it. That is until, she thought to herself, that words were not right - not enough. Perhaps a picture. One just like the one she received. That would at least be something. Something that would draw from the sender a response, putting the onus on her to explain herself. Letting her feel, just how Vanessa did, even if Vanessa could not properly explain that herself.
Those thoughts in mind, the busty teen took from her closet the sexiest white outfit she could find, one she had bought but never wore. An incredibly short skirt, and a matching white frilly top. It wasn't necessarily lingerie, but it was hot, and showed off the one asset she was confident in: her breasts. Breasts which she manuevered and positioned, until finally they looked right - looked ready for a selfie of this import and hoped-for impact. She tried to pose - tried to make a face that would match that of the mystery girl's, but quickly she found that she couldn't read the face of the girl in the picture, let alone match it. It was emotionless. Without smile or smirk. Not angry or glaring. It just was, and so she decided to be. Taking the photo with as unaffected a look as she could, trying her best to mirror the image she received.
Once the selfie was taken, Vanessa's finger hovered over the green send button, her mind filling with worries and doubts. But as her eyes drifted from the button up to the image above it, in their one message conversation, she knew that she had to. And so she did. Hitting send, and delivering her sexy selfie to the girl who had sent her own. Then she waited. And waited. And waited... Eventually falling asleep in her bed, with her phone resting gently on her chest, her hands still tightly gripping to it.
When she woke to daybreak beaming through her curtains, she found no reply. No response. Just the word 'Seen'. Oh how it drove her crazy! Through breakfast and lunch - the gym and dinner. Nothing. NOTHING! What the actual fuck!? She kept saying to herself, completely confused as to the silence her selfie received. But then, just as she began to move on, and decided to try and forget all that had transpired, a text message without a personalized ringtone came through. She grabbed at her phone wildly, pulling it into her grasp, and sliding it open with a touch. As she did, she saw it. Not words. Not answers. Just another picture of the girl, again wearing sexy lingerie, though a different set this time, her face again wearing no expression. This time she had posed herself differently, and wore a more revealing top, meant to show off her own bust, which though hidden in the first picture by the clothes chosen, was this time displayed in all its glory. The girl was busty, no doubt, her cleavage appearing to be almost an exact match of Vanessa's, a fact that caused her blood to boil and skin to crawl.
She posed like that just to show me how big her tits are! To show me they were as big as mine! BITCH! Vanessa cursed to herself, as she ran to her closet and dug out an outfit that was even skimpier than the last one, and posed herself as to best show off her thighs. The next night, as you might expect, the girl replied with another photo, again taken of a pose and an outfit meant to compare her own body with Vanessa's. From that night on, one girl would send a picture, and the other would respond. Never speaking. Never sending more than an image.
Three years ago that was, and still, the two girls continued to send each other pictures. Their bodies having matured. Their hair colors and styles having settled into cuts that looked near identical, a fact Vanessa knew was intentional on her part, and assumed no less of her text message rival.
As their nightly ritual persisted, their assets grew, and their fitness levels increased, as the pictures of the other drove them to both hit the gym religiously, sometimes twice in one day, never wanting to fall behind their mysterious polaroid partner. The gains from her most recent visit, Vanessa found herself admiring, as she posed for her newest picture. And yet, as she did, something about it felt dull and tired.
She and the girl had seen every inch of each others bodies, swaddled in silk and lace, covered in lingerie and tight-fitting clothing. That had always been enough, but not tonight. No tonight, Vanessa wanted more. NEEDED more. And so, despite the time she took picking out the sexy bra and panty set for tonight's image, she took such clothing off. All of it. Every inch. Until she stood before her full length mirror completely naked. Her once chubby parts had become hard, and the parts of her she was once ashamed of, became her most prized possessions. Leaving not a part of her body she wasn't willing to put up against the girl's, whoever she was. And so, she did. Taking a quick selfie of herself standing nude, for the first time letting herself have an expression, for the first time - one of an extremely confident smirk. It was then, that without a single hesitation, she hit send.
