Chapter 2: Morning of the Party – Nerves and Secret Thrill

Sunlight slices through the bedroom blinds at exactly 8:17 a.m., painting warm stripes across the sheets where Jake is still snoring softly beside me. My heart is already hammering before I even open my eyes. Today is the day. I slip out of bed as quietly as I can, bare feet padding across the cool hardwood, careful not to disturb him. The apartment smells like last night’s takeout and his cologne lingering on the pillow, but all I can focus on is the low, insistent flutter low in my belly—the same one that kept me awake after he fell asleep, replaying Alex’s text over and over.

In the bathroom I lock the door and start the shower, letting the steam fill the small space until the mirror fogs over. Coconut body wash—my favorite—fills the air as I lather up, the scent sweet and tropical, wrapping around me like a secret. I shave my legs first, slow strokes of the razor gliding over skin already smooth from yesterday, but I take my time anyway, wanting everything perfect. Underarms next. Then I prop one foot on the edge of the tub and spend extra minutes between my legs, fresh razor in hand, making my pussy completely bare. The blade whispers over every fold, leaving the skin hypersensitive, almost electric. When I’m done I run my fingers over it, feeling how soft and puffy it is, how the lightest touch makes my breath catch. I’m already damp, and it’s not just from the water.

I lotion every inch after I step out—thick, creamy coconut again, working it in with slow circles on my thighs, up under my breasts where the skin is still warm from the shower, and then between my ass cheeks, letting my fingertips linger. I imagine other hands doing this later tonight, rougher ones, and the thought sends a fresh wave of heat blooming through me. My nipples tighten instantly. I shake my head, trying to focus, but the ache is already there, low and insistent.

Back in the bedroom I pack the outfit into a small duffel—the tiny black lace thong, the micro skirt, the cropped top that stops just under my breasts, the six-inch strappy heels, the delicate black lace mask. I add the tiny bottle of lube I bought yesterday “just in case,” then toss in a pair of comfy sweats to wear over everything for the drive. Jake stirs as I zip the bag shut. He blinks up at me, sleepy-eyed and smiling, and pulls me down for a kiss on the forehead. “Morning, babe. Gym first, then I’ll meet the guys at the rental house. You coming later?”