The Cinderella Moment

Chapter Six

Sally did her best to cover up, splaying one hand over her boobs, and the other over her crotch. But, the effort was futile. Jack took a step toward her.

"How did you get in here?"

"You left your door open, Sally. Anyone could've walked in."

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he said in a strange, low voice.

An awkward silence stretched out between them—well, at least it was awkward for her; Jack didn't look uncomfortable at all. Her eyes darted about wildly, looking for an escape route back to her bedroom, but before she could even take a step, Jack moved toward her again. It should have excited her. Jack was taking a step in her direction, instead of away from her. He was looking at her—sure, he had a frown on his face, but for the first time ever, he was looking at her like she was more than just a pain-in-his-arse.

The problem with all that was, now that she had his attention, she had no idea what to do. So, she did the first thing that came into her mind and took another step back from him. He only copied her action, moving forward again, and as Sally tried to retreat further, she found herself pressed against the mirror, the cold, hard surface leaving her breathless as she came into contact with it.

Unable to go any further, Sally watched, frozen, as Jack looked at her, his eyes wide as they travelled slowly up the length of her body, and then down again. Suddenly, he took her hands in his and moved them away from what they were covering. His eyes lingered on her breasts, nestled high and firm in the lacy, red material, completely exposed to his gaze.

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he only tightened his grip on her. "Stay still, Sally," he said quietly, firmly.

She'd wanted this moment for years, but now that she was living it, all she wanted to do was die. It felt like Jack's eyes were burning torturously into her skin. No man had ever seen this much of her, and part of her wanted to cover up and hide away like she always did—while another part of her wanted Jack to keep looking and never stop.

She opened her eyes again. "Jack, I have to finish getting dressed, or we'll be late for the party," she said to him, her mouth dry. She'd tried to sound calm, but it came out like a plea. She needed to be in the sanctuary of her bedroom, right away.

"Not yet," he said, turning her around so that she now faced away from him. "I want to see what I paid for yesterday."

"Jack, please," she said weakly.

"How did you manage to hide this away from me?"

"What? The lingerie?"

"No, this incredible body. Why would you hide this away?"

"I... really? You think my body is incredible?"

"I had no idea. You wear those awful clothes all the time."

"I like the clothes I wear."

"Bullshit. Look at yourself, Sally, and tell me why."

Their eyes connected once more in the mirror. His were softly hooded. They were normally hazel, but now and then—depending on Jack's mood—they were closer to green, as they were right then.

She didn't hold the contact for long. She dropped them to a point in the distance while she spoke. "I don't have a lot of confidence in my body image," she said, which was more than she'd ever told anyone.

"But there's not an ounce of fat on you. How?"

"I run," she said, shrugging her shoulders. Jack continued to stare at her, and Sally squirmed again under his gaze. "Can I go now?"