Crimson Cuts and Silent Screams

Ouch! The razor shook in her hand a bit as she slid the blade up across the length of what was now a smooth, slick thigh. The water was hot. Her hand continued to shake. She was a bit nervous. Her mind raced, back and forth, “Should I go through with it?”

Her heart had been beating at a higher tempo ever since she washed the last dish after dinner. She had thought about doing this for a long time, ever since she was in high school, and her friend had given her the book, *The Escapade*.

Turning the hot water off, the steam settled around her, wrapping itself around the curves of her body. She stumbled for her glasses and stretched to open the door while her wet body continued to drip in the shower. The steam began to leave, and she put on her glasses. She checked the nick on her leg. She touched it, noticing that it had already begun to heal. The problem was that it was in the worst spot for a night like this, her leg-high on her inner thigh. She opened her legs just slightly, checking to see if she missed any spots. It was important to her to have smooth legs.

Satisfied, she stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around her head she noticed in the still foggy mirror her bouncing, wet breasts. She moved past the mirror and walked out of the bathroom to her empty bedroom. It was too stark she thought. She wanted to do something to make it more interesting. But now was not the time. Her eyes moved to the corner where she had set out her clothes for the night that was still in front of her.

She took a deep breath, thinking once more if she had chosen the most suitable attire. The black dress was a bit conservative for the evening ahead, but it was all that she had. The pink bra fit her well, hiding not much more than the outer edge of her nipples. The G-string matched in more ways than one. The pink color blended well with the light color of the skin, and it of course matched the bra. Like the bra, it also just barely covered her. Her mound was hidden behind it, but that was all. The string that curved under her and between her legs went up to meet the waist string just above her crack. Her two cheeks hid most of the string.

She put both on, convinced that they were right for the night. What she wasn’t sure about was the hose. The lace was sexy, she thought, but there was something very alluring to her about going out with a simply a thin, black dress separating her from whatever awaited her. She debated in her mind. Eventually she set the hose beside her.

She knelt down to step into the dress. This time her breasts didn’t bounce as much in the mirror. Her heart started to beat a bit faster again as the sense of what she was doing rushed over her. She calmed herself again, remembering the intensity of the story she read in high school and the very end of the book. She wondered if her reality would match the passion of the author’s imagination. Was she foolish to think that fiction could ever meet her simple, all too real world?

The black dress hadn’t been worn for several years, but it still conformed to her shape well. It seemed to fit better in some ways, she thought, gaining confidence about the night ahead. The dress’ six front buttons were buttoned. She had only worn the dress on three or four special occasions, and had always buttoned all six buttons. But this time, she undid the top one. It only revealed a bit of her chest. She then undid the fifth button as well, but as she looked closely in the mirror and forward slightly she could see a bit of the lace of her pink bra.

She then turned and stood with her back facing the mirror. She pulled the dress tightly against her body. When she sat in a stool she new the dress would be snug against her back side. She could see a slight rise in the cloth of her dress there the string on her thong fanned out to meet the waist string. “Is this slutty?” she thought? With almost every decision she made about this strange night, she had a hard time making up her mind. After she relaxed a bit about the whole thing she realized it wasn’t slutty at all. It was feminine, and subtly alluring, not slutty in the least.

With the word “alluring” in her mind she decided to unbutton the ninth and then the seventh and eighth button on the lower part of her dress. She sat down in front of the full length mirror and crossed her legs. A bit of her thigh showed, but only just above the knee. “Allure, allure,” she thought to herself.

She slipped on her black pumps to complete the outfit. It all fit together. No one could see what lied beneath her dress, but it was the inner layer that perfectly complimented the alluring image she saw in front of her. Her confidence grew that this might really work. This long awaited night that had long existed only in her mind was beginning to show a glimmer of reality.

She finished her make-up and a touch of perfume in just the right places. She made sure that she put a tiny drop around her navel, a part of her body that had always seemed sensual to her.

As she walked out of the house it was a bit nippy out, surprising for this time of the year. Usually it was quite cold. She decided to leave her overcoat off, thinking that her soft, cashmere sweater was enough at the moment. The drive was a long one. She wanted this to happen far away from her house and neighborhood. It was a bit out of her comfort zone to drive this far away, but she enjoyed the adventure of going to a part of town that she seldom visited. After all, this was to be an escapade.

She was only slightly familiar with the area. She had heard and seen an occasional television news report of The Lexington Hotel, but it was always for benefit dinners and high society affairs, not something she had ever paid too much attention to.

She found The Lexington at last. She was getting a bit nervous because it was dark by the time she saw the light of the hotel and the break lights of a long row of black limousines. Couples in tuxedos and elegant dresses stepped out of the limousines and walked through the doors onto the marble floors of the hotel. She pulled past the traffic, overall the manhole covers that let the steam from the cool night rise up to the street. She pulled into the parking garage to find it relatively empty.

The Lexington catered to the wealthy, out-of-town businessmen, and wedding parties during the summer. She wondered if that was why the lot below the hotel was so empty. She found a space near the elevator. As she closed the door she startled herself by almost slamming it. It seemed to slip from her hand. When it shut she could hear it shut several times because of the parking lot was bare.

She stepped into the little room that held the elevator shaft, and gently pressed the up button. Again wrestling with herself in her mind, she wondered if she should turn back. She rode the elevator up to the second floor. She opened the door and it was like she was walking into another world. Groups of people were laughing and talking to each other in the vestibule outside of a beautifully adorned ball room.

The women were all very well dressed and seemed perfect for the night. She noticed that some of them were with men and others apparently came alone, like her. She brushed past them, bumping the elbow of a man with her shoulder, almost spilling his drink. She apologized, but he seemed to engrossed in talking with another woman that he did not seem to even notice her.

As she made her way between the growing throng of people she felt very strange and out of place. She was quite aware of the pumps that she hardly ever wore. The driving and even the hard cement floor of the brief walk in the parking lot made her feet slightly throb. She was so glad that she didn’t have to wear heels on a regular basis. She couldn’t remember the last time she had worn the pumps.

She finally made her way into the room adjacent to the large vestibule, a bar aptly named “The Lexington Lounge.” A man opened the door for her. He could tell that she was new, so he motioned toward the front of the mostly empty bar room. She stopped in front of a small table, but it seemed a bit lonely to sit at a table in a bar by herself. She was lonely enough in a bar, that was in a hotel in a part of the city that she had only been to once or twice.

She opted for the bar itself. There was a row of stools, about a dozen with only one occupant on the other side. She sat toward the other end. The bar tender asked her what she would like. She stammered a bit at the question, wondering what he meant. She then realized that she was supposed to give him her order. She hadn’t even thought about this. She had rehearsed almost every part of the entire evening in her mind and the very end of the book. She wondered if her reality would match the passion of the author’s imagination. Was she foolish to think that fiction could ever meet her simple, all too real world? Finally coming back to the bar tender’s question she told him that a glass of red wine would do.

The man on the other side of the barroom had his back to her. He seemed to be talking on his cell phone. She could not see him very well as the room was dark. It was lit by a television showing the news, a small light illuminating the front of the piano in the corner, bar lights that lit up the glasses and various drinks below, and the lights from the vestibule that was just beyond the bar.

It was quiet in the bar except for the murmurings of the anchor for the nightly news on the TV above the bar. She could barely hear the voice of the other customer in the bar. His tone was warm and soothing. “Probably talking to his wife,” she thought.

“These hotels can be very lonely places,” she thought. The clamor of conversation outside of the barroom reminded her that she was all the more alone inside. Of course being alone was what she was trying to change.

She finished her glass of wine and the bartender asked her if she would like another. She said that she would have another one, but in a few minutes.

The man with the glass was talking to the man in the corner, the one with the cell phone in his pocket. The “glass man” nodded and slightly extended his hand. The cell phone man gave him something. He slipped it into his pocket and went to the piano while the other man stared at the bar in front of him.

He began to play piano. He began with a classical piece. She had anticipated that if someone did play the piano it would be tasteful music, not popular lounge music that would fill smoky bars. It was a classy place and despite being alone, she sensed that she was with classy men.

It was a bit warm though, so she removed her cashmere sweater. She felt a bit of a chill as she took it off. The dress hung on her with only a thin, silky strap. The strap was wide enough to cover her pink strap of her bra, but the material was thin and flattened over her bra strap onto her skin.

As she moved past the mirror she noticed in the still foggy mirror her bouncing, wet breasts. She moved past the mirror and walked out of the bathroom to her empty bedroom. It was too stark she thought. She wanted to do something to make it more interesting. But now was not the time. Her eyes moved to the corner where she had set out her clothes for the night that was still in front of her.

She took a deep breath, thinking once more if she had chosen the most suitable attire. The black dress was a bit conservative for the evening ahead, but it was all that she had. The pink bra fit her well, hiding not much more than the outer edge of her nipples. The G-string matched in more ways than one. The pink color blended well with the light color of the skin, and it of course matched the bra. Like the bra, it also just barely covered her. Her mound was hidden behind it, but that was all. The string that curved under her and between her legs went up to meet the waist string just above her crack. Her two cheeks hid most of the string.

She put both on, convinced that they were right for the night. What she wasn’t sure about was the hose. The lace was sexy, she thought, but there was something very alluring to her about going out with a simply a thin, black dress separating her from whatever awaited her. She debated in her mind. Eventually she set the hose beside her.

She knelt down to step into the dress. This time her breasts didn’t bounce as much in the mirror. Her heart started to beat a bit faster again as the sense of what she was doing rushed over her. She calmed herself again, remembering the intensity of the story she read in high school and the very end of the book. She wondered if her reality would match the passion of the author’s imagination. Was she foolish to think that fiction could ever meet her simple, all too real world?

The black dress hadn’t been worn for several years, but it still conformed to her shape well. It seemed to fit better in some ways, she thought, gaining confidence about the night ahead. The dress’ six front buttons were buttoned. She had only worn the dress on three or four special occasions, and had always buttoned all six buttons. But this time, she undid the top one. It only revealed a bit of her chest. She then undid the fifth button as well, but as she looked closely in the mirror and forward slightly she could see a bit of the lace of her pink bra.

She then turned and stood with her back facing the mirror. She pulled the dress tightly against her body. When she sat in a stool she new the dress would be snug against her back side. She could see a slight rise in the cloth of her dress there the string on her thong fanned out to meet the waist string. “Is this slutty?” she thought? With almost every decision she made about this strange night, she had a hard time making up her mind. After she relaxed a bit about the whole thing she realized it wasn’t slutty at all. It was feminine, and subtly alluring, not slutty in the least.

With the word “alluring” in her mind she decided to unbutton the ninth and then the seventh and eighth button on the lower part of her dress. She sat down in front of the full length mirror and crossed her legs. A bit of her thigh showed, but only just above the knee. “Allure, allure,” she thought to herself.

She slipped on her black pumps to complete the outfit. It all fit together. No one could see what lied beneath her dress, but it was the inner layer that perfectly complimented the alluring image she saw in front of her. Her confidence grew that this might really work. This long awaited night that had long existed only in her mind was beginning to show a glimmer of reality.

She finished her make-up and a touch of perfume in just the right places. She made sure that she put a tiny drop around her navel, a part of her body that had always seemed sensual to her.

As she walked out of the house it was a bit nippy out, surprising for this time of the year. Usually it was quite cold. She decided to leave her overcoat off, thinking that her soft, cashmere sweater was enough at the moment. The drive was a long one. She wanted this to happen far away from her house and neighborhood. It was a bit out of her comfort zone to drive this far away, but she enjoyed the adventure of going to a part of town that she seldom visited. After all, this was to be an escapade.

She was only slightly familiar with the area. She had heard and seen an occasional television news report of The Lexington Hotel, but it was always for benefit dinners and high society affairs, not something she had ever paid too much attention to.

She found The Lexington at last. She was getting a bit nervous because it was dark by the time she saw the light of the hotel and the break lights of a long row of black limousines. Couples in tuxedos and elegant dresses stepped out of the limousines and walked through the doors onto the marble floors of the hotel. She pulled past the traffic, overall the manhole covers that let the steam from the cool night rise up to the street. She pulled into the parking garage to find it relatively empty.

The Lexington catered to the wealthy, out-of-town businessmen, and wedding parties during the summer. She wondered if that was why the lot below the hotel was so empty. She found a space near the elevator. As she closed the door she startled herself by almost slamming it. It seemed to slip from her hand. When it shut she could hear it shut several times because of the parking lot was bare.

She stepped into the little room that held the elevator shaft, and gently pressed the up button. Again wrestling with herself in her mind, she wondered if she should turn back. She rode the elevator up to the second floor. She opened the door and it was like she was walking into another world. Groups of people were laughing and talking to each other in the vestibule outside of a beautifully adorned ball room.

The women were all very well dressed and seemed perfect for the night. She noticed that some of them were with men and others apparently came alone, like her. She brushed past them, bumping the elbow of a man with her shoulder, almost spilling his drink. She apologized, but he seemed to engrossed in talking with another woman that he did not seem to even notice her.

As she made her way between the growing throng of people she felt very strange and out of place. She was quite aware of the pumps that she hardly ever wore. The driving and even the hard cement floor of the brief walk in the parking lot made her feet slightly throb. She was so glad that she didn’t have to wear heels on a regular basis. She couldn’t remember the last time she had worn the pumps.

She finally made her way into the room adjacent to the large vestibule, a bar aptly named “The Lexington Lounge.” A man opened the door for her. He could tell that she was new, so he motioned toward the front of the mostly empty bar room. She stopped in front of a small table, but it seemed a bit lonely to sit at a table in a bar by herself. She was lonely enough in a bar, that was in a hotel in a part of the city that she had only been to once or twice.

She opted for the bar itself. There was a row of stools, about a dozen with only one occupant on the other side. She sat toward the other end. The bar tender asked her what she would like. She stammered a bit at the question, wondering what he meant. She then realized that she was supposed to give him her order. She hadn’t even thought about this. She had rehearsed almost every part of the entire evening in her mind and the very end of the book. She wondered if her reality would match the passion

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