Flowers of Luna by Jennifer Linsky

Author:Jennifer Linsky [Linsky, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-02-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter the Sixth

In which, our heroine attends a street fair; surrenders her underwear; meets a grandmother; and reclaims her underwear. History is discussed.

Female Body Archetype Six:

Long torso with a small bust, defined waist, with wide hips and legs.

I woke as the room service trolley entered. I found Hana had draped a blanket over me, and I rose from the floor wrapping it around me. “Hey.” Sleepily, I pushed hair out of my face.

“Hey,” she answered, wheeling the trolley over to me. She’d taken advantage of the in-suite fab to realize one of my princess dress designs, and had the bathroom do her hair in an elaborate braid enhanced with extensions that fell to her shoulderblades. “I ordered waffles. I had a craving.”

“Okay,” I answered, and kissed her. “You’re all dressed.”

“You slept away most of the morning; that’s not my fault. I have someplace I want to take you, so eat your waffles, get dressed, and let’s go.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am!” I saluted sloppily. I gathered my clothes from the floor and dropped them on my backpack. Deciding to match Hana’s whimsy, I found my purse, dug out my slate, pulled up my wardrobe program. After a moment’s deliberation, I sent a different princess dress and accoutrements to the fab to be realized. I covered a yawn, dropped my slate on my dirty clothes, made my way to the bathroom. The bathroom utility offered a plaited fantasy of a hairstyle that suited the dress I’d chosen, so I let it braid extensions into my hair; let it come up with makeup to match.

When I came out, I walked naked to the breakfast table, and Hana gaped at me. I took pleasure in her expression of surprise and lust, but I ruined the moment when I sat on my unaccustomed long hair and winced. She laughed. “Yeah,” she said. “I‘ve had that happen, too.” I recovered my dignity, swept my hair out from under my butt, and draped it over my shoulder.

By the time I finished breakfast, the fab had finished realizing my clothes. Hana lounged at the table, sipping tea, watching me as I rose and walked to fetch them. I could feel her eyes on me as I picked up the sheer silk stockings, so I made a show of putting them on, rolling them up my legs; of putting on the garter belt and hooking it to the stockings. I stepped into the panties, but as I picked up the bra, she protested, “I thought you were trying it my way?”

I turned to face her, running the bra through my hands. “I did, yesterday. But my breasts are larger than yours. I feel like I need the support. And my nipples are more… upstanding; their movement inside my clothes was...” I paused, looking for the right word, settled for “uncomfortable.”

“It takes a couple of days to get used to,” she said. “And I like watching the unconstrained movement of your breasts.”

“Okay,” I blushed. The blushing was getting old; what wasn’t getting old, though, was the way Hana looked at me when she said that.

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