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Almost as a defense, his right hand dropped to my hip, and then slid knowingly across towards my crotch. I broke the kiss then, saying, “let’s eat first.” I turned away, leaving him even more stunned.

I suppose that until now I had seemed grateful for sex, because I had been. Steve was really the first guy to take a serious interest in me sexually, and I welcomed him at every occasion. I had only said “no” once, when I had had the flu. If we didn’t have sex it was because Steve didn’t feel like it for whatever reason. I guess he was a bit confused, since I was dressed to invite sex, I was looking hot, and yet I said no.

He came into the kitchen, preparing to help make dinner. The water was already hot, so I just turned up the heat to make it boil, and put the sauce in the microwave. Feeling useless, he turned to pouring himself a glass of wine and refilling mine. This was going to be my last glass I decided.

“Damn, you look great,” he said as we waited for the noodles to cook.

“Thanks… like my new haircut?” I asked.

“Hell yeah!” he enthused. “You look so sexy… like a model even.”

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I smiled, leading him further, “like a model?” I closed the gap, letting him put his arms around me.

“Mmmm, yeah,” was his considered response. I let him kiss me, but I again was the one who deepened the kiss. This time, he ran his hand up my back to my neck. He tentatively touched my bristly nape, his fingers tickling me as he explored. Damn it felt good! “Love your hair,” he muttered, his hand moving up to touch beneath the curled under part, exploring the junction of long hair and short. Wow… I felt my nipples harden as my arousal level increased.

I heard the pop-hiss of the spaghetti water overflowing onto the burner, and pulled away, my eyes almost glazed with need and pleasure. As I dished out the noodles, he came behind me and nestled his bulge into my crack. I felt him, so hard, and wanted to be fucked badly. I guess that was the point of him rubbing me there. Even though I wanted him in me, mounting me, fucking me, I needed him to agree to my new desires. It was about more than sex tonight.

I purposely ignored his efforts, and picked up the plates of spaghetti. “Let’s have dinner,” I said. He brought along the bottle and our glasses, draining his before sitting down. Mine was still full, but he refilled his.

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When I got home, I had a little over an hour before he would arrive. I got out some of my frozen homemade spaghetti sauce, and put it in the microwave to thaw. As it did, I flew into the bedroom, stripped, and hopped into the shower. I ran a quick razor over my pussy to make sure stubble wouldn’t show, and resisted the powerful urge to finger myself as I checked how smooth I was. Then I went to my lingerie drawer and took out a somewhat comical see-thru baby-doll with poodle-puff edges. It looked retro-60s, and left little to the imagination, especially since it didn’t fasten in the front. I decided to not put anything else on, but did my hair and face in the “hot” style. I stood back, and looked. If he didn’t pop a rod right away, he was out on his ear ASAP.

I got a pot of water boiling, and then turned it off. When it was time for dinner, we were only five minutes away from ready. I got out a bottle of red wine, and poured myself a glass. Despite my recent self-confidence, I was a bit worried. Then I thought I was being silly, and remembered my mental image of Steve moaning as he ate his own cum. In seconds, my pussy began to throb. It was going to be a great night.

As was his style, Steve was two minutes early. He gave his normal “shave and a haircut, two bits” knock, which made me giggle. How VERY appropriate! I took a deep breath, and opened the door.

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Steve was there, in his normal khakis and sports shirt, holding a bottle of wine. “Shit!” he said. He isn’t quite Shakespearean in his dialog normally, but his stunned expression said more than enough.

“C’mon in,” I smiled. Smiling was a big part of flirting, I had learned.

“Nancy?” he asked, fumbling for words. “My God. You look… unbelievable.” I closed the door behind him, and took the bottle from his hand. I was afraid he was going to drop it.

“I’ve changed,” I said, setting the stage for later conversation.

“When? How? Why?” he asked.

“Yesterday,” I said, coming to him and taking his face in my hands. “At the salon,” I continued, tilting my head ‘just so’. “And, because,” I finished. I brought my lips to his, feeling the pleasure of the kiss spread through my body. I liked kissing, and decided right then to do more of it in the future. I parted my lips, and pushed my tongue into his mouth, knowing that it would surprise him for me to initiate a hotter kiss. It felt electric to have him struggle–and fail–to take control. I was kissing HIM, not the other way around.

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I couldn’t NOT touch myself any longer, and almost immediately, I came. A long, shuddering, intense, immensely satisfying cum. I felt like my entire stomach was convulsing, but I was also aware of how my nipples ached from suddenly getting even harder. My finger dropped from my clit to my hole, and I felt myself spasming there, clenching and releasing. I thought about what Lisa had said, how she had expelled Max’s semen as she came. The sudden mind-picture of Steve gagging as I filled his mouth with his own cream prolonged my orgasm by who knows how long.

When I was done cumming, I felt like having another orgasm right away. This had been a day of epiphanies, and I was still excited. But I was also tired, so I stumbled to my bed. I normally sleep in a t-shirt nighty, but I flopped into bed completely naked. I changed “naked” in my mind to “nude”, and from there to “bald”. My pussy was bald, I remembered. I laid under the sheet then, and slowly built my arousal back. I had been on a plateau, and when I came again, my fingers sloppy with my own juice and wetly caressing my entire vagina, my back actually arched in climax. “Ohmygod that felt good,” I thought as I finally drifted off to sleep.

The next day was another head trip. It started when I woke up naked, still horny. As I showered, I found my new bald status almost forced me to masturbate (so I gave in and came yet again). My new clothes shook me up, as I was unused to wearing the sexy clothes I bought. At the cosmetic clerk’s urging, I had bought some mesh panties… about like wearing the strings of a tennis racket. I also bought some crotch-high stockings, like garter hose but without the straps. When I walked out the door, I still felt different.

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I had expected the shock of my makeover to have subsided overnight, but I still was aware of people looking at me. Guys would look at me out of the corners of their eyes as they walked past my door. It was thrilling to think that I might be making all these guys horny, that they might be going home tonight thinking about me erotically.

I tried to use some of the things I read in the books. Curtis, a good looking office superstar stopped by my office–for the first time ever. He was my first real guinea pig, and it felt weird to play him like a trained seal. I kept myself conservative, but when he asked if I was going to the cafeteria, I acted like I was thinking, running my fingers across my neck. He quickly revised his question, blurting that he had something he wanted to discuss with me and was I free for lunch. Heck a free lunch was a free lunch, so I said sure.

Then I made sure I enjoyed lunch. We didn’t discuss much about business, but I didn’t expect to either. Lunch was all about sending signals, and for once I was the one with the upper hand. As we were preparing to get up from the table, I secretly hitched my skirt up before I stood, guaranteeing him a peek at my garter tops. He got super flustered, turned red, and–sure enough–got erect. Interesting.

For me, the big event of the day was my evening with Steve. He called in the afternoon and basically invited himself to dinner. That was fine, because I wanted him in my “lair”.

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I stopped midstep. “Why am I delaying this?” I wondered. “So I will forget?” My old self had postponed self-improvement for years. Not so the new Me. “I’ll do it now,” I decided, “and completely. Good bye old Me.”

I rummaged around the bathroom, searching for the things I would need. I got out my anti-bacterial soap, a few new razors, some anti-septic aloe cream, a pair of scissors, and my tweezers. I used the scissors to cut my public hair as short as possible, feeling my excitement rise. I was careful, but even so I was soon looking at a very-visible pussy in the mirror, not able to hide in the stubble that was left.

I took a washcloth, and soaked it in the sink in warm water. Then, I covered my pussy with it, hoping the heat would soften the bristles and make shaving easier. As I waited, I picked up the tweezers. “I’ll do my left breast, then shave,” I told myself.

I found one of the stray hairs, and gripped it in the tweezers. Steeling myself, I quickly pulled it out. Fire and Damnation! It hurt like hell! Before I could have doubts as to the sense of it, I pulled out another. I found I was puffing like a woman in labor… my areolae stung! But I kept going until all the hairs were gone, then I rubbed on a little of the anti-septic lotion. You know what? It felt good! My nipple began to stiffen.

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The next thing I did was to shave my pussy clean. I used the anti-bacterial soap as a lubricant; I didn’t want an infection in a cut to cause a bump. I wanted slippery-smooth loins. I took my time, enjoying the feel of the blade, the sudden cold air as my naked skin was exposed, and the heady rush that I was doing something so very sexual. I imagined the look on Steve’s face as I showed him my new bald pussy, which led me to the look on his face as my bald pussy was dripping cum into his mouth… I fought the urge to put down the razor and finger myself. This new Me was all about self-control.

Being aroused did actually help. My pussy lips extended, which I used to advantage. I gripped the left and pulled it to the right across my opening, then shaved the taut skin smooth. I was surprisingly slippery, I guess due to the increasingly wet state of my pussy. The hardest part was shaving the part between my ass and my pussy, the perineum or “taint”–”‘taint pussy and ‘taint asshole”. It was inaccessible, and I was tremendously aroused and NEEDED to cum. Hard.

I might have hurried a bit, wanting to be done so that I could cum. As I was rinsing the last razor blade (I used three to make sure they were sharp), I saw the tweezers. “Oh no,” I moaned, but I knew I was going to do that task before masturbating. This time it was a lot easier, because my hard nipples seemed to deaden the hair follicles in my areola. Besides, I was thinking ahead.

Finally, I was ready. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, where I could see myself. I leaned back and spread my legs, shocked at how visible my hole was. I had porn-star lips, I saw, and I was oozing juice. “Steve will love running his tongue inside this,” I thought, giving myself another thrill. My clit was hard, visible beyond the hood. My nipples were now a grayish color, but hard as erasers, and bigger than that. The new face and hair seemed elegant and exceedingly sexy. THIS was a the self-image I wanted: my face flushed, exuding sexuality, my nipples hard and begging to be sucked, my pussy flowing and dripping down onto my ass crack.

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“I don’t feel up to it,” I said. I planned on trying to replicate my new ‘do now that I was home and to read the books I had bought.

“Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed. I didn’t often refuse a chance to ‘hook up.’ “Tomorrow maybe?”

“Maybe….”

We rung off, and I spent the evening as planned. I found it took a few tries to get the glossy smooth look I wanted. I also tried on the makeup I had bought, perfecting the two styles I had been taught.

Then I settled into bed and began to read. Practical Flirting was as good as the review said, dividing the topic into categories. Work, fun, and romance were all covered, along with tips on how flirt effectively. My favorite chapter was on how to take advantage of the “good will” generated by flirting. It was outrageously predatory. I loved it! I read the parts I needed straight away (Office and Romance) and skimmed the rest.

The other book, How Bad Girls Get What They Want; Using Your Naughty Nature, was very interesting. It had a lot of good stuff on techniques like subtle blackmail and taking advantage of how men think with their dicks, but I read in detail the section on self-confidence. The first step, it said, was a honest self-appraisal. Then, you can work your strengths while rectifying your weaknesses. Per its instructions, I got naked and stood in front of my mirror with full lighting.

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Using the technique of pretending to use someone else’s eyes, I was surprised at what I saw. I knew my eyes were pretty, but they were really outstanding. Part of it was the new haircut and makeup, but they were honestly good. Over the years, my eyes had seemed to attain some sort of confident edge that actually now seemed sexy. My body wasn’t bad; I had a bit of a belly, true, and my hips were the victim of my office-oriented lifestyle, but I think my abdomen was maybe the best in the office. I resolved to work on that belly, so that it wouldn’t get worse at least. I didn’t have any butt problem a Stairmaster couldn’t solve.

I also liked my breasts. They were a nice size, not too saggy and they didn’t have stretch marks at all. I saw my nipples were still a nice pink color, and I knew they hardened nicely. Likewise, my legs were decent. I would maybe do more walking, and wearing heels would make them seem nicer.

All in all, I had more strengths than I thought. My biggest flaw seemed to have been my lack of caring how I looked. I changed that today, and I smiled as I remembered the reaction I had gotten. “No more dowdy Nancy,” I declared.

Standing in front of the mirror naked, I noticed for the first time how furry my pussy had gotten. Like the hair on my head, it had suffered from neglect. I also saw to my chagrin that there were stray hairs around my areola. Eyyeeeewww! “I’ll do something about that in the morning,” I thought, then I headed back to bed.

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The next two hours were revelations as several guys came in to my office on one pretext or another. I had no misunderstanding about what they were doing… they were being men, and were reacting like men. They were like moths to a flame. All the women in the office came in to tell me how much better I looked. One woman, who was my former equal in mousiness, actually asked to touch my neckline. The feeling of her hand there was electric, and I couldn’t wait for my boyfriend to kiss me there. Or could I?

My first boss had a funny saying: “I came in late so I’m leaving early to make up for it.” It was hard to work with all the traffic coming in and out, so I decided to leave early. I didn’t even take my briefcase. In my new sexy state, I didn’t much feel like working.

On the way home, I decided to stop in at the Barnes & Noble to get a book that had been positively reviewed in Redbook this month. It was called Practical Flirting, and dealt with how to both build flirting skills and use them to advantage. As I was browsing, an acned boy of maybe 17 worked his way from across the store to ask if I need help. I thanked the clerk and declined his offer of help. I noticed that he hovered in view, and decided to test my new outfit. I knelt on one knee to reach the bottom shelf, knowing my short skirt would ride up onto my thigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him staring in that cute way horny young guys have. I slowly stroked my thigh, as if it were an idle movement, watching his eyes popping. What fun!

I found the book, and kept looking a bit longer. I pulled out How Bad Girls Get What They Want; Using Your Naughty Nature, thinking it would be useful as well. Then I went to the checkout line, wanting to get home before traffic got impossible. The boy clerk not-so-subtly followed me to the cash register, where I was fourth in line. When I got to be second, he suddenly remembered how to log on and opened the register, announcing “I can help the next in line.”

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As he rang me up, he commented, “If you need some help flirting, you just let me know.” I felt very flattered.

“I’ll remember that,” I promised, taking my bag and strutting out.

When I got home, I again stared in the mirror. I could get narcissistic, I warned myself. I gave myself a fashion show with my new clothes, and pulled out some old outfits, thinking of how I could use them. I felt totally feminine… what a difference.

An hour later, the phone rang. It was Steve.

“I tried you at your office, and they said you had left,” he said. “Everything OK?”

“To be honest, I have a bit of a headache,” I lied.

“Oh… I was going to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat and hook up.” ‘Hook up’ was his term for ‘have sex’.

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I got into my car, suddenly worried. I had come into the office early so that I could afford a long-enough lunch to get my regular haircut. Instead, I had received a totally new style and new clothes too. I was a good two hours past due. As soon as I realized I felt those worried thoughts, I put a stop to them; “no use fretting over something until I have to,” I reasoned.

I didn’t just walk back into the office, I strutted. I saw guys who had never looked at me “like that” look at me exactly like that. Everyone was surprised, and I knew eyes were following me. It felt awesome.

Lee Anne, my coworker, got up from her desk and came hustling into my office as soon as she saw me. “Nancy, is that you?” she asked, almost seriously.

“Yes?” I said, turning to face her. Her face was painted with delight.

“Wow… you look so different,” she said. “Terrific.” I smiled in genuine pleasure since compliments had been rare lately.

“Thanks… felt like I needed a change,” I replied. I fought the urge to play with my hair, which was an old nervous habit of mine. I didn’t want to do anything old, especially if it would ruin my look.

“Wow,” she said again, peering at my left side and right. Then, shaking herself back to the moment, she said, “Sam has been looking for you for an hour. I think he is irritated… just warning you.”

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I walked two doors down to Sam’s office, knocking as I entered, and saying “you were looking for me?”

He looked up, initially irritated, but then I could tell he was startled. “Nancy?” he asked.

“You wanted me?” I repeated. I also flashed him a smile. I was gonna ride this new sexy image as long as I could.

“Yeah, I did, but no big deal,” he answered. No big deal? Then his irritation was all about his need for power? “You look great,” he said, his eyes starting at my face, then traveling down. I don’t know when the last time a man looked me over so obviously. Junior High?

“Thanks,” I said. “My appointment ran long… is that a problem?”

“Oh no. I had a question… but I forget what it was now. Nothing important. You look so different… great.” My goodness, he wasn’t being my boss… he was being a man and was reacting like a man! That was really interesting.

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Shanna came back, looking at the magazine in my hand as she motioned for me to follow her. “Come on back for a shampoo. Know what you want?” she asked.

“Yep. I want what that last girl has.”

Shanna kept telling me how great it was going to look, and when she had cut it, it did look good even wet. On a whim, I had asked if it was possible to get one of those new color washes, so that I could see if I liked being a different color. Shanna practically orgasmed, saying she had wanted to see me with auburn hair for a long time, instead of the mousey brown I naturally had. Back to the sink I went, and Shanna kept praising me as she scrubbed my scalp (I love that, a scalp massage).

When she was done with the big round brush, I stared at myself. I had opted for blunt bangs, and my green eyes seemed enormous. The incredibly sleek and stylish hair seemed to frame my face, calling attention to my best features.

“You have a great neck,” Shanna told me. “I bet your boyfriend can’t keep his hands off.”

She handed me a mirror so that I could see the back, and instinctively I reached out to touch the short bristles that were the remainder of the hair that had always covered my neck. The shorter back curled under, leading my eyes to my neck. Looking in the hand mirror, I saw that I had the kind of look I had always felt jealous of. I felt totally different… desirable.

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I normally walk out of the salon feeling I’ve accomplished a chore or met a goal. But this time, I felt supercharged. For the first time I could remember, I felt sexy. The salon is in a mall, and on another whim I went into the Dillards. I stopped at a makeup counter worked by a girl I thought looked great and asked for an evaluation.

“Hot date?” she asked, noting my brand new haircut.

“Sort of,” I confessed. More than pick out good colors for me, she also showed me how to put on make up that was sophisticated, and another version that was just plain hot. It seemed as I had been good looking my whole life, and was just now realizing it!

I guess we had a rapport, because she offered to help me pick out some clothes for my “date”. I was a bit worried, because she was very trendy in a way I never could be. But she turned out to have decent taste and to be sensitive to my likes and dislikes. It was great fun, with her pushing me gently to be more daring, and me actually wanting to be. With permission, I even left my old gunnysack clothes in the dressing room and walked out of Dillards wearing a whole new outfit: cool heels, a dress cut above the knee–a good three inches above the knee!–, and a tighter-than-usual ribbed blouse. I felt I had the world by the tail, and even stopped in the restroom to see if I still looked good. Wow, I looked different.

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