Free Darla's Secret Wish by Selena Kitt Page A

aftershave maybe, lingering on the sheets. When her eyes opened, she gasped again, seeing her reflection staring back at her. There was a mirror over the bed!
    She lay looking at her own stunned expression, her long hair spread out beneath her head over the whiteness of the comforter like a gossamer river running through drifts of snow. What would you need a mirror on the ceiling for?
    She looked at her soft belly, exposed now with her arms flung carelessly above her head, a pale, white expanse of skin between her “American Idol” t-shirt and 5
    the black miniskirt her mother kept having a fit about her father buying her for Christmas, which she insisted on wearing, even out in the snow. She rubbed her tummy somewhat self-consciously. It was smooth and flat, her navel the only dip in the surface, no other hint of a softening curve.
    She lifted her shirt higher, then higher still, never having seen herself from such a vantage point. Her breasts weren’t much more than buds, her pink nipples hardening as the cool air moved over them. She was slightly disappointed that they looked even smaller when she was lying down.
    She had given up hope that she was going to develop something to fill the bras that had been waiting in her drawer since her thirteenth Christmas. Her mother had seen her just beginning to develop, and had insisted on buying them, and they had embarrassingly sat there for years. Other girls got curves, breasts, while Darla watched longingly, hoping for those things for herself.
    She wondered at the mirror again. Probably her stepmother, she decided.
    Had to make sure she looked good, even at night. She hopped off the bed, going to explore the rest of whatever was down this hallway. She glanced in their bathroom, which was right off their bedroom. It was huge, too, of course, with a corner Jacuzzi tub surrounded by unlit candles, and there was a separate shower with a showerhead at each end. The mirror and sink and vanity ran the length of one wall. His and hers sinks, even. She saw her father’s shaving stuff on the counter.
    She was about to leave the room to continue her exploration when she glanced in their closet. Her stepmother had expensive taste. There were 6
    dresses galore in the walk-in closet, a whole wall full. She ran her hands lightly over the fabrics, silks and satins and velvets. A shimmery green dress called out to her, and she plucked it from the hanger. It was short, with a plunging neckline, completely sleeveless, the top of it was just two pieces of material that tied behind the neck. The skirt would probably have come to her stepmother’s mid-thigh. Maybe. It was completely backless.
    Darla carried it over to the mirror at the end of the closet. It was one of those three way things, like they had in department stores, so you could see yourself at every angle. In the light it really sparkled, like the dress was made of thousands of iridescent emeralds. She was mesmerized. Suddenly, she was pulling off her t-shirt, unzipping her skirt and sliding it down over her white cotton panties. Considering for a moment, she slid those off too, standing there completely naked. She turned this way and that, admiring her slight figure in the mirror.
    She turned, liking the view from behind, it was at least one place she had curves, in the soft rounded cheeks of her bottom. From the side, if she exaggerated and stuck her chest out, she could imagine her breasts were fuller and rounder instead of the barely emerging nodes they really were. She looked at the dress in her hands again, glancing at the tag inside. Versace . She slid it up the long length of her thin frame, moving her hair out of the way so she could tie it, gasping at the feel of it against her skin.
    She piled her hair up on top of her head, admiring herself. The dress was too long and the front simply hung on her—her nascent breasts did nothing to fill 7
    it. When she turned, she giggled, seeing the crack of her butt appearing above the