Ananya(Student) - How I gave my measurements to the tailor(4 videos) - Scene 8-GOLD!*

[ashuezy2]

Scene 7

I walked into the trial room. My head was spinning. I kept seeing the image of the woman in the red saree, smiling while the boy touched her. I realized the anger I felt earlier wasn't anger. It was jealousy.

I locked the door—or I thought I did. The latch was loose.
I turned to the mirror. My hands were shaking. I needed to see if the blouse fit, or maybe I just needed to be naked again.

I grabbed the hem of my hoodie. I pulled it off. I pulled off my t-shirt. I reached behind and unhooked the tight bra I hated. I let it fall.


I stood there, topless again. My heavy breasts swung free, "pale" and "swollen" in the dim yellow light. I looked at myself. I looked like the woman outside.

The door handle turned.
I didn't scream. I didn't cover up.
Remo slipped inside. He closed the door behind him and slid the bolt shut. This time, it locked tight. Click.
He stood behind me. I watched him in the mirror. He wasn't holding the measuring tape. He wasn't holding the blouse. His hands were empty and ready.

"You need help, Madam," Remo whispered. His voice was deep, vibrating against my bare back.
He stepped closer. He didn't ask. He placed his hands on my bare shoulders. His hands were rough and hot.
"You are too stiff," he said. He dug his thumbs into my muscles.

I tried to breathe, but the air was sucked out of the room. He was "dominating" me. He was standing so close I could feel the heat of his chest against my bare back. He was "overpowering me with his manliness."

His hands moved down. They slid from my shoulders to my upper arms. He gripped me hard. It wasn't a gentle touch. It was ownership.

He smelled of raw musk and tobacco. It was a strong, manly smell that drowned out the dusty shop air.

In the mirror, I saw his dark hands against my white skin. I saw my nipples harden instantly, betraying me.

"You have an amazing body," Remo growled near my ear. "Don't let it go to waste."
He reached for the new peach blouse hanging on the hook—the one we had spent an hour making a mould for. The one I had fought for.

He looked at it. Then he looked at my naked chest.
He threw the blouse on the floor.

It landed in the dust. The beautiful silk, the perfect fit—he didn't care about it. He didn't want me to cover up.
"We don't need that," he said.

He spun me around. I faced him. I was completely exposed to him in the tiny box.
I looked at his hungry eyes. I thought about the woman outside. I realized I didn't want to leave.

"I am ready," I whispered.

I was already into the game. I didn't want to be the girl in the hoodie anymore. I wanted to be the next woman in the corner, smiling while he touched me.