Undressed

by Heather MacAllister

  “So, did you become a doctor?” Josh asked. “Man, all you ever did was study.”

  “Yes. I’m just finishing my residency in orthopedics.”

  “Just now?” Josh shook his head. “That’s a long time.”

  “I specialized in spinal surgery.”

  “No way.”

  Dev laughed. “Yes, way.”

  “So you mean, like, you cut people open and stuff? You?”

  “I couldn’t keep setting you up for goals forever. Life is not a soccer game.”

  “Hey, speak for yourself. I’m a coach at Rocky Falls Middle School.”

  “Yes.” Dev nodded. “I can see you as a coach.”

  Josh squinted at him. “I’m having a little trouble imagining you as Dr. Sharma. No offense, but I hope I don’t ever have to test your skills.”

  “None taken.”

  “So what are you doing here? I’ve gotta rent a monkey suit for the awards banquet this year. The lady coaches want to spiff it up a little.”

  “I’m getting married,” Dev told him. He’d hardly told anyone because he’d been so busy. And, too, he could barely believe it himself.

  “Congratulations, man!” Josh shook Dev’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder. “Where did you find some girl you could con into marrying you?”

  “My parents arranged it.”

  “The old parental-setup routine.” Josh winced. “I’ve done a couple of those. I guess in your case it worked. How long have you guys been dating?”

  Dev stepped onto one of the carpeted podiums and handed a sheet of paper to the tailor. “We aren’t really dating. She’s a doctor, too, and we’re at different hospitals.”

  “Well, you must have managed to find time to get together at some point, or you wouldn’t be getting married, huh?”

  Dev turned as the tailor marked the rest of the hem. “That’s right,” he said instead of explaining.

  Josh would never understand that Dev was relieved and pleased that his parents had found Anjali.

  He had tried traditional American dating and he’d had his heart broken. He didn’t like dating if the woman wasn’t serious about a possible future. It wasn’t “fun” for him to invest his time with someone and start to like her if nothing would come of it.

  He held out his arms so the tailor could make adjustments in the fit of his white dinner jacket.

  When the tailor had finished, Dev said goodbye to Josh, who high-fived him with a “Good luck, man!” and returned to the fitting room where he would change into the white pants he’d wear during the actual ceremony. For the ceremony here in Rocky Falls, he would wear all white, as he would for the ceremony he and Anjali would have in India. Maybe it was not traditional American wedding attire, but to him, it was a mix of Western and Eastern clothing.

  Dev sat on the bench that ran the length of the fitting room and took off his shoes. Leaning his head against the wall, he closed his eyes, aware of a feminine babble coming from next door. Lost in his thoughts, he wasn’t really listening until, well, until he heard the word penis.

  That would get a man’s attention every time.

  “Anji, you’ve only ever seen diseased penises,” he heard.

  That had to be Anjali and her friend…Jennifer, was it? There couldn’t two Anjis who were urologists. Besides, he knew she was coming here today and he’d thought they might meet for coffee. True, he communicated regularly with Anjali, but they hadn’t seen each other since the night of their engagement.

  Dev listened, curious to hear his fiancée interact with her friend, thinking he might learn more about the woman with the tired, intelligent eyes with whom he’d agreed to share his life.

  Dev turned his head so that his ear pressed against the wall. Jennifer was talking quite a lot, something Anji had said that she did. She was a former cheerleader who’d gone into sports medicine. Briefly, he thought of Josh, but it would be best to leave the matchmaking to their elders.

  Sex. They were talking about sex. At least he thought that’s what they were talking about. Anji seemed very matter-of-fact about it. Dev didn’t know if he liked that or not. He did know that going through a medical residency was a very good form of birth control because residents wanted sleep more than sex.

  Still. Did he really want his future wife feeling calm and matter-of-fact about their sex life?

  Wouldn’t he rather she showed some enthusiasm?

  On the other hand, how did he feel about it? Of course he’d considered it. He’d liked her picture, taken at a time when she was clearly more rested than she’d been the night they’d met. She’d told him she was coming off a long shift, as was he.

  As for sexual attraction, if he were being brutally honest, he’d been incapable of feeling anything that night. He wasn’t much more capable now. And even if raging lust burned through his veins, to quote a priest in his youth, he wouldn’t act on it.

  Anjali was nice-looking and certainly not repugnant, from what he could remember. Nothing that stood out in a negative way. But he couldn’t remember the details he wanted—her hands, for instance. Were her fingers long or short? Was the hair on her arms fine or coarse? Did she have shapely legs? Thick ankles? Narrow waist? And, for sure, her breasts. He didn’t have much of an idea of the size of them from the way she was dressed that night. There were more important things to consider in a mate, but there were also less important things.

  He hadn’t intended to propose that very meeting, but he’d held her hand and felt…and felt that this was the woman to share his life.

  After she’d agreed, he’d impulsively kissed her cheek because he’d wanted to breathe in her scent. Dev believed in chemistry. People either had it, or they didn’t.

  She wore no perfume. He’d smelled the soap from her recent shower and the familiar hospital scents that lingered. But beneath all of that was Anjali, warm with a hint of spice.

  The memory stirred him now as her scent had stirred him then. He and Anjali had chemistry, but it wasn’t a surprise that she did not know it yet.

  What had he just heard her friend say? You’re spending more time picking a dress than you spent picking a husband.

  Wasn’t the same true for him?

  Compatibility was only one part of a marriage. There was also kama, the sexual part and pleasure part. And they’d both been ignoring it.

  Dev wasn’t going to ignore it anymore.

  He heard Jenny leave the fitting room and impulsively knocked on the wall. “Anji?”

  After a few moments of silence he heard her voice, much clearer than before.

  “Is that you, Dev?”

  “Who else?”

  “Any number of people. What are you doing?”

  Dev started to explain about coming with his parents to meet with her parents, who were all over at the Wainright looking at the space for the reception. But impulsively he said, “I’m knocking at your ‘portal of love.’” And then he held his breath for her reaction.

  “Oh, no! You heard us!”

  “Yes. But I only listened to the interesting parts.”

  “You should have said something,” she scolded, but there was laughter in her voice.

  He swallowed against an unexpected emotion. There was laughter in her voice. And he was glad. “Are you kidding? I would have missed Jenny’s theories of sexual incompatibility.”

  This time, she laughed out loud. “Jenny is a very good friend.”

  “Please tell your very good friend that when I come knocking on your ‘portal of love’ for real, you will gladly fling open the door.”

  “Devak!”

  He grinned. “In fact, you will be desperate to fling open the door.”

  She squeaked. “Shh! Someone will hear you.”

  “Then they’ll envy you.”

  “Oh, you’re such a great prize, then?”

  “Absolutely.”

  ANJI’S JAW DROPPED. Dev had never spoken to her like this before. She closed her eyes, hearing his voice as he�
��d said, “Absolutely.” Deep. Sure. Utterly confident. And completely unexpected.

  Jenny and Lia bustled in. “Anji, you’re going to have to work out if you plan to wear one of these babies,” Jenny told her. “They weigh a ton.”

  Dresses embroidered in gold and silver and heavy with beads and crystals sparkled from within their plastic bags. This was more like it.

  “I know you said no strapless,” Lia said, “but we can add straps or sleeves or raise the neckline or anything you need.” She hung up the dresses she’d brought and surveyed Anji critically. “I want to get you a different foundation garment. You’re spilling out of that one,” she added as she left the room.

  Dev must have heard. Anji blushed a dusky pink.

  “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You’re got a great rack. Work it, girl.” Jenny did a shimmy.

  “Jenny!”

  “Oh, please.” Jenny was unzipping the gowns and checking the length of the trains. “If I had cleavage like yours, I sure wouldn’t be covering it up.”

  “This is my wedding, not a Las Vegas show.”

  “I know, but what’s the harm in making him drool a little?”

  “There will be plenty of time for him to drool later. In private.”

  “Oh, do I wish I could see his face when you let the girls out to play.”

  “Jenny, hush!” Anji fanned herself with her hands. “You’re embarrassing me!” She hoped and prayed that Dev wasn’t listening. Surely he had left the fitting room by now.

  “Darn it!” Jenny zipped up one of the bags. “I got the wrong size. I was just so excited to find one with an eight-foot train. Be right back.”

  She passed Lia on the way out.

  “Here we go,” Lia said briskly, holding up a white lace-paneled contraption. “We’re going to try a torsolette instead of the bustier. A torsolette is longer and will cinch your waist and flare over your hips. You’ll have such a nice hourglass shape and it will help support a heavier dress.” She smiled at Anji. “And this model comes with garters in case you want an extra-sexy look for your wedding night. I’m telling you, men go nuts.”

  There was a thump that sounded as though someone had dropped a shoe next door. Or fainted. Anji was feeling light-headed herself.

  “Let me help you get out of the bustier. There are so many hooks and lacings you’ll never manage on your own. You’ll have someone helping you dress on your wedding day, won’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.” Dozens of female relatives and soon-to-be relatives. Her mother was going to see her in this thing.

  His mother was going to see her in this thing.

  “Good. And I know you’ll have someone helping you undress that night.” Lia efficiently unfastened the bustier with a speed only someone who dealt with complicated bridal foundations every day could achieve.

  “Need some help in there, sir?” Anji heard.

  “I’m doing great,” was the reply. In Dev’s voice.

  Anji cringed. If he were any kind of gentleman, he’d leave immediately. He had to know she was completely flustered. There were some details a man, even one’s future husband, did not need to know.

  “You’re all flushed,” Lia said. “It is getting warm in here. Trying on wedding gowns is hard work.”

  “Yes,” Anji agreed.

  “I’ll turn on the fans while you position the torsolette. Remember to bend over so your boobs will sit properly. We want perky, not droopy.”

  If Jenny didn’t come back and stop her, Anji was going to grab some extra tulle and gag Lia.

  Anji was in a full-body flush. A drop of sweat trickled down her spine. “Could I…could I have a glass of ice water?”

  “Oh, of course! I apologize for not offering you refreshments sooner. I’ll be right back.”

  She was sweating like a pig. She couldn’t try on these gorgeous dresses like this. Stepping directly into the breeze of the fans, Anji hurriedly fanned herself with the torsolette.

  “Anji?”

  She barely recognized the rough voice. “You heard everything.” So much for the mysteries of the bridal toilette.

  “Describe the foundation garment she was talking about.”

  “Oh, Dev—”

  “Tell me.”

  “All right.” She used her clinical-doctor voice. “It’s a very long strapless bra with boning to cinch me in at the waist and support my breasts. It has places where the dress can hook to it at the waist for added support of the skirt. It’s a remarkable piece of engineering.”

  “But she didn’t finish helping you fasten it, did she?”

  “Not yet. It’s quite warm in here—”

  “Drop it.”

  “What?”

  “Drop. It. Drop the bra thing.”

  “On the floor? Why?”

  “I want to think of you standing there half-naked, surrounded by white lacy things as you choose what you’ll wear to marry me.”

  Anji’s eyes widened as her pulse increased. This was…He was…She stared at her reflection. Oh, for pity’s sake, she looked like a captured maiden about to be ravished.

  She’d spent years suppressing her sexual self because she’d chosen to be a chaste bride. Truthfully, these last years of medical residency there hadn’t been much to suppress. However, with her wedding approaching, she was going to have to unsuppress. Anjali wasn’t naive enough to believe she could just flip a mental switch on her wedding day and be as sexually confident as her friends.

  Dev had to realize that, too. He was letting her know that he was thinking of her in a sexual way and she should be thinking of him that way, too.

  “Have you dropped it?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Coward,” he accused her softly.

  Was she?

  Not usually, but this was uncharted territory. A challenge. It wasn’t as though he was in the room with her. She was alone. For now. She should get over herself.

  “Fine.” Anji set the torsolette on the chair, avoiding looking at herself in the mirror. “Now what?”

  “Look at yourself in the mirror.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at the mirror.

  “They said you were beautiful.”

  That wasn’t exactly how Anji remembered it.

  “Are you looking at yourself?”

  Why was looking so difficult? “I—”

  “Are you?”

  Anji swallowed. Any second and either Lia or Jenny or both would walk in. She turned to face the mirror. “Yes.”

  “What do you see?”

  “What do you think I see? I see a half-naked woman, that’s what I see.”

  “A beautiful half-naked woman. Uncross your arms.”

  How did he know? Anji stared at the wall and the mirrors and studied the ceiling for hidden cameras.

  “Did you uncross your arms?”

  Why couldn’t she do this? She’d been raised to be modest and this was…not modest. But it was a request made by her future husband.

  And how did she think she could be naked in front of him if she was too shy to be naked in front of herself? She forced her arms down to her sides. The cooling breeze from the fan tickled her skin.

  A woman gazed back at her. A woman who, yes, had a nice rack. She’d never looked at her body in a sexual way before, trying to see it as a man would.

  “Did you uncross your arms?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you looking at yourself in the mirror?” he asked after a pause.

  “Yes.”

  “Slowly slide your hands up your rib cage and cup your breasts,” Dev instructed in a low voice.

  “I will do no such thing!” Enough. Anji reached for the corset.

  “Please.” His voice was rough with longing and…arousal?

  He was turned on! She, skinny little Anji Rawat with the two thick braids and even thicker glasses, had excited a man with nothing more than words. And without trying. What would happen if she put a little effort into it and pla
yed along?

  She drew a breath, willing her voice not to quiver. “I’m sliding my palms over my skin.” She did so. “It’s so soft.” No sense in doing this halfway. “And now my hands have reached my breasts and I’m holding them, feeling their weight.” Her breath quickened.

  “Imagine that your hands are my hands and that I’m standing there behind you, watching your face.”

  As Dev described the scene, a jolt of desire such as Anji had never experienced shot through her.

  Dimly, she was aware of Jenny’s voice. With shaking hands, she grabbed the torsolette and sat on the chair, her knees quivery.

  “Anji, look what I’ve got!” Jenny burst into the room and hung up the dress. “They had another version.” Quickly unzipping the bag, she gestured grandly. “Ta-da! Check it out—white with an embellished gold lace overlay. There’s a gold sash that ties under the bust and trails down the back of the one-hundred-inch cathedral-length train…. Are you okay?”

  “I got a little dizzy. Lia is getting some water, but she must have been interrupted.”

  Lia hurried in while Anji was speaking. “Here you go. I brought you some cookies, too.”

  Anji gratefully drank the water, but passed on the cookies. It wasn’t hunger that had made her dizzy.

  As Lia hooked up the torsolette, Jenny asked, “How much sleep did you get last night?”

  “You know how it goes. A few hours here and a few hours there.”

  Jenny pulled the dress from the bag and held out the train. “You know, I’m the Energizer Bunny, but even I need sleep or my patients suffer.”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  “Lecture over.” Jenny stepped aside. “What do you think?”

  The dress gleamed and sparkled in the light. “That’s it,” Anji whispered.

  Lia had finished fastening the torsolette and was being very quiet. Anji caught her reflection in the glass and was surprised to see that she had both hands pressed against her mouth. And were there tears in her eyes?

  When she saw Anji and Jenny looking at her, she laughed self-consciously. “I can’t believe I still do this.” She fanned at her face. “But sometimes, a dress is just so perfect and I have to be careful not to say anything because I may think it’s perfect, but the bride might not like it.” She fanned harder. “Let’s get it on you.”