Bloodymary

Mary sighed. It had been another long, boring day at work. She had nothing to do at home, either. All she had was a cat. Her parents left her without a phone number, and she didn't have a boyfriend.

If only I had a boyfriend, she thought. Sometimes it felt as if Mr. Right would never come, no matter what the help-books say.

Yeah, right. Like some blacked haired, tall, well-built guy with chocolate brown eyes and a size 7.5+ cock will just randomly bump into me. And if they did, they'd probably think I was a grandma, or married with a bazillion kids, she thought sadly. While Mary wasn't unattractive, she was definitely plain. Shoulder length, thin brown hair, mud-brown eyes, a 34A cup size, and peach skin definitely did NOT make her a winner. Sometimes Mary would try to look better, either with a push-up bra or makeup, but it was too much work.

Mary was suddenly jolted out of her musings when her phone rang. Yes! Finally, some plans! She thought while she scrambled to pull her phone out of her tan purse. She eagerly flipped it open to hear her work friend, Joyce.

"Hey, girl. Got plans?" Joyce greeted her, getting right to the point. After working together for 4 years- Mary was only 26- Joyce lost some of the social pleasantries.

"Uhm, I don't know, lemme check..." Mary said, trying not to sound to eager.

"C'mon, bathing your cat is NOT plans! Wanna go clubbin'?" Joyce asked exasperatedly. Sometimes it seemed to her as if Mary was destined to end up a spinster. There was a running joke at work that a 70-year-old widow gets laid more than Mary. The sad part was that is was true.

Mary squealed inside, and then composed herself. "I guess... you'll pick me up at 7?"

"You're kidding me right? You have got to be kidding me. I'm picking you up at SIX."

"What?" Mary asked, confused. "No clubs are open that early..."

"Not for that, dumbass! You're getting a makeover, because you are getting laid and getting a boyfriend."

"I don't know... what if I catch an STD or something? I don't have any protection..." Mary said, suddenly unsure.

"Okay, first off, what the fuck is the idea of calling 'domes PROTECTION?? You have lost your pizzazz, girl. I'm coming over at six. Be ready, with the wine." Joyce stated, and then hung up before Mary could continue to be a spoilsport.

A few hours later, Joyce stopped by with 4 bags. Inside those bags, it turned out, was Mary's clothes.

"Girl, take this shit and put it on! I'll do your makeup. And don't worry, I bought you some 'domes."

Surprised, Mary hurried into her bedroom to change. But when she dumped the clothing out, she stopped with her jaw open. Joyce had bought her lingerie. Like, hooker lingerie.

She sighed and started to get dressed. First there was a creamy white lace thong that covered so little it made Mary blush. There was also a matching bra, made out of lace and wire. It was soft so it wouldn't scratch, but when she was aroused it would be as obvious as daylight.

Praying that the rest of the clothes would be more covering, she dumped out the next bag. There she found some black sheer garters, a leather miniskirt that barely covered her butt, a lacy button-up nightshirt, and a cropped leather jacket.

In the fourth bag were shoes. 3 inch black platforms, to make Mary seem taller. Looking at herself in the mirror, Mary blushed. For Goodness Sakes, she was just Old Mary! Plain Jane! She shouldn't be dressed like a hooker! She blushed bright red, and then calmed herself down.

"Yeah, bitch! Youzzzz gonna ride them cocks good tonight! Yeah!" Joyce yelled out, already almost done with a bottle of wine. Mary wondered at the idea to have a drunk girl do her makeup, then figured "ah, what the hell. Maybe her screw-ups will cover my face."

A few hours later, at about ten, Joyce finished. Mary was now transformed. She had black mascara and eyeliner, cherry-red lipstick, good foundation, and her hair was transformed to perfect club-wear. Looking at herself in the mirror, she had to agree. She was damn sexy.

Unfortunately, the men at the club didn't think so. Most of them were so drunk they just went for the girl with the biggest chest, not even aware that a sexy single was talking to them. Unsure of herself, Mary was hanging back when Phil walked over.

"Awkward, huh?" He asked her.

"What?" Mary asked, looking up from her cocktail.

"Oh, sorry. Where are my manners? I'm Phil. Pleasure to meet you." And in a move that shocked Mary, he gently kissed her hand. When he kissed her hand, he winced a little, but Mary, who was by then buzzed, didn't notice.

"Oh, hi. I'm Mary. And this is my Bloody Mary," she giggled, pointing to her drink.

"Ha-ha, that's so funny! Anyway, I was asking you if this was awkward here for you. You don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Oh, not really. Just tagged along, but no one notices me."

"I notice you," Phil replied gently, and when she looked up he gently kissed her. "Wanna go to my place?"

Buzzed as she was, Mary retained enough sense to go into a stranger's car. "Uhh, nah. My place?" She asked, "My friend can get a ride home. She'll understand."

Phil nodded, and led her to her car.

The ride to Mary's house was a blur, and in what seemed a second they were at her place talking on the couch.

The rest of the night was a blur.

Mary woke up in the morning with a massive hangover.

"Shittttt what the fuck did I do last night?"

For a minute Mary couldn't remember anything, then suddenly she saw a note.

Hey Hun,

It was great to meet you yesterday! In case you don't remember, we talked for a while. At around 2 I left, and don't worry- we didn't to ANYTHING but talk. I'm not the kind of guy who'd do a girl like that. But I'm no saint, either!

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed myself last night, and do you want to meet up tonight, for a real date? 7:00, The Plaza for dinner- complements of moi. Call me,

535-6924

~Phil Landers

Mary smiled, and reached for her phone. Checking the time, she hoped 2:00 was early enough to still get to go. Once she called him and was assured it would be okay, she hurried to get dressed and ready. At 7:00 precisely, she was at the Plaza and talking to him.

The next morning, Mary woke up with a happy glow. It was Sunday, Phil gave her roses, and they were officially dating. She decided to spend the day at the park, and texted Phil to see if he wanted to come. He said sure, and she went to shave.

Mary met Phil at the park, in her short-shorts and a tee. He looked her up and down appreciatively, and smiled.

"Sexy girl, huh?"

Mary giggled. She loved how he made her feel alive. They spent the rest of the day playing around. There was only one downside- when they were wrestling, Phil showed his fetish.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Mary squealed, as he tickled her.

"Say Uncle! Say Uncle!" Phil shouted, laughing.

Suddenly, as his hands reached her calves, he stopped and sat up.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked, confused.

"Uhm did you shave?"

"Yes...." Mary responded, hoping he didn't like his women hairy.

"Well can you not? Waxing is much better, it removes more hair. You may want to get professionally waxed, you have hair EVERYWHERE." He suggested politely.

"Excuse me? Are you my mother? And what the fuck do you mean by 'everywhere'?" Mary ranted.

"Oh, nothing. Just that humans have hair on legs, feet, genitals, stomach, arms, underarms, and face, no matter the gender. Could you wax it? I don't like hair on females, except for head and eyebrows." He said, looking kind of embarrassed.

Suddenly, Mary's heart gave into him. "Oh, fine. Okay. But only because I love you," Mary stated, shocking even herself.

"I love you too- once you get rid of the hair." And with that, Phil got up, dusted off, and walked away.

------------------------- Week Later --------------------------

Well, here's it. The day I finally fuck Phil. And I even got a full-body wax yesterday! Mary thought as she first woke up on Friday. It had been exactly one week since she met Phil, and they had agreed that tonight they would have sex.

Later that night, Phil and Mary retired to the bed. Bed squeaking, they rolled together, kissing. Mary felt Phil's warm tongue in her mouth, his hands roaming over her body. He gently unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off. Next was her lace bra, from the previous week. He unclipped it, and started fondling her breasts. Even though they were small, he still cradled them, suckled them, and licked them. Soon they were erect, and Mary was moaning.

Phil gently slid off her jeans, and started rubbing his hands up her legs. Suddenly he stopped and yanked his hands away, so hard he almost fell off the bed.

"Whaaaaaa?" Mary asked, awoken from her bliss. "What happened?"

"Your hair!" he practically spat. "When was the last time you shaved?"

"I waxed yesterday..."

"Okay, but you need to wax weekly and shave daily. Ok? I love you, but I can't be with you unless you are hairless." With that phrase, he waved and left her, alone.

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"Just keep shaving... must get rid of hair," Mary mumbled in the bathtub. Her skin had long turned wrinkly, and the tub was mostly full with her blood. Mary picked up the razor and ran another deep cut, this time across her stomach. She was been shaving deeply, so he would never think she was too hairy. She must be perfect.... She must be hairless...

Suddenly, the razor clattered down. She died, and when the police entered a week later they found her still in the tub. Her skin had been peeled off to show muscle in some places, and it looked as if she had been conscious the whole time. They set up a funeral, one that was pretty empty. The most obvious disappearance was Phil, who was busy shaving.