Mercy took the razor and removed the last bit of stubble the wax had missed. Her vulva was now smooth and soft. Kissable, according to La Femme magazine. Her sex had not been so visible since puberty.
The lips were so naked, Mercy was embarrassed. She was the only one looking, but her face was red and she felt a strong urge to close her legs and shut her eyes.
That was taking modesty much too far, she decided. If there was anything Mercy was really good at, it was neurotic behavior. Mercy's therapist was constantly advising her to break free of her inhibitions.
She had once been thoroughly humiliated because she'd been caught talking to her cat. And it had been the cat who caught her. He was a very judgy cat, with definite opinions regarding women who talk to dumb animals. The inherent contradiction in that view is what had sent her to the therapist in the first place.
She was making definite progress. The secret, as she figured it, was to take each inhibition one at a time, and force herself to do exactly what she was afraid of. She had spent three hours speaking to her cat, reading to him from The Great Gatsby. She had pulled her smartphone out of the drawer it had been in for six months and learned how to use it. She had even stood up to her boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend.
Today, she would tackle this self-conscious discomfort with her own body. She didn't have to work today. No visitors were expected. She would spend the rest of this day completely nude. It was National Nude Day, according to her trivia calendar, so this was a good day for it.
Mercy felt proud about her decision. And the timing was perfect. The apartment was becoming uncomfortably warm. The air conditioning had been struggling for weeks. Today, it had apparently given up entirely. It was as hot as an oven. Reducing the layers would increase the comfort.
And it was a good day to stay inside. The city was being particularly aggressive. There seemed to be a lot of people on the street. And they were making a hell of a lot of noise. Mercy was on the fourth floor, but the shouts and yells were still reaching her. There were also more sirens than usual, uncomfortably close and loud. It almost sounded as if one of the ambulances or police cars had parked in the hallway right outside the apartment. Clearly, this was good time to be indoors.
Which meant it was a perfect day for Mary to get comfortable with her own body. "I just might try masturbation," she said aloud. She would take this day to be her own. No phone, no television, no answering the door.
Mercy spun in circles, enjoying the freedom of being naked in her own space, while avoiding looking at her reflection in the darkened television screen. "Solemn vow," she said to the cat. "I will not put on a single stitch of clothing until midnight at the very earliest."
Mercy jumped in startled alarm as something struck the front door violently. A second thud actually cracked the wood. A glint of metal, shaped suspiciously like a murderer's axe, had poked through the door next to the knob.
Mercy scolded herself for her fanciful imagination, as if there was some special feature that made an ordinary woodworking tool into an axe designed for murderers.
However, she argued, the murderer himself, holding the axe and currently chopping through her front door, might qualify as the special feature.
She was starting to scold herself again for having this silly debate rather than running and screaming, but then the now-weakened front door was kicked in.
It wasn't a murderer after all, but a firefighter. Smoke and flames filled the hallway. One of those sirens had apparently been the hallway smoke alarm. "Oh, this is just perfect," Mercy said, as the firefighter ran toward her.
She suddenly found herself thrown over his shoulder. Mercy was annoyed to feel his hand on her butt, but since he was saving her life, she supposed it was forgivable. He was holding her in place so he wouldn't drop her. The hand on her butt was saving her from falling on her ass.
He kicked open the balcony door and started down the fire escape. The cat, she was relieved to see, was already on his way down. She should probably get around to naming that cat one of these days, she thought.
As she rode the firefighter's shoulder, Mercy started listing the things she needed to tell her therapist. Her decision to shave and wax her pussy, just to see what it looked like. Her decision to stay naked all day in honor of National Nude Day. Her decision to name her cat, now that she'd been feeding him for two years. And probably something about the fire.
She was carried down four flights and then through the crowd of first responders. Mercy was acutely aware that her bald sex was probably visible to anybody who wanted to look. Mercy's face was red with embarrassment. She hated people noticing when she was embarrassed, but she was fairly confident that nobody was looking at her face. Unless, it occurred to her, maybe her pussy was just not attractive. That was a mental journey she thought it best not to take.
The firefighter set her down behind an ambulance. Two EMTs tried to cover her with a blanket, but she refused them. As much as she wanted that blanket, she could not accept. "I made a vow," she told them. "A solemn vow."
"She's in shock," the firefighter said. He was being treated for a leg injury and a burn on his arm. "She doesn't know what she's saying."
"I absolutely know what I'm saying. I am Mercy Alice Watkins. I live at 413 Monroe Avenue, which seems to be burning down right now. Apartment 17. Fourth floor. I am completely in my right mind. If anybody covers me without my consent, I will throw an hysterical fit and then sue you all to bits and pieces. My sort of a boyfriend is kind of a lawyer. He will drag you into court, kicking and screaming, to face my wrath. Probably. Eventually."
The firefighter chuckled. "Quite a threat. Your ex-boyfriend, who is not exactly a lawyer, might get around to suing us one of these days."
"He never officially broke up with me," Mercy said. He'd have to be speaking to her for that to happen.
"Do you live with him?"
"I keep my own apartment," she said. Then she looked up at the burning building. "Kept, I guess."
"Does he keep any belongings at your apartment?"
"Ye-ess," she said doubtfully. He hadn't picked up his things, anyway, but he probably wanted to.
The firefighter looked her up and down, slowly, savouring her nude body. She blushed, but refused to reach for the blanket. "Stop that."
"If you insist on standing there naked, men are going to look at you."
Mercy scowled, but his words were undeniably true. "Shouldn't you be putting that out?" she pointed up at the inferno. She couldn't even make out her apartment behind the curtain of flame. "I just bought cookies. It took me two hours to pick them out. I'd prefer they not be burnt."
"I'm afraid the building is a loss, ma'am. There is nothing we can do there. At this point, we're just trying to keep the fire from spreading. But I'm on the injured list now. I hurt my leg, kicking in your door. If I'm slow, or weak, or clumsy, I become a danger to my crew. I'm stuck here with you for now."
"Stuck," she grumbled. She was totally naked and he hated being around her. Her charms obviously left something to be desired.
"Tell me why your ex would only 'probably' file your lawsuit," the firefighter told her. "And why 'eventually'?" He looked her over once again and gave a low wolf whistle. "If I had a chance to do something for a girl who looks like you, I wouldn't hesitate."
Okay. That was a decent compliment. He deserved a little honesty. "Howard is not entirely happy with me right now. He has some problems."
"If I was in a blazing building, with second degree burns on my arm and splinters of wood embedded in my leg, I would risk my very life to save yours. What kind of problems does Howard have?"
