• Cheryl Terra

Preview: The Woman Behind The Curtain

This is a short preview of my story The Woman Behind The Curtain from the When The Lights Go Out series. If you haven't read the introduction, consider giving it a read here first. After the introduction, the stories from this series can be read in any order as they all exist within the same universe.


This story is a male/female erotica short story.



“Hello?” I called.


Thunder cracked just as I did and I waited until the roll faded before trying again.


“Meg?”


“In here,” came the small response.


The layout of her apartment was identical to mine, so I knew where “here” was. The dim light of my phone led the way past cardboard boxes and mismatched furniture. She wasn’t exaggerating; from the looks of it, she had literally just moved in, maybe that day or the day before.


Knocking softly, I opened the bathroom door. The flashlight on my phone lit the room up exponentially brighter than it had been, and the shower curtain rustled as a head shyly poked out from behind it.


I didn’t know if many women thought that “interrupted-mid-shower” look worked. On top of that, cell phone flashlights don’t offer the most flattering lighting. It might have explained why the woman behind the shower curtain looked slightly ashamed, although it also could have been having to call a stranger into her apartment to help her get out of said shower. Either way, all of those handicaps were a good thing because, even in less-than-optimal lighting with a small amount of her face poking out and suds still clinging to her hair, she was the most beautiful woman I’d seen in my entire life.


She was younger than me, maybe in her late twenties. Soaking wet hair clung to the side of her face and her round eyes were almost black in the darkness. Her nose turned up just slightly and her mouth, though tensed with worry, was full and pink. I couldn’t see even a hint of her body behind the shower curtain, but my mind started filling in the blanks without my permission. I felt my face going warm and tore my eyes away guiltily.


“Hi,” I said. “I’m Owen.”


“Hi,” she said. “I’m Meg. Um, pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain?”


I chuckled nervously. “I’ll, uh, turn around if you want to get out.”


Without waiting for a response, I angled the phone towards her and turned the other direction. The image of her was seared in my mind, including the parts I couldn’t see, and I tried everything I could to think of something else so my blood stopped rushing to places I didn’t really want it to be.


There was no noise for a moment, then the shower curtain rustled again and the rings made a metallic sound as they slid along the curtain rod. I refused to picture Meg’s glistening body as it stepped over the edge of the tub and onto the mat, absolutely refused to think of it, not when there were things like trying to add up my previous week’s sales numbers that I could be thinking about.


I was trying to do the math in my head when the deep swooping sound of skin sliding on porcelain broke through and Meg cried out.


I turned around instinctively as the shower curtain rustled frantically, stepping across the bathroom just in time to catch her as she yanked the curtain from the rod and tripped forward out of the shower. She wasn’t very heavy, but the angle was awkward and I teetered off-balance. Meg clutched the shower curtain with one hand and my arm with the other as I tried to control my fall, ending up seated on her bathroom floor near the heat register as she tumbled into my lap.


Thank God those math equations had done the trick, otherwise things might have been really uncomfortable.


“Oh my God,” she choked.


She tried to scramble out of my lap, but the shower curtain got caught around her legs and she slipped again. Her knee came dangerously close to an area I definitely didn’t want to be kneed, though I was distracted when she pitched forward and something—well, some things—soft and round and delightfully warm pressed against my shirt.


I refused to think of what those somethings were, given the position of her knee, but she knew I had felt them. Her face turned such a bright shade of red that it was almost glowing in the dim light.


I couldn’t help it; I laughed.


“It’s not funny,” she said indignantly. “It’s not!”


“Okay,” I said, chuckling. “Sure. It’s not.”


“Stop laughing at me,” she said, punctuating it with a sniff.


I did stop laughing when I realized those big eyes were wet, and it wasn’t because she had just fallen out of the shower.


“Hey, I’m sorry,” I said as she blinked rapidly. “Look, it’s just not every day that some girl literally sweeps me off my feet. I’m just counting my blessings.”


She sniffed again, then snorted, a tiny laugh that started undoing all the work that math problem had done.


“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to distract myself.


She nodded but didn’t move off my lap. After a moment, she shook her head and made another soft sniffing sound.


“I’m embarrassed,” she said. “I had to scream through the walls to get your help, and then I was kind of mean to you, and then I had to admit that I’m so scared of the dark I couldn’t even get out of my shower, and then I fell out of the shower and ripped my new shower curtain and I’m just a complete mess.”


There were a few drops of water on her cheeks that hadn’t been there before. I felt bad for her, but I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to hug her, but the only thing separating most of her naked body from me was a thin shower curtain, not to mention I was a complete stranger sitting with her in the dark. She was already embarrassed; I didn’t need to make her uncomfortable, too.


“You’re not a mess,” I said instead. “You just got out of the shower. I’d say you’re probably squeaky clean.”


She made that tiny, snorting laugh again, this time with those full lips flicking up into a little smile. I quickly thought of my sales numbers again.


“C’mon,” I said. “I’d say let me help you up, but you’re kinda… well. Let me, uh, get this part of the curtain…”


As carefully as I could, I helped her untangle the shower curtain, determinedly avoiding looking at her as she unfolded her legs and shimmied awkwardly off my lap while trying to cover herself with the edge of the shower curtain.


“Don’t look,” she pleaded.


I held my hands up to my eyes. “Can’t see a thing.”


She giggled and I felt her move past me, then felt a slight breeze as she pulled a towel off the rack nearby. The towel dropped to the ground a few moments later and I heard her pick up something else, then felt something soft brush against my arm.


“Okay,” she said a moment after that. “I’m covered.”


When I took my hand off my eyes, she was standing on the other side of the bathroom enrobed in a plush pink housecoat, the belt knotted tightly around her waist. It was my first real glimpse of her that didn’t involve a shower curtain, and I liked what I saw. I liked the way her eyes looked at me cautiously, I liked the gentle curves I could just make out beneath the robe, and I liked the way her legs peeked out from the bottom of it.


I looked at her for all of a second while I decided I liked all those things, then stood up and hoped it hadn’t been too obvious.


The Women Behind The Curtain can be read in full on my Patreon or will be posted here in the coming months.

 

About The Author:


Cheryl Terra writes romance stories for people who hate romance stories, as well as for people who love romance stories. Writing is one of her greatest passions and she can often be found sitting in front of her laptop, ignoring the world around her as she finds elaborate ways for her characters to hook up with each other. When she’s not doing that, Cheryl enjoys knitting, spending time with her pets, annoying her fiancé, and trying to convince people civilization exists in the vast stretch of Canada between Vancouver and Toronto.


 

Members of my Patreon community get early access to all stories as well as bonus content such as song pairings, extra scenes, and Q&As. Subscribe to my Patreon to check it out!