1
PETUNIA
Ifrown as I spin around. Then, I strike a few poses like I’m modeling in a fashion show, but this whole thing is ridiculous because my swimsuit is very wrong. The fabric of the skimpy one-piece bathing suit sticks to my skin like glue, and as I raise one hand over my head, it strains to cover a big breast. I frown.
“I don’t know, Lark. We’re really pushing the limits with this one,” I mutter as my friend looks up.
“What’s not to like?” my buddy questions, smiling as she brushes out her curly hair. Then, the sassy woman laughs. “It’s hot! The solid gold color looks great with your skin tone too.”
I frown again, still studying myself.
“Yeah, I like the color too, but that’s not the problem,” I huff as I tug on the thin material. “My boobs are going to pop out at any moment, and not only that, but if I take one wrong step, my va-jay-jay will be completely exposed. That’s not something I need, especially since you know I’m clumsy, so an accident’s almost one hundred percent going to happen.”
I turn around again and huff in exasperation. This swimsuit is ridiculous because even a skinny girl’s goods wouldn’t be safely hidden by this thing. The gold fabric barely covers my huge double D breasts, and my nips are visible. Plus, both my cheeks are completely exposed as the bathing suit rides up and really, the only thing covering my anus is a thin strip of glimmering fabric.
But Lark just shrugs and giggles.
“Oh, honestly, Petunia,” she coos. “That one-piece is a too conservative if you ask me. This is Sanctum, after all, so if anything, you need to step it up.”
I roll my eyes at her.
“Oh really?” I ask in a dry tone. “Step it up, how?”
“With this,” she giggles, holding out a tiny piece of red cloth. The thing isn’t even bigger than the palm of her tiny hand, and I squint in confusion.
“What is that? A Kleenex?”
“No silly,” she rolls her eyes. “It’s a bikini, what else? Now try it on,” she scolds.
Sighing heavily, I struggle out of my gold swimsuit before holding the red fabric up. Is Lark serious? This thing is nothing but a series of strings with postage-sized scraps of fabric attached. I don’t even know how to get it on, but after some experimentation, I manage to position the squares of fabric where I think they go, and spin around.
“Perfect,” my friend hums with approval, her eyes taking in my generous figure. “Now that’s more like it.”
I stare at my reflection with horror. The red color of the suit makes my brown eyes pop, but the whole get-up is utterly ludicrous. The bikini top is nothing but small squares covering my nipples, and the bikini bottom is a tiny patch of fabric that covers my clit. No way am I going out like this.
“I can’t wear this!” I mutter, already making to take it off. “Hell no because this thing is even worse than the one-piece. It only covers my most private bits, and if I even walk, everything’s going to be exposed. Come on, Lark. Get serious. I might as well just be nude.”
Lark pshaws and waves her hand at me before shrugging.
“Honestly, you’re so conservative sometimes, Petunia. I mean, look at what I’m wearing. You’re practically dressed in an astronaut suit compared to me.”
Then, she undoes the ties of her silky pink robe and allows the material to slip off her shoulders. Holy shit. My eyes nearly bulge out of my head as I look at my friend because Lark’s not even pretending to wear a bikini. The curvy girl’s just got pink flower-shaped pasties over her hard nipples and a special square pasted onto her clit. There are no strings whatsoever. My friend is literally wearing stickers.
“Holy shit,” I mutter aloud, and Lark giggles as she poses with her legs spread apart to show off the special triangle between her legs.
“You like?”
I gape at her. “Yes, but what is that?”
She wiggles her butt a little before grinning again.
“It’s a clit cover, what else?”
I stare at the tiny pink sticker.
“A clit cover?” I ask, tilting my head. “What is that?”
Lark giggles again.