Page 34 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
A smile on his face, pure elation in his every movement, he whipped me around the dance floor, jitterbugging, bouncing up and down and pulling me into him, oblivious to the dusty disaster in my underpants.
With every turn and swing, I could miserably detect a puff of baby powder coming up from under my skirt.
Poof.
Puff.
Pow.
Mortification ran through my veins as I stiffly moved across the dance floor with Atticus, any fluidity to my dancing completely thrown out the window as I clenched my butt as tight as could be, trying my hardest to avoid any more wisps of baby powder to escape from my dress.
In desperation for help, I looked over at Jenny who had her hand over her mouth, looking at me in disbelief. From the look on her face, I knew it was bad. She had to be convinced my vagina was on fire.
My only saving grace; sweet Atticus was completely oblivious as he jigged about, finger dancing in the air, a giant on smile on his face. But as for the rest of the people on the dance floor . . . yikes, the stares, the pointing, they all increased as the lights picked up the film of baby powder excreting from my panties. The lights made it that much more obvious.
Humiliation set in deeper and deeper with each passing moment, with each puff from my panties, and with each twirl Atticus spun me in.
“You’re a good dancer,” Atticus said above the music as he continued to wave his finger in the air to the beat of the music. He really was cute.
“You are too.”
“It’s foggy in here,” Atticus called out as he brushed the baby powder cloud out of our space.
“Yea, weird.” I laughed nervously as I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone who thought I was smoking a plate of pork loins from under my skirt.
Nothing to see here folks, just an excessive amount of baby powder for an itchy vagina. Keep moving on with your night.
“Do you want to try a flip?” he asked, shuffling his legs and twisting my hips by directing my arms.
Did I want to try a flip?And risk all the baby powder gathered in my panties to fall directly on Atticus’s head? Yeah, no way in hell.
“Maybe not right now.” Not until I cleaned out my underpants.
I chanced a glance at the bathroom and noticed the line was non-existent, so I would be able to take care of my situation, but if I told Atticus I had to go to the bathroom again, he might think I was having some kind of bowel movement issue, that or I was a coke addict needing to get my fix. Both options were not flattering, so I tried for option number three: female telepathy.
While dancing, I attempted to gather Jenny’s attention so she could sense my distress, but for the first time since I’d been out on the dance floor, Jenny had vanished, probably to make out with Drew. They were known for heavy petting in public, and I was grateful they’d stepped aside instead of doing it right in front of everyone.
“Where did you learn to dance?” Atticus asked as he spun me out wide and then back into him again. The minute my body connected with his, a puff of powder sprayed up between us, like the spray of an ocean’s wave. But instead of water, it was my—I hate to think it but—it was my pussy powder.
“College,” I answered, trying to play it cool even though I could feel sweat start to trickle down my back from embarrassment.
“I wonder if people are smoking in here,” Atticus asked as he surveyed the room. “Wow, we must be good partners; everyone seems to be watching us.”
“Well, you’re good at leading,” I said, even though I wanted to tell him, “No Atticus, it’s your partners panty pollution that’s affecting the air.”
I continued to fill the air with every move I made, and it got to the point where I grew almost too stiff to move . . . and Atticus noticed.
“Is something wrong?”
Needing to take care of the situation, I said, “Don’t think I’m a drug addict or anything but I have to go to the bathroom again. The line was long last time and I didn’t get to go. I swear I’m not doing drugs or anything since it looks like it, given the fact that I have to go to the bathroom again.”
Say drugs one more time, Rosie.
I was rambling and by the look on Atticus’s face, I wasn’t doing a good job. I could see it in his eyes—thewhoa this girl is showing her crazylook.
“Sure, I’ll meet you back at the booth.”
Defeated but determined, I took off for the bathroom and quickly locked myself in the stall. I pulled down my underpants, took them off completely, and dumped all the baby powder, which I’d so stupidly accumulated in there, and put it down the toilet. Powder flew everywhere, making me sneeze forcibly five times in a row.
