Nan Ryan by Silken Bondage

quickly sat beside him. At once the matronly Nicole Jousset told her to stand up. She did. Madame Jousset walked around and around her, critically appraising her small slender form, and making suggestions concerning the choices of afternoon dresses and ball gowns and intimate apparel.
    When the knowledgeable couturiere had decided on several possibilities and smilingly turned to leave them, Nevada made a move to get up and follow. With a hand on her arm, Johnny stopped her.
    “Wait here,” he said, and seemed not the least bit surprised when a white-coated porter came quietly into the salon bearing a silver tray with refreshments. Placing the tray on a polished Chippendale side table at Johnny’s elbow, he was gone by the time Madame, followed by two cheerful female assistants, returned carrying a half dozen of the most beautiful afternoon dresses Nevada had ever.
    “Monsieur?” questioned Madame, holding up a French-made garment of soft, flouncy yellow organdy.
    “Yes,” said Johnny. “Let’s see what it looks like on.”
    Beaming, Madame Jousset turned her attention to Nevada. “Mademoiselle, if you please?”
    Nevada looked at Johnny. He said, “Try it on.”
    “Where?”
    He grinned. “Behind the screen.”
    At first Nevada couldn’t believe that Johnny actually intended to remain in the small salon while she tried on the new frock, but he did stay and she found it strangely exciting to undress behind the screen while he continued to lounge comfortably on the sofa, not twenty feet from her.
    The screen, of course, shielded her body from his sight, but it reached only to her shoulders. He could look right at her and she at him as she changed. While the industrious assistants brought forth armloads of dresses and nightgowns and lace-trimmed underthings, Nevada stood behind the screen, her face flushing, talking to Johnny.
    When the new yellow gown fell into place and was fastened, she swept from behind the screen to model for him, turning around and around, liking the look of approval in his eyes.
    It was wonderful fun and Nevada decided then and there that being a fine lady wasn’t so bad, after all. And the thought made her want to laugh. Who would have believed that fine ladies dressed and undressed right in the room with a man! It seemed to her tike a naughty game.
    She was glad that they did. She liked it. It was a new experience that filled her with an unfamiliar exhilaration, made her feel warm and lightheaded and vitally alive. And daringly risqué.
    Nevada tried on dresses and evening gowns and robes and underwear, liking the feel of luxurious textures next to her bare flesh, which had begun to tingle pleasantly. That tingling increased dramatically when she found herself, moments later, left totally naked. Madame and her helpers were out of the room. They had gone in search of more garments, leaving her there with Johnny. And no clothes. Not even any of the lacy, silky underthings they had shown them.
    She didn’t know exactly how it had happened. All she knew was they had left nothing behind the screen for her to slip on. Even her trusty old blue satin gown was missing. But then she wouldn’t have reached for it, had it been there.
    Awakened to her innate sexuality by Johnny’s experienced lovemaking, Nevada trembled and instinctively moved her bare feet apart. She drew in a shallow, excited breath and smiled seductively at the darkly handsome man looking at her.
    “Johnny,” she said, her voice like warm honey.
    Johnny Roulette felt heat rise to his dark face. Without being told, he knew that Nevada was naked. That behind the screen, which reached barely to the tops of her shoulders, she was gloriously, provocatively, temptingly nude.
    The look in her blue eyes was boldly inviting. For one so young and basically still an innocent, she was incredibly erotic. She exuded a potent, steamy sexuality that was almost palpable. And she didn’t even realize it.
    Or did she?
    Johnny came to his feet.