Page 12 of Out of the Gold

Finally we manage to get me out of the rubber material for the second time today, and I rip off the soaking wet undershirt. Melody takes it from my hands, balls it up and tosses it into the garbage. Good place for it.

Picking up a pair of scissors, she swishes them open and closed. Advancing toward me, she says, “Now for the leggings.”

Despite myself, I recoil at someone advancing at me with a pair of scissors. Layering my hands over my package, I stand taller. “Watch that.”

She opens and closes the scissors again. “Don’t worry. Not interested. I only want to get you out of these leggings so I can go about with the rest of my night.”

Her sharp words wound my pride. “That’s not what other women say.”

“I’m not like other women.”

Damn straight. She’s nothing at all like any of the other women I know. “Couldn’t agree with you more.” I widen my stance. “Get to it.”

She cuts the material up the hems until mid-thighs. “There. You should be able to rip the rest by yourself.” She stands and heads over to her suitcase.

Grateful for the extra air hitting my legs, I tear the material the rest of the way, pull the wrecked leggings off and toss them into the garbage. “Freedom.” Standing in nothing but black boxer briefs given to me as part of the costume, I move my hips and savor the air caressing my almost naked body.

Without looking at me, Melody says, “I’m done for today. I’ll be here at six in the morning to sew you back into the suit.”

My elation slides downward. Thirteen more days of shooting.

With this tyrant.

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