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I started unbuttoning my shirt, almost without havingmade a decision to do so. It was almost an automatic reaction; there wasa distinct feeling of inevitability...I took my trousers off and immediately realised that my legs were hairy.Not excessively so, but enough to be noticeable. Noticeable if I waswearing a skirt, that is.I went to the bathroom and ran a bath. A bubble bath. I used Helen'srazor to shave my legs. Oh, silly me. It's not Helen's razor, it's MYrazor. My ladies' razor. I shaved my lower legs and then my thighs andbottom. And perhaps because it was a ladies' razor. it seemed quitenatural to shave off my male pubic hair. All around mu genital area andespecially my balls. And then (carefully) between the cheeks of mybottom. I was now completely hairless below the waist. I looked down atmy chest. There wasn't a lot of hair there, but I removed it any way.Especially around my nipples. I shaved my forearms. And then myunderarms. Somehow shaving this area seemed the most. She new what she wanted, and she wanted Dave. Dave was average in the looks department. He was tall, reasonably skinny, dark hair and dark eyes that you seemed to get lost in these covered with a set of trendy glasses. He was also incredibly interested in Sarah, yet he could never build up the confidence to talk to her about, well pretty much anything. Sometimes, they would catch each others eyes across the dance floor, and both would shy away. Neither would make the first move. One particular night, things were different. Sarah had decided to make her move on Dave. This time when he looked over, instead of looking away, she held his stare smiled seductively and moved towards him. With a few shots of vodka inside her, she was ready for almost anything. When she reached him, she took his pint glass, placed it on the table, took his hand and walked with him to the dance floor. Placing his hands on her hips she began to sway to the slow rhythm. As usual, the crowds stopped to stare, but.
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