Diary of an Ugly Duckling by Langhorne, Karyn (general ebook reader .txt) 📕

ragged but he whispered her

name, guiding her with one massive hand while the

other stroked her breasts, bringing her nipples

erect, igniting an even deeper desire inside her.

“Enough,” he muttered gruffly, pulling her slowly

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up the long length of milk chocolate skin until her

face was level with his own. Audra read fire in his

eyes and an instant later, her lips were covered by

his own and she was drowning in a sensation she’d

never felt before, as every nerve in her body strained

toward unity with his. Shameless with desire, she

straddled him, pointing herself at the center of his

need, filling herself with him.

Art lifted his hips, as she gripped his chest, riding

him like a bucking bronco, a smile coursing over his

face. “Take what you want, girl,” he said. “Take it!

All of it!”

“I’m taking it,” Audra breathed, as a dizzying

sense of pleasure tightened inside her. “I’m—I’m—”

She came awake with a start, gripping the sheets

between her fingers, her heart pounding in her

chest, an uncomfortable tension wet between her

legs.

“My God,” she muttered in the darkness of the

tiny bedroom far away from New York, far away

from the familiar, far away from Art. The dream

floated before her eyes, playing itself out again in

vivid detail, and she could see Art’s body, imagine

its smell and feel and taste—

But of her own body’s appearance in the dream,

she could recall nothing at all—not the size of her

breasts or the length of her hair or even the color of

her skin. It was as though she were making love to

the man without a body of her own at all . . . just

making love with her spirit and soul.

“But he likes you, right?”

“I guess so.”

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“Let me get this straight. He’s called you almost

every day for nearly six weeks, offered you support

above and beyond the call of duty . . . but you’re

not sure he likes you?”

Audra sighed. “Okay, I know he likes me . . . but

does he like me like me?”

Dr. Goddard rolled her eyes. “Please don’t do this

to me,” she sighed. “I’m too old . . .”

“Okay,” Audra admitted, letting a grin crease her

face. “That was juvenile. But you know what I

mean.”

“I don’t see—”

“He didn’t like me before .. . before I came

here . . .”

“He didn’t know you before you came here. You

were co-workers, but you really didn’t know any-

thing about each other.”

“We had the movies.”

“Yes, you had the movies. But you still didn’t re-

ally know anything about each other.” She

shrugged. “Now you do.”

“But he didn’t like the way I looked.”

“How do you know that?”

“He wouldn’t look at me if he could help it.”

“And how do you know why that was? Did you

ever ask him: ‘Hey Bradshaw, why don’t you

ever look me in the eye?’ Ever say that?” Her eye-

brows shot up, giving her serious, bespectacled

face an almost comical air. “Maybe he’s got a lazy

eye.”

“He doesn’t have a lazy eye.”

“The point is you don’t know what he’s got. Be-

cause you didn’t ask. And you didn’t ask because

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you’d rather guess. You’d rather assume you know

the reason than find out the truth.”

“And what if I’m right? What if he didn’t like the

way I looked?”

“All right.” Dr. Goddard uncrossed and recrossed

her legs. “I’ll bite. What if he didn’t? What if he

thought you were the fattest, blackest and ugliest

woman he’d ever seen? Then what?”

Audra blinked at her in surprise. “I—I don’t

know—”

“Well, would that change or explain or erase all

the help and support he’s given you?”

“No.”

“Would that mean he couldn’t like you—or even

love you?”

Audra shook her head. “No.”

“And what if you were the most beautiful woman

in the world? Would that change or explain or

erase all the help and support? Would he suddenly

have ulterior motives? Would you say he was only

being your friend because you’re beautiful and he’s

hoping for something more from you than just

friendship—”

“No!” Audra exclaimed.

“Then maybe, just maybe, this doesn’t have any-

thing to do with what you look like, Audra.

Maybe—just maybe—you finally dropped your de-

fenses long enough for the man to get to know

you—really get to know you, beyond the movie lines

and diva dames. And maybe he’s found something

he values in the process.”

Audra considered. “I don’t know. You should see

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Esmeralda. I mean, I know she’s got her issues

but . . . “ She sighed. “She’s really pretty. And he’s re-

ally pretty. I can’t see what a man who was with a

woman that pretty would want with—”

“Audra.” The doc leaned forward to pat her on

the knee. “Don’t you get this yet?” And when Audra

shook her head, she continued, “The people who re-

ally love you—the people who matter—love you for

who you are on the inside—”

“But—” Audra interrupted. The whole light-skin,

dark-skin thing was swirling in her brain again.

“Yes, I know it’s a cliché. And I know you don’t

believe it. And certainly people are attracted to

beauty, there’s no denying that. But at the end of the

day, what makes one person beautiful and another

ugly?” She tapped her forehead. “Perception, Au-

dra. Beauty is the ultimate head game. I might find

a person gorgeous—a person you think of as

homely, or utterly unremarkable in every way. But

when I look at him, I see stars. Why? Because I see

something you don’t, or I see through the lens of

love.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Audra mut-

tered.

“More than that. Beauty is in the brain of the be-

holder. What you think dictates how you see it. So,

back to Bradshaw. The question isn’t really what he

sees . . . it’s what he thinks. And that’s an easy one

to answer.” She settled herself back into her arm-

chair and beamed a warm smile at Audra. “All you

have to do to find out what a man thinks is screw

your courage to its sticking place.”

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“Screw my courage . . . ?”

“Ask him, Audra,” Dr. Goddard said. “Not as

Bette Davis or Mae West. As yourself. Just ask him.”

Audra fixed the doctor with a small smile. “Easy

to say, doc. Easy to say, hard