Miserably Stuck

I was stuck. Miserably stuck. My only saving grace - or maybe not - was that no one was around to witness my pretzel-like contortion.

How the hell was I going to get out of this?

I twisted hoping to get some leverage but all I managed to get was my sweater caught and pulled.

I swore. This was my favourite sweater. It had been considered lucky until about ten minutes ago when I landed myself in this situation.

I was going to have to strip or at least figure out some kind of way to lose some of my clothes. I might have half a chance to slip out of the grasping claws that had its fangs in my sweater.

I wriggled this way and that, twisting and rotating until I could feel the sweater release. Then I did the same to get my pants loose and down as far as my ankles.

I was breathing heavy by this point.

I was almost certain I was going to get out of the situation when I felt my bra pop and my breasts spring free.

I was then that I heard the deep rumble of a man. And not just any man... the man of my dreams. Mack Carver.

"Do you need help?"

His voice skated over my spine and caused a blush to bloom from my brightly painted toes to the roots of my hair. I was pretty sure my ass was a flashing red tomato held up in the air as I dangled on my left foot and right toe.

Mortified I closed my eyes and wished myself anywhere else.

All I could do was groan.




Word Count = 276.



Notes ▼

Written for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: "Do you need help?"