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the door incident

She said that to herself again and again. Cars were being stopped. Something was going on above her line of vision. It making no difference now, she turned her head. A stopped police car, and an officer making his way across the lanes. Dareen thought of what must happen next. Arrested for indecent exposure, the call to Elly, the mark on her record, fired from the library, her parents would surely find out. Maybe he thought she was a dead body, but he seemed surprised to see her head move and her eyes look at him. Now he began to step over the shrub in front of her and began to say, “Young lady . . .” Dareen could think only of escape. She jumped up, breasts bouncing, and in the same motion found herself going up, up, higher, over the traffic circle, looking down only for an instant at the astonished officer and then whirling her arms to the right and up and shooting the hell out of there! Eyes open in panic, the wind drying the tears off her face, Dareen got to well above the tops of the skyscrapers and looked around, then darted toward Boylston Street. Maybe no one would see her way up here, even in daylight, but once she got down to her building it would be a different story. Back through the fire escape, of course. As she approached it she tried to figure out which one was hers. They all look alike! She alighted on the banded metal floor and immediately crouched down. She turned. No one was looking; but that was just people outside. Maybe someone in the building across the street saw her through their window. Looking in to the window she saw it was Elly’s room, not hers. She thought of going to her own fire escape but that would involve a jump and would attract attention. She tried to open the window and it was locked. Still amazing herself with her newfound strength, with two fingers she bent and broke the metal catch. She could explain it to Elly later. Opening the window she gratefully hopped into the room. Elly must have gone out. Dareen stepped around the piles of clothes and CD’s. Elly was the opposite of Dareen, her room was a chaotic mess. The naked Dareen, relieved and a little shaky from what she had gone through, took a deep grateful breath, looked down at her protruding breasts, and thought about being back in her room in a few seconds and putting on clothes again. “Sorry, Allah, I’ve been bad. No more. I promise.” She opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, flinging away one of Elly’s strewn T-shirts off that she had caught in her toes, and looked up. She was being stared at by Elly, standing there in her pajamas. And by Pedro the super, in his T-shirt and jeans with the long string of keys. Pedro Villareal was an amiable fellow of about 30 who lived with his wife Josefina and two kids in one of the basement apartments. Though Elly knew her desire could never be fulfilled, she liked him a lot. Even Dareen had to concede he was cute: a nice smile, lustrous black skin (he was from the Dominican Republic but his mother was Haitian). Elegant dreadlocks that Elly had tried herself but just couldn’t manage; her hair was too fine. Pedro had been up this morning to re-set the fuse box in the hallway, but it was a handy pretext for Elly to chat with him in the kitchen. That was in normal life. Right now was not normal, not with a naked woman standing in front of them. And super-modest Dareen, of all people. And what a Dareen! The two clothed young people, and the naked young woman, stared at each other open-mouthed for a prescient second. Then Dareen muttered an agonized “Ohhh . . . ” and bent over and covered her breasts and crotch with her hands. Bare feet slapped against the tile floor as she darted to the door to her room. This was an old building and it was a heavy, solid wood door. Once again the frantic naked girl did not know her strength. With a yank at the doorknob there was a loud ripping and shearing of wood and the door and its hinges separated from the jamb. And now the knob, not designed for such stress, broke in the girl’s hand and the heavy door pivoted and started falling toward Elly. To save her roommate from serious injury Dareen quickly bent down and grabbed the door with both hands. To remove any further danger in the little kitchen she held it high up over her head. And then she stood there, not knowing what to do next. As her anguished eyes looked at her friends they could not help but look at the naked supergirl up and down. Thinly muscled arms effortlessly held aloft a door that weighed almost a hundred pounds. Sticking out from the thin brown torso were firm giant breasts, round and oblivious to gravity, that seemed to stick halfway across the tiny room. A preternaturally tiny waist with a hard concave tummy fanned out to a pair of trim hips and a generous forest of violet-lustered pubic hair. Thin but strong legs, perfect feet. She was like an alien creature; so modest was Dareen, so completely she had always covered up, that they (especially Pedro) had been utterly unable to imagine what she looked like naked. But this was indeed Dareen. As they could see from her familiar pretty face, now tense with shame as she continued to hold the door aloft. In fact she could have easily set it down against the wall, but still not fully conscious of her powers, she feared losing control of the door if she tried that. For a few horrible seconds she stood there in the mortification of full frontal nudity. Elly’s mind finally unfroze and she acted to end her modest friend’s agony of exposure by running to the bathroom to get their largest towel. Carefully darting behind Dareen, she reached way out in front to wrap it around the huge breasts and then around to the back. “Oh . . . oh . . . ” With her powers suddenly doused Dareen’s arms shook and it was all she could do to heave the door forward, where it smashed the kitchen table, a terrific crash as door and table hit the floor. Bump! Bump! Through the floor came the thumping of Mrs. Burns (or her son Tyrone), evidently via a broom handle against their ceiling, a reliable complaint whenever something loud happened in the girls’ apartment. The towel barely could go around her, and went only from the tops of her breasts to mid-thigh, but it was welcome covering. Dareen clutched it to her chest and leaned forward into Elly’s comforting embrace. “Sorry,” Pedro looked by turns at the towel-clad girl, the ruined door jamb, and the smashed table. Only now was awareness dawning so that the memory of the exquisite naked form caused a stirring in his pants. “Bet you didn’t know how strong Dareen was,” Elly said with a smile. “Ay! That door must weigh . . .” he said. “Sorry about that,” Dareen said. “I’ll pay for it.” After assuring them that he wouldn’t bill them for the broken door, Pedro left, bewildered, wondering what conclusions to draw from seeing Dareen emerge naked from Elly’s room, seeing her lift that heavy door, and how to go about fixing the jamb. He was in a daze the rest of the day. It was only that night, while Josefina was riding him in bed, that he concluded that the jamb must have been rotted out anyway, and that the pumping of adrenaline caused by the surprise of being seen by him and having to hide gave Dareen the momentary strength to rip the door out. Of course, that still didn’t explain the part about Dareen coming out of Elly’s room naked.

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