When in Mon Cala...
Somewhere on Mon Cala
The shoes and socks came off the easiest, of course. And then belts and vests. They had both agreed to stare at the food table while they slid off their pants. And then Leia suggested that they tie their sarongs before removing their underpants while still looking straight ahead at the table of food.
"Alright," Han said when he was done, "last but not least." And then he removed his shirt with a great flourish.
She could only see him out of the corner of her eye but that was enough. Just the fact that he was there was more than enough. But the sheer amount of tan-colored skin in her peripheral vision was as disconcerting as it was overwhelming.
"Eyes front, flyboy," she warned, trying to maintain some modicum of control over the situation as she prepared to remove her last items of clothing.
"I can walk up a little bit," he offered and took a few steps forward.
Leia's vision blurred and for one horrific moment she felt sure that she would fall to the floor in a faint. Many, many people had wondered just what could unnerve the ice Princess from Alderaan. Well, she had just unwittingly discovered it: Han Solo's rear end wrapped in gossamer fabric and sauntering away from her.
"Okay," she said. "That's far enough."
They were screwed. She knew it now. The rotten corpse and unwanted pregnancy thing definitely did not work. Her whole body felt like one gigantic blush. But they were in too deep now and she just couldn't let herself think about it any further. It was like jumping into the cold waters of Lake Aldera when she was young, she told herself. No thinking, no waiting, just doing it.
Grabbing the ends of her shirt, she lifted it over her head and before she lost her nerve she quickly shimmied out of her bralette, too.
And then it was done.
She stood there, arms crossed over her breasts, hands over nipples, and concentrating on controlling her breathing. As if by some nudity alarm, two attendants suddenly appeared - walking leisurely towards them. When they rounded the table of food, Leia saw very clearly just how see-through these sarongs were. One attendant was female and the other was very clearly male. She made a conscious effort to look them directly in the eyes.
The quarrens bowed and Han and Leia bowed back. She was still standing slightly behind Han and, in addition to how thin they were, Leia discovered through a firsthand visual that the sarongs were short. Very, very short.
The attendants then turned around and began walking across the large chamber.
"I'm guessing we follow?" Han asked, turning back to look at Leia. "What's wrong?" he asked, true concern crossing his features. "You're red as a benta berry."
"Nothing," Leia replied, taking the few steps to stand next to him. "Let's walk side by side."
It appeared that the first part of the experience would be a steam bath. They had followed the attendants down a narrow stairwell, forced to walk in single file. Leia, still protectively covering her bare chest, volunteered to go last and kept her eyes trained on Han's naked shoulders, although her gaze continued to drop down lower almost of its own volition. She did have to look where she was walking, she told herself unconvincingly.
At the bottom of the stairs the two attendants took Han and Leia by the shoulders and pressed their backs against the opposite walls, forcing them to face one another. The attendants then entered a small vestibule and Leia gathered that they were readying the steam bath because she could hear the hissing of water hitting hot coals.
Hands still folded across her chest, she worked very hard at concentrating on what they could possibly be doing that was taking this long, but what really had her attention was equal parts naked Han Solo and Han Solo's eyes on her nakedness.
"Would you please stop staring," she asked through gritted teeth.
"I'm trying, Princess," he replied, sounding as earnest and sincere as she had ever heard him even if his gaze was failing to lift up to reach hers. "Really I am. Really trying, but…"
"I know," she replied, rolling her eyes and losing all of her hostility towards him.
How could she be angry at him when she couldn't stop her eyes from following the dark line of hair on his stomach down to that little cloth that hung low on those slim hips, covering but not concealing the interesting protrusions and indentations that made up Han Solo's pelvic region?
"Just...keep trying," she muttered just as much to him as to herself. This was more than she had bargained for. She had been so worried about Han ogling her that she hadn't thought about how she might react to a gossamer clad nerfherder in all his glory.
This just keeps getting better and better.