Chapter 38: Chasing rainbows through the mud
She is awkward, rising to pull you down on the bed with her, shirt half buttoned and cautiously eager. She makes you giggle, and you never thought you'd ever be able to laugh at such a serious moment. It's Betty though, and this moment is perfect. She's lovely, leaning on an elbow to look at you. You can see down her shirt from here, and for the first time you take the initiative and reach forward to slowly push button after button through the re-stitched reinforced button holes until you can slide her shirt off her shoulders. When she reaches for the buttons of your dress you shrink back.
"Can I… leave it on?" You ask her. She pouts for a whole second before realizing why you asked.
"I'd rather be able to… can I just…" She unbuttons the top two buttons of your dress. "Okay?" She breathes out, running her fingers across your clavicle, transfixed look on her face. She looks up to your face and you nod quickly, swallowing suddenly. When she leans in to kiss you, you find your hands wandering the smooth expanse of her slip. You never touched Ivan like this; you never wanted to. You were more anxious about getting home, about getting inside your safely locked room. Now you're in your safely locked room and you're pulling Betty closer.
When you used to go to church with your family, you were able to let your mind wander while still listening to the service well enough to be able to parrot it back to your father. You didn't look toward the men; that'd mean a whipping, no matter how good your memory. You watched the women, sometimes, their pretty little gloves and shoes that were not practical in any way and wished, just once, you had something that was pretty rather than practical. That was the first time you knew envy. Right now you feel it when you hands brush across the smooth skin of Betty's back.
You've always been able to let your mind wander. That was what made your life bearable; slipping into your own mind and finding somewhere in there where this wasn't happening. A fairy-tale you could tell yourself, broken into chapters by the sharp sting of metal on flesh that you couldn't quite burrow deep enough into your mind to ignore.
You did much the same with Ivan; it staved off panic. Not that anything terrible was happening, just that you didn't feel... safe.
You've never been as fully present as you are right now, sliding your hands over nearly-bare shoulder blades. She's so... soft, and you didn't expect her to be, not like this, because the places you usually touch her, you can feel muscle just under the skin, even through her shirt. Now that you're browsing uncharted land, the skin you're encountering hasn't been affected by all the chemicals in the factory.
Betty doesn't tug on your clothes like Ivan did. Her fingers slip under the edges of clothing, then retreat. She's so careful of you, like she thinks you'll bruise or break or maybe even run away if she uses the slightest amount of pressure. When you find her hand and still it, you bring it to your mouth, then your chest.
"I'm here," you tell her.
"So'm I," she replies, sounding a little confused, sitting up a little. Her skirt rides up, and you find your eyes following the exposed flesh. You've seen her thighs before, but this is different. You're not in a room filled with awkward nudity and too-hot showers; you don't have to feign disinterest.
"I'm not going anywhere," and she doesn't understand; she doesn't know that you're not retreating, overwhelmed and afraid, into your own thoughts, she doesn't know that there's anywhere for you to go. But she understands that here, with her, is where you want to be.
She finally touches you, properly, right over your heart. You're not sure if it should feel sinful or holy; it doesn't feel much of either because it's just Betty. It's just Betty, and you giggle when her touch tickles you and she looks up from her hand to you, smile threatening to split her face.
Author's note: Title from Kate Miller-Heidke's song 'The Day After Christmas'.
I'm writing a historic women in telephonic engineering book. Is there an interest for that? Or am I just writing it because it's something I want to read?
And this weekend they're in is really long. I've got some health issues so I decided this place could be happy times all the time for a while until I could think again. Fallout to come soon.
Also, it's my birthday! Got Skyped from Vancouver and now off to watch BombGirls in bloomers with ladies. Happy New Year guys, and thanks for sticking with me. I hadn't written in 6 years and the support from this community has been overwhelming.