Since she has returned, this is the first time that Helena had to go off somewhere with the Regents. The details were hazy, it wasn't as though she could go into much detail. Without me. I'll be honest, I am a little bit nervous about being away from her for a week or more. It's not as though we haven't endured longer times apart, but that was before. Before before.
Today is a warm afternoon in late April, a Sunday; only me, my music, my books and my tea. I have been lounging around on our bed, comfortably reading and relaxing on one of my first days off in a couple weeks. It's not nearly as much fun as it is when Helena is here though. Whenever we have a day off, we tend to take a drive, sleep in, go to the movies, talk a walk in the park or, simply, just stay in bed.
This day though, with me alone at home, is especially dull and I find myself unable to get into the book I am reading even though every detail is perfect for such an endeavor. I toss my book aside and wander over to the window to take a quick look outside at the newly green trees and budding flowers. For a brief moment, I consider going outside; however, our room seems much more interesting, especially since Helena has got the majority of her belongings out of storage and moved in here. There are a considerable number of new items decorating what was once my room, primarily Helena's books, a framed old map of London on the wall and a couple oddly-sized trunks.
We do our best to talk about the past (hers and mine) each week, opening up to one another about schooling, travels, lovers, writing, reading, family, employment. The topic of Christina comes up a couple times a month with Helena telling me stories of her equally strong-minded daughter's adventures and mischief. Where she was once saddened and angry at discussing Christina, Helena now is more forthcoming and jovial in her descriptions, laughing and smiling at her own stories.
She hasn't opened the trunks in front of me - I have absolutely no idea what's in them. She did say that they contained some of her "old belongings," but whatever that is can be left open to interpretation. I don't want to pry, but can't help myself when looking at these gorgeous trunks probably filled with lots of Helena's past. It's not as though I'm forbidden from opening them or anything. Maybe I am spending too much time with Pete.
I walk over to the bedroom door and ensure it's firmly shut. Even though no one else is home, I still don't need someone barging in here at me looking through these things. Who knows what's inside. Starting with the largest trunk which is sitting upright in the corner with a picture of us and a lamp on it, I move the photo to the desk and unplug the lamp then place it on the chair by the window. Once I return to the trunk, I carefully slide it out of place and undo the four metal latches down the side.
Slowly spreading each side open, I first see one side filled with men's shirts and trousers as well as a couple of dark, fancy dresses. The men's linen shirts make me smile; I haven't seen her in a collared shirt in ages now that she's discovered tank tops and t-shirts. The dresses, on the other hand, are so strange for me to see, almost uncharacteristically her at this point. Even now, I take for granted that I get to see her every day in a pair of jeans or yoga pants rather than a flowing, billowy skirt or dress.
The other side of the trunk is a series of seven drawers of varying sizes. Upon opening the top drawer, I find several pairs of long stockings, some cotton, some linen, as well as a lot of shorter men's socks. I pull each of the drawers open to find everything from cufflinks to garters (men's and women's) to every sort of glove imaginable. One of the bottom drawers is filled with nothing but scarves. Finally at the bottom of the trunk are a couple of corsets and chemises, rolled up and unneatly packed in the drawer. All of these clothes seem so dark, dreary; perhaps they were purchased during a period of mourning or were clothes that Helena used to wear when hunting artifacts. There's no jewelry in here, so this had to have been her Warehouse traveling trunk.
I have never seen such lovely clothes in my whole life, such a variety of fabrics and textures. My brain tells me "no, don't touch, your name's not Pete." My head tells me, "how often you going to be able to try on Victorian clothing in such good condition?" Not that it was at the top of my bucket list, but nonetheless it's a thought since all of it is presented before me. I re-open the drawers with the stockings, garter belt and garters, pulling out a set which I think goes together. I find a crumpled chemise, corset cover and corset as well and toss them into the pile of things atop the bed I am going to figure out how to put on me.
This is by far the most intricate clothing I have ever put on myself.
Quickly, I run over to the window to pull the curtains shut, just in case Pete or Steve come home early, and run into the bathroom to wash my hands after touching the dirty trunk. I don't want to get smudges or stains on Helena's nice things. I go over to the bed and take off every inch of my clothes: I am determined to figure this out.
I start with the chemise, pulling it over my head to keep me warm. It is spring and the weather is nice; however, there is still a bit of a chill in the air. The linen top is soft against my skin, considerably light and comfortable. If I were a nightgown wearing woman, this would be heavenly. Next come the cotton stockings that I inelegantly roll up each of my legs. The hardest part will be getting the stockings attached to the garter belt which I have no idea how to do.
Once again, my brain is not paying attention at all. It's not noticing the car pull up. It's not noticing the clunk of boots on the staircase. It's not noticing my wife opening the door and standing before me in complete shock.
"Myka?" I immediately get up off the bed, at which time my stockings tumble down. Helena laughs at the sight of my rolled down stockings and points to them. "Are those my..."
"Yes." I quietly, yet quickly answer. "I wanted to see what your clothes were...like."
"How do you find them?"
"Complicated."
"Would you care for some assistance?" She leans in to kiss me on the lips. I've missed her so much, even though only a week has passed, it's still such a long time.
I pause, trying to decipher what she's saying. "Yes, but doesn't one usually try to get someone out of these sort of clothes?"
Helena tilts her head to one side, gauging how the clothes I do have on look on me. "That is how this typically works, yes." She kneels down and lifts up part of the chemise to see where the garter straps are, smiling and licking her lips when she notices I don't have on any underwear. Her hands smooth over my thighs and she clasps the back of one stocking onto the belt. We make eye contact for a brief second, then I realize I'm completely gone when her mouth is on me.
I'm not quite sure how she does it, but Helena manages to attach all the stockings to the garter belt and (very) sloppily put the corset on me, but not tighten it. All the while, she has me bent over backwards on the bed, utterly satisfying me with her alluring lips and wandering tongue. No one has ever dressed me and pleasured me at the same time. Only Helena could do something like that.