Out into the wind
Taken by time
A Tales of Us story..
She sat at the small desk in the bedroom. The Navy velour throw did little to staunch the cold despite her choice of clothes. Cotton flannel footie PJs better suited her physical needs but at one time she had felt more connected when she read if she wore the maroon floor-length nightgown. And at one time she would have worn hose just ‘because’ but even at only 46 the need for sheer leg wear was no longer important.
Only four years… Unlike the quaint smell of perfume on paper, the pixels remained unblurred in unscented clarity. How many times had she read the final note shared by the most loving heart she would ever know.
“Be, Megan. Whatever you do or don’t do? BE! Be who you are. BE MEGAN. Like the Na’vi? I see you… I may look at Mick, but I see you and I love you with all my heart. Patti”
You, me and the moon
We burn, then crash in dirty snow
Ode to a sin, we might as well
Melt into Sunday
She walked over to the dresser by the bathroom door; seldom visited since all her needs were met in the dresser’s match across the room. But as much as she had changed, the moment begged for the special connection. She knelt down on the carpet and opened the middle right drawer; revealing soft garments in softer pastels. She went to speak, but an oddly comfortable reverence stilled her voice. Reaching in, she pushed aside the practical and retrieved comfort.
She placed the garments on the bed and walked over to her own dresser to fetch her own stockings. Her head shook only slightly less than her hands; owing more to the new ‘gift’ she had received. She frowned at herself in the mirror. Newly trimmed brows now accompanied her always-there luscious lips; the dark red lipstick that complemented doe eyes that finally suited the owner of the face. Her head shook again; this time not in tremor but in an I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this plaint,
She could almost hear Patti urging her in as she reached into the closet for the final few items before retreating to the safety of the bathroom. Alone in a house where modesty mixed with shame, as if she had to hide.
Put on my face
I’ll wear your dress tonight
Feel like you tonight
On that day
Several minutes later she walked down the hall to the living room; slow as to avoid being seen in a house with blinds closed. The door WAS locked, wasn’t it? Almost needless caution guarded her steps. Things change and her people had as well, hadn’t they? She walked over to the spinet and sighed at the picture almost hovering angelically over the keyboard. The women were nearly identical save for the smile on only one face. Teased at one time, the sad one was only then coming to feel good about herself.
She sighed; hoping she would not cry and spoil the moment. Time enough for tears. She settled into the large, two seat recliner and addressed one final detail. While she could not manage walking in the shoes on the best of days, the moment nearly screamed for black CFM pumps. Sliding them on, she relaxed as she took inventory.
Mint green tap pants and camisole; silk since rayon satin would be so de classe’. Sheer charcoal stay-up hose. And the dress. Full silk skirt with three-quarter sleeves; gray taffeta top over silk as well. She glanced at the space on the recliner beside her; sighing once again, but somewhat confident that the mist in her eyes would wait patiently.
Remember the time
We stood there by the lake
Watching boats and planes
Great white clouds
She heard once again. She carefully unbuttoned the dress down to the waist. Reaching underneath, she touched her hand against the camisole, which in turn rubbed a finally responsive nipple. An unfamiliar coo escaped her lips. As she moved her hand across her chest to address her other breast it was as if another, more experienced hand guided hers. Her other hand lay at her side; a fearful shame almost paralyzed her until she felt it urged under her skirt. She gasped and her eyes began to mist again.
Long abandoned emotion rose to the surface even as the gentle force guided her to explore the new completeness in her body. Sighs became gasps. Gasps became moans. Moans became stifled cries as her body almost rose and fell. And the wonder of new weeping as shame was replaced with acceptance; guilt with peace; hurt with ecstasy, and sadness with joy. Crying led to laughter which led to wracking sobs; finally followed by comforting tears that stained face and silk alike.
“I love you,” she heard at last. She closed her eyes; knowing that to seek the face that accompanied the voice would only disappoint. Turning over slightly to her right, she cushioned her head with her hands. And as she wept as unto a twilight dream, she felt the gentle caress of lips on her cheek.
“Be at peace.”
Pull up the blinds
Open the door wide
Feel the cold arrive
In my bones
You’re not there for the stay
When I really wish you could
Wish that you were there
Oh, you’re dying in here
You could be here soon
You stumble on a river
Drew by Goldfrapp
Goldfrapp is Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory
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