Triangle.
Wednesday August 24, 2011
“Don’t you two look fantastic,” says Mrs. Henderson. “Matching little black dresses! How adorable. You don’t have to leave yet, do you? Sit here with me.”
“What a lovely top,” says Linda, sitting at one end of the couch. Jenny, sitting at the other end, rolls her eyes.
“Please,” says Mrs. Henderson. “Call me Kathy.” A hand on a bare knee to either side of her. “Kick off your shoes and relax a minute! You’ll have plenty of time to totter about on them later.” And Jenny, scowling, starts to unbuckle her slender high-heeled shoes.
“Oh!” says Linda, setting her bare feet on the stone floor. “It’s warm!”
“It’s heated from below,” says Mrs. Henderson. “If you weren’t about to go out, I’d urge you to lie down and roll around on it.” She leans close to Linda. “It feels wonderful on your back. But we can’t mess up these pretty little dresses.”
“Maybe,” says Linda, her eyes on Mrs. Henderson’s lips, “when we get back, Mrs. Henderson.”
“I told you, dear,” says Mrs. Henderson, kissing Linda’s mouth. “Kathy.”
“Maybe when we get back, Kathy,” says Linda, kissing Mrs. Henderson.
Jenny shakes her head and folds her arms and watches them make out for a moment, Mrs. Henderson’s arm snaking about Linda’s hips, Linda’s hand restless between her thighs, twitching the skirt of her little black dress higher and higher as they kiss. “Oh, Kathy,” moans Linda. Jenny’s hand untucks itself, drifts along the couch, finds Mrs. Henderson’s free hand. She tugs the hand close to her, wraps her fingers in among Mrs. Henderson’s fingers. “Mom,” she says. “Come on.”
“In a minute, darling,” says Mrs. Henderson around Linda’s mouth. She caresses her daughter’s hip with the back of her hand.