For this week's fiction challenge, the Red Dress Club ladies said:
Write a piece - 600 word limit - about finding a forgotten item of clothing in the back of a drawer or closet. Let us know how the item was found, what it is, and why it's so meaningful to you or your character.
I welcome constructive criticism.
A Step Forward
"You know what you need?" She paused to take another sip of beer. "You need something shexy for your honeymoon."
I snorted. "You just said SHEXY! Cheers to SHEXY!" We both tipped our glasses. The amber liquid was cool and effortless.
"SHEXY! That's what you need." She slammed down her glass. "Tell me that you have something hot for your honeymoon. I mean something really, really....erotic."
"Did you just say, 'erotic'? Oh my God, you're so drunk." I watched her laugh, tuck a stray hair behind an ear. For once, her smile was completely natural. "I love you," I said. "You know that? I really, really love you.... Please don't be mad at me tomorrow."
She cocked her head, "Why would I be mad at you? I love you, too." She stretched, "You're such a dork. I've gotta go pee." She kissed my head, and stumbled away.
I felt the imprint of her lips, burning like cinnamon. I rolled my empty glass around the moist ring on the bar napkin, and waited for the air to return.
When she sat back down, I recognized the glint in her eye. "Hey, call Ethan. Tell him that we're going to the mall and he's driving."
"Because, dork, I'm buying you something SHEXY for your honeymoon. I know you don't have anything yet." She glanced up and down, "You've got a hot little body, and I'm going to take care of you."
Oh, my. "You're the boss."
Soon, were in my fiancee's car. The sunlight and landscape blurred. I watched her profile, memorized each contour. He said something about staying out of trouble, of picking us up in a few hours. When I kissed him goodbye, it was like kissing a dream, right before it fades to dawn.
We walked into the department store, and I flipped through the rows of creamy silks and lace. "You need something totally smokin', so stop looking at the old-lady nightgowns."
I walked away from the peignoirs and teddies. "You know this isn't my thing."
"Yeah. That's the point." She scanned the aisles and racks, surgically. Professionally. She gasped, "Duuuuuuuuude. You're getting this."
She held up a seafoam green bodysuit. It was covered in lace, and the bodice was bursting with feathers. Naturally, it was crotchless. I backed away. "Hell, no."
She pressed it into my hands. "Shut up. Try it on."
I watched her mouth form the words, and nodded. "Underwear on?"
"Were you raised on a Mormon compound or something?" She laughed, deep and throaty. "What do you think?"
I retreated to the dressing room, holding the ridiculous thing with one hand. Underwear or not? I thought of my mother, "It's not yours until you buy it," and stripped down to my white cotton panties. As I pulled the bodysuit over my head, my skin bristled at the rough, unfamiliar texture.
"How's it look?"
"Like Big Bird!"
She sighed. "I'm coming in."
I turned away, covering my feathery breasts with my hands. "Hey," she said, "Let me see."
"You're gonna laugh."
I dropped my hands, and took a tentative step forward. "Don't laugh."
Her eyes glinted with tears, "You're beautiful. I wish you would see that in yourself."
I took another step forward. I held her gaze, wishing I could carry it with me forever.
This has a basis in reality. The real story is that I did go drunk-shopping for my honeymoon lingerie. My friends really did make me buy a feathered, insane bodysuit. But, no, alas, there were no lingering gazes in the changing room.