by Liv Rancourt
Vaughn chuckled, rocking our clasped hands. “I have trousers. You saw me in them the other night.” She bumped me gently with her elbow. “I prefer to wear them with lipstick, though.”
“With matching nail polish.”
“And earrings.” She caught my eye and smirked. “So if you want to go with a girl like me, I’d be happy to go with you.” Some of her glow dimmed. “But if not, I’d understand that, too.”
The heat of the moment weighed on me until I couldn’t breathe. What did I want? “I think I would like that.”
Giving my hand a squeeze, Vaughn leaned against me. “Tell me when you know for sure.”
Chapter 12
Too antsy to sleep, I left Vaughn tucked in with a book and her reading light low. I prowled around the house. More than anything else, I wanted a ball of yarn and some knitting needles or even a crochet hook, something that would keep my hands busy and my mind quiet.
I stopped to fiddle with the radio in the front parlor, and Mr. Dupont came in. I’d been in his home a week, and if anything, he made me more nervous instead of less.
“I believe the Firestone Hour is about to start, and since it’s much too boring for Leo, he’s gone out for the night.”
Pressing my fist to my lips, I stifled a nervous giggle. A young, wealthy man like Mr. Dupont should be out on the town with his friend, not staying home listening to the radio. I found the station and gave him a shy smile over my shoulder. “Almost time to start.”
He sat in one of the upholstered chairs, legs crossed at the ankles, chin on his fist. For the first time, I gave him a serious look. Clean-shaven, tall, and handsome, he wore his hair parted and combed in the latest fashion. His wide-legged trousers had sharp pleats in front, his suspenders had a subtle herringbone pattern, his button-down shirt was crisp and white, and his tie-tack and cufflinks were gold.
Nelson Eddy’s familiar baritone drifted out of the radio, and the heavy, moist air held on to the smell of the pork chops Mayette had fried for dinner. I took a seat on the couch, my nerves and the stiff horsehair keeping my posture upright. I dared another glance at Mr. Dupont and found him staring at me.
“I do appreciate the help you’re giving Vaughn. To thank you, I’m having a sewing machine delivered tomorrow as a gift.”
Surprise had me staring at him even harder. “Oh?” I clasped my hands together, eager for the feel of fabric. “That’s wonderful news.”
“If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”
Pride trumped my fear that he’d lied about my job. “I’m not trying to bleed you here. The sewing machine is generous enough.” Though I had no idea how I’d move it to my little room in the Quarter, nor where I’d put it once I got there. I’d have to leave it at Mr. Dupont’s house, though at least it’d give me a reason to come visit.
“Vaughn spoke of your skill with the needle, and I would like to be of help.”
“Thank you.” The unexpected intimacy in our situation made me bold. “I just ... this is all ... I don’t know how I’m supposed to behave.”
I wanted to slap myself for sounding so whiny, but Mr. Dupont’s reserve melted. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “You’re doing fine, cher, and Leo and I are most grateful for the way you’ve cared for Vaughn. She likes you, and more than that, she’s beginning to trust you.” He shook his head and broke away from my gaze. “You are welcome in my home as long as you wish to stay.”
Kindness resonated through his voice, more convincing than even his words. For the first time since he entered the room, I drew a deep breath. Nelson Eddy’s show tune ended, and the orchestra played something classical. Something peaceful. Relaxing.
“Is it hard to go with someone when no one can know?” The words tumbled out of my mouth, and though embarrassment made me want to erase them, I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
His expression shifted to something close to a smile, though his gaze traveled to the doorway. “I believe people only see what they want to see. I will admit I’ve run across those who were looking for trouble, but I’ve found a little kindness helps a great deal.” He brought his palms together prayerfully. “Kindness and discretion”—he nodded—“can manage most anything.”
I settled against the couch, wondering if I possessed the necessary kindness and discretion to go with someone like Vaughn. Her bright smile and teasing laugh still made my heart sing, and I admired her stoic determination in the face of her injuries. As much as I loved kissing her, though, I still wasn’t sure how we’d go about other things. Looking too far ahead made me dizzy, but for the first time in a while, my heart held a little bit of hope.
“You know, a man with a scar on his brow turned himself in to the police the other day.” Mr. Dupont rested his chin on his fist again. “Strangest thing, really. He confessed to having beaten a woman over on Bienville Street. It’s possible the police may want to talk to you, as you may have been a witness to the event.”
My heart jumped so hard I couldn’t speak, and I had to clear my throat before I could force any words out. If Vaughn could be brave, so could I. “I’d be happy to tell them what I saw.”
Soon after, I left Mr. Dupont to his radio program, more at peace than I’d been in a while. Someone had persuaded that thug to turn himself in, which meant somewhere Vaughn had a powerful friend.
Chapter 13
Sooner than I ever imagined, I was seated in front of a trim table, the heavy black body of a Singer sewing machine under my hands. I tracked the gold lettering on the front, lifted the presser foot, and played with the smooth turn of the wheel. Someone—Mayette probably—had found a card table for me to use as a workspace, and she’d even left a small case of straight pins. Her thoughtfulness touched me, and I wondered if she could use some crocheted washcloths. At home I’d had to mail-order yarn from the Sears catalog, but living in town meant I could see and touch before I bought.
More than anything, I wanted to give Vaughn a dress fit for a Hollywood starlet.
I hadn’t brought much with me from the farm, but I did have a wicker box that held my shears, a seam ripper, half a dozen spools of thread, a packet of straight pins, two different folders of sharps, and my tomato pincushion.
I took the streetcar to Beinville Street to collect my sewing box and walked over to a dry-goods store on Dauphin Street. I bought a silk remnant, a few yards of a beautiful grass green chiffon, and thread to match. The total made me gasp, but imagining how the green would draw attention to Vaughn’s eyes had me counting out my change.
I’d use the silk remnant to line the cups of her bras and girdles, sealing in the cotton batting with something that would be soft against her skin. The dress I’d make from the green chiffon would have a softly draped bodice rising high on her throat and a narrow waist to emphasize her elegant shoulders.
At first I’d been angry at her for fooling me, but then I realized she lived her life the only way she could. I wanted to be her little wildcat, though instead of teeth and claws, I’d protect her with needles and pins and the finest fabrics I could afford. She had a fair hand with the make-up, and I had plenty of ideas to make her even more beautiful.
Leaving all my treasures in the rear parlor, I ran upstairs. I slipped quietly through the door to her room, expecting her to still be asleep. She sat in the cream chair with a pad of drawing paper in her lap and some colored pencils on the bedside table.
“What are you doing?” My words were sharper than I intended, and slowly her gaze met mine. The color rose in her cheeks, and she clutched the drawing to her chest.
“I told you I like to draw dresses.” Shyly, she held the pad where I could see it.
She’d sketched a woman wearing a gown and I had to smile at the similarities to the dress I’d conjured in my mind. Same floating chiffon, same narrow waist, but with a fabric rosette at the throat instead of the draping I’d pictured.
Recognition sped my heartbeat even faster. “Wait a minute.”
I touched the sketch with a fingertip. The lines, the colors, the simple affection for the model bore a strong resemblance to my puzzle picture, the one still missing a piece. “You.”
My smile could have split my heart in two. Vaughn glowed, holding my gaze with such feeling I almost couldn’t bear it. “Mr. Dupont has made me an offer,” she said. “With my savings and a small loan, he’ll help me secure a storefront so we can go into business.”
I must have looked confused because she laughed.
“My designs and your sewing skills.” She laid the tablet on the table and reached for my hand. “If we’re lucky, we’ll find a shop with an apartment upstairs.”
“What?”
“I mean, if you want that.” She squeezed my fingers, and I had to blink my eyes fast to keep in the tears. “Don’t underestimate Thaddeus Dupont. His lifestyle is eccentric, but he’s a sharp businessman and a better card player. I wouldn’t bet against him unless I could see what’s in his hand.”
“We can”—I paused to clear my throat—“we should call the store Vaughn’s.”
She brought my hand to her lips, her grasp strong and warm. She kissed my knuckles, and I turned my hand to cup her chin.
“We can call the store whatever you like.” Her smile melted my heart.
I edged closer till our knees were touching. “I wonder if Mayette has any butcher paper.”
“Why?”
Brushing my thumb over her lip, I laughed at the smear of color left behind. “To make the pattern.” Pleasure and excitement rose like the bubbles in a glass of champagne. “I can’t wait to get to work.”
Chapter 14
Soon after sunset, Leo and Mr. Dupont went out for the night. Vaughn and I shared dinner in the dining room. Mayette had left a roast chicken on the stove along with a pan of mashed potatoes and some greens. After helping Vaughn down the stairs, I set the table using bone white china from the hutch and silver I found in a velvet-lined box.
We joked about opening a bottle of wine, but I poured sweet tea from the ice box into delicate flutes instead. I found a radio station playing a program of swing music, and as a final touch, I lit three tall, white tapers in a silver candelabra and set it on the dining table.
“This is lovely.” Vaughn crossed the floor with barely a limp and settled herself in one of the upholstered dining chairs.
“Thank you.”
Setting our dinners in place, I took the seat across from her. She raised her tea, and I copied her.
“Let’s make a toast,” she said, “to new ventures.”
“Hear, hear.” The weight of her gaze made it hard for me to breath. I wanted to be with her, the two of us alone in her big bed, touching and tasting and feeling as much as she’d let me do.
“To new ventures, new adventures, and”—her smile grew solemn—“to love.”
Too choked up to speak, I clinked my cup to hers and drank. To love? Maybe that’s exactly what this was, this feeling that told me I didn’t care about the parts under her skirt nearly as much as what was in her heart. We shared a meal and made plans for the store. I’d work at the nightclub until we were ready to open, and in the meantime I’d sew a few samples for Vaughn to show off and build interest.
Finally, our plates were empty, and we ran out of things to say. Finally, I cleared the table and washed the dishes while she cracked jokes to keep me laughing. And finally, I had my arm around Vaughn’s waist, intent on helping her climb the stairs, while the radio played a romantic serenade to send us on our way.
Halfway up, she stopped me.
“Do you need a breather?” I asked.
“No.” Her eyes were luminous in the moonlight. “I can’t take another step without kissing you.”
I gripped the railing with my free hand to keep us from toppling over backwards. She bent her head and brushed her lips against mine. So soft. So gentle. Max Factor and sweet tea. I flicked her lips with my tongue, and we both giggled.
“Come on.” I nudged her to the next step. She had to stop and kiss me three more times before we reached the second floor.
The bedside lamp gave off a low amber glow that left shadows in the corners of the room. Vaughn walked carefully to the bed while I closed and locked the bedroom door. Not that Leo and Mr. Dupont were likely to come in uninvited, but before I took my clothes off, I wanted to be sure of my privacy.
And I had every intention of taking my clothes off. Momma and the preacher and the dear Lord Himself might not understand, but Vaughn and I shared something, if not holy, at least precious.
My cotton day dress had a single button. By the time I reached Vaughn, I’d slipped it through the loop, and I stood in front of her, my grin stretched tight. It might have been just my imagination, but her differences stood out more in the dim light. Vaughn’s touch made me giddy with happiness, but what we were about to do had me frightened.
She reached for my hand, but I grabbed my skirt and pulled my dress off over my head.
“Oh my.” Her naughty laugh encouraged me. “Don’t you look pretty.”
My teeth chattered from nervousness and my slip was cheap cotton but I didn’t care. She stopped me when I reached for the hem. “Here,” she said. “Let me.”
Pretty quick I wore only my brassiere and drawers, my skin covered in gooseflesh despite the day’s heat. She wrapped her hands around my waist, and I ran my fingers through her soft curls. “You’ll have to tell me what to do.”
She tilted her head, her lips pursed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the last time you wouldn’t let me touch you.” I traced her jaw with my index finger. She drew it into her mouth, suckling softly. I had to blink a couple times before I could finish my thought. “I don’t want to upset you, but I don’t want to keep my hands on my head, either.”
Releasing my hand, she pulled me closer till I stood between her knees. “I want you to touch me too, but not,”—she gave me a wry smile—“not down there.”
I puzzled on that, mightily distracted by the way she held onto my bottom. “But if I don’t...” I couldn’t afford to say this badly. “If I don’t touch you, how will you find, um, release?”
Laughing, she pulled me onto the bed next to her. I stretched out on my side, and she flopped next to me. “I guess if you’re the kind of woman who kisses other women, you wouldn’t be interested in, well...” Her voice died away.
An answer came to me, and though I had no idea if I was right or not, I gave it a try. “When I came here to Sodom—”
“Sodom?” Vaughn laughed.
“Hush.” I distracted her with a kiss. “I thought I might like to go with a girl. Then I met you.”
I kissed her again to keep her from interrupting. “And you are who you are.”
This time she kissed me, and I sent a mental apology to Momma and the preacher and anyone else who cared. If this was a sin, then I’d take my heaven on earth and deal with the consequences later.
“Can we stop talking now?” I asked, making quick work of her blouse’s pearl buttons. Just as fast, she unhooked my bra and flipped it aside. She pulled me closer and latched onto my bub, her lips soft, her tongue warm and wet. She scratched my ribs gently with her long fingernails, adding shivers to the burning deep inside me.
I rolled onto my back, pulling at her arms, and she crawled over me. “You’re still wearing your blouse,” I whispered. And a slip and a brassiere and way too many clothes. I gave her collar a tug, desperate for the feel of her skin.
Instead of freeing her, she slid off me entirely. Standing by the bed, her knees pressed against mine, she raised her index finger. “Don’t move.” Her lewd wink froze me in place, though the click of the door closing behind her brought me onto my elbows. I waited, slowing my breath, listening for the first hint of her return.
The longer I waited, the more I panicked. She wouldn’t get me down to my drawers and leave, would she? “Hey, shake a leg out there.”
Footsteps paced the hall, and the doo
r swung open. Vaughn grinned, as naughty as before but softer. She’d undressed, leaving on her bra and silk drawers. Her pretty heels made her bare legs look about three miles long. She’d fluffed her hair and touched up her smudged lipstick.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
The way she blushed only made her look lovelier.
Vaughn crossed the room slowly, allowing me to appreciate her feminine wiles. She stopped at my knees and ran frosted coral fingernails over my belly. She followed her fingers with her lips, tugging at the waistband of my drawers, placing soft kisses all the way to my curls.
“What are you doing?”
She’d worked her way down to her knees and peeked at me with a saucy wink. “Just you wait.”
She teased me with her fingers till I whined for more. I managed to stay propped up on my elbows until she ran her tongue along my inner thigh. I never imagined anything could feel so good. I dropped onto the bed, boneless, my whole body anticipating where her lips and tongue would touch next.
Gripping my bottom with both hands, Vaughn licked my most private place, a big, broad stroke that almost lifted me off the bed. She kissed it and sucked it until I babbled a stream of nonsense and the tension bloomed in my belly. My hips rocked all on their own, ignoring the voice in my head saying I should be ashamed to have someone’s mouth down there. I felt no shame, only a sweet, keening pleasure that built and built until it burst through me and sent me off.
Vaughn stayed on her knees, stroking my legs, laying little kisses on my belly while I shivered and shook.
Calming, I struggled to sit and reached for her hand. She clambered up next to me, and if her silky drawers hung differently in the front, I honestly didn’t notice. She kissed me, and instead of lipstick I tasted a salty, pungent flavor. Me.
She mewed a protest when I shoved a bra cup out of the way so I could suck on her nipple, but I kept at it until her body softened under my touch. When I reached for her drawers, though, she wriggled out of my grasp.
