Page 42 of Cillian

“Good, ‘cause I don't want you thinking I'm one of those cloth wearing cowards. I'm sorry that I made that assumption. But because my worldview is different, I might need help sometimes. You promise to be patient with me?” She took my face into her hands and brought me in for a light kiss.

“Hey, why do they call you Queenie?” She rolled her eyes, biting her lower lip to stifle a laugh.

“It's really funny.”

“Well tell me, I want to laugh.” She took a deep, exasperated sigh and continued on with her story.

“I come from a big family and I've got aunts on both sides named Elizabeth and two first cousins with the same name. I guess my family just really likes that name, but it's confusing around the holidays. So, my aunt became Aunt Beth. My other aunt gets called Aunt Liza. My older cousin, well, she likes being called Elizabeth. And my younger one goes by Liz. My mom started calling me Queenie when she learned about the history of the English royal family, and named me Elizabeth because Elizabeth was the first queen in her own right without a husband. She thought I'd rule the world one day without a man standing in my way.

“I'm guessing you were one of those smart lasses, too. The ones the lads all secretly lusted over.” She playfully laid a slap on my shoulder.

“You forget that I went to an all-girls school.”

“Even for uni?”

“Even for uni!” Hmph.

“You know, ain't no Irish man a big fan of the British royal family,” I teased. “But I love that you're smart and opinionated. You know things and I think that's sexy. I just hope I'm not the man your mom says is trying to stand in your way.”

“Baby, you could never stand in my way. If anything, you help break down obstacles that would otherwise hold me back. But enough about me. Think back to your earliest memory when you felt your happiest. What makes it your best memory?” I really had to dig deep for that one. With a lifetime full of bad memories, it sometimes made it difficult focusing on the good. When it came to me, I felt grateful that my wife could help remind me about one good thing in my past.

“Hmm...every Sunday, my mum used to make these huge dinners. We'd all sit around playing music, and singing, and eating like a proper family. She'd cook enough to feed a whole county back in Ireland, and people would come over and just celebrate life and new beginnings. When she passed away, it's like Sunday's just stopped. And we all just didn't have that gift to help us keep up with the family tradition. That's why when I got out it was so hard. Not having that sense of familiarity or comfort. Just dive nose first into work with no sense of peace. But now I have you,” I said with another kiss to her small hands.

“And I love you. I'm in love with you. I only hope I don't scare you away with how much of a mess I am.” She pulled me in for an embrace, her full breasts acting as a pillow for my head.

“I love you too, baby. Even if you walk through the doors with just an appetite and an apology,” she said jokingly but served as a reminder.

“I got you something!” She pursed her lips.

“Yeah, okay. But groceries don't count.”

“No, I mean I got you something proper. I just forgot to give it to you because I came in so late. Do you want to see what it is?”

“Only if you want to show me.”

“Of course, I want to. Now come on before you start falling off to sleep.”

Seventeen

Queenie

Pulling the flower lid off the box, I took my time to admire the flowers. Peonies were my favorite because they only bloomed a certain time of the year, and there was just something about them that made me associate them with love and romance. My mom had a garden of everything. Tulips, roses, hyacinths and lilies, but the peonies were the only ones I looked forward to seeing. I brought them to my nose, Cillian’s stern expression brightening into something warm as he watched me.

“Thank you, baby. They’re beautiful!” I said, gingerly placing them down as I opted for the dress box. I wasn’t sure how I felt about a man picking out my clothes but he did get me something nice for that party, despite me ruining it. I trusted him in other ways, I just had to trust that he knew my taste.

Upon inspection, I was delighted to see it was in a color I hadn’t worn in a while. With the war being not that far back, fashion shifted to conserve materials for those times. For now, at least it was over and things could start being trendy again.

“Try it on for me. I wanna see it on you,” He demanded, and instead of arguing, I let him have his way. Keeping my slip on, I slid the thick curve hugging material up to my waist, and later my breasts and shoulders. It was shorter and tighter than it looked, but I actually liked it. It was something different and out of my comfort zone, but with the look on Cillian’s face, he wasn't much of a fan.

“How does it look?” His lips curled, his eyes squinting in controlled frustration.

“Ermh…it's a wee bit short and tight. I think my sister must have picked it out as a joke, because I'm trying to figure out where the rest of it is.” I twirled in the dress, testing out its flowy bottom half, as I next adjusted its thick strips at the shoulders, the low neckline giving my cleavage a nice boost.

“I mean, that's just becoming the style now. Showing more leg and shoulder.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want any lads gawking at you.” The men would stare at you if you were fully clothed, and I don't know how many boys used to whistle at me on my way to school. In a uniform no less, skirt damn near reaching the floor.

“Well, I like it, baby.” He crooked his fingers gesturing for me to come closer, as when I did he turned me around, bent me over and surprised me by lifting up my skirt and put his tongue on my pussy. I moaned against him, letting out a frustrated breath when he stopped and pulled my dress back down.

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