Page 18 of Hearts Etched in Glass
For a moment Tilly doesn’t move and I’m afraid she’s had a stroke.
She stares blankly at Bobby, panic set in her gaze.
“Bobby, I don’t. I don’t know how,” she murmurs. He stands from the chair, taking his tumbler with him, pulling her close.
“Darling, this is a small step for you in the direction of your own life. Your own creation. No one else will design it. No one else will dictate it. It is your life, do you understand? The first step is picking your own garments,” I fight the urge to stand and reach for her, to push away the strand of hair that has fallen across her face, but Bobby does it.
I knew Tilly’s parents were difficult, but they are incomprehensibly controlling. I've heard the conversations she has with her mother, as I sit in her hallway, and I hear her cries after she hangs up the telephone. Bobby has mentioned the interaction at the cafe, and it breaks me to hear her parents do not cherish her the way we do.
“What color have you always wanted to wear, love?” Bobby traces his finger down the side of her upper arm as, a small smile spreads across her gorgeous face.
“Black,” she says and Bobby steps over to the rack, pulling off a knee length dress, and hands it to her. She grabs the garment and rushes to the changing room as Bobby comes to stand in front of me. He holds out his tumbler in gesture, “Cheers.” And we touch our glasses together.
“What are we toasting to, specifically?” I ask with curiosity.
“To helping our girl find herself.” Then Bobby moves to the counter where the boutique owner is and I watch as he hands her several hundred pound bills.
“May I rent out the shop for the evening? This should cover it, but I’ll place the tags of the dresses we’ve bought on the counter for you. You just send the bill to The Afton Adders, if I’ve gone over. Sound good? Bill it to Bobby Afton.” Then he winks at the lady as a mischievous grin spreads across her features.
“Yes sir. Anything you’d like!” She replies, closing the curtains in the window. Then she dances out of the shop, locking the door behind her.
Bobby turns back around, giving me a sexy half-smile that melts my heart.
“Let’s have some fucking fun.” His words cause my heart to beat faster within my chest. Maybe I’m reading into this, so I need to calm down, but at the thought of repeating our passionate evening, I can’t help but become aroused. I stretch out in the chair, and down the whiskey in my glass.
“Slow down, we want to enjoy the evening. Not get fucked up and fall asleep.” He chuckles as he slaps a hand on my upper arm, the perches himself on the back of my seat. The warmth of his body pressed at my back, and the way his grip tightens on my shoulder, sends shivers down my spine and dirty thoughts into my mind.
The dressing room door opens.
I swear an angel fell from heaven and is standing before us, because every molecule in my body freezes.
She is glowing.
The light of our life is radiating as her hands roam up and down her thighs nervously. The fabric extenuates her curves, as the long black sleeves of the dress make her look sophisticatedly ravenous. Bobby’s hand flexes above my shoulder and I hear him whistle. “Darling, you are a vision. I know God loves you, because he tookhis time crafting each and every fiber of your being into this exquisite woman.”
I nod in agreement. “Abso-fucking-lutely, amen.”
Tilly breaks eye contact with us, as she turns her head to the ground, face adorably flushed. “Go on darling look at yourself,” Bobby encourages as he downs his drink, then refills our glasses.
“I really do look nice? I don’t look like I’m going to a funeral?” Tilly’s voice has a small strain of unease, but I try to help raise her confidence.
“If it is a funeral, then it is just a funeral for your parents’ poor standards they hold against you. Why don’t you try on some more dresses, I’ll play some music.” I feel a hand gently clasp on the back of my neck. As it gives a squeeze of comfort, I peer up to find Bobby’s eyes searching mine, then he leans down and kisses my forehead.
"I'll take care of the music, darling." Bobby retorts.
Am I dreaming?
He stands and puts on some gentle Mozart, which settles a serene ambiance around us. With every dress Tilly tries on her face brightens, her smile widens, and she begins to move freely in the garments, posing for usand in the mirror. Bobby and I continue to enjoy our whiskey, getting tipsy and watching her bask in the fun. She tries on nearly all the colors of the rainbow and there isn’t one color that doesn’t suit her.
After nearly twenty or thirty dresses, skirts and suits, Tilly steps out in silk, navy gown with thin straps that melts onto her body. The skirt fans out slightly, and rests below her knee, making her look like a graceful bluebell. The image of her before me and the symbolism of the flower makes my chest expand. As I gaze from her ankles up to her neck, I notice her nipples pert through the fabric and lick my lips. I swiftly look away, shaking my dirty mind and running my hand through my hair.
Fuck I want to taste her.
“This is my favorite,” she exclaims.
Then Bobby stands to give her a hug. His hands roam her sides, then he kneels before her. My mind trails at the image of Bobby feasting on Tilly, enraptured by his touch. I turn my head again and swallow the thoughts.
Much like how I want to swallow down their arousal.
