Victorian
155 words for Sallie
By ga ([email protected])
Rating: barely PG on the outside, warmer in the middle
Spoilers/Disclaimer: no, not mine
Category: MSR
Summary: just a moment
Note/Dedication: Sallie is a writer's dream fan as well as an all-
around sweet person and great friend. We'd talked once or twice
about her having a fic of her own, and when the first sentence or
two below showed up at Starbuck's the other night, they sounded
to me like a Sallie story. Most of the rest appeared on the train out
to Rae and Tam's, the last phrase in their living room; I gave Sallie a
handwritten copy because I saw her before I saw my computer
again.

Without meaning to, he'd begun to stroke her arm. They were
talking of something inconsequential, standing too close as usual.
Jacketless in warm weather, her rolled sleeves exposed enticing
forearms nearly to the elbow; the temptation was simply too great.

It wasn't as though he hadn't seen the whole package. He had. Not
often, not yet, but often enough to have charted freckles and
dimples and sweet little hot spots. Even so, he still had a positively
Victorian thrill at the glimpse of an ankle or wrist.

That wrist, under his fingers, so soft on the surface but with veins and
ridges and pulse points underneath. It reminded him of the feel of
stroking himself, something he still did embarrassingly often,
thinking of her.

She pretended to ignore him, continuing to put forth her well-
reasoned, though inconsequential, argument. Determined to win
her point as usual, even as the back of her neck turned liquid inside.