I skim my toes across the floor, threadbare rug and dusty panels of wood, and my foot finally makes contact with the black lace, even though I stiffen before realizing exactly what it is, relief easing in after a moment. I lean over to reach for it, and it's always something of a balancing act, getting dressed in the dark. Somehow the other way always seems easier in the heat of the moment, pulling at clothes hard enough to stretch or even tear, especially with no fasteners involved. It's safe to say I'm completely sober at this point, but my eyes have that itchy feeling, that fuzzy sensation, and I blink to try to bring the world back into focus as I stand, pulling the panties up over my hips.
The dress isn't in the room, I remember that much, but just beyond, in the hallway. Still, I'm not going to move very far to change, walking over on tiptoe across the room to grab it, bending low to scoop it up. The clasp in the back is going to prove to be a challenge, though, and I'm half-wondering how I even managed it earlier tonight without help, but I'm not going to shy away from it now as I back up to him, gathering my hair to one side over my shoulder and tilting my neck, trying to catch the moonlight in order for him to be able to see what he's doing.
"Would you?" I ask, and I don't doubt that he will, but it seems polite to ask. It's ironic, too, the politeness after what we've just done, inches away from where I'm standing now. There was nothing polite in that, nothing full of niceties, just hard and desperate and more needed than I'd like to admit to anyone right now, myself included. I just need to get back to the Compound, figure out my next move. A shower seems like the logical next step, and I need to think logically right now. Anything else is going to just prove messy.
no subject
The dress isn't in the room, I remember that much, but just beyond, in the hallway. Still, I'm not going to move very far to change, walking over on tiptoe across the room to grab it, bending low to scoop it up. The clasp in the back is going to prove to be a challenge, though, and I'm half-wondering how I even managed it earlier tonight without help, but I'm not going to shy away from it now as I back up to him, gathering my hair to one side over my shoulder and tilting my neck, trying to catch the moonlight in order for him to be able to see what he's doing.
"Would you?" I ask, and I don't doubt that he will, but it seems polite to ask. It's ironic, too, the politeness after what we've just done, inches away from where I'm standing now. There was nothing polite in that, nothing full of niceties, just hard and desperate and more needed than I'd like to admit to anyone right now, myself included. I just need to get back to the Compound, figure out my next move. A shower seems like the logical next step, and I need to think logically right now. Anything else is going to just prove messy.