It doesn't occur to her to think of the silence as awkward. Not even a little. Sometimes, there are just no words necessary. Her invitation had initially been (mostly) a simple this-is-more-comfortable, come-here-and-hold-me offer. His hand on her leg, on the other hand, makes her shiver.
It occurs to her then, suddenly, that he's never seen her in a short skirt before. That her legs were almost always hidden behind long skirts, layers upon layers of petticoats, thick woolen stockings and her drawers. It seems almost obscene, in a way that short skirts haven't since the 1920's. She blushes, just a little, and touches his cheek. "Here you are."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-05-01 08:09 am (UTC)It occurs to her then, suddenly, that he's never seen her in a short skirt before. That her legs were almost always hidden behind long skirts, layers upon layers of petticoats, thick woolen stockings and her drawers. It seems almost obscene, in a way that short skirts haven't since the 1920's. She blushes, just a little, and touches his cheek. "Here you are."