#open bottom girdle

[pollyslost]

Pic of the day, another oldie.

[girlyodditiesqueen]

[georgiagambino]

[girlyodditiesqueen]

I love Rago shapewear. The purple dye really makes this one super sexy. ❤️❤️🔥🔥💕💕😍😍💋💋

[gamefowlsport]

[georgiagambino]

[girlskissgroup26]

You can feel her legs slowly wrapping around yours.

The spare magazine jin is ready and the safety device - starts to turn off. CONTINUE...

[hooksbooks]

This is the first of two books I bound for @renegadeguild's Tiny Books Bang.

The story is (don't) take this the wrong way by @delimeful and was typeset by @little-cat-press for the Tiny Books Bang. It's a mermaid AU of Sanders Sides (Web Series), which I had never actually heard of before. But when I saw that it was a merperson AU, this idea popped into my head and I knew I had to try it, especially after I read the story and really enjoyed it.

The inspiration is medieval girdle books, which are books whose covering material (typically leather) extended past the book to a knot that was both used as a handle when reading the book and could be tucked into the girdle when the book was not in use, thus the name.

Where my book is much smaller (it's a sextodecimo, about 2.25" by 2.75") it isn't designed to tuck into a belt/girdle, but rather is attached to a bracelet and dangles from the wrist when not in use.

When I think of mermaids, some things that come to mind are fish, treasure, and tridents, and I wanted to incorporate all three in the design. The book is covered in blue bookcloth, and then covered again in crocheted netting that was meant to bring to mind fishnets. I crocheted the netting from cotton-poly sewing thread doubled up. I incorporated a trident into the filet crochet, which is repeated on both the front and back covers. I blocked it on a piece of blotting...board? paper? It's soft and thick and meant to absorb moisture and came with my book press that started life as a flower press.

I then sewed the netting to the bookcloth covering the boards with teeny tiny stitches. It probably took twice as long to crochet the netting as it did to the rest of the binding combined, but I really like how it turned out.

The bracelet I picked to attach the netting to is gold-colored to invoke the idea of sunken treasure. Rather than attaching the netting from one end to the other, I folded both ends to the middle and attached it like that so when you have the book open it lays more nicely.

The design of the endpapers looks like looped thread, and also reminds me of netting. I secured the bookmark to the bottom of the text block and let it hang from the top, which works better when the book is hanging from the wrist and doesn't get caught in the netting. I also sewed a little starfish charm to the end of the bookmark.

Technical details:

Sewn-on endpapers

Rounded but not backed

No headbands (I think I intended to, but forgot and then decided it didn't matter enough to try to pull the cover back off)

Things I liked about this bind:

I really like the girdle-book-on-a-bracelet design, it came out almost exactly how I had envisioned it.

Things I'd like to change/improve for next time:

I wasn't 100% pleased with how trimming went on these. It wasn't terrible, but I probably need to come up with a different solution than just a utility knife and a straight edge.

Crocheting the netting really did take so long. I'm not even done with the netting that's going on my copy yet, which is why all the pics are from the typesetter's copy. Probably would not want to do netting for anything larger than this one was.

Overall feels: Loved it! I enjoyed the story, the design came out pretty much exactly how I envisioned it, overall I'm well pleased.

[entelodante]

lil diagram for a pentapod lung! this is the basic settup for all terrestrial pentapods, Whorls included! More detailed info below!

First off, the lung is located right against the shell atop the back and is about the same length as the bone girdle that supports the other organs and leg anchors. The lungs basic structure has two bone pieces at either end, a 'nozzle' which holds open the airway, and the 'butt' which just helps maintain structure. The main support comes from four rings of cartilage, which prevent the lung from fully sucking closed on exhale! This is because the lung is open and closed by way of tendon! Four main tendons are anchored to the girdle and bottom wall of lung, the muscles associated with these tendon contract to pull open the lung and draw in air. Running through the lung itself are smaller tendons also connected to that bottom wall. These anchor to the shell and pull upwards to push air out of the lungs. While both sets are able to fight against the other, the lower tendons have a lot more tension and so the 'default' position of the lung is open.

But for Whorls, breathing is a pretty much involuntary process, think how you can choose to hold your breath but most times don't even think about needing to manually breathe. Aside from right now! At least they don't have to worry about manual blinking, could you imagine?

All in all though, this is just the basic layout and I'm thinking secondarily aquatic pentapods may even be able to fully collapse the lung. And that many pentapod species (not whorl) make noises by contracting different portions of the lung and making weird honks and barks. Much to think about!

[tellius-to-fodlan]

Fódlan dress theories:

Underwear

They must wear underwear, but the silhouettes and exposed skin show that it's not the underwear of an equivalent period of earth history, but I doubt they have the materials for modern underwear, with its rubber elastic and foam. So, what would they wear?

We can see on Raphael that the closest garment to the skin for men (at least in the officers academy) is a shirt fastened with buttons:

Shirts of an equivalent time in Europe wouldn't open in the front, but that's not really relevant. I imagine the shirt is made of linen for easy laundering.

As for the bottom, I assume that men and women alike wear linen braies. They can probably be omitted by people wearing long skirts and not riding horses in favor of bare pussy for ease of toilet access when wearing an outfit that makes taking off underpants difficult/time consuming. They're probably short and close fitting, making tight pants easier to wear without obvious panty lines. My evidence besides history:

Look at those little shorts.

As for the apparent leggings some of the girls wear

I bet those are woolen hose, which fasten to the braies.

What about bust support, though? Well, the lifted silhouette is more like a modern push-up bra than anything else, but since I'm assuming they don't have the elastic and foam those are made of, my next guess is regency style short stays

They give considerable lift to the bust without giving a particularly distinctive silhouette like a longer support garment would.

Now, we get one mention of underwear in the game, and that's Dorothea's lost piece of cloth, which was unrecognizable as clothing to Caspar, so I'm assuming it's an unshaped rectangle. My hypothesis on the purpose of this cloth, which I have no historical evidence for, is that it wraps around the torso under the stays to serve at a buffer between the tough, but difficult to launder stays, and the sweaty, sensitive skin. We see no evidence of a chemise or shirt over Dorothea's ample bust, while a wrapped rectangle could be positioned directly at the stay line for total concealment, held on solely by the stays, would have a plenty of wiggle room for weight gain, and only requires hemming, making it a solid skin layer option for a lady on a tight budget who wants to show off her assets. Although given the lack of obvious voluminous chemises on any of the ladies, this could be a common choice across social classes.

Then..... There are the people who don't seem to have underwear on their torsos at all.

I'd guess that Judith is relying on clever tailoring for support, Dorothea's armored girdle does the job for her, and Manuela actually has something really interesting going on, with her bodice being laced close under the bust, and then the breast cups suspended from her neckband for lift. I want to try making that dress.

However, the pre-automatic washing machine laundress in me is screaming at the good fabric right next to the skin. I want to believe that these garments have removable linen linings where they touch skin. Maybe that's what's tied across the back of Dorothea's shoulders.

[credus99-blog]

Between 100-110 million years ago on Atterra, Scorpaenidae (Scorpionfish), the first scorpion fish came into being, splitting off from other teleost fish into their branch of the family tree. Around 90 million years ago, the first Triglidae (Sea Robins or Gurnards) evolved from Scorpaenidae roughly 42 million years sooner than they did on Earth, making the Terrestrial Sea Robin the youngest of all the terrestrial fish lineages. These basal gurnards found their way into the hollows early in their evolution, likely through submerged cave systems, and fed on invertebrates along the submerged cavern floors (where many aquatic gurnards can still be found). Gurnards would leap out of the water like flying fish to escape aquatic-based predators, utilizing their large, wing-like pectoral fins to aid in their flight (a behavior not seen in their Earth counterparts.) While one lineage evolved the ability to glide with limited powered flight and use their ‘walking rays’ to clutch onto the rocky surfaces, another chose to leave the water and survive on the muddy shores of pools and waterways in their native hollow. This mudskipper-esque lifestyle left them vulnerable to predation by other denizens of the hollows, such as therapsids and anthropods (arthropods that diverged early in their evolution, developing an internal skeleton, lungs, and a closed circulatory system) An increase in both mobility and mobility efficiency was therefore necessary for these creatures to survive in their new environment.

                Over time, the walking rays of the newly terrestrial gurnards became more robust and developed dedicated joints. The fish's swim bladder slowly regressed into a primitive lung. Additionally, the pelvic fins went from helping to prop the fish above the mud flats to clumsily pushing the fish forward in a similar way to the epaulette shark (a shark that can walk across the sea floor at low tide on Earth), aiding the walking fins by pulling the gurnard’s body forwards. As the terrestrial gurnards became more efficient walking on land, the pelvic fin moved down and up toward the ribs from the clavicle until finally resting against the spine. The pelvic girdle eventually formed the hip bone, and the rays of the pelvic fin’s rays formed the leg and foot bones of the terrestrial gurnard. As the legs became more derived, the gill arches ossified and detached from the bottom jaw to form the inner ear bones  while the remaining gill arch bones formed the hyoid bone. The gill cover also became lightly ossified and flexible, allowing the animal to utilize them as mobile external ears to help it detect sound efficiently.

                Terrestrial gurnards display primarily using the is the upper rays of their pectoral fins retained from their aquatic ancestors. The fins extend from the side of their bodies to form a large wing-like structure. If the gurnard points the bottom ray towards their head and the top rays towards their tail, they give off the illusion of a large flat surface and showcases their striking and often brightly colored patterns. While this behavior is performed during sexual displays, this effect also makes them seem larger to potential predators. Should this initial display fails to ward off a predator, many gurnards will then rise up and stand on their back legs and spread out their ‘arms’ (walking rays) as they either hiss or bark (sound made from special drumming muscles that rest against an air sack in-between and behind their lungs). During this display some gurnards will open their pectoral rays to try and make themselves look even more threatening. If a predator is still not deterred at this point, the terrestrial gurnard will use its sharp claws and teeth to fight them off. As for their defense, many species of terrestrial gurnards have evolved bony plates derived from modified scales along their spine and side, similar to an ankylosaurus. The amount of armor plating present ranges from no armor to heavily armored. Boney protrusions on the shoulder from the clavicle, back of the jaw, and back of the head also help them deter predators.

                Most species reach knee to waist height in humans, but terrestrial gurnards come in various forms, from small hunters and grazers to bear-sized predators and even gazelle-like gracile species. Some groups have large crests to attract mates while others have elaborate face plates for display, and others have modified their front pair or two pairs of limbs into graspers to aid in securing prey or food to eat. Such diversity is believed to have arisen following a decline in competitive species midway through their evolutionary history. This decline is believed to have been caused by a disease that decimated the anthropod population within the hollows around 40 million years ago, allowing the terrestrial gurnards to diversify quickly, fill in empty niches, and eventually become more successful than their competitors. 

[true--north]

• THE WOLF MOON • prompt: myth • pairing: Elsa x Hans • albino!Elsa, Northuldra, animal magic, medieval AU, suggestive, ambiguous ending •

Elsa was going to spend all night in a vigil. As a noaidi, she vowed to do her best to help others. But something wasn't working. No matter how much she asked the Spirits to heal old Yelana, she still was sick. The Spirits refused her offerings. So Elsa was going to try again and again while there was still hope.

She went deep into the dark forest, built a fire, and placed a wooden bowl of reindeer blood, and fish she intended to present to the Spirits, on the snow. Alone in the night, Elsa let down her hair, took off her girdle, sat down, and sang an invocation.

She closed her eyes and let her spirit merge with the Nature around her. But not the patrons of the tribe, something else, something alien, has come to meet her calling.

A ghostly white wolf circled around the fire, howling with her song, its weightless paws leaving no footprints in the snow. Elsa sprang to her feet, threatening the beast with an enchanted dagger made of whale bone.

It was a foreign spirit, not of their forest, but, surprisingly, she sensed no hostility. Only longing. Only sorrow. The wolf stopped, looking at her pleadingly, then disappeared into the forest.

Elsa set off after it. The wolf looked back at her, leading her somewhere.

Towards the glacier at the edge of the forest. At the last aspen, the wolf took one last look at her, and merged with the purple shadows. Elsa stepped forwards cautiously, and fixed her eyes on the glacier. There, inside the frozen river was a young man, frozen into the thickness of blue ice.

He looked like the people from the Fjord Lands, from the stone houses. Those whom the people of the Forest, her people, have always feared. He was handsome, this stranger. He had a mane of long red hair and freckles on his high cheekbones. He wore a fur cloak and a tunic of fine grey wool, and had a beautiful silver torc around his neck, and an iron sword.

So that's why the wolf spirit had called her to save its master, Elsa realised. So the man was a sorcerer, since he had a spirit helper? She didn't really feel like doing that, but could she leave a man helpless, even if he was an enemy? She couldn't. The Spirits wouldn't approve of that. So she went to pick her things she left behind, and made a new fire by the glacier.

She sat and watched the prisoner of the ice, and waited. When his body went limp, she laid him closer to the fire, and rubbed his strong chest and broad shoulders with a cloth and warming herbal ointment to draw fire to his heart, and then she drew a healing rune on his heart, dipping her forefinger in reindeer blood.

The ice man opened his eyes, and Elsa thought they looked like the youthful leaves of April aspens. "Where are they? Who are you?"

"You are in the Northuldra lands. We are alone here."

He sat up and stared dazedly at Elsa. At her white fur coat and beads, whale knife, drum, and loose hair. "Who are you?"

"I am Spirit Talker. Who are you? I saved you, you owe me the truth."

The man's eyes flashed mysteriously. He squared his shoulders.

"I am Hans, the thirteenth son of the konung Magnus. My brothers wanted to get rid of me. And it seems they have almost succeeded." And he told her about his family. Of the cruel father who kept many women in slavery, and of the children from them, all sons, each of whom tried to surpass the others in strength and ferocity so as not to end up at the bottom of the pyramid. In the place of the youngest. His.

"Why are they doing this to you?" Elsa couldn't imagine how a brother could hate his brother enough to bewitch him to die a cruel way like this, imprisoned in a block of ice.

"Because I'm not like them. I'm different." Hans replied in a low voice, glaring at her with a heart wrenching yearning. "I see I can share that with you, O Spirit Talker." He meant her white hair, and colourless skin, and almost invisible eyelashes, and eyes the colour of ice, everything that made her so different from her family; from all people, in fact.

"My people never hurt me because I was different," she shook her head, "But they thought I was born...this way for a reason, that I was marked by the Spirits and should belong to them, not to people." An honourable duty, but so lonesome. Elsa knew the forest and the mysteries of Nature's magic much better than human warmth and love.

Hans smiled strangely, the firelight dancing a wild dance in his eyes. "Then we are not so different, after all. Once people see your true face, they reject you and run in fear."

"True face?" Elsa raised an eyebrow.

A huge white wolf ploughed her down into the snow. His eyes were as green as a spring forest and its bloodthirsty mouth was bright red. Black claws dug painfully into her shoulders. He snarled.

"So this is why your brothers hate you..." she exhaled, fearless. "Will you be the monster they think you are, Hans, son of Magnus?"

The wolf blinked, and after a moment returned to his true appearance. Or was it the other way round, and the human form was a disguise for the wolf son...? Hans lay on top of her, his lips an inch from hers, his quickened breathing sweet and warm, his hands pleasantly heavy on her waist and hips. A strange longing echoed in Elsa's chest. She imagined them alone in her lonely lavvu, naked, buried in lush reindeer and fox furs, and his caresses on her body a hot, liquid fire.

"Is Spirit Talker your true name?"

But she had no time to utter it. Hans pressed a kiss on her lips, and after a few agonisingly sweet moments he was a wolf again, leapt off her and raced off into the darkness of the forest.

She sat up and listened to the echo of his howling. The winter moon was full that night, round and yellow as amber, and its call was one that no living soul could resist.

"It's Elsa." she said.

@helsaweenfun

[ltwilliammowett]

The parts of a long naval gun

The main body of a cannon or gun consists of three basic extensions: the foremost and the longest is called the chase, the middle portion is the reinforce, and the closest and briefest portion is the cascabel or cascable.

The chase: Simply the entire conical part of the cannon in front of the reinforce. It is the longest portion of the cannon, and includes the following elements:

The reinforce:  This portion of the piece is frequently divided into a first reinforce and a second reinforce, but in any case is marked as separate from the chase by the presence of a narrow circular reinforce ring or band at its foremost end. The span of the reinforce also includes the following:

The cascabel: This is that portion of the cannon behind the reinforce(s) and behind the base ring. It includes the following:

The neck: the narrowest part of the chase, always located near the foremost end of the piece.

The muzzle: the portion of the chase forward of the neck. It includes the following:

The chase astragal and fillets: these are a second series of such rings located at the near end of the chase.

The chase girdle: this is the brief length of the chase between the chase astragal and fillets and the reinforce.

The swell of the muzzle refers to the slight swell in the diameter of the piece at the very end of the chase. It is often chamfered on the inside to make loading the cannon easier. In some guns, this element is replaced with a wide ring and is called a muzzle band.

The face is the flat vertical plane at the foremost edge of the muzzle (and of the entire piece).

The muzzle mouldings are the tiered rings which connect the face with the rest of the muzzle, the first of which is called the lip and the second the fillet

The muzzle astragal and fillets are a series of three narrow rings running around the outside of the chase just behind the neck. Sometimes also collectively called the chase ring.

The trunnions are located at the foremost end of the reinforce just behind the reinforce ring. They consist of two cylinders perpendicular to the bore and below it which are used to mount the cannon on its carriage.

The rimbases are short broad rings located at the union of the trunnions and the cannon which provide support to the carriage attachment.

The reinforce band is only present if the cannon has two reinforces, and it divides the first reinforce from the second.

The breech refers to the mass of solid metal behind the bottom of the bore extending to the base of the breech and including the base ring; it also generally refers to the end of the cannon opposite the muzzle, i.e., the location where the explosion of the gunpowder begins as opposed to the opening through which the pressurized gas escapes.

The base ring forms a ring at the widest part of the entire cannon at the nearest end of the reinforce just before the cascabel.

The knob which is the small spherical terminus of the piece;

The neck, a short, narrow piece of metal holding out the knob; and

The fillet, the tiered disk connecting the neck of the cascabel to the base of the breech.

The base of the breech is the metal disk that forms the most forward part of the cascabel and rests against the breech itself, right next to the base ring.

To pack a muzzle-loading gun, first gunpowder is poured down the bore. This is followed by a layer of wadding (often nothing more than paper), and then the cannonball itself. A certain amount of windage allows the ball to fit down the bore, though the greater the windage the less efficient the propulsion of the ball when the gunpowder is ignited. To fire the cannon, the fuse located in the vent is lit, quickly burning down to the gunpowder, which then explodes violently, propelling wadding and ball down the bore and out of the muzzle. A small portion of exploding gas also escapes through the vent, but this does not dramatically affect the total force exerted on the ball.

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Chapter 4

A response to the writing prompt: “Why are you doing this?”

Thanks to my loves, my sister wives, my support group and Elvis cabal, @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain​ @vintageshanny​ @be-my-ally​ @ellie-24​ @from-memphis-with-love​

Summary: Elvis hangs out at Bess house, and finally gets to dance with her.

Warnings: Kissing, discussions of sex, typos. I wrote this so haphazardly during a busy weekend, I’ll probably go back over and polish tomorrow...

WC: 4.1 K

Please like, comment or reblog and let me know what you think. I enjoy reading your feedback and it influences my writing, as well as our connection, which is the main reason I post my writing on here - to meet and engage with other Elvis fans like you!

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist.

Go here for the Basic Training Masterlist if you need to catch up

Sunday, April 6, 1958

12: 15 a.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Elvis’ bottom lip hung down, Bess was so close she could hear his breath wisp over it softly with each exhale. It was as if he were so transfixed looking into her eyes trying to read her mind that he forgot to close his mouth. No, Bess thought, it was as if time stood still, as if he were stuck there mouth agape, waiting for her to respond. His words still hung in her ear.

“Jus kiss me.”

His fingers rested over her hips and then tugged her closer where he wanted her, no longer waiting to see if she would say something. He had found the answer in the way she bit her lip and nodded up into his chin, mouth pressing into his jaw as he pulled her into his chest. Her arms smashed between them as he kissed the tip of her nose, his breath was warm on her skin and the air between them smacked with a restrained heat.

The way Elvis touched her made her close her eyes and open her mouth as his lips nudged downward seeking hers. Bess’ breath quickened faster and faster, she felt almost dizzy as Elvis’ mouth became more urgent and she gripped his shoulder to steady herself. His large hands were now spread over her upper back, squeezing her closer into him, left thumb swiping over the top of her silk nightie to caress her bare skin. There, in the dim light of the hallway she shuddered and jilted up sideways into his lips, opening her eyes as he heaved back, smirking.

“Hmm, you okay, Moo Moo?”

He murmured softly, then his eyelashes fluttered downward at her bare feet, a grin curling up further at the way Bess’ beige silk nightie rippled from the movements of his hand over her side. Bess follows his gaze downward, her breasts heaved up with her shoulders as she breathed a shallow breath, noticing how her nipples protruded through the silk and the lacy trim at her bust dipped in her cleavage. She was not wearing a bra, a girdle or nylons, just a thin pair of panties underneath her negligee. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, Bess knew she should be ashamed, but her thoughts were lost to the drum of her heart beat thrumming in her ears.

Elvis’ left hand clutched hers over his heart, his nose was heavy against her’s once more, nuzzling up and down, the top trailing over her cheek, navigating the curves of her nostrils. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hovered over hers. She shuddered as his fingers tapped over her hand, gasping as he brought it up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.

“I said, you ok, baby? You’re quivering’. Let me know if this is too much for you.”

She snorted, swatting him as she mumbled into his mouth, willing her words to be true as she pushed down the butterflies in her ribcage. She was not ok. Definitely not ok by any means. But she would be damned if she let him know the effect he had on her.

“I’m just fine, thanks. You think an awful lot of you’re kissing, don’t you?”

Elvis’ cheeks scrunched up and his eyes twinkled.

“Ya right honey, must be my ‘magination that you’re shivering.”

“I mean, I might tremble a little, but that’s, that’s just a physical response to, you know, being kissed. I don’t do this as much as you do.”

Elvis’ thumb was back at work over her shoulder blade.

“Well, I’ve been out of practice lately.”

“Oh?’

“Yeah, kind of short of um, uh, suitable options in the barracks.”

“Somehow I get the feeling you will always muddle through and find someone to kiss, Tupelo. Seemed like you had your pick of suitable options earlier.”

“Always so jealous, Moo Moo. Those other girls weren’t nothin’, I just risked life and limb sneaking off post to come see you.”

“Hmmm, well, maybe you shouldn’t have. You could get in a lot of trouble if you get caught.” She steadied herself in his gaze. “Yeah, I can’t help but think it might be good for the female population if you really were holed up back in a bunk with a bunch of other soldiers for a while.”

“Is that how you feel Bess? Wish I was back in the barracks?”

He asked into her neck, his lips pressed on her nape.

“Instead of being here.”

Another softer, slower kiss lower on her neck.

“With you?”

She moaned out softly, unintentionally, reflexively, as his lips opened this time and she felt the warm, wet suction of Elvis’ mouth right below her earlobe. The sensation was overwhelming, it made her her vibrate and lean into his face, slowly shaking her head. No, she didn’t wish he was back in the barracks. She wanted him to consume her, to cool her body with his mouth before the flames in her belly burned her alive.

Elvis’ grip was strong as he held her close to him, yet everything else about him was soft and delicate and warm. Basic training had not yet hardened his body, and his fingers had the smooth feel of someone who regularly rubbed lotion into them. Cheeks round and supple against her forehead. It was like leaning into a human pillow wrapped in an electric blanket, her skin hummed from his attentive hands.

He was somehow able to touch her everywhere at once, his right hand on her back shoulder blades, thumbing her into a comfortable trance, his left hand held hers to his chest, the back of it grazing her breast as he clutched her into him. Even his sweet, low drawl had a soft, babyish tone to it. Bess was certain she would melt like butter into the wooden floorboards if she stayed much longer in the warm, swathe of his embrace.

This tenderness was a jarring contrast to the months of chaste living that Bess had imposed on her self in the wake of her failed engagement last year. Everywhere her former fiancee, Ben, had been firm and stiff, Elvis was soft, yielding and responsive.

Ben, Ben, Ben. It had been over a year since Ben had gone off to Germany during Bess’ last semester of college at Austin, her picture in his suitcase and plans to meet her on leave in Paris that summer. Her plans for crossing the Atlantic Ocean had been decidedly cancelled when he called the week before graduation and told her not to come, told her he had met someone else, told her he had married.

Bess’s initial response was to throw herself into the open arms of every eager Army officer  she could find. Most often, she didn’t even bother to get their name or do the typical good girl tap dance routine where she explained “I’ve never done this on a first date.” Stocking up on prophylactics at the Army medical clinic, Bess spent the first weeks of life after college fucking every officer that winked at her. The irony had been, of course, that prior to this she had only slept with a handful of serious boyfriends and never on the first date. Or second. Or third, for that matter. She had dated Ben for two months before sleeping with him. Falling head over heels for Ben’s freckled face, smart confidence and Midwest manners, Bess had been ready to go beyond first base after a few weeks. He had been the one who wanted to take it slow, to wait, applying his cold, sober analytical mind to assess their relationship and future before proposing to her, and then spending the next eighteen months plotting out their plans for a future together.

She wondered where that contemplative deference had been when he met Uta in  Heidelberg and married her within a fortnight. She had tried to fill the hollow emptiness of heartbreak with physical connection and found it sorely lacking in more than one way. At first, yes, a hard, quick fuck was a useful reminder of what it was to feel as Bess grasped for anything to pierce through the numbness of grief.

But she found that after the momentary rush of adrenaline and attention of casual sex she felt even more despondent. And, unlike her previous lovers, these men had not cared or attended to reciprocity. She didn’t fake orgasms, a practice that been much practiced and debated in the girl’s dorms at college, but it had been unnecessary with almost all of the men she had bedded. Apparently they didn’t need the ego boost , nor did it temper their selfish lovemaking. Lovemaking, ha, what an inadequate word to describe the act of opening up and fucking someone into oblivion as they tried to get off as quickly as possible. Vowing off men forever after a particularly disappointing tryst in the store room of Fat Daddy’s, one of the pool halls frequented by the Air Force officers outside Waco, Bess has pulled up her pantyhose and began making her own plans for a future. Alone.

That was the last time she had even kissed a man and it had now been almost ten months. Elvis somehow seemed to feel Bess’ nervy energy and he deepened the comforting caress of his thumb over her hand. She looked up into his blue eyes, she hated how magnetic they were as she felt them drawing her in more and more.

Elvis Presley was bad news. Bess knew this, for all of the reasons she could think of and the many more she dared not, she knew. She knew it as she pulled him down by his collar to bring him to her lips. He guided his hands back to her waist, his left hand moving lightly over her breast, and he smiled into another kiss, talking into her cheek as she trembled once more.

“Shhh, shhh baby, it’s ok. I can tell, you’re a good girl.” He pointed to his head. “S’why I like you, I don’t go for fast gals like Dori. I know she’s your friend, but I’d much rather be here with you.”

His knuckles caressed the back of her cheek, and Bess clenched inadvertently, feeling her vagina draw up into itself as she considered how wrong he was. Dori might well be one of the few virgins over twenty still out there. It was, she suspected, part of the reason Dori was trying so aggressively to get married. Elvis’ knuckles trailed back over her cheek and Bess kissed his index finger, bringing the tip between the edge of her mouth, caressing it with her lips. Her hands snaked up his chest while she stared at that bottom lip there hanging down again.

“Maybe you’re wrong, hmmm? Maybe I’m the bad one?”

He arched his eye brows, slipping his finger back in her mouth and over her tongue and then sliding it back out, slowly.

“Hmmm, nice try honey. But you can’t fool me, I know things.”

She giggled.

“Ha, see, I know you, Bess, deep down, you’re a good girl. And deep down you know I ain’t gonna try nothin'.  So let’s go somewhere we can be more comfortable.”

Elvis grabbed her hand and led her down her own hall to the living room, dropping Bess’s hand when he took in her father’s hi-fi equipment against the wall and let out a low whistle. There, in the shining, bright oak console was a stack of electronic equipment.

“Whooweee, what kind of set is it? Where are the speakers?”

Elvis was already sliding the bottom door open to look at the records.

Bess followed, putting on her best floor salesman voice.

“Why, don’t you know quality when you see it, son? Why this is the brand new, all inclusive Carlton hi-fidelity system. “

“Where are the speakers?”

“They are built into the furniture itself, see this here?” Bess pointed at the soft, woven area at the top of the console. “Top of the line sound, I tell you, you’ll feel like you’re in a concert hall.”

Elvis chuckled, his eyes not moving from the shelf of records that he was flipping through quickly, the soft thud of the sleeves hitting each other sounded like the rhythm of a song, like the pulse of Bess’ heart. She turned to calm herself by flopping on the couch.

“Ha, you’re a funny girl, Bess, you know that? Is this your daddy’s stuff?”

“What makes you think I’m not the stereo-phile? I know how all of this works.”

“Yeah, sounds like you’re doing an impression of someone.”

“You’re right, it is my father’s stuff. We all love music, though. But my father is the audiophile, he is always bringing home the latest equipment. We just got this system, apparently it’s stereo, whatever that means.”

“It’s recording on multiple tracks, they have a bunch of microphones around a studio so they can get you from all sides.” Elvis wiggled his brow suggestively as he said this. He then paused and held up the latest Coltrane LP. “Where’s the good music?”

“Ha, I have my own little set upstairs with my records. I don’t know if you’ll find anything hip down here -”

Elvis grabbed an LP, and stood up to slide it out and drop the needle over the lacquered, black grooves. Then he ambled over to where Bess sat on the couch jumping on top of her feet while Bing Crosby’s crooning played out of the speakers. He threw his cap onto the coffee table, and leaned over Bess as she cried out.

“Ughhh, cut stout Tupelo, you’re crushing me.”

Elvis pouted, and pulled her feet out from under his thighs, taking one foot up and kissing the top arch, and then the other as he scooted up between her legs, keeping her left foot in his lap.

“He’s sorry, Bessie Boo Boo.” There was that babyish, low voice again, as his thumb made its new home over her foot while his other hand trailed along the side of Bess’ body, hitching up her nightie slightly as it made it’s way to the side of her breast. Longing surged through Bess’ entire being and again her hands were at his face, bringing him closer to her.

His fingers stroked her side up and down, as, bottom lip hanging slightly open, Elvis' mouth was on hers and Bess swallowed as she kissed him back, unsure and nervous at first, she  closed her eyes as his mouth lingered over hers, then became more insistent each time they converged and she opened up to meet his tongue. Her chest heaved up into his and the strangled smush of their breath filled the air between their faces. Her fingers were in his hair and his hand was palming her underneath her nighty. Elvis pulled back, rubbing his mouth with his right hand, his left hand still walking up her thigh.

His lip curled in a mischievous grin.

“You  wearing’ panties under your night gown, widdle Moo Moo?”

Bess nodded. “Yesss.”

She started back slightly as Elvis lifted up her nightgown, sucking in his breath through his teeth as he gazed at the hint of her publc hair through her white panties.

“Shhhh, s’ok, just taking in the view.” He snapped the elastic band, and she hit his shoulder, pushing the beige, silk fabric back down over her thighs and kicking him back as he chuckled.

“Oh man, but what a view.” He shook his head, grinning. Then, as a new song started, Elvis stood and took Bess’ hand, drawing her back up.

“Why are you doing this?”

She followed him into the middle of the living room, as he brought her into his embrace began swaying with her.

“Never got my dance tonight.” His breath was warm where he spoke into her cheek, and his voice joined Bing and the Andrews Sisters as he moved them slowly in a circle.

I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences

And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses

And I can't look at hovels and I can't stand fences

Don't fence me in

 Bess leaned into Elvis chest, she could smell the sweet scent of his cologne, a mix of woodsy pine and citrus, it mingled with the smell of fresh rain and sweat and the shoe polish that lingered on all soldiers, a reminder of their morning inspections. Her cheek glided over the outline of a tee shirt underneath the thick cloth of Elvis’ uniform. For the first time in a long time the fabric felt warm, safe and welcoming. They continued to sway in the silence after the song ended, after the record ended and all that remained was the thud of the needle revolving at the center of the album. Elvis half sang half mumbled the words to “Don’t Fence Me In” in fits and spurts, a haphazard performance for Bess’ forehead. Her skin was warm where his breath fell, and she pushed in further, just wanting to say all night like this passing time in the rise and fall of Elvis’ chest.

Elvis took her chin up to look into her eyes, she could tell he was about to say something when she heard the front door slam shut and the sound of her sister’s voice singing out some of “You Send Me.”

Stepping back, Bess looked Elvis in the eye and whispered forcefully, “Stay here.”

She hurried to the hall, and peeked out, as Kay greeted her.

“Aw, good Elizabeth, why am I not surprised to find you ready for bed?”

Bess took in Kay’s mussed hair and the lipstick smudges around her mouth, then looked up at the clock by the stairs. It was past one, she guessed Kay and her boyfriend had been off necking after the dance.

“Oh, you know, just winding down for the night.” Bess smoothed her hair, then twisted it into a makeshift bun that fell apart the second she released it. She then leaned across the hallway, blocking the passage way with her arm.

“You look a bit disheveled, Kay, maybe a good idea to go wash up and wind down yours-”

She stopped talking as she head the sound of footsteps behind her, and felt the brass buckle of Elvis uniform push into the small of her back, flinching as his hands wound around her waist and his chin tucked into her shoulder. She groaned inwardly as Kay’s mouth dropped open. Elvis kissed Bess’neck, then extended his arm out to shake her sister’s hand. She watched him introduce himself as if he were any other stranger meeting her sister for the first time, as if casual introductions in the midst of affectionate kisses while he wound himself around her body were the most normal thing in the world.

“Um hi, I’m K k k Katherine, Kay that is. Nice to meet you.”

Kay stared at Elvis, then, as if coming out of a daze, looked at Bess with a smirk.

“Just winding down, huh?” Kay nodded at them. “Well, I’m, I’m gonna do the same.” She winked back her sister as she turned up the stairs. “Good night.”

Bess shook her head, and faced Elvis.

“I thought I told you to stay in the living room?”

Elvis feigned indignance, “You embarrassed of me Bess? We weren’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. I think she liked me."

Bess rolled her eyes exasperated, watching as Elvis tilted his head towards the kitchen.

“Come on woman, I’m hungry, fix me something to eat.”

*****************************

Elvis jostled her up and down in his lap as he sucked the last of the meat off of a drumstick, and Bess couldn’t help herself, licking the crumbs from fried chicken off the side of her mouth. Still chewing, Elvis slurped some of the milk from his glass and then laughed as he belched into Bess hair.

“Ew, gross.”

“S’ a compliment, honey. I want you to make this for me for dinner every night.”

He kissed her cheek with his wet, milky mouth, swallowing as he spoke.

“Bess, I like you. I wanna spend every night I can with you.”

Bess turned to him, now straddling him over the chair he sat in at her kitchen table, her feet dangling down on either side of Elvis’ thighs, her underwear the only barrier between his uniform and her body. Her momentary disgust with his manners disappeared as she draped her arms over his shoulders, and looked into his eyes.

“What, what is it honey?”

Bess sighed.

“My folks come home today, I have to drive to Waco to pick them up, they’re flying in to Connally Air Force Base this afternoon.”

“So? Parents love me, I ain’t ever had no trouble with parents.”

“My father is an officer at Fort Hood, Elvis. He will also know that you’re in phase one, you’re not supposed to be off post. And, they won’t approve of you spending the night here, no matter how good we behave.”

Elvis stared off in at the porcelain plates that decorated a portion of the kitchen wall, they had old timey paintings of German farm life on them, with the words for different animals under them.

“Yeah, huh, you said your daddy teaches German, huh? I forgot he was an officer.”

Bess grimaced to herself, remembering that she may have minimized her father’s position at the base.  Although, in a way, he did teach German. That was how he had started out his career in Army Intelligence, and he oversaw that now in the training at Fort Hood, among all the other projects that his office undertook. Bess decided then and there that if she had anything to do with it, Elvis would never meet her father, no matter how many parents he had charmed in his exploits. She knew her father, he hated rock and roll, and, more over, he would certainly not approve of any relationship between her and a new enlisted recruit.

Looking back into Elvis face, his eyes widened with recognition of her uncertainty and he pinched her hips, rocking back and lifting the chair so that she fell further into his lap and onto his groin.

“S’ok, honey. I don’t care how we figure it, I like you, I like you a lot. And I know you like me.”

“You do?”

“Uh huh. I could see it in your eyes, they way they open up wide for me whenever we meet, like they want to let me in, no matter what words come out of your mouth. No matter how difficult or stubborn you try to be. I can tell, I told you, I know things.” He pointed his index fingers into his temples. “S’like a sixth sense.”

“Huh.”

Bess rolled her eyes for the tenth time that night, and then gasped as Elvis leaned back even further and bounced her into his chest, his large hands spreading around her back.

“S’true. Admit it, admit you like me,  Bess.”

He bumped her nose with his, his finger tips tapping over her skin. She looked down.

“I like you.” She mumbled into his chest, refusing to acknowledge the smirk on his face as he said this.

“Ok, there, good girl. So, you go get your parents, and then come meet me later on post.” He kissed her nose now. “And bring some more of that fried chicken, Moo Moo, s’probably the second best I ever ate. Wait till you come to Memphis and try my Mama’s chicken, it’s the best. Boy oh, boy, can my mama cook, best biscuits, best cake, best food in the world.”

Bess ignored how easily Elvis plans for the future suddenly included her, just as his hands in the present seemed to move all over her body, compelling her attention, regard and affection. Bringing her as close as he could as she succumbed to the sensation of his lips on the top of her head, and heard herself promising to meet him with a basket of food that evening.

“I need to see you tonight, Bessie Moo Moo. I can’t bare to be alone, I think too much. Knowin' I'm seeing you gets me through the day.”

His words echoed in her ears and she could still feel the touch of his lips on hers as she showered,  dressed, and drove to Waco. She hated to admit how much she liked Elvis, how much she cpuldnt wait to see him again. Wanting was dangerous, and she feared the way it made her vulnerable. No body every tells you how hard it is to keep going after the anguish of heartbreak. As she drove, “Heartbreak Hotel” come on the radio. Every song is about falling in love or breaking up, she thought, reflecting that she had always been the one to sing to a lover in pursuit or in agony. Maybe it was time to let someone sing to her.

**************************************************************************************

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[lyndashome]

Personally I love the look of the open bottom one with stockings.

[mistresskayla-blog1]

Reclaiming Purity

Lyn's Writing Event Day 8

May 8th: Week 2: Andromeda  (plant – Lily of the Valley – white bell shaped flowers in spring)

Characters: AU - Dr Mikhel Astrov x OC Cassandra   (18+)

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Plays – Dr. Astrov (Uncle Vanya)

Dr Mikhel Astrov character was created by Anton Chekhov in a play called Uncle Vanya

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: age play, angst, kissing, natural decay, smut,  

A young woman, with wavy brown hair is laying in a field, lily of the valley surrounding her in the warmth of the sunny spring. She ties up her hair from her face with a scrap of string from her bound books. Her journal lay open in the grasses, pencil holding its place among the pages. The breeze was warm and it smelled of flowers and blooming grasses.

Cassandra rolled back to her book, and started sketching again, the blooms of the flowers she was drawing blowing in the breeze. She sipped some water from a travel jug, and set the stopper back into the hole, making a suction sound. Birds chirped and flew overhead, playing in the afternoon breezes busy with their chores. Cassandra smiled up at the sun kissing her cheeks. When she brought this back to the Doctor, she knew he would be pleased. But would he be so pleased that he entertained more with her?

----

              Gripped by anguish Dr Astrov sits at his desk and weeps openly. The trees in his forest are dying, dying from some organism he cannot control. Mushrooms are creeping up all over the forest, bright red and shelf like at the base, indicating a rash of what the dendrologist called, “heart rot”.

He couldn’t believe it. He had worked months tirelessly with his assistant Cassandra replanting the fields and protecting the larger deciduous trees from this plight. Dr Astrov felt helpless and utterly broken. He pulled the cork out of the bottle on his table, and poured it into a glass, nearly overfilling it, then just gulped down the fruit bearing liquid directly, putting his lips to the bottle. He took a gasp as the brandy burned down his throat. And coughed a bit, rambling as Cassandra came into his study.

She moved the bottle as he went to grab it again, “mm No, that’s mine” Astrov slurred. Cassandra shook her head and took it across the room, “No, that’s enough. We cannot fix this issue with drinking. You know that doctor”. He smirked at her, “well then can we fix it with something more fun than drinking”. Cassandra smiled coyly, “Not, -- look what you have been doing to my notes, its all” she acted disgusted, as she cleaned off the desk and removed her journal from the desk. Dr Astrov turned to her as she wiped her journal off with her skirt.

“I was reading that”, Astrov said, growing slightly annoyed, “And I think you may be onto something”. Cassandra looked amused, “Oh, do you? Is that the brandy talking?” Astrov burped and stood up, “No, no, no look, look,” he snatched the book from her hand, “Its all in here, the way you drew the bells on this plant, if we let them grow around the bottom of the tree like a girdle, than maybe we can prevent the rot from even touching the root of the tree”.

Cassandra looked at him, with endearing grace, “I know that, I wrote it”.

Astrov looked at her, smiling broadly, “Its brilliant!” he grabbed her face between his hands, squishing her cheeks and placing a triumphant kiss on her pursed lips.

He dropped his hands straight away, and stepped clear of her, “I,… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that” he walked back over the desk, trying to busy himself with his papers, running his hand through his fallen brown locks.

Cassandra still a bit stunned, leaned against a bench and looked down a moment, “Its, fine, really” she tried to hold back a grin. She had wanted him to kiss her for a long time now. Cassandra had worked with the doctor, training under him for about 18 months now and this was the first time he had seriously touched her.  

Astrov turned back towards Cassandra, leaning against the desk, “I, just wanted to say, (looking at his feet, than back up to meet her gaze) I have really appreciated your help this past year, and all the work you are doing, trying to sort me out (he scratched the back of his neck, looking back at his desk)”. Cassandra nodded, “Of course, yes. I am honored to do it, Doctor. Really”.

Astrov looked at her, moving towards her again, “But, its not appropriate for me to take advantage of your; virtue and grace, when, I”  he trailed off, and held himself back from touching her, while Cassandra stood in suspense desperate for him to touch her.

“Doctor” Cassandra, “Mikhel?” 

Astrov looked at her, “my name on your lips sounds, (smiles) beautiful, Can I kiss you?”

Cassandra nodded.

Astrov moved towards her again, taking her face in his hands more gently, and when there lips met, the lightest brush of skin and heat to skin. They both held their breaths, then sighed gratefully into each other’s mouths. Astrov pulled her close with his hands around her waist. Cassandra’s hands moved into Astrov’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Astrov deepened the kiss in response, and then lead her back to the desk. He pivoted his body, carrying her against his chest, and boosting her into the desk. He swept things off of it with a crash of papers and tools, and leaned over the desk, kissing her neck and moving towards her skirts, her knees rising up.

---

Cassandra was panting and excited. After waiting so long, he was finally going to touch her, in the way she had been fantasizing about, been writing about (thankfully in a separate journal). Her head was swimming with thoughts and anticipation. Astrov continued his kisses, moving down her throat, and reaching for the buttons on her blouse, muffled he groaned into her breast, “You smell like those flowers”. Cassandra smiled, holding his head against her breast, “I’ve wanted you for so long,” she breathed.

Astrov came up from her cleavage, her blouse opening further, her belly exposed to the open air of his breath, “You… wanted me?” his voice was a question in between his heart thundering in his ears. Astrov looked over Cassandra, “The first day I saw you, I was hooked, and then you shared with me your mind, and your comfort, I… I never thought, I”. He kissed her passionately again, and Cassandra ran her fingers through his soft hair.

Cassandra spoke through her kisses, “I.. never.. thought.. you would..” Her hands digging into his hair deeper, as they kissed. Astrov kissed down her neck again, and into her soft and inviting cleavage. His beard tickled her soft sun kissed skin and she giggled. His lips trailed down her belly then, moving lower. Cassandra’s need was palpable, her core throbbed at his every touch.

“yes” she bid him, as he looked up at her again, heat in his eyes, as he moved to her skirts and moved them up against her thighs, his hands slowly moving in season with his lips. He started at her ankles and up the slope of her calf, and he nibbled behind her knee, and she let out a gasp, looking over the billow of her work skirt. He chuckled, “you liked that?”  She sighed a ‘yes’. And he continued onto her inner thigh, Cassandra’s breath gulped in a nervousness, and Astrov felt her tense. He paused, “I can stop, if your not,” he trailed off, resting his head against her thigh, seeing the curls damp against her knickers.

Cassandra whimpered, “I want you to,”

Astrov groaned under his breath, and licked the inside of her thigh, all the way up to her knickers. He scooped his hands under her bum and slid them down, discarding them casually on the floor, as he shifted onto his knees, and buried his face in her nubile curls. His breath toned husky, as he took in her scent and kissed her folds softly. Cassandra cried out at the delicateness of it. Astrov’s hands caressed her ass, and her thighs, moving in to touch her, but for now, he wanted to just taste her. Drink in her essence, his cock twitched in his trousers as her scent hit his sharp nose. He nudged his nose against her sensitive clit, and she moaned beautifully.

There she was spreadeagled on the desk, her skirt billowing over the Doctor, on his knees before her, in total submission to his cause. He moaned against her sex and licked playfully parting her sweet folds with his tongue. It played at her entrance, and pushed his way in a little, feeling her tightly wound around his tongue. His cock strained against fabric even more. He pulled her closer, deepening his kiss and his tongue into her core. Cassandra moaned a little louder, grinding against his face with her burning need. Her core was swimming in this sensation, wanting to build this over and over again. Cassandra was so excited she barely noticed the wave overcoming her. Astrov moved his tongue faster, and rubbed her clit with his thumb, strumming her along, knowing exactly how to make her complete her ascent into madness and relief, his breath against her mound, “Tell me..” he panted. Cassandra sat up on her elbows, pushing her skirt out of her way to look at him, “Please doctor, I want you inside me”. He smiled broadly and sucked on her clit, pushing his finger inside her, as he stood up, hunched over her and worked at getting his trousers off. She climaxed against his finger and he groaned in acceptance, pulling out slowly as she shuddered, her cunt wet and creamy now, ready for him.

Astrov teased at her entrance, stroking his cock in his hand, making it slick, at the tip. Cassandra mewed at him, her legs gripping at his hips, drawing him closer, “Easy, easy my dear,” he cooed back at her in his deeper voice. Astrov leaned down between her legs and kissed her mouth again, her flavor mixed with the brandy on his breath was intoxicating and she caressed his hair again, keeping him close. Astrov moved and pushed into her entrance, Cassandra gasped as the stretching of her flesh against his intrusion, had her seeing stars. Her pussy gripped his cock so tight, Astrov shuddered and gaffawed, sliding deeper, Cassandra’s tongue entered his mouth and danced with his. They were joined now, and their hearts thumped in unison. Astrov began to stroke into her slowly and shallowly, easing it in and out, she adjusted well and still she clung to him with limbs and cunt. His arousal was at its peak and he wanted to thrust faster and harder, but he steeled himself to continue to go slow, for her benefit.

Cassandra, panted against his ear, as he held steady, letting her pussy throb around his shaft,

“Please, please,” she begged, “Please more”.

Astrov did not hesitate, he sunk all the way in and she cried out her legs gripping him harder, her hands digging into his shoulders and hair. He shuddered again, “God, you feel so good,”

Cassandra smiled playfully, as she whispered against his beard, “harder”.

That pushed him over the edge and Astrov started to pump against her pressure, building them both to the summit, to the wave that would inevitably crash against both of them in bliss. The heat inside his loins was growing and growing. And inside her core, Cassandra was overwhelmed by all the sensations, her body simply reacting to his, and in righteous chorus of expletive joy.  Astrov kept at it, moving faster and faster, a little harder, and a little faster. Sweat was gathering at his brow, he tore his shirt open, and she clawed at his chest. He looked at her, deeply as he came close to his edge. Cassandra’s walls clamped down on him and he seized, pulling out quickly and spilling himself onto the floor. She clamped against the emptiness, for mere seconds, as his fingers slid into her and he pumped again and again as she shuddered over him.

Astrov dropped to his knees again and feasted on her, licking her clit and making her scream against her sleeve, biting down, as his fingers and tongue and lips just suspended her in utter pleasure. She shook on the desk, as he held her legs over his shoulders. His tongue quieted to languid licks against her folds, and peppered her thighs with kisses, before he replaced her skirts, and helped her up to a stand. He stood, above her, and kissed her sweetly on the mouth, his hands cradling her face again. Cassandra looked up at him with sleepy eyes. He smiled as he looked at her, “Such a treasure, I’m so glad to have the wonder of all of you, thank you, Cassandra”. Cassandra was still swimming in her waves, but she was stable in his arms, and that is what mattered. He picked her up and carried her to his bedroom, lying down next to her, still half dressed, there limbs lying softly with each other. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheek, and finally her mouth. Her eyelids drooped heavier, and he whispered against her forehead, “Rest now”, in his soft and sultry voice.

Raspy and confused Cassandra mumbled up at him, “What.. what happens now?”

Astrov looked at her, “you mean with the trees?” 

Cassandra burbled up a giggle,

 Astrov smirked, “oh you mean with us,”

Cassandra nodded,

“Let’s just learn to grow together” Astrov smiled and kissed her again, gently. And held her close to him all night.

END?

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