A House Of My Own

Warmth

I managed to get home alright but the pile of things Dorian had given me were burning a hole in my passenger seat. I couldn't believe he trusted me enough to fix something so precious to him. My knee jumped up and down while I hummed my way home, impatiently. I knew I couldn't do anything to the quilt before I got my ideas down for the new bralette. Structure, they had to have some structure. I listed off fabrics that were thicker, heavier with more sturdy fibre to them but they didn't seem to work with such a delicate design. This would be a difficult one to crack.

Unpacking the car and heading inside I put the kettle on to boil and sat on the floor, again cursing my couch for being so late. I grabbed my sketch pad and started drawing up designs. But the time the kettle screamed, I'd come up with a whole new undies and bra set, something sturdy in organic stretch cotton, simple, maybe following traditional undergarment design, a high-waisted bottom, boy leg maybe or high leg, giving it a 70s feel, but not spandex, definitely cotton and a strappy sports bra shape but more simple, delicate also in cotton, utilitarian, but pretty. With a tie up front. No underwire, no padding. Something I could imagine slipping on if I want something practical for the day. I'd have to make the sewing process perfect, to attract even the extravagant customers. I'd forgotten about my cup of tea by the time I was pushing open my workshop doors and scratching through my boxes of fabric samples and off cuts. I mocked up the pattern in tarlatan and made alterations before starting the first set in my size so I could try it on to alter it further. I knew I would have to make a set in silk too, the pair would make a lovely pretty practical for lazing around the house or under a sheer robe.

***

By the time I was finished it was past lunchtime. I'd recieved a notification that my couch should be round anytime today and seeing the time, I scurried back into the house to prepare a quick late lunch/early supper for myself. A quick salad and a cup of tea later I waited patiently inside for my delivery. Cosidering how I could patch up Dorians quilt. I'd have to look through my scraps and match patterns as well as possible. Or highlight the holes, maybe with plain fabric and bright embroidery overlays. It would be a challenge though, getting it all to gel well. I'd leave it for today. While packing up the quilt and jeans my bra that Dorian found fell to the floor, I picked it up. Running the thin fabric through my fingers, I shivered thinking about Dorian interacting with it, unclasping it, imagining him reaching up toward my shoulder blades and using his strong hands to carefully undo the clasp, letting the small piece fall to the floor, the cool fabric sending a waterfall of shivers down my naked torso as it fell past my breasts. It made me blush as I realized what I was entertaining. I shook my head trying to remove the thoughts from my brain. This couch better arrive soon or else I might turn into a mess of pent up sexial tension, I think, trying to redirect my train of thought before I went too far with my daydreaming.

***

I have not been a Saint since my wife died, but I haven't touched another person since her passing. Unless you count myself... There were certain needs I fulfill for myself up here in my small cabin. Masturbation is healthy to an extent, but I never allowed myself to fantasize while I did it. It was always just a routine, usually occurring in the mornings. However, I found myself straying from routine these last few days, my body seems to be diverging from the map of my everyday. If find myself hard, considering small details of the past days events. It made things tricky. Suddenly having to come to terms with an attraction that was not my wife. It had been a very long time since I'd done any sort of physical act with anyone. Even when Sylvia was alive, the last year she was pretty sick and before that she worked all the time we hardly had time and if we did have time we were both so tired from work we'd much rather sleep. Living at the cabin seemed to make time seem slower. It was good. Time to think. Time to get stuff done. Time to consider pleasure, which I wasn't so very grateful for, considering how much conflict it was creating inside me. Perhaps confronting Day about this would be best. We are both adults and a small attraction is nothing we cannot handle and move past. I'd go round in the next few days, see how the blanket is and then I'd bring it up. At least that's the plan.

***