Obscure Occurrences |C. BAREBONE|

☛ Nine ☚

• December, 1925 •

The table was adorned in silk handkerchiefs and covering, not forgetting to be accented with reds as the candles hit them with a flame. For a moment, Genevieve froze at the sight, remembering that day all too clearly. But she had to be a lady.

While she walked beside Emma toward her seat, Genevieve was in the process of gulping down her trauma and enjoying the night. It's only a little flame- she thought to herself, -it won't harm you.

Once she sat down, in-between Polly and Henry, Genevieve could already feel that knowing stare rake over her body.
Mrs. Glover told her to give him a chance. Yet how could she when he was undressing her with his eyes?

So, in silence, throughout the whole dinner, Genevieve ate quietly as Victor and Mr. Shaw Sr spoke.

In fact, as she stared at the older man through her long lashes, she realised who he was. Henry Shaw Sr was the man that she and Credence had seen in the streets. And she hoped he was better than the entitled ass she predicted.

"And what do you like to do, Genevieve?-" Henry Sr asked as he gnawed on a piece of steak. "-Hobbies and such".

"I love to read and taking walks-" she flickered her eyes to Victor. "- with Father of course. We normally go through Central Park".

"Didn't we go skating there last Christmas, Henry?" Emma added to the conversation.

"We did too... Though I can't say I'm talented on the skates. I think I would have more luck swimming with an anchor attached to my ankle" Genevieve giggled with Henry Jr following suit.

"I guess I'll have to teach you some time" Henry Jr added, shining those pearly white teeth while Polly's eyes flickered from Genevieve to her son.

"On The fifteenth, they are opening the ice-rink at Central Park. You can practice then?" Polly spoke up.

Already, at the date, Henry's mind filled with the possibilities. Beside him, was a petite girl with the beautiful name of Genevieve, she was all his as he saw the look in his Father's eyes... In Langdon's eyes.

"Perhaps I can find a day clear my schedule" Henry said, attempting to hide his excitement.

"Then I will look forward to it" and with Genevieve's rehearsed smile, she returned to her meal, unable to get rid of the sickening feeling sitting in her gut. She just wished she could return to the world of the Great Gatsby. Genevieve could just see the lavish parties awaiting her against the glow of a green light across solid, midnight water.

☛✹☚

When Victor and Genevieve Burnett finally returned home, she didn't wait for the driver to open the door for her. No. She sprinted from the automobile as fast as possible, past an astounded Mrs. Glover and up to her room. Where she was safe and where nobody could harm her as she delved into her bed sheets. They smelt of floral washing powder and felt like angel feathers, soft like she dreamt of.

Today was a disaster, she didn't want it, or that life. Despite what Polly Shaw appeared as, that smile was too intense and superficial.

Eventually, as the night rolled around and her dress became too tight. Genevieve disrobed and fell into her sheets with a bareness she had long forgotten.

Genevieve could feel the cold blankets against her prickled skin. She knew how improper it was to laid spread out and open to everything she could see, hear... Feel. However, it was beautiful. Especially, as she indulged in the frozen air embracing her. It felt oddly... Pleasurable. Genevieve didn't want to raise from the bed. And after such a long night, she convinced herself she deserved such a thing. To bask in such sinful desires of touch and taste.

Oh God, she wanted to feel so badly. While being trapped away in her own makeshift tower. Genevieve wanted rough, familiar hands to travel the expanse of her milky flesh. She wanted to blend into those hands and that body connected. Genevieve was taken over.

Her hands didn't know what they were doing. Each finger seemed to have a mind of its own as it flittered and fluttered across the surface of her skin. Every gentle touch couldn't be held back as it trailed each slight -extremely slight- curve of her body. They travelled up, tracing her prominent collar bone, caressing her soft jawline and raking through her silky, sun-kissed hair. As she drowned in such a forbidden sensation... A boy of raven hair and ink pools for eyes entered her thoughts. Ultimately, allowing his name to role off her lips with a distinct yet hushed moan. That's when Genevieve felt a persistent throbbing.

That's when she jumped and spread her arms wide to deprive her body of such touch. She couldn't divulge in such lusts. Not when she had a line of suitors waiting around the corner of her dreams.