Sensual Politics

one

picture: betty's vintage tee

01

one

Her high heels click against the floorboards of her bedroom with a rhythmic cadence as she wanders across the large space, brushing her golden blonde curls. She stops in front of the full length mirror, and admires her reflection with a satisfied smile. Petite figure, blue eyes with flecks of golden shine and full curved lips. She's still in her pastel pink bra and denim jeans, vacillating between her tees and sweatshirts. She's always been the kind of girl who puts on shoes first, then the outfit forms itself. Settling on a butterfly vintage tee, she picked up her sunglasses and her new phone - courtesy of her step-dad - looking forward to her date with James.

Making her way down the stairs and into the living room, she tells her mother not to wait up for her. Her mother makes an approving mumble of sorts and scoots further into the couch, popping nachos and increasing the television volume. For Betty, her mother is her entire world. When her real father walked out on them about a decade ago, the metaphorical rug under their lives was pulled and thrown away. Both of them slipped hard on the ground, bruising their souls. As a byproduct, Betty grew up faster than most people her age. Experiences made her independent, her views expanded and she learned the hard way that nothing is permanent. So she planted a swift kiss on her mother's cheek, bidding her goodbye and headed out the back door through the garden.

The evening wind was dry and lazy; the last of the sunshine thinning behind a veil of dark purple sky. The walk to James' home wasn't a long one but she took her time on the cobblestone path, loving the comforting click of heels against it.

She heard him before she saw him. The unmistakable spin of the wheels on his skateboard. Sure enough, when she turned the corner, he was there. Dark jeans, grey t-shirt, hair swaying a bit and a heart stopping smile on his lips. He was looking straight at Betty, causing delicious shivers to shoot up her spine. With one swing of his leg on the ground, he wheeled towards her, his hand expertly sliding across her waist and pulling her into him. Still standing on the skateboard, he brushed his lips against her ear.

"You'll fall if you continue that," she mumbled against him, his scent dancing in her senses and a smile struggling to break out on her own lips.

"I've already fallen," James whispered and pulled back, stepping out of the skateboard. He clamped their hands together and leaned in to take her glossed lips within his. Betty let out an involuntary sound of approval as his tongue slid across her lips. His hands snaked around her while hers combed his dark messy hair. She pressed herself into him as much as physically possible while completely clothed, and standing in the side of the street. They broke apart and he inhaled her gasp of breaths. "Hi, Betty."

"Hey," Betty smiled.

James lazily twirled a curl of her hair in his index finger. "You look beautiful."

"Really?" She feigned surprise, but little compliments like these made her heart flutter. "I look like this all the time."

"My point exactly," James grinned. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Dying to."

~•~

Swinging their clasped hands ever so slightly, a rush of overwhelming content took over Betty's insides and she couldn't help but memorize the touch of his palm, his fingers, the little jump in his walk, and the nonchalant gaze in his eyes as he tells one story after the other. She plastered this memory into the depths of her mind to visit later, like a journal.