Re: Gatsby: Clementine & Irene
"Bet they don't got a clue what to make of you, most folks back home." Clementine was real entertained by that, by imagining this woman living in that real old time. She wasn't any expert on history, but she knew the Victorian era some from movies her momma liked, real romantic things where women nearly perished from loving that was built on one dance during some real fine ball. She liked the thought of this copper-haired woman in that world, scandalizing the hell out of all and sundry. See, Declan, he tended to think Clementine liked risks, dangerous things, things made for trouble. But Clementine appreciated Irene's kind of scandal better, and maybe that was all come from Clementine's momma, all those Sundays in church with a big old hat and plenty of cleavage, deliberately sitting there and everyone knowing she was bedding a married man, the wolf among the lambs.
Clementine, she reckoned Irene was a wolf in her own way, and Clementine could appreciate that just fine.
"I reckon if my New York can't scandalize you, then there ain't a thing in this world can manage. You're going to need to return the favor someday and take me to a real pretty ball. Think I'd suit?" She was sitting on the bed by the time she asked, watching Irene peel off blue like it was the skin on some fruit.
And Clementine, she liked women just as well as men. Some things she liked more about them, like the way they smelled pretty and could smile like trouble was brewing a storm behind their eyes. Men, they were simpler mostly, but they had real nice arms for holding. And Clementine, she didn't feel the need to like one more than the other. So, she watched, elbows back on the pillow and real easy. "Thought corsets were required, or you just making this easy for me by not wearing one?" she asked, all grinning, as she sat up.
"I ain't ever helped a person get dressed before," she admitted, crossing the room and taking that red between reaching fingers and pale yellow fingernails. She fussed with the fabric, getting it right, and close Clementine smelled like azaleas, magnolias, deceptively sweet and quiet floral, all purple and virgin white. "I had a maid to do it when I was small, dress me. A lady's maid, my daddy called her, and it made me feel real grown." It wasn't a bad memory, not all of it, and there was some smiling with the admission. But she did as Irene asked and helped her into that dress, fingers straying some along skin while she got everything settled.
Outside, the lights did look real pretty, and she caught Irene looking. "I live in this same city, but it don't look near as fairy stories as it does here. Something 'bout this place, it's real pure. Makes me think of my momma." She stepped back, red where it ought to be, and she stepped into the smart heels she'd kicked off earlier. "You turn and let me look."