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writetomyheart2022-01-06 06:52 pm
nachtegael.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2022-01-06 06:52 pm
Entry tags:
[Team Three] Too Much
This is fic based on the book One Night, New York by Lara Thompson. 450 words, G
“A little bit too much,” Agnes murmured. She swiped her thumb along the edge of Frances’ upper lip, somehow removing the excess lipstick without smudging it. Frances watched her smooth the red makeup along her bottom lip next, staring fiercely into the mirror at her own reflection & willing herself not to fidget. “Okay, all done.”
“Thanks. It looks real good.” Frances turned to smile at Agnes. Agnes’ warm fingers tangled with her own under the rickety table that took up half of their cheap hotel room, leaving only a narrow walk space between it and the double bed. A bare lightbulb dangled from the low, water stained plaster overhead. They had to share a washroom at the end of the hall with the other residents on the floor, but the neighbors were quiet enough, kept to themselves. Exactly how Frances had hoped for. It wouldn’t do to draw attention, not as two foreigners with Agnes the only one who knew some French.
“Get your wrap on, let’s go.” Agnes already had the closet open, which stored their suitcases along with her precious camera & bag of darkroom equipment. She slipped into a loose fitting jacket of black silk that tied at the waist. Its hem sported a long fringe that quivered against the emerald satin of her wide legged trousers.
Frances accepted the wine red velvet shrug that Agnes held out to her. It was Agnes’, as was the midnight blue dress Frances wore underneath. She had taken it in on the sides but it was still too loose in the bosom. Agnes was the one with a figure that drew appreciative glances in the street, but that was another sort of attention that Frances didn’t envy none.
“You alright, sweet pea?” Agnes’ voice was low and comforting, her large eyes warm with concern.
“I’m fine,” Frances insisted, reaching out to tuck a lock of Agnes’ dark bobbed hair behind her ear. “Just dreading the cold outside, I guess.” Agnes’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Frances yanked the pull cord to turn off the light before this could turn into an interrogation. They were both still on edge, only a few weeks out from the night in New York they were both still running from, and Frances wasn’t about to spoil their night out.
“Come on then.” Agnes clasped Frances’ hand, pulling her eagerly down the hall to the narrow staircase that led to the concierge desk on the ground floor. “We have dancing to do, and Pierre is going to introduce me to a prospective model. I don’t want to be late.”
Last words: “I don’t want to be late.”
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ext_4265261
“A little bit too much,” Agnes murmured. She swiped her thumb along the edge of Frances’ upper lip, somehow removing the excess lipstick without smudging it. Frances watched her smooth the red makeup along her bottom lip next, staring fiercely into the mirror at her own reflection & willing herself not to fidget. “Okay, all done.”
“Thanks. It looks real good.” Frances turned to smile at Agnes. Agnes’ warm fingers tangled with her own under the rickety table that took up half of their cheap hotel room, leaving only a narrow walk space between it and the double bed. A bare lightbulb dangled from the low, water stained plaster overhead. They had to share a washroom at the end of the hall with the other residents on the floor, but the neighbors were quiet enough, kept to themselves. Exactly how Frances had hoped for. It wouldn’t do to draw attention, not as two foreigners with Agnes the only one who knew some French.
“Get your wrap on, let’s go.” Agnes already had the closet open, which stored their suitcases along with her precious camera & bag of darkroom equipment. She slipped into a loose fitting jacket of black silk that tied at the waist. Its hem sported a long fringe that quivered against the emerald satin of her wide legged trousers.
Frances accepted the wine red velvet shrug that Agnes held out to her. It was Agnes’, as was the midnight blue dress Frances wore underneath. She had taken it in on the sides but it was still too loose in the bosom. Agnes was the one with a figure that drew appreciative glances in the street, but that was another sort of attention that Frances didn’t envy none.
“You alright, sweet pea?” Agnes’ voice was low and comforting, her large eyes warm with concern.
“I’m fine,” Frances insisted, reaching out to tuck a lock of Agnes’ dark bobbed hair behind her ear. “Just dreading the cold outside, I guess.” Agnes’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Frances yanked the pull cord to turn off the light before this could turn into an interrogation. They were both still on edge, only a few weeks out from the night in New York they were both still running from, and Frances wasn’t about to spoil their night out.
“Come on then.” Agnes clasped Frances’ hand, pulling her eagerly down the hall to the narrow staircase that led to the concierge desk on the ground floor. “We have dancing to do, and Pierre is going to introduce me to a prospective model. I don’t want to be late.”
Last words: “I don’t want to be late.”
ext_4265261