If you have seen my Twitter account you know I love everything retro! I just saw the new Cate Blanchett film, Carol so that period and just before was on my mind. My story is based on the shortage of stockings just before the end of WWII…
Grace was afraid to turn around and look down. Alfred held her ankle, and she tried not to squirm. He had told her to stay still, perfectly still.
Grace was the last one in the shop. She had seen the lines for nylons in passing, and she wanted none of it. Of course they all wanted the war to be over, but mainly Grace wanted to be able to get a pair of stockings again…
She had tried the paint for them, but she had not had a brand that had been as effective as she hoped. Grace had been excited to hear that Alfred at her favorite shoe store in the city was painting seams right on women’s bare legs so well, that no one could tell the difference.
The woman in front of her had just walked out of the store, when she finally stopped gawking at how gorgeous her faux seams looked. It was made with gravy paint, Alfred said that his mother made the best gravy and it worked well.
Grace tried to stay still, but it was hard. Hard for her to stay still when Alfred touched her like he did—caressing her calves, and stroking her leg with the tip of his paintbrush. She pulled up her skirt just a bit, and he painted so delicately. Like she was porcelain or crystal. She closed her eyes, as his brush moved slowly down her leg.
“Stay still,” he whispered to her.
Grace had always loved that the feeling of actual stockings, against her fingers. Sometimes she put her cheek to them. She often perfumed them when she was washed them, so they smelled of her. She liked the feeling of putting them on her legs, it was her solo pleasure. But now, with Alfred’s hand on her legs, it was a partnership.
“You have such lovely legs, you do not need to even wear stockings,” he said quietly.
“That would not be proper!” she said, turning around quickly and his brush zigzagged on her leg.
“You moved,” he said. “I was not suggesting you not wear stockings. I was just telling you, you have beautiful legs.”
When Grace looked down at him, she noticed his eyes, which she had not noticed the entire time she had been waiting in the store. She was instantly sorry she had snapped at him. Alfred had been on his knees for hours, painting women’s legs and he had not uttered a word of complaint. Grace had barely heard his voice until now.
“I’m sorry. I guess thank you?”
“I see a lot of women from down here, and I could not help but tell you, you are beautiful…”
Grace turned and looked out of the window, as she felt him correct the paint where she had made him veer off of his course. He began painting in a straight line again, and the skin on the back of her legs might as well had been between her legs…But she stayed still perfectly still for the rest of the time like he had told her to.
Until his hand traveled further up her leg, and he made her shiver deliciously…
stockings via wikimedia commons
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