His fingers twitched above the keys. He could feel her behind him, watching him, possibly thinking of that morning like he was.
“Watch it!” Molly was running down the hall towards the washroom he’d just left. This wasn’t unusual. Molly ran everywhere. What was unusual was her state of dress. Or, state of undress.
Long, pale legs bare for all to see running down from a impossibly small set of black satin knickers. She held a man’s shirt on at her chest, unbuttoned, hair loose and a waving flag of curls behind her.
“Well, Mr. Ward! It’s a party, do you plan on courting that piano or playing it?” Playful, was her voice and hand brushing his shoulder before standing next to the instrument and leaning one hip against it.
He mumbled a ‘sorry’ she didn’t hear as she swept into the loo. It wasn’t his fault he was stuck standing in front of the door, frozen by the assault of her so early in the morning.
He smirked at her as his fingers danced out a tune. The beginnings of “Good Golly, Miss Molly” filled the room and everyone in the room began to nod their head and smile, getting up to dance.
“Oh, wait!” Just when he had pulled his feet from the floor, she called him back. Just a glimpse of rosy shoulders, a soft belly and her arms over her chest before she threw the man’s shirt in his face sending him into darkness. “Sorry, nicked it from the laundry, didn’t realize it was yours.”
Her skirts moved around her legs as she danced to his song, legs he couldn’t help remember as he missed a note thinking of that morning. Something in her laughing eyes told him she’d noticed.
The Larkspur Sonnets, a modern inspired Victorian romance