Sunday Mass and Brunch(private, Rachyl)(lock please)
Meegan had left her house early enough to drop the car off at the rental place and chose to walk the seven blocks down The Strip to Sts. Peter and Paul Holy Roman Catholic Church. The nine o'clock mass was always the fullest, and she began to wonder if she should maybe wait an hour and go at ten. She didn't exactly enjoy the stares her floor-length black rubber trimmed skirt, with a hidden zipper that allowed her to make it mid-thigh length, and black cami with little red buttons and a small bow between her breasts, was garnering. She sighed softly. 'One would think in a city like this where the largest Catholic Church is on The Strip, would be more tolerant of clothing choices, but nooo.'
She ascended the steps and took her place in the third pew on the left, that was the great thing about Catholic Churches, everyone sat in the same spot every single Sunday. She knew each time that her little space would be empty. If it wasn't, well she'd find another, but that had only happened twice since she'd been in Nachton.
She endured the fourty-five minutes, of standing, sitting, kneeling, singing and repeating the words she had said every Sunday since she was old enough to get them out of her face. When the last hymn had been sung, she filed out with the rest of the crowd, but unlike most of them she had a smile on her face, because she had a date.
Rachyl showered and dressed quickly and picked up the packages she'd come home with the night before (she really wished Meegan had gone shopping with her, but, she realized, whatever took her out of town for almost twenty four hours had to have been important) and selected a black, fish-tail shaped skirt with oval-shaped stretchy areas on the legs, a long belt with silver buckles, and bolted beltloops. She climbed into it carefully, wiggling it around her bottom (which she noticed the night before is getting a bit smaller from her daily exercise regimen) and looked at the selection of tops she'd brought home.
Rachyl never really shopped in Hot Topic before, but some of the fashions near the door caught her eye, and before she knew it, she'd spent almost two hundred dollars there. "Gotta curtail my spending, but I really needed a few more outfits."
She selected the black corset with satin striping, lace trim, and bows, and slid into it, then carefully tied it on. "Must get Meegan to make sure they're tight," she thought as she picked up the new black velvet "military style" purse she'd also gotten. Dropping the requisite items in it - keys, wallet, tampon, brush, makeup - she rested her bottom on the edge of the couch to slide her new black flats on, checked her cell's clock, then nearly pushed the couch through the wall in her haste to get out the front door.
"Of all the... Forgot I had so far to go on the bus, I hope I don't miss the right route!"
Nearly running down her block, Rachyl just caught up to the bus as it was pulling into the stop, and paid her fare.
"Cherries, huh," she thought as the bus rolled past their meeting spot. "American fare with a French-style brunch, whatever that means."
Irreverently, her sarcastic mind quipped, "Shouldn't it be Freedom-style?" She giggled to herself, drawing a few strange looks.
Five minutes later the cabbie pulled up outside the restraunt. Meegan paid her fair and climbed out. When she looked down to smooth her skirt she noticed a scuff in her brand new four-inch heeled, platform mary janes, right under the red ribbon detail. She muttered a curse, then headed into the restraunt.
She gave her name to the hostess and asked for a table for two, near a window if possible. She stepped back outside Cherries, with a small pager in her hand, to wait for Rachyl.
Rachyl found herself walking faster to meet her friend, and in her single-mindedness was nearly run over - with loud, blaring horn - by the taxi she guessed the other woman had just left. Exiting almost gracefully back on to the sidewalk, she entered the patio area of Cherries, and saw Meegan standing just beyond the door, looking the opposite way.
She looked so very tall with her humungous heels - four inches, Rachyl guessed - and she realized that, standing looking at each other, she'd have a spectacular, eye-level view of her breasts.
Shaking her head as her skin pebbled from the chill breeze of the inner establishment's air conditioning (as well as the thoughts she carefully tried to push away), she thought to herself, "Today's going to be a great day."
She stepped quietly behind the taller woman and carefully reached up and tickled the back of her neck with a rounded fingernail.
"Hi! It's great to see you." Meegan giggled. "You'd think I didn't see you on Friday or anything. How has your weekend been?"
Leaning back, she smiled and winked. When Meegan straightened Rachyl noticed something... different... about her demeanor. "You'll have to tell me how yours was, and especially why you look different. And it's not just that hair... Messy pigtails with those braids, mmm mm! but something else..."
She pursed her lips slightly, then smiled again. "But let's wait til we sit down, hm? I'm starved."
"That sounds good to me. The hostess said it wouldn't be long."
As she spoke the little pager in her hand began to vibrate. "See?" Laughing she opened the door and let Rachyl go ahead of her. What she wanted most was a bloody mary and some of the wonderful pastries they have here.
The hostess led them to a table for two situated between two windows, Meegan and Rachyl sat in the wicker peacock backed chairs. The woman gave them menus and told them to enjoy their meal. Meegan grinned at Rachyl and opened her menu. As she looked over the choices she spoke.
"Yesterday was the anniversary of my parents death."
One of the corset laces was caught, probably on a broken strand of wicker.
She was about to ask Meegan to help unstick her when her companion rather nonchalantly and in a very conversational tone said, "Yesterday was the anniversary of my parents death."
Suddenly the corset lace didn't seem so important as thoughts of condolences and other things "one should say when learning of a death" ran through her mind. "I'm sorry" just never seemed to cut it, in these cases.
She reached out as best she could, but couldn't quite touch Meegan's menu, so she bounced the chair around the table, and pushed the plastic-coated cardboard to the surface, and caught Meegan's gaze. Softly placing her hand on the other woman's, she tried to keep her eyes from watering as she said quietly, though emotion suddenly thickened her voice, "Tell me about them?"
"No, I don't think I will. They were not exactly nice people and one should not speak ill of the dead. They loved me, very much, and that is all that matters." Meegan put her hand on top of Rachyl's and stroked it lightly with her thumb. "No, what I will tell you is that I look different, because I realized yesterday that I am no longer grieving for my parents. A great and tremendous weight has been lifted from my shoulders and for the first time in nine years I feel free."
A small frown crossed Meegan's face as she realized how that must sound. 'Gee your parents are dead and you finally feel free of them. Some daughter you are.'
Rachyl briefly thought about her own mother and realized that, should she find out her mother passed on, she might have the same epiphany after a few years of grieving.
"What can I get you ladies to drink this morning?"
Meegan looked up and smiled. 'You my dear have just earned a very large tip, keep up the good work.'
"Bloody Mary, please." Meegan looked to Rachyl, still smiling.
The woman nodded then backed away, saying she'd be right back. Rachyl turned back to Meegan and said, "Before we get settled and start conversating (yes, I just made that up) I need you to do me one favor... Uh... my corset laces seem to be stuck on the chair." She couldn't help but blush a little as she told Meegan what her problem was.
"There, all better." She returned to her seat, and swallowed several times, and barely succeeding in holding back her laughter. She was fairly certain a small twitter escaped in there somewhere.
After a few moments, she regained some of her composure and took Rachyl's hand.
"Oh honey, I'm sorry!" Another chuckle. "Oh, but I needed that, so thank you." Meegan cleared her throat and managed to damp down the rest of her laughter.
"So tell what you've done with your weekend."
She giggled briefly. A thought crossed her mind... She'd said "we had shipments..." It dawned on her that she actually did feel like she belonged at Gothic-Ah, and that she was part of the family.
"That is because our retail line is called Gothic Threads. Or as most places like to advertise, 'Gothic Threads, a Gothic-ah corporation.' When in truth there is nothing corporated about Gothic-ah or Gothic Threads."
The waitress returned with their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Meegan smiled at her and glanced back down at her menu.
"I'd like to start with the pastry sampler, then the broccoli quiche for a main course, and finish up with the fruit plate."
She closed her menu and gave it to the black clad waitress.
Looking back at the waitress, she said, "I'll have the mushroom quiche, an order of lightly toasted English muffins, and the fruit plate sounds lovely." Handing the menu to her, she smiled, then found her eyes drawn to her curvaceous bottom as she turned and walked away.
"Well, I only feel slightly dumb for having bought them at the store, and besides, now that I think about it, it -is- kind of strange to be paying my own salary." She giggled, then poured some sugar into her tea, and stirred it thoroughly.
"I've never had quitchee before, but then, I'm always happy to try something new once, as long as I get to say 'nope, don't like it'. And I know, I said 'keesh' wrong, but 'quitchee' sounds so much more correct, and it's a lot more fun to say!"
"My Aunt had high tea in my honor last evening. I have to say buying my own fahsions would have been much more agreeable than spending three hours with the entire snob network of Richmond."
It will be a long cold day in July when she accepts another invitation from her aunt. It still made her angry that Liliane decided to celebrate her grief. Not that it was unusual, the woman very nearly danced on her mother's grave. It didn't help that the majority of the "Family Money" had gone to Meegan's mother's younger sister. The woman lorded it and The House over everyone else in the family. 'All I can say is that it's a good damn thing my parents were wealthy outside of 'the family', other wise, I might very well be in that horrid woman's debt.'
She stirred her drink with the celery stalk, then took another sip. She searched her head for another less anger inducing subject and lighted on the idea she had on the way to Cherries.
"When we're finished here, do you want to go to a museum, or shopping or catch a movie, or something?"
The waitress set a large plate of several small pastries and two small plates infront of them, smiled and walked away.
Meegan chose a flaky pastry with cherry filling.