During her time as a WASP Joan had grown accustomed to wearing trousers where folk could see it. When she had been a teenager of course she had worn pants, it was so much more convenient when you were doing farmwork, or flying the little cropduster, but in the house she had been relegated to skirts. After the war it had been difficult to stick to trousers, no matter how much she had wanted to. After all, she was to be a married woman, and there were certain expectations that came with that position, even if she and Marvin knew it was just to keep up appearances. Skirts were somewhat of a nuisance.
Living in a suburb like theirs also came with certain expectations that one didn’t have on a farm. In summer it was a neighbourly barbecue, and Joan could smell the grill outside, burgers grilling as she leaned against the counter, half listening to an inane story Maggie was regaling them with, her eyes on Dolores as she nodded and hummed at appropriate moments. The bookclub host had graciously offered them her aid as they prepared snacks for the neighbourhood’s increasingly large group of children, and Joan wasn’t sure it wasn’t partially to boast futilely about how well her daughter had been doing in class as the three of them worked to decorate slices of canned pineapple with cheez whiz and a cherry. They had finished a good ten minutes ago, and Maggie was still going, despite both her own and Dolores’s attempts at graciously waving her off.
Dolores was quietly shaking her head in empathy, eyes flicking to Joan every now and again, as Maggie launched into a complaint about the PTA when from outside a hellish wailing broke loose, and a young girl’s voice called out.
“Mom!” The vowel was drawn out, plaintively, unmistakably Sarah, and inwardly Joan heaved a sigh of relief, as this had to mean Maggie would leave them, if only for a moment. Maggie hesitated in her story, and all was quiet for a moment, before Sarah called out again, and she had to admit defeat. Joan smiled blandly, a mere pulling at the corners of her mouth in response, looking only at Dolores as they were left alone in the kitchen, both of them seeming to breathe more freely now they were alone.
Joan was the first to push off the counter, crossing the small space to where Dolores sat, a smile bordering on salacious grin on her face as she looked up at Joan, and Joan held out a hand. Dolores quirked an eyebrow at her, eyes flitting to the doorway, “what did you have in mind, my darling?”
She had always loved it when Dolores called her sweet things, even if the words had been considerably less hard to say when they had been free. Not that that had ever stopped her from responding to them, and she bent slightly, hand reaching out to tilt Joan’s chin up, brushing soft lips with her thumb before gently placing a kiss on them. Kissing Dolores was another thing that felt almost clandestine these days, but that never stopped her either, and she could feel Dolores tug gently at the lapels of her blouse, a flash of teeth against her own bottom lip, both of them breathing faster as they parted.
“They won’t miss us.” Joan’s eyes flicked to the door opening again, before being drawn back in by Dolores, the tugging at her lapels insistent. She swallowed hard when Dolores pushed gently against her chest, gaze heated as she repeated “they won’t miss us. Not for a little while.”
Dolores pushed, getting up, getting into Joan’s space, pressing their bodies together, hand against the small of her back insistent, the other intertwining with one of Joan’s, tugging gently. There was no real need for words, Joan peeking around the corner of the kitchen, the coast clear, one of the children still wailing outside, the murmur of voices and the laughing of men making it clear they had been right. Nobody would miss them for a while, and the Abbotts’ house was just next door, Stanley and Marvin both in the backyard and ready to cover for them.
Before Joan could open her mouth, Dolores pressed her against the wall for a moment, placing a gentle kiss under an ear, and Joan could feel a shiver run through her body before Dolores stepped away, pulling her toward the front door, letting go as she stepped outside, the both of them walking in stride, giddy, Joan barely suppressing a giggle as Dolores opened the door. They rushed inside, and after Dolores had turned the latch on the inside of the door, making sure they wouldn’t be intruded upon, she turned abruptly, hands on Joan’s hips, steering her backward into the wall, mouth insistent on hers.
She collided with the wall with a soft thud, Dolores’ body pressed against hers, one arm around her waist, grabbing at the back of her blouse, while her own hands ran up Dolores’ sides, everything else fallen away for just one stolen moment. She pushed back, kiss breaking like coming up for air, their chests rising and falling rapidly, taking in Dolores’ face, lips parted and cheeks flushed, knowing her own must mirror Dolores’.
They stood wordlessly like that for a moment, before Dolores pushed again, a grin on her face, Joan pushing back, switching their positions, pressing Dolores against the wall, hands roving over her blouse, fingers brushing over a nipple. Her reward was a breathy whimper from Dolores, biting her lip as she pulled Joan closer. “Do that again.”
Obliging, Joan moved her fingers again, rubbing her thumb over a nipple, Dolores closing her eyes as she did, hands on Joan’s hips closing, hiking up her skirt ever so slightly. Joan’s hands ran further down, smoothing over Dolores’ hips, caressing her leg through her skirt, Dolores canting her hips. Joan smirked, letting out a whine as Dolores returned the favour, pinching a nipple between thumb and index finger. She knew she must sound at least somewhat indignant as she spoke, a hint of the same smirk on her lips, “now that wasn’t fair.”
Dolores returned the smirk, leaning in, one hand sliding down along Joan’s body, to whisper “I never said I would be fair, my darling.”
The hot breath caressing her ear sent a shiver running down Joan’s body, gathering in the heat between her legs, and she pressed a leg between Dolores’ legs, bunching up her skirts, and Joan could feel the friction of Dolores grinding herself against her leg. She pressed a kiss against Dolores’ neck, and another, a hint of teeth, delighting in the sound Dolores made as she hiked up her skirt further, one hand gripping a thigh, fingers of the other brushing soft skin on the inside of her thighs.
As her fingers trailed up she could feel Dolores’s temperature rising, heat between her legs radiating outward. “Joan…” Dolores’ words trailed off as Joan gently ran her fingers over her underwear, eyes fixed on Joan, hips tilting to find more friction. Dolores whined deep in her throat as Joan slipped her fingers underneath the fabric, caressing her lips, before slipping a finger between, dragging it upward to the front, gathering wetness.
Joan pressed herself against Dolores, fingers gently sliding between her lips, upward to her clit, circling it as she bit where Dolores’ neck met her shoulders, drawing out a moan. “Joan, please…” Dolores’ hand moving down Joan’s front, reaching between them, underneath skirts. Joan’s movements stuttering as Dolores stroked her labia through her underwear, breathing heavily, before slipping her own fingers further down, caressing slick lips, circling Dolores’ entrance.
Joan stilled her movement, one finger pressing against Dolores who let out a whine, pulling her close with her free hand, kissing her, her lips soft, movements bordering on frantic as she deepened the kiss, whining in her throat, pushing her hips down against Joan’s hand, desperate for what was teased. Joan grinned into the kiss, tensing as Dolores slipped her fingers under her underwear, a moan escaping her, and pressed one finger gently up into Dolores, soft, warm, wet.
“Joan, please.”
The words came with desperation as Dolores tilted her hips, Joan crooking her finger as she moved, a second finger joining the first, pushing into Dolores. She picked up speed gradually as Dolores stroked her clit, her hips moving, seeking the friction, pressing against Dolores. She could feel Dolores clenching around her fingers, mimicking the spasms she could feel building in her own body.
Wrapping her free arm around Dolores, Joan pressed closer, teeth against Dolores’ neck, her ears, slipping a third finger into her, thumb finding Dolores’ clit, who let out groan, clenching around her fingers, her fingers frantically moving against Joan’s clit. Joan could feel the building tension in her body, and crooked her fingers forward, pressing, as she ground against Dolores’ fingers, tension coming to a point, and she spasmed, clenching around nothing as she kept her fingers moving inside Dolores, stilling as she came down.
They leaned against one another as they caught their breath, and Dolores chuckled softly, pressing a kiss against Joan’s temple. Joan looked up, lips quirking as she pressed a gently kiss against Dolores’ lips.
Skirts, despite their flaws, did have some advantages over trousers, she had to admit.