Alphabet Soup Table - 7. Girdle - Golden Girls
Title: Southern Beauty
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt: FemSlash100100 Alphabet Soup: Girdle
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,460
Date Written: 29 August 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Dorothy hesitates even as her fingers close around the doorknob to Blanche's room. She's making such awful noises that Dorothy's almost certain her friend is in pain, but Blanche has never exactly been known for being quiet. In fact, Dorothy heard her screaming just last night again, but those screams didn't sound like these gasps and groans. They didn't sound painful at all but rather like a cat in heat finally mating.
Still, Dorothy's checked the house and the yard. Rose told her she thought she heard a man slipping out two hours ago, and although the blonde isn't always the best witness, Dorothy knows she heard a car crank up and leave about that time as well. And there's no unknown vehicles in the yard. They could have taken Blanche's car, but Blanche was picked up by her date last night. Still, with Blanche Deveraux, that doesn't exactly mean the coast is clear. Nothing ever guarantees there isn't a naked man in Blanche's room.
"Blanche?" she calls again, testing the knob. It isn't locked. She pushes the door open just a crack and starts to peer in. "Blanche?" Another painful groan has Dorothy opening the door fully and stepping into the room. She's glad to see there's no one but Blanche inside, but her eyes squint and she looks closer at what the Southern belle is now attempting to do. "Blanche," she pauses again before finally asking, "what are you doing?"
"Help me with this, Dorothy."
"What?" Dorothy questions, coming forward. "Do you have another meeting with the High Society of Southern Belle Granddaughters or whatever that little club of yours is called?"
"You know very well that that was the Daughters of the Confederacy, an' despite their narrow, little minds, Ah am more Southern than they will evah be!" She sucks in her breath and once more tries to tie the string in the middle of her back. Her breath leaves her in a sudden, unexpected rush, and she stumbles forward. "Darn it! Dorothy, help me with this thing!"
Dorothy slowly goes forward and takes the strings in her fingers. "What is this all about, Blanche?" she asks, but her friend can't answer as she's sucked in and holding her breath again.
Dorothy manages to tie the strings, but the very moment she releases them and steps away and Blanche releases her breath, the last five pop simultaneously. They fly through the room, one slapping at Dorothy's hand as it passes her. "Blanche -- "
"It's th' latest fashion, Dorothy. Everybody's doing it now. All the big stars and models. Even some of the men."
"Men are dressing in girdles?"
"Some of them did it back in the old days too, you know. It helps a girl keep her figure."
"More likely," Dorothy mutters, already going after the strings, "it helps suffocate a girl to death."
"Oh, nonsense, Dorothy! Come on. Help me one more time! We almost had it!"
"Blanche, this is insane -- "
"Please?" she asks, turning to face her with her most seductive pout. Dorothy, seeing the swell of Blanche's luscious breasts just above her white girdle, finds herself unable to argue. "Turn around," she murmurs instead, dropping her eyes away from her figure.
Blanche spins obediently, and Dorothy relaces her strings. She ties one at a time, doing the last five a little more loosely this time. They're staying in place until Blanche whirls around. The motion suddenly snaps them with such force that Blanche topples into Dorothy. The impact of her body against Dorothy's sends the taller woman careening toward the window. She tries to stop her fall but only manages to land against the wall instead of in shattered glass.
"That's it," she says, picking herself up. "Blanche, this is ridiculous! You don't need a girl! Those things should have been burned back when women were burning bras!"
"Some o' them were, but this is a new one, Dorothy," Blanche tries to explain, pouting once more.
"I don't care if it was made my Madonna! You don't need it! You don't need anything crushing the hair out of you, and you most certainly don't need anything to try to make you look more beautiful than you already are! You're already the most beautiful -- " She stops, realizing where her tirade is taking her and looking at her friend through wide eyes.
"Go on," Blanche encourages with a smile, sashaying toward her. "You're on a roll." She grins and flutters her eyelashes. "You always know just what to say to get a girl's admiration."
"I -- Hum -- Well, I -- Come on, Blanche! You already know you're beautiful! You don't need that thing!"
"Am Ah, Dorothy?" Blanche asks softly, lips pursing and breasts bobbing almost out of the top of the loosened girdle. "Am Ah really that beautiful? Ah don't feel so beautiful with these few extra pounds Ah've put on."
"A few pounds are nothing! You're still the most beautiful out of all of us!"
"Well, that isn't exactly saying much, Dorothy -- "
"What do you want me to say, Blanche?"
"Ah want to hear you say that Ah'm th' most beautiful woman you've evah known."
"Well, you are, but I'm not a man to say it! You don't want my admiration! You're more after boys like the one you brought through here last night!"
"That's where you're wrong, Dorothy."
"Excuse me?"
"Ah do want yoah admiration!" She hurries on before she can stop her and figure out exactly what her problem is, "Ah want th' whole world to look at me, smile at me, and know how beautiful Ah am! Ah want men to lust after me an' women to want to be me, and -- "
"You've got me there, Blanche," Dorothy quietly interrupts. "I could never be you. It doesn't matter if I wanted to be you or not. I could never be you. But you are still the most beautiful woman I've ever known."
Blanche smiles. "There! That wasn't so hard, was it?" She glances down at the popped strings scattered across her floor. "Do you really think Ah don't need it?"
"Blanche, give the world a fighting chance. We already can't be as beautiful as you. At least don't eclipse us like the sun."
"You really think Ah'm that beautiful?" Blanche whispers, gazing up into Dorothy's eyes and daring to sashay a few steps closer.
"I know you are," Dorothy says, feeling heat rise into her cheekbones. She could stand and gaze at her beauty all day. She wishes she had the nerve to tell her just how beautiful she is and how much she truly cares for her. She does admire her beauty like a lustful, old man, but just like an old man who can't entertain her, Blanche will never truly accept her admiration.
Dorothy clears her throat and forces herself to look away from the Southern belle's beautiful, pleading face and her alluring breasts. "I also know I've got to get ready for work or I'm going to be late." She rushes from the room so quickly that she doesn't see the way Blanche's eyes sparkle or the happy glow that lights her face.
Blanche shuts the door behind Dorothy, just barely stopping herself from chasing after her. Eventually, her friend is going to come to her. Eventually, she's going to whisper all those secrets Blanche thrills at the mere thought of hearing. She's going to whisper how beautiful she is into her ears, and she's going to worship her body. The heat rising in Blanche right now has nothing to do with the heat of the Summer sun beginning to rise outside her window. She spins through her room, picking up her strings and smiling the whole while. Oh, yes, eventually, Dorothy Zbornak is going to come to her, and something tells Blanche that when she does, Dorothy's pent up sexual frustration is going to pleasure her far more than any man ever has since her late George and perhaps even better than him as well!
She sings a classic, Southern ballad as she spins through her room. Soon, she's stepping into the shower. The cold water washes away the heat of her morning, but nothing can stop her smile. She's already had every man worth having in Miami, and soon, she's going to have Dorothy, too. Dorothy's right, of course: She is far more beautiful than any other woman. She's Blanche Deveraux, the Queen of Southern Beauty, and she's going to have every single thing she's ever wanted, including her best friend. She laughs, smiles, and sings. It's all going to come to her soon! She's going to have everything she's ever wanted! Her joy resonates off the bathroom tiles as she cools her own heated flesh and waits, still smiling.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt: FemSlash100100 Alphabet Soup: Girdle
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,460
Date Written: 29 August 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Dorothy hesitates even as her fingers close around the doorknob to Blanche's room. She's making such awful noises that Dorothy's almost certain her friend is in pain, but Blanche has never exactly been known for being quiet. In fact, Dorothy heard her screaming just last night again, but those screams didn't sound like these gasps and groans. They didn't sound painful at all but rather like a cat in heat finally mating.
Still, Dorothy's checked the house and the yard. Rose told her she thought she heard a man slipping out two hours ago, and although the blonde isn't always the best witness, Dorothy knows she heard a car crank up and leave about that time as well. And there's no unknown vehicles in the yard. They could have taken Blanche's car, but Blanche was picked up by her date last night. Still, with Blanche Deveraux, that doesn't exactly mean the coast is clear. Nothing ever guarantees there isn't a naked man in Blanche's room.
"Blanche?" she calls again, testing the knob. It isn't locked. She pushes the door open just a crack and starts to peer in. "Blanche?" Another painful groan has Dorothy opening the door fully and stepping into the room. She's glad to see there's no one but Blanche inside, but her eyes squint and she looks closer at what the Southern belle is now attempting to do. "Blanche," she pauses again before finally asking, "what are you doing?"
"Help me with this, Dorothy."
"What?" Dorothy questions, coming forward. "Do you have another meeting with the High Society of Southern Belle Granddaughters or whatever that little club of yours is called?"
"You know very well that that was the Daughters of the Confederacy, an' despite their narrow, little minds, Ah am more Southern than they will evah be!" She sucks in her breath and once more tries to tie the string in the middle of her back. Her breath leaves her in a sudden, unexpected rush, and she stumbles forward. "Darn it! Dorothy, help me with this thing!"
Dorothy slowly goes forward and takes the strings in her fingers. "What is this all about, Blanche?" she asks, but her friend can't answer as she's sucked in and holding her breath again.
Dorothy manages to tie the strings, but the very moment she releases them and steps away and Blanche releases her breath, the last five pop simultaneously. They fly through the room, one slapping at Dorothy's hand as it passes her. "Blanche -- "
"It's th' latest fashion, Dorothy. Everybody's doing it now. All the big stars and models. Even some of the men."
"Men are dressing in girdles?"
"Some of them did it back in the old days too, you know. It helps a girl keep her figure."
"More likely," Dorothy mutters, already going after the strings, "it helps suffocate a girl to death."
"Oh, nonsense, Dorothy! Come on. Help me one more time! We almost had it!"
"Blanche, this is insane -- "
"Please?" she asks, turning to face her with her most seductive pout. Dorothy, seeing the swell of Blanche's luscious breasts just above her white girdle, finds herself unable to argue. "Turn around," she murmurs instead, dropping her eyes away from her figure.
Blanche spins obediently, and Dorothy relaces her strings. She ties one at a time, doing the last five a little more loosely this time. They're staying in place until Blanche whirls around. The motion suddenly snaps them with such force that Blanche topples into Dorothy. The impact of her body against Dorothy's sends the taller woman careening toward the window. She tries to stop her fall but only manages to land against the wall instead of in shattered glass.
"That's it," she says, picking herself up. "Blanche, this is ridiculous! You don't need a girl! Those things should have been burned back when women were burning bras!"
"Some o' them were, but this is a new one, Dorothy," Blanche tries to explain, pouting once more.
"I don't care if it was made my Madonna! You don't need it! You don't need anything crushing the hair out of you, and you most certainly don't need anything to try to make you look more beautiful than you already are! You're already the most beautiful -- " She stops, realizing where her tirade is taking her and looking at her friend through wide eyes.
"Go on," Blanche encourages with a smile, sashaying toward her. "You're on a roll." She grins and flutters her eyelashes. "You always know just what to say to get a girl's admiration."
"I -- Hum -- Well, I -- Come on, Blanche! You already know you're beautiful! You don't need that thing!"
"Am Ah, Dorothy?" Blanche asks softly, lips pursing and breasts bobbing almost out of the top of the loosened girdle. "Am Ah really that beautiful? Ah don't feel so beautiful with these few extra pounds Ah've put on."
"A few pounds are nothing! You're still the most beautiful out of all of us!"
"Well, that isn't exactly saying much, Dorothy -- "
"What do you want me to say, Blanche?"
"Ah want to hear you say that Ah'm th' most beautiful woman you've evah known."
"Well, you are, but I'm not a man to say it! You don't want my admiration! You're more after boys like the one you brought through here last night!"
"That's where you're wrong, Dorothy."
"Excuse me?"
"Ah do want yoah admiration!" She hurries on before she can stop her and figure out exactly what her problem is, "Ah want th' whole world to look at me, smile at me, and know how beautiful Ah am! Ah want men to lust after me an' women to want to be me, and -- "
"You've got me there, Blanche," Dorothy quietly interrupts. "I could never be you. It doesn't matter if I wanted to be you or not. I could never be you. But you are still the most beautiful woman I've ever known."
Blanche smiles. "There! That wasn't so hard, was it?" She glances down at the popped strings scattered across her floor. "Do you really think Ah don't need it?"
"Blanche, give the world a fighting chance. We already can't be as beautiful as you. At least don't eclipse us like the sun."
"You really think Ah'm that beautiful?" Blanche whispers, gazing up into Dorothy's eyes and daring to sashay a few steps closer.
"I know you are," Dorothy says, feeling heat rise into her cheekbones. She could stand and gaze at her beauty all day. She wishes she had the nerve to tell her just how beautiful she is and how much she truly cares for her. She does admire her beauty like a lustful, old man, but just like an old man who can't entertain her, Blanche will never truly accept her admiration.
Dorothy clears her throat and forces herself to look away from the Southern belle's beautiful, pleading face and her alluring breasts. "I also know I've got to get ready for work or I'm going to be late." She rushes from the room so quickly that she doesn't see the way Blanche's eyes sparkle or the happy glow that lights her face.
Blanche shuts the door behind Dorothy, just barely stopping herself from chasing after her. Eventually, her friend is going to come to her. Eventually, she's going to whisper all those secrets Blanche thrills at the mere thought of hearing. She's going to whisper how beautiful she is into her ears, and she's going to worship her body. The heat rising in Blanche right now has nothing to do with the heat of the Summer sun beginning to rise outside her window. She spins through her room, picking up her strings and smiling the whole while. Oh, yes, eventually, Dorothy Zbornak is going to come to her, and something tells Blanche that when she does, Dorothy's pent up sexual frustration is going to pleasure her far more than any man ever has since her late George and perhaps even better than him as well!
She sings a classic, Southern ballad as she spins through her room. Soon, she's stepping into the shower. The cold water washes away the heat of her morning, but nothing can stop her smile. She's already had every man worth having in Miami, and soon, she's going to have Dorothy, too. Dorothy's right, of course: She is far more beautiful than any other woman. She's Blanche Deveraux, the Queen of Southern Beauty, and she's going to have every single thing she's ever wanted, including her best friend. She laughs, smiles, and sings. It's all going to come to her soon! She's going to have everything she's ever wanted! Her joy resonates off the bathroom tiles as she cools her own heated flesh and waits, still smiling.
The End