Allyn

It did really get dark out here when the moon floated full in the sky.  The bream beams waltzed down and shot off the smooth surface of the pond, illuminating the grounds of the manor.  Allyn preferred this type of light.  The sun was often too bright for her eyes and sking, burning patterns of freckles all over her arms and face.  Even though she lived in the heart of California, her skin (besides the many freckles that dotted it) was a milky white.  Norweigans had nothing on the whiter shade of pale her legs wore.  She hated the color.  It made her sick.

Allyn planted her hands on the damp grass and pushed herself up from a slouch.  Long blades pushed between her relaxed fingers and made tiny cuts on her finger dermis.  Allyn didn't even notice the mildly irritating stings; they were nothing compared to her babies' venom.  Even that didn't bother her anymore; she'd developed an immunity to it.

Speaking of her babies, she felt the familiar touch of the six legs crawling on her.  The Honey Girls were safe fliers and never took off in the dark.  Instead, they crawled around the hive.  Once in a while a young, inexperienced Honey Girl wouldn't make it back in time.  Maybe she'd found a patch of flowers far away and got distracted.  Or maybe she didn't catch the whole dance her sister had done and got lost.  Whatever the reason, she was crawling on Allyn's hand.  As soon as she felt the honey girl's tired thorax dragging on her flesh, she lifted her hand to her face.

"Where do you belong, girlie?"  She asked with a tenderness that hardly anyone witnessed.  She tilted her hand so the moon's reflected light hit the Girl just right.  Three colored dots appeared like magic on the girl's back.  She knew exactly where the Girl belonged.

"You're a long way off, Babe."  The softly murmured words mirrored her feelings for the insect.  Carefully, without using the hand with the barbbed visitor, she rose to her feet and walked slowely to a remote white box.  It was one of the newer hives, near the tiny orange grove on the west side of the property.  A sweet and calm walk, it took ten whole minutes to make the twenty yard trek.  Once Allyn reached the white hive, she lowered her hand onto its warm surface.  The Honey Girl crawled quickly off her hand and into her home.  The pale woman smiled, thinking of the one bee she knew lived on.


Her jeans were soaked from sitting in the grass.  Little drops of water dripped from her hems onto the hardowod floor of the foyer.  Knowing Virginia was the only other person home, Allyn felt secure in the fact that no one would see her peel off the wet pants in a common area.  SHe hated the feeling of wet denim between her thighs and always took the first opportunity to remove the sensation.  She carried the pants to a powder roomdownstairs and tossed them carelessly into the footed porceline bathtub.  A member of the household staff would wash them later.

She lingered for a moment, taking in the familiar smell of a scented candle burning away.  Bianca set out the same scents every season.  It was September, so the Juicy Apple candles were placed throughout the manor.  Bianca thought it made the large building more homey; Allyng though it made past seasonal experiences impossible to escape.  Allyn hated the blasted candles, and begged Bianca to mix it up once in a while.  But Bianca was old and could give a crap about Allyn's opinions.  She was here before the girl, and Virginia was the only one she even pretended to listen to.  One time she petitioned to Virginia about the candles.  No dice.  Virginia loves them.  Speaking of Virigina...

"Allyn!  What are you doing?"  Th appalled tone in her voice was familiar.
"Going upstairs."
"Oh of course!" she replied sarcastically.  "I always walk upstairs without pants.  It's a wonder I didn't figure that out immediately."
Allyn stared blankely at the old woman.  Her sarcasm fell flat.
"Really, dear.  Why aren't you wearing any pants?"  The sarcasm was gone and got replaced with concern.  Allyn bristled at the tone.
"Because they were wet.  I didn't want to ruin the... floor."  She tried giving an answer that appealed to Virginia.
"We've already talked about this, Lynn.  Pants, or skirts, are to be worn at all times inside the house.  Except in your room-- wear whatever you want in there."  It sounded like she was saying "don't ask don't tell" to the last part.  Alyyn bristled again at the use of her least favorite nickname.
"No one else lives here."  It was all the explanation Allyn thought was needed.  Apparently Virginia required more, because she stared expectantly at her young, half-naked granddaughter.  Allyn returned her stare, blank eyes shooting back.

Virginia sighed in surrender.  "Fine.  Use your logic.  But I won't tolerate immodesty in the common areas of my home."  She turned around, skirts swishing as she glided to another room.

Allyn stood silently on the staircase, gazing at the spot her grandmother stood moments ago.  The velvet fibers of the rug and risen up and tickled the spaces between her toes.  She hated the feeling of things between her toes.  SO much so, that her focus had been on her discomfort, and not on her grandmother.

Shaking the icky feeling from her feet, she restarted her path upstairs.  With each step, the conversation came back to her, finally breaking through the filter.  As her hand touched the glass knob on her suite's door, she whispered "I'm sorry."