Emotionally vulnerable or femme fatale? Lily Cubitt gets dressed to impress in the latest installment of Neil Mason’s gripping debut novel There There My Dear. Enjoy Chapter Twelve of the cleverly original story that has caught the attention of more than a few in political office! And if you’ve missed out on the earlier chapters, just follow this link to catch up!
There There My Dear
Study breaks were an anomaly for Lily Cubitt. She saw no reason to stop studying and she could not accept that anybody else would want to, either. Her philosophy was straight forward: if an individual chose to study a certain subject or discipline, then their commitment needed to be total and all-consuming. She never admitted to suffering from a personality disorder, but she did accept that she could not see why anybody would disagree with her on this point.
Not a single thought of mental illness or psychological aberration passed through her mind as she sat on the end of her bed and started to prepare herself for the evening ahead. She knew that the Student Union and the common rooms would be virtually empty that night, and she also knew that there would be several other third-year students going into town later on. Only the first-year students chose to head back to their parents’ houses during the holidays as a matter of course.
Her room was that of a typical student in that it was sparsely furnished and plainly decorated. To personalise her surroundings, she had added a few individual touches such as souvenirs from her travels along with a photograph from her youth. It showed her before she had lost weight, dressed as a native African taken while she was on holiday with her family in Namibia. Just in shot to the left of the picture her mother’s hand could be seen. But there were no other photographs in the room.
At the foot of her bed sat a simple dressing table that had been there when she moved in, and a mirror that she bought from a second-hand shop when she left the halls of residence. It was old and tarnished, but perfectly functional. To the right of her bed was a low chest of drawers and on it a small lamp that she used whenever she read a book in bed. Hanging from a hook on the back of the bedroom door were two light jackets and a heavy winter coat. Her housemates tended to leave their outdoor coats downstairs near the front door, either hanging from the hat stand or tossed over the banister at the foot of the stairs.
The early evening spring light was soft and filled her room as she carefully selected her clothes for that night’s outing. She had already chosen her theme and enjoyed the ritual of creating her image with specific clothes and a certain look for her make-up.
With her tailored white blouse already on, Lilly then rolled her nude stockings up to reach her white suspender belt and carefully clipped them into place. She then put on her delicate knickers and a pale blue knee-length pencil skirt, and she smoothed her hands across her hips and buttocks, pressing out any creases. She had not painted her toenails as she would be wearing classic black pointed court shoes with stiletto heels and these she would keep on until she went to bed, on her own at the end of the night.
The evening was mild and unlikely to take a cooler turn, so Lily chose to go without a jacket. Instead she chose to wear a small blue neckerchief with a delicate and intricate floral pattern so that she could unbutton her blouse a little further than normal. Her bra was not exposed. That was not the look she was going for. But the scarf rested gently on her cleavage and drew the eye naturally.
Her make-up was simple and highlighted her features in an alluring fashion. Slightly smoky eyes, light foundation and matt red lips gave her a feminine and provocative appeal. She admired her own handiwork in the mirror as she applied the finishing touches. A lot of the other girls at the university wore only eyeliner and clumpy mascara, and they often passed derogatory comments about non-university types who covered their features with war paint. And then there were the art students whose approach to make-up was more avant-garde. Lily liked her chosen look and felt different when she wore make-up. Not more confident – not more anything – just different. She did not need it but she did enjoy it.
And, in Lily’s world, make-up had its function.
After picking up the hairbrush from the dressing table, Lily worked her long dark hair into a top bun and teased a few delicate curls down by her ears. With her hair this way it was easier for her admirers to view the delicacy of her jaw line and her elegant and, once again, understated earrings. Silver drop earrings that did not draw attention from her face.
Slipping on her shoes and gaining nearly four inches in height, Lily was almost ready. As she picked up her clutch she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror once more, and smiled. She had achieved, once more, exactly what she wanted to achieve.
She locked her bedroom door behind her, descended the stairs briskly and bounded out of the house looking like a very well-presented librarian. Once before when she had used this persona, Lily had worn a pair of geek spectacles. But they were too much and made her lover laugh. She did not want that to happen again.
The two hours of flirting and teasing with her sometime-lover in a quiet pub on the outskirts of town had ticked all the right boxes. For Lily it was a ritualistic exercise of fantasy and gratification, all self-managed and contained within a safe and predictable environment. The dressing up and role-play had made the event feel more spontaneous but everything was under control – it was Lily’s time to get what she wanted.
As Lily neared her student house toward the end of the evening she began to get excited. She would soon sate her most outrageous desires in the comfort that her lover would be gentle yet powerful, hungry but not needy and that she could trust him completely.
Lily also knew, deep in her subconscious mind, that she would not have to deal with any emotion or attachment the next day. She would feel the joy and fulfilment that evening and she would remember fondly the intense bodily sensations. But she would not have any relationship burdens as a result.
The prospect of falling in love is something that had not entered Lily Cubitt’s mind for several years. She loved the physical intimacy of adventurous sexual encounters but she never envied those in love. She never tried to look into the future or wonder if her next lover would become the love of her life.
That evening Lily Cubitt believed that she knew who her next lover would be. In fact, she did not.
To Be Continued…
Thank you for joining me once again as you consume and digest Chapter Twelve in the serialisation of There There My Dear. What are your thoughts about Lily? Have you got her figured out, or do think there is more under the surface?
And don’t forget to be a part of the conversation by following my Facebook Page . See you there.
Chapter Thirteen to be published next week.
Very best wishes,
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