This story has been set to a rating of NC-17. Age verification is required to proceed.
The suit fitted her perfectly though she would never have admitted it. She was blessed with natural elegance, innate even and when she walked into a room, effortlessly graceful, all eyes invariably turned to look at her.
Straightening up in her chair, she shrugged her shoulders a little, pulling on the cuff of her jacket sleeves. She missed the comfort of her worn jeans, shirt and tank top combo she favoured so much.
Bette couldn’t remember the last time she had worn the strict but classic cut ensemble. It wasn’t her usual choice of outfit but today she had to make the effort. The last thought on her mind though when she had last hung the garment in her closet, was that the next outing for the black outfit would be for her father’s funeral.
She sighed loudly willing the heaviness in her chest to lift. When it became clear that the oppressive feeling would not shift, she swallowed hard trying to rid herself of the equally large lump which seemed to be blocking her throat.
Bette already missed her father dearly.
He had raised her alone after Bette’s mother had died suddenly when she was only an infant. Only blurred memories of her mum remained, that and the loving words of her father every time he spoke of her.
Bette looked up at the portrait hanging on the wall of the little den she had claimed as her office. He was a handsome man. The eminent member of the Archaeological Institute of America had however not escaped the taunts of his daughter when he had come home one day with the framed picture which now took pride of place in her office.
His choice of tie had borne the brunt of the jibes. Why had he felt like he had to wear the tie of the prestigious organisation and make the whole feel of the picture look so stifled and rigid?
The memory brought a long lost smile to Bette’s face at the laughter and silliness which had ensued as the pair had fought a mock battle across the generation gap.
The old archaeologist did look well though in the picture. He looked healthy and strong, a far cry from what everyday life was like for the man since the diving accident all those years ago which had left him with a noticeable degree of brain damage. He had never allowed it to impact his own life however or Bette’s for that matter as he had quickly adapted and had learned to live with the tremor in his hands, balance and coordination problems.