The Weight of Salt

Chapter 1- the beginning

Therese heard the soft chime of the department store clock mark half past six. The floor was a glittering cathedral of tinsel and electric lights, the air thick with the scent of perfume and roasted chestnuts from the street vendors outside. She shifted her weight behind the doll counter, feeling the stiff fabric of her uniform pull across her midsection. It had been a long season of forgotten lunches and hurried sodas, but lately she'd developed a taste for the starchy cafeteria meals, her body softening in ways she hadn't expected.

She was adjusting the tilt of a porcelain-faced doll when a low, smoky voice slid through the noise of the crowd.

"Do you have any more of the model trains? The big one, with the brass wheels."

Therese looked up. The woman was tall, her blonde hair tucked beneath a fur-trimmed hat, her eyes the color of winter slate. She wore a coat that moved like liquid, and her red lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Therese felt her stomach clench.

"I-yes. I think we have one in back," Therese said, her voice thinner than she wanted.

"Don't rush." The woman's gaze drifted down, slow and deliberate, over the collar of Therese's blouse, pausing at the place where the buttons strained. "You look like you're done for the day."

"Almost," Therese admitted.

"Then you have time to help me." It wasn't a question.

Minutes later, in the stockroom dust and shadows, the woman, Carol, she said her name was, stood close enough that Therese could smell her: gin, smoke, and something green, like crushed leaves. Carol reached for the train box, but her hand stopped. Her gloved fingers brushed against Therese's wrist.

"You're warm," Carol murmured.

Therese swallowed. "It's hot in the store."

"Is it?" Carol's smile deepened. She was still holding Therese's wrist. "I think it's something else."

Later, after Carol had paid and left, Therese found one gray leather glove beneath the counter. Inside was a folded slip of paper, the handwriting elegant, imperious: Dinner. Tomorrow night. 7. I have a car.

The house was in New Jersey, a low-slung modern thing with glass walls and a fireplace big enough to stand in. Therese arrived in her best dress, still tight, the waistband cutting into her, and Carol greeted her wearing mannish trousers and a silk blouse unbuttoned enough to show the hollow of her throat.

"You came," Carol said, taking her coat.

"You left your glove."

"I know exactly where I left it." Carol's eyes dropped to Therese's middle. "Sit. I've made something special."

The dining room table was heavy with food: roast capon glistening with butter, potatoes mashed with heavy cream, green beans glazed in herbs, and a basket of rolls that steamed when Carol pulled back the linen. There was wine, dark and red, and later a chocolate torte so dense the fork stood upright.

Therese ate. At first, she was polite, taking small portions, but Carol kept refilling her plate, her voice a low current. "Try the skin, it's the best part." "More butter, it's French." "You're so thin, Therese. It suits you, but I wonder..."

By the time the torte was reduced to smears, Therese's belly pressed hard against the waistband of her dress. She felt heavy, warm, the wine humming in her blood. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten so much, or wanted to.

Carol watched her from across the table, her chin propped on one hand, her lips parted.

"How do you feel?" Carol asked.

"Full," Therese admitted, her hand drifting to her stomach. It was hard beneath the fabric, rounded.

"Good." Carol stood and walked around the table. She stopped behind Therese's chair, her hands coming to rest on Therese's shoulders. Her thumbs traced slow circles into the muscle at her neck. "You've been denying yourself, haven't you? That tunic button was screaming for mercy when I saw you."

Therese flushed. "I didn't think anyone noticed."

"I notice everything." Carol leaned down, her mouth brushing the shell of Therese's ear. "I'd like to see you comfortable. Out of that dress."

Therese turned her head, heart pounding. "Carol..."

"Just comfort," Carol whispered. "No games. You can trust me."

Therese let Carol take her hand and lead her through the house, past the fire, into a bedroom where the lamps cast buttery light over a wide bed. Carol's hands moved to the back of Therese's dress, working the zipper down, and Therese shivered as the fabric loosened, as the pressure on her aching belly released.

"There," Carol breathed. "Now look at you."

The dress pooled at Therese's feet. She stood in a slip that had ridden up over her full belly, her thighs bare, her nipples pebbled beneath thin cotton. Carol stepped closer, not touching, just looking. Her gaze was hungry, wolfish.

"You're even prettier than I imagined," Carol said. "Softer. I want to feed you more."

Therese's breath caught. "I don't... I don't do this usually."

"I know." Carol's hands settled on Therese's waist, fingers splaying over the curve of her stomach. "That's what makes it so delicious." She dipped her head, her lips ghosting over Therese's collarbone. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No." The word came out a gasp.

"Good." Carol lowered her mouth to the slope of Therese's breast, dragging her teeth over the skin. Her tongue flicked at the nipple through the slip, and Therese moaned, her knees buckling. Carol caught her, guiding her down onto the bed, the mattress soft as a cloud.

For a long while, Carol just touched her, hands roaming over the swell of her belly, the give of her hips, the tender underside of her breasts. She peeled the slip away inch by inch, her tongue tracing the marks the seams had left. When she finally settled between Therese's thighs, her eyes were dark, gleaming.

"I'm going to make you feel even fuller," Carol said, her voice rough.

Her mouth found Therese's center, and Therese cried out. Carol's tongue was slow, deliberate, lapping through her folds, circling the nub of her clit. Therese writhed, one hand fisting the sheets, the other tangled in Carol's hair. Her belly rose and fell, heavy and warm above Carol's head. Carol didn't stop, her tongue sinking inside the wet heat, then returning to that aching peak.

When Therese came, it exploded through her like a breaking wave, her thighs tightening around Carol's ears, her whole body arching off the bed. Carol kept licking, drawing it out, until Therese was shaking, after-shudders rippling through her.

Then Carol crawled up her body, still fully dressed, and pressed her lips to Therese's. Therese tasted herself, tang, salt, chocolate.

"You did so well," Carol whispered. "But that was just the first course."

Therese's eyes flew open. Through the bedroom door, she could hear something in the kitchen: the clink of a pot, the crackle of a pan, and then the smell of something frying, buttery and rich. Her stomach, stretched and satisfied, gave a low, animal growl.

Carol smiled. "Hungry again?"