Vignette

Might be a little weird... just bear with the description. 

I felt it in the room – the giant egg she was sitting on. It seemed to buzz beneath her squatting buttocks, humming as they clenched thickly, glutinously. Her lips smacked with the aftertaste of the secret and her little finger curled away from the china as she took a sip.

Every time she opened her viscous lips I heard a creak reverberate around the room as the egg fissured under her weight. She tottled and her lips twisted into a leer, the snot treacle secret bubbling between small teeth, leaking through the cracks around her mouth until it seeped, insipid, into the conversation.

“Sophie?”

The egg and slime disappeared as my aunt turned to me. “Who was that boy I saw you cozying up to under the willows this afternoon?”

The egg was gone but I heard it crack. Delicate spindles of white exploded under my aunt’s malice and she dropped into the yoke of my troubles, slurping deliriously.

My mother’s eyes snapped from their scrutiny of her wineglass and her eyes fixed on me. They didn’t blaze, nor did they flash. Rather, a cool contemplation crept over the blue and her chin rose in reappraisal.

“A boy?” she asked.

My aunt’s lips spread over sharp-filed teeth. I saw the yoke on her chin, bubbling ecstatically from her throat. Her green eyes took on a robust flare as they flicked from my mother to me. “The dark-haired one,” her voice quivered before tucking into the next bit of revelry with a prolonged slurp. “Simply gorrrgeous.”

My mother stood up swiftly. Her waved black hair swayed for a moment before falling into place with her rigid posture. Thin fingers grasped my aunt’s pudgy hands.

“That’s quite enough tea for the afternoon, Georgia.”

My aunt writhed to her feet and was led away by my mother.

My fingers brushed the hair out of my face and I pushed myself off the chaise, pushed away from the elaborate lounge. Long fingers clutched my arm and I winced. The hiss of my mother’s voice burnt my ear.

“That boy?”

I squirmed in her grip and closed my eyes. The music laughed in my ears as my voice quivered. “We weren’t –”

“Cozying up? Don’t lie to me Sophia. You think I don’t hear the servants talking? You think I don’t know he comes to your window in the night and leaves notes by your ledge?”

“It’s not my fault!”