The Inverts by Crystal Jeans

Author:Crystal Jeans [Jeans, Crystal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-02-01T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Bettina used to come to this room to practise new dances with Bart; it was large, uncarpeted and situated above the kitchen, ensuring no one below would be disturbed by the staccato thudding. They learned the Charleston here, and the Black Bottom, both of them pink-faced and sweating through their clothes. Now it was crammed with books, the floor littered with teacups, half-melted candles and discarded clothes. It smelled strongly of men – sour ale, cologne and the fungus stink of unwashed genitals.

‘Not too cold?’ said Jean. ‘Good. Take off your clothes.’

Bettina laughed. ‘What?’

Jean took off her bowler hat and tossed it onto the bed. Her hair was short, the front bits hanging sleekly down almost to the jaw like straps of oiled leather, the back and sides climbing jerkily shorter. Looking at Bettina with a bored, irritated expression, she loosened her tie. ‘Take off your clothes.’ She pulled out the dressing-table chair, sat on it, leaned back. Crossed her legs the man’s way, an ankle resting on a knee.

‘No preamble?’ said Bettina, giggling.

‘Take off your clothes.’

Bettina looked down at herself. ‘But I’m pregnant.’

Jean waved an impatient hand. ‘Take. Off. Your. Clothes.’ She took out a box of cigarettes and lit one, her dark eyes never leaving Bettina.

Christ. Bettina shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She had in all earnest just wanted to go somewhere quiet to sit down. Have a bit of a flirt, maybe. Her feet were aching. She wasn’t drunk enough. This was all a bit much. She could just go – leave. She pulled off the headdress and groped for her dress fastener, eyes on the silver tulle curtains, her skin tingling. A kiss. That was how it was supposed to go. Not this. The dress started to drop and she held it in place with her hands.

Jean nodded.

She let it fall to the floor. Looked down at her large, blue-veined breasts, the skin goose-prickled, her taut, round stomach. A human life growing inside. Absurd.

‘And the rest,’ said Jean, her features grotesquely twisting and blending behind the thick cigarette smoke.

Bettina lifted one foot onto the bed and undid one garter, followed by the other. There was nothing about the striptease in this. Absolutely nothing. Her hands were shaking. She felt like a berk. Really, there was nothing to stop her leaving. She could put a stop to this with one word. Oh, she badly wanted a cigarette! She pinched the elastic of her knickers. God. She hated being a redhead. It was so vulgar, that nest of orange frizz. Why would anyone want anything to do with that?

‘Can’t I keep them on?’

Jean glared at her, blinking slowly.

She pulled down her knickers. Kicked them away, far away. Stood, arms covering her breasts, in the middle of the room. The squeal of a saxophone came from downstairs.

A great plume of smoke. ‘And the rest.’

She looked down at her body. ‘What do you mean, the rest? I’m quite naked.’ She put her hands on her waist.

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