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11. Week 8: Muse in Satin
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 4 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
Georgia was satin now—emerald, slit-thigh, the kind of dress that made waiters forget the specials. Lanie’s rubies glinted dully under the restaurant’s chandelier, their usual venom muted. \*Like a snake fasting\*, she thought, swirling merlot as the poet traced her palm lines wi...
1 year ago 494 Words 0 Likes 68 Views -
10. Company’s Coming
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 3 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
The moth in the champagne flute twitched its final waltz. George leaned against the fridge, his knuckles white around a bourbon bottle. “Evelyn’s due at seven,” she said. “Play human, kitten. No growling. No”—she flicked the ruby charm—“accidents.” He bared teeth sharp from las...
1 year ago 1,452 Words 0 Likes 150 Views -
9. Week After Week
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 2 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
**Week Five: Silk Chemise Brokered Between Thighs** Georgia was silk now—slippery, crotchless, the hem pooling like a widow’s tears. The chemise clung to Lanie’s hips, its lace straining where the rose-gold keepsake pierced her flesh. From just the right angle, one could see the...
1 year ago 1,466 Words 0 Likes 173 Views -
8. The Days Not Friday
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 5 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
Lanie’s cruelty lived in the 'almosts' now. A teacup left just beyond George’s reach as he sat depressed, her hips swaying as she stretched to retrieve it. The rubies glinted, mocking. “Oops,” she’d purr, bending so the piercing grazed the armrest where he sat. Her voice had she...
1 year ago 506 Words 0 Likes 98 Views -
7. Three more weeks
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 4 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
**Week Three: Velvet Vows at the Devil’s Dive** Georgia was velvet now—crimson, crotchless, backless, just less. Like the keyhole cutout over Lanie’s mons framing her rose-gold “lipstick charm” like a relic in a museum heist. The dive bar’s neon hummed Miller Lite in corpse-blue...
1 year ago 664 Words 0 Likes 126 Views -
6. Repurposing the Rags
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 3 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
Lanie spread her thighs on the velvet fainting couch, a prop from their Bridgerton-themed disaster. The clit piercing glinted, rose gold catching the lamplight. George's dick, miniaturised in metal and gem-studded, swung like a pendulum over a wet pit. "Terms," she said, flickin...
1 year ago 858 Words 0 Likes 158 Views -
5. Ruining a Perfectly Good Outfit
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 2 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
Light stabbed through the curtains—needle-thin and relentless. George surfaced painfully from oblivion, feeling like a shattered vase hastily glued and missing parts. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like a hanging corpse. Lanie lay curled beside him in a comma of smear...
1 year ago 460 Words 0 Likes 203 Views -
2. Dressed for the Ball
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 2 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
The Sorcery Society Ball hummed with cursed champagne and borrowed magic. Lanie’s bare thighs whispered against satin as she crossed the ballroom. No bra. No panties. Just George. The gown clung like a jealous lover, seams thrumming where her pulse flared. \*You're dripping. On...
1 year ago 516 Words 0 Likes 271 Views -
Introduction
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 1 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
**1. The First Thread** The closet exhaled bergamot and shame, its shadows sticky as altar wax. Lanie leaned against the doorframe, rolling a cigarette between her fingers like a cursed rosary. George stood haloed in the moonlight. Her moon-phase panties hugged his hips. The s...
1 year ago 533 Words 0 Likes 1,007 Views -
3. A Seam Unravelling
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 3 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
The bourbon tasted like gasoline and bad decisions. Lanie leaned against the bar, the gown’s slit creeping higher as Jamie refilled her glass. His hands shook—always the hands—spilling whisky over his novice cufflinks. \*Pathetic. You’ve sunk to cradle-robbing, Lanie?\* She sw...
1 year ago 571 Words 0 Likes 206 Views -
4. A Stich of Regret
by flyingmonkey
Chapter 4 in The Seamstress and Her Moth
The ballroom's chandelier hung off the ceiling like ugly celestial tears. Casting its fractured scattering of light over Lanie's cum-tainted bodice. Evelyn snorted. "Witches weren’t meant for monogamy, especially not with non-magicals. How did you even stomach bedding the enemy?...
1 year ago 980 Words 0 Likes 147 Views
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