Vee: Volume 2
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About this ebook
"Sylvia, my brightest star, my desire. My lust, my soul.
"She was Lia to her co-workers at the bookstore, Sylvia to her mother, who clicked her tongue disapprovingly at her bright blue and hair and her Monroe stud. But to me, she was simply Vee."
In Alex's notebooks, the story of Vee unfolds, from their first kiss, their first date, and the moments in between. It's a May-December romance between a former punk girl gone conservative, and a gamine young woman in combat boots and fishnets, finding each other on the streets of New York City.
This is the second volume of a short collection of stories, two of which have appeared in anthologies, and others on my website. The short "White Dress" is brand new and previously unreleased.
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Vee - Alyssa Linn Palmer
Vee: Birthdays
GOD, I FEEL OLD.
Everyone always says that forty is the new thirty, but I’ll be forty-two, and it’s like a dog’s age, every year is more like seven. What I’d give to be in my thirties again, but right now. I don’t want to turn back the clock. The turn of the century wasn’t anything worth living again. I struggled with a day job and my writing, never quite having enough time, never quite making enough money. My severance from the paper was enough to pay off what little remained of my mortgage. I’ll never move from here now.
I have no plans for tonight, aside from more work. An article needs finishing. Maybe I’ll have a glass of wine. Vee’s off at five, so we might go to the deli. That girl eats more smoked meat sandwiches than anyone I’ve ever known. No wonder Kyle likes her so much. She probably keeps that deli in the black.
I hear her Doc Martens clomping in the hallway. Time to put this notebook away, paste on a happy smile for her. She’s said that my age doesn’t matter, but it’s early still in our relationship. I keep thinking about ‘what ifs’. I worry that she’ll get tired of me, find someone her own age.
I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO say now. I really don’t. I’m so rarely caught at a loss for words. I’m still choked up, thinking about it.
Vee came in, looking miserable, wet from the rain, her pink and purple hair drooping down her back. She stripped off her jacket and hung it from the door knob, then bent to undo her laces, finally peeling herself out of her knee-high boots. Her skirt was almost knee-length, quite conservative, and she still wore her black uniform top from the bookstore.
I rose from my chair by the fire—my apartment is a bit drafty in wet weather—and came over to kiss her hello.
God, if only you could have been there today. Ian was driving me nuts.
Her boss is anal retentive—a good characteristic for a manager, I suppose, but it tends to make things difficult for Vee.
What did he do?
Vee leaned into me. Told me my boots and my hair were scaring the customers. Jerk.
We should dye your hair blue again, just to spite him.
Vee laughed. If only. I’d put it in a mohawk, except that I don’t want to cut my hair.
Vee in a mohawk. What a sight that would be.
He’d pitch a fit.
And then some,
Vee agreed. Do you want to do anything for dinner?
She bats her lashes at me, dramatically, pouting, though the look is ruined when she can’t hold a straight face.
Let me guess...the deli?
She’s predictable, and though we just ate there the other afternoon, her craving knows no bounds.
Please?
Well...
I pretended to consider it, frowning, looking pensive. Vee feathered kisses up the side of my neck, her arm around my waist, her free hand stroking my side, teasing the curve of my breast through my shirt.
You won’t regret it,
she said between kisses.
You’re going to make it worth my while?
Her hand cupped my breast, her thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric. I shuddered against her.
What do you think?
she asked. Her stomach rumbled and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
It sounds like we should get you fed, and soon,
I replied. Let me dry your hair first though. You’ll catch a cold.
Yes dear,
Vee