Black Lace (Complete)

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝟏 𝐌𝐈𝐋

Thank you all so much for one million reads. I intend to upload another bonus chapter for every other million I achieve, though I doubt I'll actually get there lmao. Terms and conditions may apply (as in, I might forget).

This chapter is a fun little extra. A hypothetical:

What would happen if Romina was a lesbian?

For context, pretend this chapter starts from the very beginning of the story (after the prologue). I changed her character a bit, so don't mind that. Someone's sexuality has no bearing on how their personality develops (it is misconstrued; a gay person will only act differently than they might otherwise because of how they are treated in society)... BUT I thought lesbian Romina might have a little more kick to her. Growing up in a household where she no longer fits the expectations -- she does not want a husband or any man -- probably estranges her from her assigned role. Henceforth, lesbian qualities. I myself am a gay woman. Do not be mad at me for this.

I HAVE NOT WRITTEN THIS BOOK IN OVER A YEAR, SO MY WRITING HAS PROBABLY CHANGED. PLUS, I COMPLETELY FORGET THE PLOT OF THIS BOOK NGL SO I'M SORRY IF IT'S WEIRD

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, enjoy.

Chapter Lesbian

"You are such a beautiful girl," came mother's voice, humming in my ear like a sweet lullaby. Her fingers traced my hair, at last falling to the jagged edges I'd impulsively carved into my hair last night. Mother had not let me near the kitchen knives since. I had thought it would look better shorter. It was always an issue, falling out of my hair tie whenever I tried to tie it up.

And so I told Mother just that.

"Romina!" Mother explained, appalled though not shocked by my behavior at this point. I tugged at the uncomfortably tied dress, trying to pull it off my skin; but it stuck, like a leech. And each moment further I spent with the carcass of dead plants on my skin, was another my soul began to loosen its tethers on my body.

I wore breeches I'd managed to snag from Father's wardrobe underneath the dress, not entirely visible but slightly bulky beneath the silk. It was compromise, in Mother's words; a taste at freedom, in mine.

I'd worn these breeches without a dress and a simple undershirt once, flashing a maid because it seemed fun. The maid had blushed at my gesture and rushed off, leaving me to clutch my stomach as I laughed. Mother had nearly fainted; unlady-like, I was. Improper.

The maid's name was Aila. On my daily lessons with Mother, I'd see Aila scampering around the mansion trying to do her chores. Where she went, my eyes followed, my mind strayed, and after she was gone the memory of her retreating figure was all the distraction I needed from whatever handiwork was in my hands.

"I would like to meet this man, Aziel Herrera," I proclaimed quite suddenly, nodding my head as Mother shot me a disturbed look from the mirror.

"Calm your tone, dear," she told me, patting my shoulder lightly. "Herrera is a good man, and I can't have you embarrassing your Father. If you'll listen to me just this once--"

"Momma, I will be fine," I groaned loudly, quickly shutting myself up when she shot me a look. "You've trained me ever so finely," I began again, in a low whisper this time, "and I would not be one to disappoint. I love you."

"My sweet girl," Mother murmured with a sigh. Turning me around, she pulled me into a soft embrace. I sunk into her touch, memorizing the warmth it gave and craving it like the sun in the cold.