<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/89/Onnecamug1.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Onneca de Goni<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>June 2, 1875<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bodega de Goni<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Agatha<br/><hr/><br/>"Oh, si. I have been here a while now. I know where the Bankem office is." She lifted the lightness of Agatha's petticoats from the clean carpet with a pinch of her fingertips, collecting the clothes without complaint. Everything was straightened and brushed clean before she began to dress Agatha again. By not answering yes, she neatly sidestepped the dread and the want, and simply acted, as though Aggy needn't have asked in the first place. Onneca was a professional woman, and this was her service. Maybe everyone got that anxious smile and dancing, almost flirtatious fingers. Doubtful.<br/><br/>The first petticoat was held at ankle level so that Agatha could step in. Shimmering fabric caressed the explicitness of an ankle and worked up to weight down the billow of the woman's bloomers and finally her camisole. Long, thin spaghetti straps that ensured the petticoat could never be an article of clothing on its own slipped over Agatha's shoulders in a very light and barely noticeable burden. But that was only the first layer, and they were just starting. Another layer added body and volume to hips that Onneca wouldn't have minded holding in just their native shape. Every layer she discovered amidst Agatha's discarded clothes, she built up around those hips like paper mache, teasing out the ruffles with her fingers, bundling intensely to lock away her best friend's center of gravity and the center of her womanly pleasure. Always, she was gentle.<br/><br/>"When you come again, I will show you around the town. Another time, we can try on clothes. I would like you to visit me again, very much." The corset, so supple in Onneca's hands, wrapped its familiar comforting squeeze around Agatha's soft flanks. The laces were loose in the back so that the hooks in the front could be fastened while Onneca breathed into Agatha's coppery hair. The initial pinch for the first hook to be fastened came just under the ribs, with the tailor's thumbs cupped under soft breasts as she worked. She called no undue attention to that necessary touch as she worked down the front, fastening each hook, correcting a slim hourglass shape to a natural figure that was already perfectly lovely.<br/><br/>And then, the laces. Onneca straightened them even and re-tied the aging bow at the bottom. Her fingers tracked the symmetry up Aggy's spine, a little touch at a time, careful for her comfort as she laced the two halves up to hug but not crush. It was the masterful work of a woman practiced in making clothes look their best. In a way, she was sending a message that Agatha had someone to help her with these laces, now, and telling the world that the tinker was taken. She wasn't taken, though. She would never belong to Onneca. It was only an illusion she allowed herself to entertain, just like her book.<br/><br/>When finally her dress was complete, Onneca turned her customer around and wrapped a much more loving hug than the corset could provide. "Come back whenever you need me," she whispered, "I will be here." And that was it. That had to be it. Any further, and she would jeopardize what they already had. Aggy's friendship was too valuable to gamble. She walked the busy woman to the door, and gave a little wave to see her off. It didn't matter who else came to the shop that day. A week from now, a year from now, this would be all that she remembered.<br/><br/><div align="center"><em>~(End History Scene)~</em></div>