(Author's note. Two Silver Foxes is a nom de plume for two literotica.com contributors, Silverstag and Redneck Woman56 with Silverstag writing the dialogue for Robert and Redneck Woman56 the dialogue for Rebecca. The author's hope you enjoy the story and will continue the tale if your comments and votes indicate an interest. We would like to say that collaborating in this way has been an enjoyable and intellectually stimulating experience.)
ROBERT:
I was walking down Peachtree Street in downtown Atlanta with Miss Matilda Hawkins on my arm. We strolled on the cobblestone walk, past Victorian mansions, looking for a seamstress who came highly recommended. Miss Hawkins was to accompany me to the International Cotton Exposition of 1881, an event of considerable significance in post-war Atlanta and she needed a new dress for the occasion. Atlanta had prospered after the war and in fact had more than doubled in population since General Sherman's army had put it to the torch.
I had served the cause in the War of Northern Aggression on the staff of General Longstreet, thankfully always behind the lines but close enough to hear and witness much of the carnage. I was in my early 40s, Miss Hawkins was in her early 20s but the difference in our ages was not remarkable for the time and place. She was a giggly girl who seemed and acted younger than her age but she was attractive and her father was wealthy, not entirely a bad combination.
"Oh, Robert," she said to me, "Don't you just hate what they're doing to Atlanta, tearing down so many of those fine old homes to make room for government buildings?"
"That's progress, my dear."
"Progress? My daddy calls it rubbish and blames all those horrible carpet baggers," she said, with a pout.
"Be that as it may but your Daddy's bank is financing much of that reconstruction," I said.
"Reconstruction. I hate that word."
I started to reply but then noticed that we had come to our destination. We stopped at the door of a modest shop. The sign on the window read, Peachtree Millinery - Rebecca Hastings Proprietress.
We opened the door and walked in. Arrayed along one wall were bolts of fabric and in front of them stood books and illustrations of dress designs. On the other side of the room were finished dresses, some on hangars and a few on mannequins. The place was clean and orderly and obviously well maintained. A sign on the counter said Ring Bell for Service and there was a small silver bell standing beside it.
I rang the bell and a door opened behind the counter. A small woman came into the shop and smiled at us. She had chestnut colored hair drawn back in a bun with a pert nose and an aquiline face. She appeared to be about my age. The most striking thing about her were her eyes. They were the color of jade and had more than a spark of intelligence.
"May I help you?"
"We are looking for Mrs. Hastings," I said.
"I am Rebecca Hastings," she said, "Miss Hastings as it were."
"I am Robert Jenkins and this is Miss Matilda Hawkins. Miss Hawkins needs a dress for the grand ball at the Cotton Exposition," I said.
"Well, I'm sure we can manage that," Miss Hastings said.
"You made a delightful gown for my cousin Rachel," Matilda interjected, "and I hope you can make an even better one for me."
"I'm sure we can," Miss Hastings said. "I have some patterns you can look at or, if you wish, I can design something special."
"Oh I definitely want something special," Matilda said.
"Fine," Miss Hastings said. "If you'll excuse us Mr. Jenkins, we'll start with some measurements."
I tipped my hat and said, "Then I'll leave you ladies to your labors and return shortly."
I left the shop and strolled down Peachtree Street. I watched people riding by in their carriages but my thoughts were about the intriguing woman who I had just met. Independent business women were a rarity and I wondered what her background was. She had an intelligent, efficient way about her and I was eager to learn more about her. I was also curious as to what, if anything, she thought about me.
REBECCA:
I had first heard the bell on the shop door ring, and then the bell on the counter summoned me. I was irritated because it meant I would have to put down the newest novel I was reading, Great Expectations by Mr. Charles Dickens. Even though it was 20 years old it was new to me, I had bought it at a used bookseller I frequented. I had been fortunate after the War, my father had left me a small inheritance that I had put to good use opening this shop and had acquired the beginnings of a proper library through careful purchases. Still, all in all, it was a solitary life I led. I had taken care of Papa after Mama died, and by the time he was 'called home', as the Baptists are prone to say, I found myself a spinster who must make her way having no male relatives to whom I could turn, I opened this shop.
I carefully laid the book down, marking my place, and made my way from my private quarters in the back of the shop to greet my customers.
My hands ran over my hair to make sure it was smooth, during the humid summers in Atlanta my hair seemed to escape from the bun I usually wore to form little tight curls around my face.
I was taken aback when I went through the curtain into the shop. Before me stood a couple, a very unusual couple. The young woman was striking, of course. She was draped on the arm of a man in his forties, and it was he who held my attention.
He was of medium height, but solidly built with broad shoulders. He wore a gray suit, and had taken his hat off, as all gentlemen do when they enter a building, to show a remarkable head of black hair only just beginning to show silver at the temples. His eyes were dark and flashing, and somehow when he looked at me I trembled. He looked at me as though he knew what I looked like underneath my chemise.
Once the introductions were made and the purpose of their visit relayed to me, he left the shop and I was alone with Miss Hawkins. She went first to the mannequins and seeing nothing there she liked, she began to thumb through books of illustrations. While she did that I chose several bolts of satin that I thought she would like.
