She turned her back on the fire, and shielding her eyes from the low sun she considered the ever widening expanse of mud. Although rather stinky the receding water had left it beautifully smooth and shiny, pristine even. She took a step forward over the debris at the high tide line, and her stockinged feet sank deliciously. She took as deep a breath as she could manage inside the tight lacing, and flopped forward onto her knees.
The mud splattered up each side of her, and like a delighted child she sat back on her heels to scoop handfuls of mud into her lap. A delighted demon took over, and she rubbed the mud in her lap into skirts of the dress draped over her thighs. Now her adrenaline kicked in. She grabbed big handfuls of mud from each side of her and rubbed it into the ornate bodice until that too was completely covered. Now she shifted into overdrive.
She leaned to one side to pull her legs out from under her and sat down deep into the mud. She pulled up the skirts to thrust big handfuls of mud inside, to rub it through the net petticoats and coat her stockinged legs. In a frenzy she smeared a big handful of mud over her silk knickers to obliterate them completely. Finally, she rubbed mud into her hair, round her face, and all over her shoulders.
Only when she
and
the outfit were completely covered in slimy mud did she stop. She looked down, her breasts heaved as she struggled to haul in breaths against the tight lacing of the bodice. A big smile came on her face. It was time to escape.
She reached into the top of her right stocking and pulled out the slim parcel opener she'd bought specially for today, and tucked in there. She wiped the worst of the mud off it to clear the blade and chewed her lip. There was something strangely thrilling about contemplating the unthinkable. Her mind went back, once again, to Davide and their wedding night.
"Aren't you going to tear me out of this dress...?"
The look of horror on his face back then brought a smile to her face today as she remembered it. How much more would he be horrified if he was here now? A tingle ran down her spine into her groin. She lifted the parcel opener and placed the opening over the centre front of the neckline. Her heart raced. Holding the opener with both hands she pushed it slowly downwards.
With consummate ease, the parcel opener sliced down the front of the bodice, which peeled away to the sides, heavy with the mud ingrained into it. Erika giggled, and took a deep liberated breath free from the restriction of the tight lacing. She sliced on down the front of the skirt far enough so she could bend her knees and draw her legs out of the soggy bedraggled rag that had been her wedding dress, leaving it half-buried in the stinking, squelchy mud.
She had intended to burn the dress, but it was now so soggy with thick mud there didn't seem much chance of that. She stood and trampled it instead, stomping on the ragged bodice and skirt until they had completely disappeared into the gooey slime. Only when the last trace of the dress had disappeared from view did she stop to look down at herself.
Her stocking clad legs and knickers were unrecognisable - coated in thick black estuary mud, and so were her shoulders. But curiously, where the tight-laced bodice of the dress had clasped her, she was much cleaner. So the most part of her silk basque was still visible, even though the bottom edge and the suspender straps were coated with slime. She looked around.
A few yards away, where a large rainwater drain emptied into the estuary, there was an inlet of clean water. She smiled, and squelched towards it through the mud.
In the inlet she first sat, then laid down - allowing the clean water to wash away the black mud. It felt somehow symbolic, and she peeled off the muddy underwear to let dappled reflections of the morning sun dance over her naked skin in the water. It was icy cold, but she stayed as long as she could bear, before collecting up the bedraggled remains of her trousseau and squelching back, shivering, to her fireside.
She grabbed the towel out of the builder's bucket to dry herself, tugged on her trackie bottoms and hoodie, and turned her attention to the fire. It was burning nicely now, but would soon need more fuel. She rolled up the legs of her trackie bottoms and skipped over the soft sand to the foot of the steps to gather up the broken pallet she'd noted earlier.
Once the fire was blazing nicely she spread her underwear out to dry on the surrounding stones, and sat down beside the camping stove. She boiled the kettle to make herself a mug of strong coffee, and whilst that cooled she replaced the kettle with her frying pan and cooked bacon and egg for breakfast.
Only a little while later, Erika sat replete on the log beside the fire with a belly full of bacon and egg, a second mug of coffee in her hand, and a smile on her face. She gazed into the dwindling flames. The old broken pallet was more-or-less all gone now and it would soon be time to pack up and head home. Her focus changed, and she considered the grubby remains of her silk underwear spread on the stones around the fire.
Her bathe in the clear water of the inlet had washed away the worst of the black estuary mud, and the heat of the fire had largely dried the sorry looking items; but there was no way they'd ever be fit to wear again. She picked up one of the silk stockings and dangled it over the fire before dropping it into a red spot. An energetic little flame sprang up and consumed it hungrily. She picked up the second stocking and fed that to the hungry little flame too.
She glanced around her and caught sight of her stiletto sandals lying abandoned where she'd thrown them on the mud. She couldn't leave them there littering the place. She fetched them and dropped them into the fire. They were rather soggy with mud, and didn't immediately burn; but they began to steam in an impressive fashion in the heat, and to smoulder. They'd be gone soon enough.
She reached over for her basque and held it up. She'd felt so sexually sophisticated when she first wore this, but now she realised it simply fed a male fantasy. She dangled it in the red-hot embers until the suspender straps took light, and then dropped it to watch the cleansing flames do their work.
Finally, she picked up her bridal knickers. She took a long breath and sighed it out as she remembered sliding into them on her wedding morning. Delicate and beautiful, in pure silk with embroidered flowers and deep lace trimming they had seemed to embody her forthcoming marriage - breathtaking and full of promise.
She shook her head as she considered them now. No longer an item of beauty but crumpled and encrusted in dried slime. She giggled. Even in their soiled ruin they somehow still embodied that marriage.
She sat up tall. It was time to rid herself of the last remaining vestige of that painful period of her life. She held the knickers with her fingernails as if they were some unpleasant piece of rubbish, peered at them for one last time as they dangled over the glowing fire, and dropped them. Immediately the hungry little flame came alive to consume them. She watched until every last scrap of that final garment was entirely gone, and then closed her eyes.
The fire was burning down now, and in a little while would be finished. But the sun was climbing into the sky and warmed her back as she sat. A beautiful demonstration, if one was needed, that as one era of life closes another opens. She drained the last of her coffee and rolled her shoulders in the warmth of the sun.
