Vanessa the Power-Dresser

[amoama]

Title: Vanessa the Power-Dresser
Author: amo_amas_amat
Fandom/Characters/Pairings: Alles Was Zählt, Vanessa, (plus little Jenny and Ben mentions).
Word Count: 730
Rating: IDK, Whatever boobies qualify as.
Summary: Just a little musing on Vanessa's new job and her, ahem, boobs.
Warnings: Breasts (I mentioned that, right?) And a little glimmer of BeVa.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to RTL.
Author's Note: Inspired by the snippet of delightful Vanessa that was ep 1116 *waves at EKP channel, dusts lovingly with glitter* and also by BoobieFest2011 (of which I'm certain there will be announcements soon) and by the general jiggling that goes on. Thanks again to geekchick1013 for beta-ing with speed and diligence.

 

Vanessa is enjoying her new job. And she’s enjoying the power dressing that comes with it. It’s something of a relief to find that the tough hockey girl can exist in these clothes too. It’s still her, and every now and then, it’s also Jenny. Vanessa feels happy incorporating a little of her sister into her day, into her habits. Occasionally, she’ll cock her head in a certain way, or scoff a little, or glance slyly at someone in a very Jennifer way; then stop and laugh at herself. Except, in her mind, she and Jenny are laughing together.

Vanessa also enjoys getting home at the end of the day. She has a little ritual now, to help her deflate from the day. She steps in the door, dumps her coat and bag in the cloakroom, her keys in the tray. She heads to her bedroom, taking off her bra as she goes. She unclips it through the smart black dress she is wearing, flicks the straps out of the sleeves and pulls them one after the other over her elbows and free of her hands. Then she swooshes the whole bra out under one armpit and discards it carelessly. In her room she kicks off her heels and rolls down her tights, standing on the material at her toes to pull her feet out. Once free and comfortable in her little black dress, she heads to the kitchen to get on with her evening.

Sometimes she even sleeps in the dress if she knows it’s about to go in the wash. She likes the feel of the smart silk under-layer and the stiff outer-material between her and the bed. She enjoys her braless freedom rebelling against the constraints of the dress. She wakes up with the dress around her waist and the straps marked into her skin. She’s not sure why she likes it.

Although she does have a thing about new clothes. She’ll wear a new top for days until it doesn’t feel new anymore; until she owns it.

Vanessa’s been wearing the same cardigan all weekend. It’s long and the buttons are just at the very bottom; you couldn’t wear it out without a top underneath. But Vanessa is in the house and she isn’t wearing much underneath – her pants and her slippers - but nothing else.

Ben gave it to her for her birthday.

Well, kind of.

He gave her department store vouchers, and this is what she bought with them. He hasn’t even seen her wear it. The cardigan is red, with black stripes. It’s pretty but it’s innocuous. Ben will be happy she found something she liked, but he won’t really care what it is.

She goes to the bathroom because she likes the mirror there and looks at herself wearing the cardigan. It isn’t a tight fitting top; it falls loosely over her breasts and about half of each is exposed by the V cut, slightly more of the left is visible. The cardigan buttons up almost exactly at her belly-button so she can see how her boobs curve round underneath. She’s pleased with them today. There’s a slight blue vein line running down the left one and inevitably she notices that one must be larger than the other because her right breast hangs slightly differently, angled a little less roundly. But overall, with them bobbing pleasantly under the cardigan, she’s happy with the sight. She drags the back of her hand underneath them, testing their weight. She doesn’t push them up or together but relishes them as they are and when she runs her hand through her hair, they jiggle gently and she smiles to herself.

Ben won’t see it like this, she thinks idly. He won’t know how satisfied she is with this present he has caused her to buy. He won’t picture her making coffee and padding round the house wearing only this cardigan, curling up in it on the sofa and probably sleeping in it Saturday night.

Vanessa will wash it on Sunday and on Monday she’ll wear it over the black dress with tights, and heels and yes, a bra. She’ll look good in it, and it might prompt her to give a Jenny smile, followed by one of her own, and it won’t matter if nobody notices.

But somebody probably will.