Category: Fair Trade 3: Resilience

Jillian walked through her apartment yet again, checking cupboards and drawers. “We got everything,” Flair said patiently. She was dressed, in her cut-off shorts and a bright tie-dyed tanktop, in anticipation of Min needing to hide her appearance in public. Jillian had, in fact, told Gary to arrive a bit later than she expected Min, in hopes of avoiding an awkward moment, though Flair assured her that Min could handle it even retroactively. Perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, she looked calm and sensible—everything Jillian currently did not feel. “We’ve been through every corner and nook in the…

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Having modelled the new black bra and panties, black garter belt and stockings, on Monday evening for an appreciative Gary, Jillian knew that all of it was surprisingly comfortable. The bra fit better than any of her regular ones, and if it gave her a bit more lift and more dramatic cleavage than she’d tended to want in the past, well, so be it. And Flair was right about mundanities like going to the bathroom actually being simpler with the stockings than with pantyhose. Probably it was even healthier, letting everything breathe more easily. The panties over the garter belt…

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The intercom by the door buzzed; Jillian pressed the talk button. “Hello.” “It’s us!” Unmistakably, Flair’s voice. “Coming!” She grabbed her keys and headed quickly downstairs. Beside a full-sized metallic orange-red van with a narrow crimson stripe down the side, Min’s chair waited on the sidewalk, while a large woman with pinned-up copper-and-silver hair, in jeans and a white t-shirt, steadied Min down from the front passenger seat. A light-skinned young woman, in cut-off denim shorts and a neon yellow tanktop and sandals, a yellow and black scarf tied over her black hair, pounced on Jillian for a welcoming hug.…

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On the bus home from work, as usual, Jillian pulled out her phone to check messages. “Beep. Jill? I’m sorry, something came up and I’m going to be doing major overtime into the weekend. I know I said I’d help you move some of your stuff into storage Saturday and supper afterwards, but I really don’t have any choice about this. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Love you! Beep. To save this message…” Delete. Jillian looked morosely at her phone before going on to the next. What to do? The storage space was paid for. She’d made…

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“Beep. Kaylee and I made appointments to do the hair and nail thing Saturday. They’re keeping a spot open for you, but only if you call to confirm by five o’clock today. We haven’t seen you since the mall two weeks ago, and you aren’t answering most of your messages. What’s gotten into you? Tell me you’re coming and make sure you confirm! Beep. To save this message…” Delete. On to the next. She’d told Kaylee she was busy with moving-related commitments on Saturday. Clearly they hadn’t paid attention—any more than to the fact she’d been saving Saturday afternoons for…

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Jillian woke from sleep that felt like it had been too deep for dreams—at least, any that she could remember. Tired… there was a reason she was so tired. She stumbled out of bed, stopped by the bathroom, and continued on to the kitchen. Still not really alert enough for much conscious information processing, she ate a plateful of leftovers from the fridge and made her way back to her bed. Instead of falling back asleep, though, she drifted lazily in between. It felt wonderfully relaxing, really. There was nowhere she had to be. She had permission to just do…

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