Sara and Hagar

Title: Sara and Hagar

Disclaimer: Given the cultural situation at the time of the events
depicted, it is highly unlikely this would happen. This would best be
labelled a speculative drabble. If slash disturbs, then don't come
home with me on a Friday night.

Archive: You may archive where you want. Just link to my journal
in return.

Story type: Drabble. 100 words, no more and no less.

Hands, hands, graceful, weathered hands. First wives were time
honored, special. It was against everything for the most loved, the
most cherished to seek out servants, to seek out others for comfort.
Still, Sara loved another's hands. Feminine. Graceful. Captivating.
They had obviously held her husband enthralled. Hagar, less than
perfect Hagar, had beautiful hands. Sara watched Hagar’s hands,
in the dark of night, in a tent far away from men, as they gently
cupped in the night. Wetness, illicitness. Hashem had promised each
that greatness would emerge from their bellies. Until then those
beings separate, mothers joined as one.