Belinda Burpwell's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Belinda finished the last bottle in the pod and pushed the door open. Her belly led her out, round and tight again from the new round of drinking. The basket swung from her hand. She wanted more food, and she knew there was a row of stalls down the path. She started walking. A few steps in, a flower-draped arch rose over the path, and under it stood the dark-haired woman in the white dress. The woman planted her boots wide and crossed her arms over a belly that matched Belinda's own. "You don't pass without paying," the woman said. "Toll's a bottle. Or a burp. Your pick." Belinda kept walking. She did not slow down. She did not answer. She stepped right up until the curve of her belly met the curve of the woman's belly, and she pushed forward an inch. The woman's stomach was solid. Belinda's was solid. They met like two drums pressed face to face. The contact squeezed gas up Belinda's throat and she let it out. The burp hit the woman square in the face and rolled her hair back. At the same moment the woman burped too, hot and sour, straight into Belinda's mouth. The woman's cheeks went red. She stepped back half a pace and wiped her chin with the back of her hand. "You bumped me on purpose," she said. "That is rude. That is the rudest thing a stranger has done to me in a year." Belinda grinned. She liked the taste of the other burp on her tongue. She liked the press of belly on belly. She set the basket down at her feet and put both hands under her stomach and lifted it an inch. "Thank you," she said. "Here's another for you." She leaned in, pressed her belly into the woman's belly again, and pushed down hard below her ribs the way the paper had taught her. The burp came up long and wet and loud. It washed over the woman's face and did not stop for a full count of six. The woman's mouth hung open. Her arms dropped to her sides. Her own belly gave a small answering gurgle that she did not try to hide. She looked at Belinda for a long moment. Then she stepped sideways out of the path and pointed down it with one hand. "Go," she said. "Just go. I'm not standing here for more of that." Belinda picked up her basket. She walked under the flower arch without looking back. Behind her the woman sat down hard on the stone base of one column and pressed both hands to her own stomach. Belinda burped once more for the road, soft this time, and kept moving toward the stalls. The path ahead was clear. Her belly was loose. She was going to eat again.