Title: Sixteen String Jack Summary: Just my depiction of the infamous John Rann. I am now trying to read the books that are written about him so that I can get a feel for this mysterious marauder...I want to give a glimpse into all his life. His story is one that interested me and I hope it will you also. I seem to be lost again in the highwaymen. =)
~1~
Hidden behind a mask, dancing, twirling his charm in white gloves is the Gentleman Jack. The ladies full bosoms heave as he walks near. All are eager to be asked to dance with handsome Jack.
He is eloquent, poised, taylored, refined. It rumored he is wealthy, wordly, extravagant and funny. It is also whispered behind fans flitting over flushed faces that he is sexually magnificent.
He leans behind an unsuspecting victim and whispers "Your divine lips I long to kiss, Your wondrous hips hidden under the farthingale I wish to grab"..She turns but his voice is now in her other ear " your long beautiful hair I wish to let loose, like untying a...tight,..too tight. His warm breath is on her wide wired collar "...too restraining,.. too confining corset... I can set you FREE."
Her eyes go wide and her heart thunders as she dares to turn around. She turns only to see the masked stranger moving up a staircase looking back only once to her with a sly grin.
Her laced lined buxom chest heaves fast as she struggles for breath in a tight corset. Her powdered pale face needs no rouge as she trembles and burns in want of him.
Jack could only be spotted in the vast ball room from all the other men by the sixteen strings that would hang from his breeches. No one but Jack knows the reason for the threads.
The women that Jack had wooed were always of noble breed. A Countess, or a Baroness always got his attention. He dressed in the latest fashion and told countless tales that kept his audience spellbound. He was always seen spending money but no one was really sure of how he attainead it as his true blood and profession remained clouded.
He spoke of the Madame de Pampadour and said he met her at a masked ball. He boasted of her beauty, her brains and ending at length on her power and wealth. Yes the Madame de Pampadour was just the icon for his thirst of women. He sought only ones with fire, women that could mold men like putty, women with societal grace, dignified yet dared to change, to tug, to bare more in style, he boasted how her fashion created the very pompador hair and her exquisite new gowns were stunning. The ladies all rushed near him to hear of her clothes, her elaborate adorned and embroidered buckled shoes. Yes he knew what interested the ladies. But what most interested him as they stared at his hands or his face was the beautiful jewels that sparkled not from their eyes but over their bosoms, or danced on a gloved finger. Jack knew the art of theivery of not just hearts...