Think of these chapters somewhat like diary entries, or a step into the past. in truth most of these chapters, that I might get round to posting when dabbled with, was what spilt out of me, after watching '!SPOILER!'that episode where Blackbeard met his end.
To those who read this, I hope you enjoy, and I would love to hear some feedback if you get the chance. Thank you.
As an island free from England's grasp, what the tides swept into Nassau was anyone's guess really, and it should take no one by surprise that these colourful characters end up where it is they are given relief from a watery mistress's arms and into those of flesh instead.
Elizabeth was taking a turnabout the room, having finished with one customer and on the prowl for another. Thinking the words even just to herself, she shuddered at the animalistic quality she must possess, here where she was among a number of lionesses in such a den as this, hoping for that indeed rare lion to actually satisfy them both, instead of some mangy dog.
The difference in the two types of men was easily distinguished. Standing where she was behind a long velvet curtain, Elizabeth could spot only five and they were usually those who enter with the intention to find 'His' suitable partner. A connection built over a drink or mutual observation, which allows both to understand each other's boundaries and if the desire is still there as a result, the whore has in her midst a regular customer and income, as well as the longed for passion.
If unlucky, then the dog just gives your flesh a lick, bends you over and is done, until they return with another pouch of coin to spend.
There is no thrill.
No art of seduction.
It is when a whore actually feels like a piece of meat and not a woman; which is why the lion is far more sought after, as they keep them feeling physically and mentally clean.
Her dress unlaced to expose the plumpness of her breasts, it was not the choice of wardrobe perhaps a respectable woman would wear, but for a whore it carried a certain modesty Elizabeth preferred over just waltzing around in nothing more than her undergarments, if any at all.
To her, the allure was the mystery itself of what lay beneath the silk fabrics she wore and she played the game beautifully, making sure every step she took was exaggerated. That way, such a strut showed off her assets naturally, like the curve of her hips, the length of her legs and size of her chest, allowing eyes to turn towards her.
In a room filled with girls, it was a walk that created space as the rest knew nothing more to do, other than to stroke their long hair or sit on an empty lap. They were enthralled by their fellow sister, as much as the men; a role model they were told to learn from example of.
And why should they not, when Elizabeth had been playing such games since she first bled.
Her bottom lip suckered into her mouth, she returned the gaze of many and cocked a thick brow to those who did not avert it, chuckling innocently so when she turned her back to pour herself a glass of rum, someone may be bold enough to come forward and present themselves to her.
This she claimed often was a key tool in enticing someone of worth.
Though a man would never admit it; approaching she who put herself above the rest was considered brave, less they risk being shut down, and admittedly it might not work for a lot of the girls here, for they would be nameless creatures, but Elizabeth had a keen reputation and a particular air of popularity. Attributes which allowed her to charge triple of what the average whore does, experiencing a certain life of luxury which to her would be the closest thing to freedom she would ever be likely to taste, and everyone knew exactly why that was.
Elizabeth was not like any other woman, because of one simple reason:
She was 'HIS' woman.
The earthy tones of dark golden sand entwined in her curls, the climate had warmed the beauties complexion and left her full lips redder than newly bloomed roses. She was well accustomed with her body and certainly knew how to use it, so in the sudden silence of the room, when she did turn back around there was, as she expected there to be, a strapping figure standing before her; only she wasn't prepared enough to stop her mischievous mood turning to shock.
"You."
Muttering the single word, Elizabeth's long, elegant fingers snapped the stem of the glass she held, in correspondence to her change in character, because beyond physicality, to stare into Elizabeth's two deep set eyes, their depths could not disguise what emotions she felt within her wilful spirit, and so everyone seemed to hold their breath alongside her, as storm clouds gathered in her irises.
Wind swept by the oceans salty breeze, for the most part the stories were true, and he was compared with most quite the imposing fellow, due to his broad stature more than his height, having rumoured to be well over six feet tall.Penetrating the perfume with a strong scent of sweat mixed with rum and gun powder, his dark clothes were torn by many fights most likely and stained by some questionable things, proving to having not long set foot ashore, after…
"Ten months!"
No one needed to finish the trail of thought, for Elizabeth screamed the length of time the black haired man had been absentfor. She screamed it and threw the broken glass she possessed directly at him, maddened by rage at what she believed was his audacity to consider it a wise move to come back at all.
However, he remembered her temper well and couldn't help but grin fondly beneath his thick beard.
"Elizabeth," he greeted, taking everyone aback by his genteel tone.
The moment he spoke, he witnessed her whole demeanour shudder, betraying her of the need she carried, the same as his own.
Indeed, ten months ago he had slipped from her bed before she awoke to set sail and plunder, and for ten months he wanted nothing more than to reclaim such an embrace with her again; a cycle that he had dealt them time and time again.
Slowly creeping closer, the distance between them gradually faded, causing Elizabeth's breath to grow ragged, and she was frozen, as he leant down to brush his lips against hers.
"How cruel you are… Edward Teach."
As if no one was watching, he hooked his arm around her waist and met her head on with a passionate kiss, allowing him to taste the sweetness on her tongue, and she the roughness of his own.
When he parted he laid on her the sole excuse he had, as reason for his unjust actions, keeping her waiting for so long.
"Pirate."