She took a deep breath. She had been preparing for this for months. She had been practicing each movement, each gesture, long into the night. She had been determined to achieve perfection, or come close to it. She had listened to all the veterans, they all advised her to begin with someone of less reputation, otherwise it would just add to the nerves. But she only strived for the best, she had worked so long and so hard, she was determined to get it.
They laughed at how long she took to get ready, teasing her that a misplaced hair would not make the difference between a good performance and a bad one. But as they teased, they primped just as much as she. Her skin glowed, she had scrubbed away every speck of dirt, taking hours of time in the baths. Her raven hair was artfully pinned up in curls on top of her head. Her face was painted, to make her lips look fuller and her eyes look more enticing. She may not him been the most beautiful or voluptuous one there, but she radiated vitality, and she wore something, that set her apart from the rest, a virgin's band.
All her practice, all her work, would be judged tonight, it was her only chance, and it would be worth it. The door opened to deafening cheers and the dancing girls came into the court of Sparta.
The smell of sweat and wine was overwhelming, and the wild eyes of drunken men made her hesitate for a moment at the door, but she knew the wasting even seconds would rob her of her chance. She followed the rest of the women, flapping her skirts, in the motion she had drilled in for so long, she did not have to even think about each movement. Each arm held the side of her dress and she moved them fluidly so her dress would look like a fan, gently opening and closing. While moving her skirts she arched her back up and down, in her own rhythm, ignoring the tune of the music, it would only serve to distract her. Her dance created a moving tapestry, and the men watched her hungrily and attempted to grope for her, her arching back had allowed a generous sight of her breasts, but they wanted more. She glided off their wandering hands, and left them to consume their hunger upon another woman, she had higher sights in mind.
She quickened her pace, other women, were already nearing him. She paused when she stood in front of him, all her work, all her practice for this man, ruler of Sparta, King Menelaus. There was already a woman on his lap, kissing him as his fingers roamed her body. This would not do, she had not come so far, to be defeated. She joined the other women around him, attempting to catch his eye, all these women, she had joked with shared a meal with, but now they were all fighting against each other, all wanting to win one prize.
Tonight was her only chance, King Menelaus, was partial to one thing, women who were not yet deflowered. To be taken by the King of Sparta meant to receive a large purse, and she was determined to be the recipient.
Her dance never wavered, and she did not succumb to lesser men, for they carried lesser purses, the women around her lessened until it was just her, the king, and the woman on his lap. He stopped his kissing the woman on his lap to breathe, his hands never stopping roaming that woman's body, and then he looked up to see her.
She smiled seductively when he saw her, how many different smiles had she tried in front of stagnant water, until she had found the one she would wear for him tonight? He pushed the woman who had been sitting a top his lap, into the hands of another leering man, and reached for her. His eyes raked across her body and his hands reached for her breasts, but she moved them away and placed them on her hips, which were moving in silent rhythm, swaying side to side. He sat stunned for a moment staring for a moment at the woman who stood swaying in front of him, she would be his for as long as he desired her, and reached fro a pitcher of wine, ready to engulf it all, but instead this woman, pried it gently from his hands and moved it in front of her, and never looking away, poured it down her blouse, so that the white cloth covering her cleavage turned red soaked with wine. The king's eyes widened, as licked his lips, and moved his mouth toward them, to taste them, she moved his head, with her hands and shook her head, her swaying hips slowing, but not yet stopping.
He roared with drunken laughter, "Who would have imagined such a sight, a modest whore." Nevertheless he grabbed her hand and led her to an empty room. She knew that having him alone would only add to her purse, that way they could continue without another woman to interrupt them. He pushed her roughly onto the bed, where he proceeded to suck hungrily at the cloth covering her breasts, as his hands roamed. His hands fumbled with the ties on her blouse, wanting to taste more then cloth. She had been prepared for this, he had so much wine in him that it would be near impossible for him to undo the laces on her back, she waited until he gave her a purse, and proceeded untie the knots. As soon as he felt the cloth on her loosen, he pulled the blouse from off her. In the next instant she laid on the bed, the top of her left completely uncovered. Her cleavage which the tight blouse had pushed up to seem larger, were actually little more then handfuls for the king to grip. Grip he did, stroking them at first, watching them harden, and then squeezing them hard enough to bruise. She decided the time had come to move on and then, brought her motionless hands to life, and snaked them under the king's robes, teasing him delicately, waiting for it. The king moaned, as he threw another purse at her. He had gone slack on top of her, and rolled his back on the bed. She stroked his thighs first and tickled his shaft watching it rise and harden. He moaned for her, calling her a filthy whore, but she was determined to take her time. Finally she gripped it and moved her hands upon it in gentle and then more strenuous rhythm. He moaned louder, groaning, she was sure someone would hear above the outside commotion, and come in to investigate, but the room remained dimly lit, containing only the two of them. The king was tired of waiting for her to fulfill his hunger, he was panting with desire, and shocked her when he flipped her onto her back. Her eyes were wide when he pulled off her virgin's band, threw coins upon her, and shoved into her.
She woke when it was dawn, and the king snored next to her, she scooped up her purses, filled to capacity with coins, and grabbed the stray coins on the bed, and quietly slipped from the room.
Amarante walked away from a memory that would be the reason of her new life, a life made comfortable of wealth she had earned.
Authors's note
: This is my first attempt at a rated R fanfic, so please be don't be too harsh when you review, all constructive criticism in appreciated. I was thinking that the story would end here, but if there is interest in me continuing it, I will.