Ill-Matched Lovers
A rover—short, old, and freeWith purse running over with gold,Took a Venusberg lass for a spreeWho took clients like him in her lass has her loose, lowly wiles,Undoing his purse with its glutWhile showing a face full of smilesLike the grin of a flat halibut.
- Anonymous Dutch Poet
Unknown POV:
Like a hawk seeking out its prey. You could literally see her honing in on the poor, poor man. Slowly, ever so carefully she makes her way over to the sad excuse of a man. The man dressed in ill-fitting rags, with the golden signet ring shining down on him. The man with the large nose, balding white hair, and broken grin never saw what was coming his way.
But then again who would be able to miss her. The auburn haired vixen wearing a daring low cut dress with that unfathomable, lascivious smirk.
To anyone else, at least anyone naive, you wouldn't be able to see what so clearly was about to happen. You would wonder perhaps what on earth the beautiful women was doing going over to talk to the old man. You would never be able to see what was happening next.
As the lady makes her way over to the man you see the man's face light up. His broken grin grow so very widely as he thinks he has made attracted his beauty. She leans into him whispering sweet nothings into his ear. His hand comes up and starts caressing her back. And what of that slight shiver of disgust that just ran through her body? Barely noticeable to the untrained eye. His hands move up and grab her head attempting to move it down to catch her lips in an unbreakable kiss. She pulls back from him; he tightens his hold on her head molding his other hand to her breast. You see her hand come up and cup his check. A loving touch? Maybe until you see her thumb push at his chin and her palm pressing into his aging face, both a futile effort to push the man off her.
At this point the average person looking in would feel bad for the poor girl, caught in a lover's embrace that she so blatantly doesn't want. But wait, what is this? All the while the leach's hands were working he didn't notice her other hand. The hand that had slipped ever so carefully into the mans pocket. And if one was surveying the scene closely enough he would be able to see the small girl standing off to the side of the lady in her shadow. And the small but obvious transfer of the man's wallet into her waiting hands.
Alas now the lady is stuck. Her job done, the money stolen and yet here she is stuck in the ever tightening embrace of the man. Now the choice is in your hands. Does she deserve help? It was her own greed, her own hands that put her in the embrace to start with. But then again who knows what the poor man might have up his sleeves, especially once he finds out that his precious lover is actually a thief? And what of the small girl off to the side, will he help his mistress in her time of need or is the greed just too strong? Would she have helped her? Choices, choices which one will you pick?
As a patron of this upstanding pub I would have to inform the onlookers not to worry one bit. This is after all just one more mess that the darling lady Isabella has gotten into. I would however encourage you to stick around, things are just getting interesting...
A/N:
If you have actually made it this far in the story...thank you so much for reading. I apologize right off the bat for any spelling/grammar mistakes. This story was based of the painting Ill-Matched Lovers by Quentin Massys.
PLEASE REIVEW! Even if it was just to say that the entire thing was horrible! This is the first thing I have ever written and would love feedback. This is the prologue for a story I have in mind so let me know!
Thanks =]
Somniare214 3