Milo Banda could still recall the exact moment during which he had fallen in love with Marcia Overstrand. It had occurred some twenty years earlier at a party in the Wizard Tower, a ball that was set to be the Castle's grandest event of the year. Often, the greatest of the Castle's balls were held in the Palace ballroom but this was an exception. This year, the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Alther Mella, had decided to host a party for all of the Wizards in the tower and indeed for anyone else in the Castle with a mind to attend. Milo had been merely twenty-one years old at the time, a young man in the prime of his youth, and had been enthralled by the tantalizing sight of so many women in one place. As a merchant who spent many months at sea, women were a rare delight for Milo. The ports in which he and his crew stopped were few and far between and there were no women to be found on ships. It was still, even then, considered to be quite bad luck to bring a woman aboard a ship. Milo believed this as well, if only because women would become a distraction for the wayward sailors. Therefore, this night at the ball was one to which Milo had looked forward with great intensity. It was very nearly to almost forget the touch of a woman while at sea, to forget the incredible softness of a woman's touch, the delicacy of a woman's form, or the scent with which women so often adorned themselves. It was maddening sometimes to lie awake in his bed, longing to hold a woman in his arms, wondering if he would even survive to do it again. Life at sea was dangerous, wild, but exciting and Milo knew that, risks or not, he would never trade his life as a traveling merchant. Seeing the world had always been a passion for him and he didn't see why he would need to stop. Not even his desire for women could subvert his desire to pursue treasures from all corners of the world. Nonetheless, he had spent months unable to contain his excitement regarding his return to the Castle. He felt that Alther Mella's ball could indeed give him an opportunity to have quite an exciting weekend.
Milo was not at all mistaken in his assumption. The ball itself was splendid. The Great Hall was decorated in purple and gold streamers, and the air was heavy and rich with the scent of magyk. Even Milo, who was not a magykal person, found the scent intoxicating. It was wild, an exotic evening and unlike any he had known previously. The Wizards were hospitable, offering him food and drink at the moment of his arrival. Alther Mella gave a brief speech and the frivolity began. Milo donned his finest attire that evening and succeeded in drawing the attention of more than one young lady but, to his surprise, only one woman was successful in catching his eye that evening-the very same woman who would continue to catch his eye for the rest of his life. Two years prior to the ball at the Wizard Tower, Alther Mella had taken Marcia Ovestrand, a young, hopeful Wizard, as his apprentice. She had, ironically, never captured anyone's attention in the way in which she now drew Milo Banda's. To the majority of onlookers, Marcia Overstrand was perceived as cold, gauche, and more than a bit awkward, physically and emotionally. No one could have imagined that a handsome, arrogant man like Milo would take such a vivid interest in a woman like Marcia unless he had some intention to make her his conquest for his own amusement. However, were the Wizards to assume that this was what Milo desired from Marcia, they would have been surprisingly wrong. When Milo Banda met Marcia that night, Milo lost his heart and he would never again regain it despite his multiple efforts to steal it back from the sorceress who had hidden it so thoroughly.
Milo had spent the first half of the party dancing and chatting with many of the young Wizards before he even so much as glanced in Marcia's direction. It wasn't until nearly 10:30 in the evening that he noticed a young woman standing in the corner of the room, staring at the floor and trying-or so it seemed to Milo- to devise a way in which she could escape from the party before it ended. She bit down on her lip roughly which betrayed her anxiousness more than words ever could have. Milo found that, after glancing at her, he could no longer look at anything else. The woman he saw before him was dressed in long dress of verdant silk that indicated that she was a Wizard apprentice. Her long, curly dark hair fell down her back in ringlets that Milo found a sudden and powerful urge to touch. Her eyes, naturally were emerald green but they sparkled in a way that made the eyes of the other Wizards seem pale and dull by comparison. Her skin was creamy white, so white in fact that, when she at last caught sight of Milo staring at her, the blush that rose in her cheeks was easily made visible by the way in which it stood out against the paleness of her cheeks. To Milo, this blush was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It was this moment, the moment during which they first looked into one another's eyes, that Milo fell irrevocably in love with Marcia Overstrand once and for all.
Shyness was not a character trait with which Milo had much experience so rather that admiring this ravishing Wizard apprentice from afar, he immediately approached her, blissfully unaware of the fact that he was making his target extremely flustered. When at last he had reached Marcia's side, he knelt down, grasped her hand before she could objected, and placed a brief but meaningful kiss upon her ivory fingers. "My lady," he said softly, "would you please do me the honor of telling me your name at least? I have never seen anyone like you. I don't think I could leave tonight without knowing who you are."
In response, Marcia rolled her eyes and turned away from him. Milo was perceptive though and could see that the tips of Marcia's lips were raised slightly, as though she were suppressing the urge to laugh or smile. "Why should I tell you who I am when I don't know who you are?" she asked somewhat sharply. "You do surely realize that it is highly unusual to approach young women in this manner. I see no reason why I ought to tell you anything about myself at all."
Milo smiled, "You'd leave me miserable then? I cannot imagine that you are so heartless."
The humor in Milo's tone succeeded in breaking the rest of the ice in Marcia's demeanor. "Many would argue that I can be quite heartless indeed." She retorted, "But, as it happens, I'm not feeling particularly cruel tonight. Why do you want to know my name? I've no doubt you already know it. What are you playing at?" Marcia raised her eyebrows in a mixture of suspicion and something like amusement. Milo had to admit to himself that he didn't know who she was. He had never seen her or heard of her before this night. He was at once afraid that he would insult her by his lack of prior knowledge regarding her identity. He hesitated slightly.
Now, Marcia did laugh, a heartier sound than he had imagined. It charmed him more than he had expected it would and he found himself laughing as well. While Marcia laughed, her austere expression vanished and became one of bewitching amusement that made Milo's heart pound in his chest. She is beautiful! He thought. So very beautiful and she has no idea. "What is funny?" he asked.
"I find it funny that you are being honest with me. I've just determined that you truly don't know who I am."
Milo was astounded. "How would you know a thing like that?"
"I'm a Wizard." Marcia smirked drolly, "I can, as I'm sure you know, tell a bit about unsuspecting people by inspecting their thoughts every now and again."
Milo froze. He had forgotten what his friends had told him about Wizards. "Beware of those Wizard women! They'll read your thoughts, they will! And then, once they know what yer thinkin', they'll use your thoughts to manipulate you. Never forget that, lad." Milo had, in a matter of moments, gone from being completely confident in his conversation with Marcia to utterly nervous. From the moment he had seen Marcia, he had found himself imaging the activities in which he would like to engage with her if she were willing. He now recognized, to his dismay, that there was a high possibility that this young woman knew exactly what he had been imagining since the moment he had laid eyes on her. It was now Milo who blushed furiously.
"You do me far too much justice in your head." Marcia said flippantly, causing Milo's embarrassment to increase rather more sharply than it would have otherwise, "I'm afraid to inform you that I haven't got the body of a goddess. If you a searching for a woman who possesses an exquisite form, I encourage you to look elsewhere. In fact, I encourage you to look elsewhere for a number of reasons."
Milo shook his head. Never before in his life had he imagined that he would have to apologize for the thoughts in his head and yet here he was, preparing to do exactly that. "I..." For once in his life, Milo Banda found himself stammering, awkward. It was the wild look of amusement in Marcia's bewitching green eyes that drove the truth right out of him. "I couldn't help myself. You are wretchedly beautiful and even more wretchedly unaware of that fact."
Marcia shook her head dismissively. "I'm hardly beautiful but you are definitely a flatterer. What I absolutely cannot understand is why you are wasting your time flattering me. You might actually have a bit with some of the other young ladies here. Wouldn't you rather be successful than struggle all evening with no reward?"
Milo frowned. "If I learn your name, I've had a successful evening."
Marcia sighed, relinquishing at last. "Marcia Overstrand." She said brusquely, catching the unprepared sailor completely off guard. He felt as though he had been hit by some bizarre, heavy weight. Marcia Overstrand? The ExtraOrdinary Wizard's apprentice? But that wasn't possible. He had always heard that Marcia Overstrand was studious, aloof and frankly unattractive. He could now see that he quite disagreed with his friends on the topic of Alther Mella's dazzling apprentice. He recalled briefly an expression that his mother had often used when referring to personal preferences. "Milo, dear, no one will find the same types of people attractive. Every pot has its own lid." He wondered if that was perhaps the reason he felt so drawn to Marcia Overstrand. Perhaps she was his "lid", his type. However, as he looked at her for a moment more, he decided that that simply couldn't be the case. She was far too beautiful. Any man in the world would want her and Milo decided that night to make it his ambition to attain her. Before she could resist, Milo reached for Marcia's long fingers, finding the touch of them pleasantly soft and smooth, and brought them to his lips. "I'm very pleased to meet you at last, Miss Overstrand. I'm Milo Banda and I am truly at your service."
To Milo's surprise, Marcia giggled. "I see that you are." And he was. Milo Banda had lost his heart that evening and, in spite of a subsequent marriage to a queen, he would never reclaim it. He was indeed destined to be Marcia Overstrand's prisoner for his eternity. His lifetime of servitude was to begin that very evening.
He spent all evening attempting to discover as much as he could about Marcia Overstrand. He successful learned that she lived in an apartment in the Ramblings and that, he ultimately decided, was the most interesting tidbit of information he was able to glean from the other partygoers who seemed to know stories about her. The location of her home was key. This way, he could find her almost certainly.
Milo succeeded in discovering that Marcia lived on the lower east side of the Ramblings as well. This fact surprised him a bit. He had rather expected that Marcia, as the ExtraOrdinary apprentice, would have nicer accommodations than that. Somehow, the idea that Marcia resided in a modest home made her appeal to Milo all the more. So she wasn't pretentious at all. Milo smiled to himself. The idea of seeing more of Marcia Overstrand truly appealed to him in a way that he couldn't imagine that anything would at the moment.
When Milo arrived at Marcia's rooms later that evening, he realized that it hadn't occurred to him until that very moment that the way in which he had followed Marcia home could be considered a bit creepy. He considered this for a moment and then further considered the fact that he had no way in which to enter the flat and the hour was late indeed. This did not trouble Milo for long though. One learns a few tricks on board a vessel and one skill Milo had acquired over the years was the ability to pick locks. Due to this tactic of his, he was able to enter Marcia Overstrand's apartment with no trouble at all.
Once inside, Milo glanced around the room and took in the sight of a shockingly simple bed with a small purple comforter, a simple, practical desk, a soft looking chair, and a variety of pixie pots which Milo was able to tell belonged to a collection. The sight of them together made him smile. Marcia clearly wasn't as sensible as she pretended to be if she collected silly items like pixie pots. By glancing around her room, Milo was learning still more about Marcia and finding it all very intriguing. She was truly an adorable creature and he was swept up in her, buried in her. He was, though he didn't realize it then, losing his grip on reality.
Milo was so taken the sights he was seeing that he did not until realize immediately that the shower was running. The sound of the water and what it implied caused Milo to shudder from head to foot. Marcia Overstrand was in there. The most charming, adorable creature he had ever seen was in there and he was simply standing there. He paused. He knew that he had experienced a kind of chemistry with her that night but he didn't know that she would submit to the things he couldn't help but dream about. Slowly, cautiously, Milo Banda approached the shower.
Steam crept slowly out from behind the wet curtain, billowing upwards and dancing around itself, curling loosely in a similar fashion to cigarette smoke. The almost cloudlike essence hung in the cool air of the bathroom, completely obscuring the patterned ceiling from view, seemingly separate from the rest of the air in the room like the froth on a pint is separate from the drink.
The bathroom was sufficient enough in size to hold a large ornate bathtub, with silver clawed feet as opposed to bronze, a single basin, a toilet with an old fashioned pull chain, and a rather large shower. For whatever reasons, all features were black rather than the usual white that most people preferred to use in their bathroom, and all fixtures were solid silver and polished so that they sparkled in the candlelight. The bathroom, it could easily be determined, was far finer than the bedroom.
It was under the running water of the shower that Marcia Overstrand happened to be, in the wee morning of a bleak and frosty Tuesday. Winter was not her favorite season. Her fluffy purple towel was neatly hanging by the pale green shower curtain, pushed through the hole of the circular holder, rather purposefully within reach of both the bathtub and the shower.
Hot water shot onto her naked skin, biting sharply at the first contact and cooling considerably as it slid in unpredictable paths down her sensuous curves. Her milky skin had tightened in response to the sensations, her ample breasts pert, two pink nipples erect under the water's flow.
Ebony hair hung heavily past her shoulders, sodden with water but still full bodied with those perfect yet crazy curls that framed her lovely face. Her thin neck was tipped so that the water could flow freely down and moisten the whole of her body without touching her face for the moment.
Once thoroughly doused with water, Marcia grasped the bottle of liquid soap from the small purpose built shelf in the corner. Since the shower was actually large enough for two people at once, she had no problem maneuvering herself out of the waters' stream as she washed.
Pouring a generous amount of the creamy white soap into her cupped hand, Marcia replaced the cap and put back the bottle with the other, before bringing her hands together. The cold cream slid through her fingers as she took her soapy hands and placed them directly onto her breasts. She always enjoyed the tingle of the temperature difference on her delicate nipples, and figured what better place to begin her massaging than her feminine mounds.
Carefully smoothing her hands over her breasts and down her stomach in small circular motions, the soap began to froth. Small bubbles were forming as she caressed her sleek body with a surprising gentleness.
Covering the whole of her figure with sufficient cleanser, her hair now clinging to her back due to the bubbles, Marcia resumed massaging her breasts. Her fingers pinched her nipples hard, hands cupping her breasts tenderly, slipping over their plumpness in the soapy residue.
Moving on from the play with her breasts, as the shower continued to trickle, Marcia decided there were much more interesting ways of pleasuring herself. She closed her eyes in order to experience the delicious sensations only she could provide herself with while she showered.
The door swung open. There, standing in the doorway, was Milo Banda. Understandably, Marcia shrieked in response and rushed to cover herself in anyway that she could but it was useless. If she covered her full breasts, she was incapable of covering her nether lips and vice versa. She shuddered violently, embarrassment palpable on her cheeks. Milo could not prevent himself from feeling sorry for her. "I'm so wretchedly sorry." He murmured, realizing for the first time that he had made a mistake. "I've just never met anyone like you and I couldn't stay away. I…heavens, you're so beautiful." For once, Milo was rendered speechless. Marcia, contrary to what she had told him, was everything he had imagined she might be and more. He sighed and, blushing, turned to leave.
"Wait!" Marcia cried out before he could leave the bathroom. Milo stopped, his heart pounding in his chest. Was she really about to do what he hoped she would? Would she allow him to stay? Did she fancy him as much as he did her?
"I…I think I'm interested in…well….whatever you obviously have in mind as long as you swear to tell no one about it."
All of the color that had drained out of Milo's face came back into his cheeks. His joy was difficult to describe in words. Marcia wanted him! "I only want to do one thing, really." He started, "I think you're amazing." Quite quickly, Milo began to remove his clothing as well and, after receiving permission from the look in her eyes, joined Marcia in the shower.
Once he had entered, Milo finished Marcia's job for her. Her caressed her breasts, cupping them in his hands before eventually taking her left nipple into his mouth. The tantalizingly sharp shock reminded her that this was what she had wanted. Her nails wound their way into his hair. As he sucked on her nipple, she gyrated her hips into him silently begging him to feel what he was doing to her.
As his tongue swirled in precise circles closer and closer to her throbbing, dripping folds, Milo's hand fell upon Marcia's upper thigh. The other paused in her ebony curls, damp from both the shower and her own copious emissions, and he twisted his finger through the hair but carefully avoided any contact with her skin. Marcia moaned.
Then, without warning Milo pushed his middle finger deep inside her. Her smooth walls contracted around him in lust, longing. Even before he had the chance to begin stroking that spot, she had begun to dribble her feminine juices down his hand.
Beginning with slow caresses and alternating with fast, hard strokes, Milo soon had her weak at the knees. The throaty groans told him she was building momentum, as did the feel of her silky womanhood around his finger. On his knees now he swirled his tongue around her belly button while forcing her legs apart with his other hand. Marcia's fingers were now holding him tightly by his shoulders in much the same manner as a young child would hold the rail on a shaky staircase.
Milo flicked his tongue over her swollen clit, sending shivers down Marcia's spine. Her eyes were rolling back, her expression blissful as she continued to gasp and moan furiously.
Marcia's back arched against the shower wall, her hands were entangled in Milo's hair as she pushed his face deeper between her legs, encouraging him (as if he needed further encouragement) to bring her. She was close. The tingling in her clit as he sucked on it, his tongue pushing it from side to side, was shooting through her soft belly, causing her to tighten up. Inside of her his finger was bringing a warmth to her groin, one that could only result in immense pleasure.
Without warning she began to squirt her appreciation all down him as her womanhood contracted around his finger, the clear odorless liquid warm on his chin, chest, and manhood. Her knees failed to hold her properly and she almost collapsed in her ecstasy, his hand holding her up by her inner thigh as she spasmed against him. "Milo," she managed, but that was all she could seem to say. She was practically panting and utterly flushed. Milo pulled her closer to him, as if to support her. "You are…well you are quite the man, aren't you? What they say is true, you know about women's…" Marcia stopped, realizing she had made a mistake. Milo grinned, amused.
"You knew who I was at the party and yet you said nothing! Why?"
Marcia shrugged. "If you didn't know who I was, why should I give you the satisfaction of knowing that I had in fact heard of you? You're an odd one though. All of this for me…you must want something quite notable in return."
This time, Milo shook his head. "No," he said softly, "What I have just done is all I could think about doing at the ball. The idea of doing this to you consumed me. I want nothing for myself tonight. Seeing you….well….seeing what I was able to do to you has made me happier than anything you can possibly imagine."
Marcia seemed a bit gob smacked. "But Endor always says-"
"Well maybe what they always say is wrong. Or maybe you're just different from any woman I've ever met." Milo kissed Marcia on her pleasantly soft cheek and allowed himself one last sniff of the delicious scent of her womanhood. Unable to stop himself, Milo leaned forward and kissed Marcia on her lips. To his surprise, Marcia herself deepened the kiss and in response, he wrapped his arms around her protectively. When they broke away, he looked into her eyes and said, "You've taken me now. I will never love anyone else."
"Don't be foolish!" Marcia laughed but she was, he could tell amused.
Milo smiled as he started to disentangle himself from Marcia's arms and prepare to leave. "You won't call me foolish the day that you become my wife." He said and then, unexpectedly, Milo tickled Marcia's ribs, causing her to cry out excitedly. Delighted by the sound, Milo kissed her lips again, relishing their softness. "May I see you again?" He asked.
Marcia assumed her usual somewhat haughty air as best she could given the circumstances. "Yes, Milo, I think you could as long as I have your word that, for the moment, you will speak of this to no one and that you will consider no other young women."
Milo nodded, understanding. "Of all that, you have my word." He said softly. He finally glanced away from her dazzling green eyes long enough to reach for her hand and place a kiss upon it. "Good night, Marcia." He said, "I'm so lucky to have found you." Then he departed, leaving Marcia Overstrand quite flustered and longing to tell Endor that, after years of boring evenings at home, she had finally experienced some impassioned love making with Milo Banda of all people. It was quite the story to tell.