TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN
Prologue
Smooth and rough. Hard and smooth. Magical and...sordid. A lover's touch inspires some of the most unimaginable and inimitable emotions. Tenderness, joy, spiritual fulfilment...and unhindered all-consuming lust.
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Our hero sits on a straw bail in the stables at Pemberley, watching the rats scrabbling in the dank corners of the stalls. Sandy brown hair and calm blue eyes coupled with a pleasing profile and well-developed physique declare hum to be a handsome youth. Though only 14, his height implies 'man' rather than 'boy' to the casual observer.
What, I hear you ask, is this young man doing sitting in the stables? His clothes do not look like those of the common farm hand – no, our hero (christened George) is son of the steward of the illustrious James Darcy, owner of the Pemberley estates.
Though his eyes are calm, one can detect the faint shimmer of tear held back and a slight irregularity in his breathing. On the outside he is like any idle adolescent who requires a quick wallop on the backside to get him to work. But on the inside, he boils – boils with rage, humiliation, vengeance.
His left hand is bandaged – indicating the broken wrist he obtained when stealing a ride on his master's prize thoroughbred. The horse's sleek, shining chestnut coat is a badge of being well looked-after – proof of its belonging to the privileged, the rich, the powerful, the beautiful.
George's hands burn to embrace these things – to be smiled upon by pretty young maids with fluttering lashes, to be able to control the lives of hundreds of people – have the money to bestow to them bountiful gifts, or to crush their worthless little lives with the ease and carelessness of a child killing a moth.