Chapter 7.
Miles' changes
Miles Fairchild entered the shop Friday morning. He looked flawless, and the crisp bright day seemed to have put him in a very good mood.
"Good morning, Mr. Fairchild." She greeted him unable to contain the joy she was feeling.
"Good morning, Sarah. My, you are in a wonderful mood, something special happening in your world?" He moved forward and rested on a walking stick.
"As a matter of fact yes, I'm going to the opera tonight! My mother got me a box seat for The Magic Flute." She said. "It's her idea of the perfect birthday present. She sent me a dress, shoes, a cloak, everything! It's going to be a perfect night; one of my favorite Operas and a dress that makes me look like I just stepped off the stage of My Fair Lady. The only thing missing will be opera glasses, as I've been unable to find a pair."
"Is today your birthday?" Miles asked softly.
Sarah blushed softly. "Yes, it is."
"Best wishes of the day, my dear." He offered the good wishes sincerely.
A bit flustered she waved her hand. "Thank you, Mr. Fairchild. Now, what can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for a book of poems; it's called The Song of Venus." He watched as she keyed the title into her computer.
"Oh yes," she nodded. "We had a copy come in just this week. I see here that it's just over one hundred dollars. It's a good copy, nice and clean. If you'll follow me," She pointed to the closed door at the other end of the store. "This is becoming a habit, isn't it?"
Miles Fairchild chuckled softly, "Perhaps we should be glad there is usually no one around when we go off to the locked room." He teased flirtatiously. "Or we'd incite gossip."
Sarah unlocked the door; "Oh like anyone is going to believe you'd take an interest in me."
Miles gazed at her wolfishly for a moment but let the comment lay. "How old are you today, Sarah?" He asked instead.
"I've arrived at the ripe old age of Twenty two." She was searching the shelf. Finding the book, she turned it over to the man. "Here we are one copy of Song of Venus."
'Ripe, ah yes, my dear.' He thought and he smiled, "Are you familiar with the poems in this book?"
Sarah blushed, "I've read one or two."
Miles Fairchild looked carefully at the book, "I think it was a very lucky day for me when I came in to this establishment." He opened to a passage, smiled and looked at Sarah with gentle eyes. "Sea-born goddess, let me beBy thy son thus graced, and theeThat whene'er I woo, I findVirgins coy, but not unkind.Let me, when I kiss a maid,Taste her lips, so overlaidWith love's sirop, that I mayIn your temple, when I pray,Kiss the altar, and confessThere's in love no bitterness." He recited the words on the page softly, his voice rich and deep and like honey. She blushed softly as he read the words that were suggestive but not blatant. "Thank you, Sarah." He handed the book to her.
"Will that be all today?" she asked dreamily as she accepted the book.
"For now, that will have to do." He followed her back to the front of the store when she'd composed herself and returned to her senses. "So are you driving into the city this evening?" he asked as they neared the front and the cash register.
"Oh no, I'll be taking the train." She rang up the purchase. "There is never anywhere to park, and I hate the traffic in the city. It's just much easier to take the train." She handed his credit card and the purchase to him.
"Happy birthday again my dear, enjoy your night at the Opera."
As he exited the store, Sarah wondered what it was about Miles Fairchild that was so interesting. The man defiantly had an air about him. His demeanor put her to ease even as his presence made her heart race a bit.
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Miles closed the space between them. "I never did get to thank you for letting me know where to find you."
Sarah glared at him. "You didn't read me a poem… and I didn't moon over you!"
"Not the first time… but this time… this time is different…." He teased. "Think Sarah, you can feel the changes… and you can remember… remember the changes…."
Sarah gapsed, her memory was shifting… she was seeing what had happened, and what could have… "No!"
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The trip into the city was a pleasant enough ride, and there were others dressed for a night on the town. None could compare to the girl in the red evening cloak. The commute was over two hours, and Sarah had brought a small book of poems that she could slip into her evening bag when she was done. When they arrived at the station an elderly couple asked if she'd like to share a cab over to the Opera House. She accepted and enjoyed their company. When the cab arrived at the destination, she followed them into the beautiful theatre.
Sarah had been given orders by her mother on not putting the cloak in the cloakroom of the Opera House; Linda had instructed her to remove it only when she arrived in her box. Finding her ticket, she handed it to an usher who guided her up the stairs to the exclusive boxes. Once more, Linda's contacts had come though with flying colors. The door of the box was ornate, entering into a corner box with an excellent view of the stage. It also had but one seat in it that was occupied, hers. The remaining three had velvet cords across them. Sarah entered the little cove and walked toward the beautifully carved chair. She looked down to find a gift sitting on the seat waiting for her. On the gift was one perfect gardenia.
"Happy Birthday, Sarah," A smooth voice said just to her side, and behind a partition.
She turned to face Miles Fairchild. "Mr. Fairchild?"
He smiled and bowed to her; "At your service."
Sarah blushed, "How on earth?"
"I have…connections." He pointed to the gift. "Do open it."
Sarah smiled and turned to pick up the gift. She pulled the slivery ribbon that held the box closed. Inside the box was a lovely pair of antique opera glasses. She lifted them and turned to the man. "This is so thoughtful!"
"You said it would be the only thing missing." He pointed out as he watched her finger the gift. "Now, here, turn and I'll help you out of that cloak."
Sarah obediently turned, and felt his hands smoothly remove the outer garment. She heard gasps from some of the other boxes. The dress had gotten the reception Linda knew it would, and Sarah was pleased. From Miles she heard a low rumble of approval. She turned and looked at him with a young wistful smile her green eyes shimmering in the lights.
"Sarah, you look enchanting," he assured her. She took her seat as the lights started to go down, Miles leaned toward her. "One more gift." He whispered and handed her a small foil box.
Sarah looked down and opened it; Godiva chocolates. "Thank you." She then turned her attention to the stage.
Miles smiled, knowing she was truly pleased by his gifts. He spent more time looking at her then at the stage, having little or no interest in the production. When the intermission was called, he asked her to join him for refreshment. He waited in the hall and offered her his arm. He noticed how she moved with slow, deliberate steps, head held high, like a young queen in training. He ordered champagne, when he was handed the pair of glasses he allowed the small tablet in his hand to drop in to the one glass. Miles handed the fluted glass to her where she stood away from the crush of people at the stand. He looked at her and raised his glass. "To you, my dear," the man saluted her.
"Thank you, kind sir." Sarah took a sip of the wine and let it mix with the taste of the cherry cordials Miles had given her. The sensation of flavor and intoxication were most pleasant.
He watched her for a moment, then made polite conversation knowing the potency of the herbs would not take control for some time."I must say," Miles looked at her gown, "That is a very unusual gown. Where on earth did your mother find it?"
"One of mother's friends is a costume designer in California. They were doing a couple of dresses for the Wax museum out there, and Mother talked her into making a copy of the dress for me. It is beautiful though, isn't it?" Sarah said quietly.
"Every detail is exquisite." He assured her. "You look perfect." He purred.
Sarah finished her wine, and handed her glass back to Miles, who deposited both on the tray of a passing busboy, before offering her his arm again. They walked with slow steady steps, Miles taking pleasure at being seen with the lovely creature on his arm. When they reached the door of her box, he ushered her in and seated her. Upon returning to his seat, the lights went down again. Never had Miles seen anyone get so wrapped up in a performance. The young woman never took her eyes off the stage, not even to look at anyone or anything but the performers. He calculated the timing of his potion, and smiled. When the final curtain call came and the standing ovation was over, Miles smiled at the young woman as they both took seats. "Enjoyed that, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did." She sighed happily, however the smile faded for a moment.
What is it dear?" he asked.
"Oh I was just thinking how perfect this has all been. The dress, the box, your gifts… and now I have to fight to get a taxi and dash off to the train. Lord only knows how long I'll have to wait for one." She lamented. "I guess the slippers are made of glass after all."
"Perhaps I can remedy that." He rose to his feet again; "Sarah, would you allow me to offer you a ride home? I have my own driver waiting, and it would be a much more pleasant ride with your lovely company."
Sarah hesitated, "I don't want to put you out." Something made her feel a bit shy suddenly, and uncomfortable about being with him.
"Come now, Sarah! We are going back the same way. It's not like I'm being taken out of my way." He coaxed.
"It would be nicer than the train," She looked at him shyly. "Yes Mr. Fairchild, thank you. I accept the offer of a lift home."
"Good, Sarah. Now do dispense with addressing me as Mr. Fairchild. I have asked you on several occasions to call me Miles." He stood up, held out her cloak and watched as she slid into it. "Come, my dear." He pointed to the doors. Once in the hall, the offered arm was accepted and they walked unhurriedly down to the lobby of the Opera House. Once outside, they walked to the area reserved for limousines. Miles pointed to a sleek car with unusual lines to it. "I've such a love of antique things." He explained as they approached the older styled vehicle. "Besides, this vehicle has such style and grace that is missing in so many modern vehicles." The uniformed driver, exited the car at their approach, bowed and opened a door for them. Miles ushered her into the car and then settled himself. "Sarah, this is my driver, Stephens, Give your address to him."
Sarah looked at the driver and spoke the address, and was rewarded with a tip of the cap. She turned to Miles. "This all makes me feel rather like a princess."
"That is the literal translation of your name you know," Miles tapped his walking stick on the floor of the fancy car. "You look more like a queen."
"Oh you are too kind." Sarah said lightly feeling a bit dizzy all of a sudden but wanting to mask it..
"Did you enjoy the opera?" He began what he hoped would prove to be an informative conversation.
"Yes, very much," her green eyes danced. "I love Mozart!"
"Indeed?"
"He has such flair!" Sarah shrugged.
"He was a bit of a provocateur," Miles reminded her softly he let the walking stick slip to the floor.
Blushing slightly Sarah sighed, "He loved life."
"He loved pleasure," countered the handsome man at her side enjoying the direction the conversation was going to take. It was exactly where he wished to lead her. "You do know that the piece we saw this evening, when it was first presented was considered immoral, obscene and indecent."
"Provincial minds," she dismissed the fact with an airy tone.
Miles licked his lips. "Yes, they were," he smiled down at her affectionately. "You're not a provincial mind though, are you?" His voice was warm and engaging.
"I hope not." She spoke a little too quickly, and countered for good measure. "I may not be experienced in the ways of the world, but I hope I have an open mind." She laughed, "Must come from having been around all the show business types my mother has introduced me to. I suppose some would say I'm corrupt."
"Corrupt?" Miles pretended to give it thought, "Oh dear, will my virtue be safe?" He teased.
The tease drew a giggle from the target. "With what you like to read, you're worried about me?"
Miles pretended to be wounded. "You cut me to the quick!"
"I don't believe that for a moment!" She giggled again relaxing into the conversation. "You are no innocent lamb, Miles Fairchild."
"I have a partiality for the sensual," he admitted with a smile.
"That's putting it mildly." Sarah teased right back.
"Now, Sarah!" He countered. "What makes you say that?"
"Miles," she said quietly. "I do know what is in those books you've purchased."
"In concept," he reminded her of her own words on one of their meetings. She blushed the colour of a newborn rose, to his delight. "However my dear, there's a difference in one who enjoys the sensual, to one who enjoys destruction."
Sarah tuned in her seat, "You mean the differences in people who take pleasure from oh say a Dominance and Submission venture as opposed to a Sadomasistic relationship?"
"Exactly," he tapped her hands with the gloves he held in his elegant hands. "One is pleasure, the other is pain."
Sarah looked at him for a moment, considered, then asked. "Are you a Dom?" Her fingers went to her lips as soon as the words were said.
"Bold." He said with approval. "Yes, I am."
Sarah tapped her fan on her knee; "So you what? Administer punishment on your submissive?"
Miles laughed a throaty laugh, one that was filled with pleasure not insult. "My dear, it's not as simplistic as that. It's not a matter of punishment; it's a matter of bringing every sense of the body to life." He placed a hand over hers. "And it is always with consent. It's a sacred contract, if you will." Sarah didn't seem to notice his hand on hers as she was thinking about his words. He began a soft drone. "Most often it has nothing to do with punishment; it has to do only with pleasuring the senses. Every living thing likes pleasure, Sarah."
"Miles," she asked softly. "Do you have a…very extensive library of books like you've been purchasing?"
"I've a fair amount," he admitted. "More then some collectors, less than others; I'm very particular as to the content of my private library."
"Your tastes seem to be rather bordering on the Oriental." She observed.
"Ah but you don't know the rest of my collection." He enlightened her softly. "Nor do you know of my art collection."
"You collect erotic art?" she asked.
"Yes," he smiled. "You must come see my collection sometime."
Sarah swallowed. "Is it…" she moved her hands in a movement that resembled bindings.
"Some, not all. I've a large collection of statuary, some paintings, and prints," he said carefully. "Very little of it is devoted to bondage, my dear."
Sarah blushed. "You must think I'm absurd with these questions."
Miles smoothly slid one hand over the back of the seat. "Not at all, I consider you a lovely, open minded and inquisitive young woman." Miles didn't press his advantage. He kept his arm over the back of the seat, and impersonal, not wanting her to feel threatened. "There is nothing wrong with being innocent Sarah."
Sarah took the complement and thanked him. "You're very kind. May I ask how you became… interested in…" her voice faltered she was unsure how to address the subject at this point.
"My lifestyle?" He offered. When she nodded he continued. "As a young man, from a well to do upbringing, I was given privileges that most others don't know of. I took advantage of these privileges. Long ago I learned how pleasant being sensually pleased was. Having means, I explored this option; as you are exploring your options at the University."
"You make it sound so ordinary." Sarah said thoughtfully. "But that's not the case is it?"
"There are misconceptions." He admitted. "I try to keep discreet. You only know of my… propensity due to the fact that you work in an establishment where I obtain some of my materials." He sighed. "Do I frighten you?"
"Frighten is not the word I'd use." Sarah said, after some thought. "I mean if I were to pass you on the street, not knowing you, I'd just think you were an elegant and cultured man." She looked at him. "Having some knowledge of your propensity? I am not frightened but I do find it a little too…"
"Close?" he offered.
"No, not close as much as, intimate. Like I'm privileged to knowledge I shouldn't have," she confessed.
Miles devoured her with his eyes. "I consider your quiet confidence and honorable treatment of me to be a private covenant between us."
"Do you?" she asked.
"There are very few relationships that are as intimate. That is without being on a physical level." He kept his voice low and purring.
The young woman looked at him, "Still, I know what you're reading."
"I don't have a problem with you knowing." He informed her.
"I'm not entirely comfortable with it." She confessed trying to avoid his gaze. "It's an intimacy I'm not use to."
Miles could see the tablet was no taking affect, he also knew they had at least an hour in traffic before they would reach her door. "Not comfortable but… interested?" he suggested softly, letting his voice coax her into saying her thoughts.
Sarah looked at him, "I can't help but be inquisitive… I mean I have looked over the books…and…"
"And you wonder what being a submissive is like?" He asked.
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Sarah in the crystal chamber gasped, she looked at the man at her side. 'This didn't happen.' She thought quickly. 'He's changing it!'
Miles moved closer, smiling.
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The girl in the elegant white gown blushed; she began to turn her face away from his. His arm came down from the back of the seat and rested about her shoulder, as his other long elegant hand turned her face back to his. "Say it," he coaxed. "Say you wonder how it feels… you won't shock me."
"One can't help but wonder… when one has read…" she whispered.
Miles let his fingers trace her chin, "Would you like me to demonstrate?" The girl was not given time to think or protest. The man lowered his lips to hers, the strength of his mouth hushing her. When she gasped in surprise at the soft touch of his lips to hers, he took advantage of the moment, letting his tongue slide into her mouth and tasting her. He felt her pulse quicken, he heard the soft involuntary moan, and he drew a response from her she'd not expected. He raised his head. "You taste like cherry cordials and champagne," he murmured in a sensual voice that burned with passion. His eyes bore into her, as if to reach into her soul. "How I'd like to teach you all the pleasures that can be had….Sweet little bird…" He growled softly, placing his hand over hers once more resting tentatively in her lap. "Sarah, I promise you that I do not take lightly our relationship. I can promise that I will always treat you with appreciation should you choose to allow me to master you..." The young woman seemed to tense a bit, and he changed the subject. Sitting back with his arm once more on the back of the seat, he began to ask how her education was coming along. The rest of the distance home they discussed her classes and the article she was preparing.
When the fancy car pulled up to the curb outside her home, it was close to three in the morning. Stephens opened the door, and Miles stepped from the car, offering a hand to Sarah. He walked her slowly up to the front of the house. Sarah suddenly felt like there was an elephant on the front lawn. She offered her hand to him hesitatingly. "Thank you for the glasses, Miles, it was a thoughtful gift. I don't know how to thank you for saving me from the long train ride alone." She spoke softly, her voice just above a whisper in the night air; it was awkward and she knew it.
Miles placed his left hand on her long silky throat, and pressed her chin up with his thumb as he said, "Permit me this one liberty, little bird." Swiftly he swooped down on her lips with his. As quickly as it had happened, it was over. "Good night, Sarah. Happy Birthday;" he took a step back freeing her.
Sarah stood still for a moment, a gloved hand raised to her trembling lips. "Good night, Miles." She turned and moved into the safety of her home.
Miles strolled down to the car. There was a smile firmly fixed to his lips. Until he saw the look on Stephens' face. "Something vexes thee?"
"Thee plays with fire, Master." The servant warned.
"Oh but what a lovely way to burn," moaned the master. "Home, Stephens. I have arrangements to make. I believe I'll be having a visit from my little bird soon."
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Fury, fear, and something else un-named welled in Sarah in the crystal cavern. She turned toward the smirking Fae and before he knew it, raised her hand. The blow was swift and accurate, and left a dark angry red mark on the face of the startled man. "You bastard!" She roared. "How dare you take advantage of me? You were the perfect gentleman when these events happened… how could you be so cold, and mean? How could you take that from me?"
Miles, stunned and taken aback had no answers, he faded out, leaving Sarah sobbing as she collapsed to the cot.
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From his viewing point in the atrium of the house used by Garrett King, Jareth moved his hand over the scrying pool. "Look into the wall again Sarah… see the rest… see me…" He ordered softly. He heard the sob catch in the throat of the girl, saw her head turn toward the crystals…..