Title: "Elegantly Wasted" 2/?
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: R, AU, SnC, LoCa
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: How far would you go for the man you love?
"How long will you be in our fair city, Senor?"
"Please...call me Lorenzo." The way his hands lingered on her waist were entirely improper... but the wine had dulled most of the crowd's senses. To the point where she could see even the marshals who accompanied the mayor to all his events were deep, deep in their cups.
She suspected that she could take the good senor Alcazar right here and the honorable misters Spencer and Smith would simply smile and wave in greeting.
And Michael...Michael would love it.
He was the most perverse and depraved man she knew.
As she moved with the tall Venezuelan to the rhythm of the waltz, she could feel him watching them. Calculating. Waiting.
"How long will you be in our fair city, *Lorenzo*?" she amended, tilting her head so she could look at the handsome devil full in the face.
"As long as it takes for my business to conclude...and then I shall return to my coffee plantation outside of Caracas." He shrugged, dispassionately, and the breadth of his shoulders moved elegantly beneath the tailored fit of his coat. It cost him no effort whatsoever to dance... she had the sense that he could dance, conduct business, and create the world all at the same time.
"To your wife?" She asked the saucy question before she could stop herself, thinking mutinously of Elizabeth Hardy and her pasty little muffin face.
Lorenzo chuckled huskily. "No...no, I'm afraid I have no wife. I have not yet found someone who will...what's that American saying...? 'Put up with me'?"
Oh, there were plenty of women in Louisiana who would put up with this man. Caroline was certain of that. If not for his eyes and his finesse on the ballroom floor then for what was surely a hefty fortune. "You may just find yourself leaving married, Senor," she said, with amusement. "You're quite a catch."
"Is that why Mister Corinthos has made this fortuitous introduction?" He arched an eyebrow, deliberately baiting her.
"Oh, no..." Her hand discreetly found its way beneath his coat and he drew in a sharp breath. "I'm not the kind of girl you marry." She leaned forward, whispering against his cheek, "I'm the kind of girl you take back to your hotel and let have her wicked way with you."
His fingers were warm against her bare back, her throat, the tops of her breasts. "Corinthos really intends to lend me his woman?" he wondered. "I did not know such courtesies were observed in your country."
"Oh, I am *not* his woman!" Caroline assured, emphatically. "I am no man's woman!" Except for Miguel's. Her little boy owned her heart and soul. But that was not Lorenzo Alcazar's concern. Or her own at the moment...
No...she had her goal for the night. Pleasure. Mutual pleasure.
Unfortunately, Michael had his goals as well. Was she to take note of the senor's pillow talk? To search his belongings after he collapsed, sated, beside her? You could never tell with him... and he had yet to let her in on the game.
Maybe he wanted her to work her magic first...
She had no problem with that.
"Would you care to join me for a private drink, Senorita?"
"There's nothing I would like better."
***
"You know...up until recently, this hotel was a coffee warehouse."
The glasses clinked as he poured them each a flute of sparkling champagne.
"I do know that, actually." She kept the wistful note out of her voice, stalling in her subtle act of disrobing. All she had managed to undo were her stockings and she left them on the floor by the bed as she accepted her glass. Michael had owned this building once...Michael and his partner. *Before*.
Alcazar loosened the knot of his scarf with one hand. "Why do you think they sold the property?"
"No futures in coffee?" She shrugged, and the bubbles in the wine tickled her throat. "I'm not a businesswoman, Senor Lorenzo."
He arched his brows, speculatively. "Aren't you?"
"I provide a service to gentlemen of independent means," she clarified, delicately.
He prowled the room like the wolf she had first associated with him... slow, stalking, movements... as he drained his champagne to the last drop. "Of your own free will?" he wondered, stopping at the room's fireplace, staring into the hearth, where the fire burned bright.
"Women don't have free will, Lorenzo. All we have are a few opportunities." She began to, deftly, unbutton the tiny pearl hooks that ended at the base of her spine. "Seamstress?" She made an amused noise. "Nurse." A chuckle. "Nun?" A full burst of laughter. "I chose 'whore.'"
"What of 'wife'?" he countered, eyes glittering as she pushed her bodice down over her shoulders, baring the clingy silk chemise beneath.
"Same difference. At least I get paid for what those poor milk-fed goody-goodies have to dish out for free."
"And how much do *you* pay? What is *that* price, Caroline?" he asked, softly.
She didn't answer.
Didn't dare.
Instead, she stepped out of her dress and drew him close.
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: R, AU, SnC, LoCa
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: How far would you go for the man you love?
"How long will you be in our fair city, Senor?"
"Please...call me Lorenzo." The way his hands lingered on her waist were entirely improper... but the wine had dulled most of the crowd's senses. To the point where she could see even the marshals who accompanied the mayor to all his events were deep, deep in their cups.
She suspected that she could take the good senor Alcazar right here and the honorable misters Spencer and Smith would simply smile and wave in greeting.
And Michael...Michael would love it.
He was the most perverse and depraved man she knew.
As she moved with the tall Venezuelan to the rhythm of the waltz, she could feel him watching them. Calculating. Waiting.
"How long will you be in our fair city, *Lorenzo*?" she amended, tilting her head so she could look at the handsome devil full in the face.
"As long as it takes for my business to conclude...and then I shall return to my coffee plantation outside of Caracas." He shrugged, dispassionately, and the breadth of his shoulders moved elegantly beneath the tailored fit of his coat. It cost him no effort whatsoever to dance... she had the sense that he could dance, conduct business, and create the world all at the same time.
"To your wife?" She asked the saucy question before she could stop herself, thinking mutinously of Elizabeth Hardy and her pasty little muffin face.
Lorenzo chuckled huskily. "No...no, I'm afraid I have no wife. I have not yet found someone who will...what's that American saying...? 'Put up with me'?"
Oh, there were plenty of women in Louisiana who would put up with this man. Caroline was certain of that. If not for his eyes and his finesse on the ballroom floor then for what was surely a hefty fortune. "You may just find yourself leaving married, Senor," she said, with amusement. "You're quite a catch."
"Is that why Mister Corinthos has made this fortuitous introduction?" He arched an eyebrow, deliberately baiting her.
"Oh, no..." Her hand discreetly found its way beneath his coat and he drew in a sharp breath. "I'm not the kind of girl you marry." She leaned forward, whispering against his cheek, "I'm the kind of girl you take back to your hotel and let have her wicked way with you."
His fingers were warm against her bare back, her throat, the tops of her breasts. "Corinthos really intends to lend me his woman?" he wondered. "I did not know such courtesies were observed in your country."
"Oh, I am *not* his woman!" Caroline assured, emphatically. "I am no man's woman!" Except for Miguel's. Her little boy owned her heart and soul. But that was not Lorenzo Alcazar's concern. Or her own at the moment...
No...she had her goal for the night. Pleasure. Mutual pleasure.
Unfortunately, Michael had his goals as well. Was she to take note of the senor's pillow talk? To search his belongings after he collapsed, sated, beside her? You could never tell with him... and he had yet to let her in on the game.
Maybe he wanted her to work her magic first...
She had no problem with that.
"Would you care to join me for a private drink, Senorita?"
"There's nothing I would like better."
***
"You know...up until recently, this hotel was a coffee warehouse."
The glasses clinked as he poured them each a flute of sparkling champagne.
"I do know that, actually." She kept the wistful note out of her voice, stalling in her subtle act of disrobing. All she had managed to undo were her stockings and she left them on the floor by the bed as she accepted her glass. Michael had owned this building once...Michael and his partner. *Before*.
Alcazar loosened the knot of his scarf with one hand. "Why do you think they sold the property?"
"No futures in coffee?" She shrugged, and the bubbles in the wine tickled her throat. "I'm not a businesswoman, Senor Lorenzo."
He arched his brows, speculatively. "Aren't you?"
"I provide a service to gentlemen of independent means," she clarified, delicately.
He prowled the room like the wolf she had first associated with him... slow, stalking, movements... as he drained his champagne to the last drop. "Of your own free will?" he wondered, stopping at the room's fireplace, staring into the hearth, where the fire burned bright.
"Women don't have free will, Lorenzo. All we have are a few opportunities." She began to, deftly, unbutton the tiny pearl hooks that ended at the base of her spine. "Seamstress?" She made an amused noise. "Nurse." A chuckle. "Nun?" A full burst of laughter. "I chose 'whore.'"
"What of 'wife'?" he countered, eyes glittering as she pushed her bodice down over her shoulders, baring the clingy silk chemise beneath.
"Same difference. At least I get paid for what those poor milk-fed goody-goodies have to dish out for free."
"And how much do *you* pay? What is *that* price, Caroline?" he asked, softly.
She didn't answer.
Didn't dare.
Instead, she stepped out of her dress and drew him close.