Next chapter. I've decided that this story will be noticeably more…"mature" than my past romances. Just short of sex, but more than enough things that'll tide over the curious. Heh…you'll see. Enjoy.
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Two: Pleasures
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She pulled me along with her, unrelenting in her efforts to make sure that I didn't run off on some so-called 'royal event'. I could tell that she was gripping the sleeve of my shirt rather hard, judging by the wrinkling of the cloth and tingling sensation on my skin. Luckily for me, though, she was upwind of me, but downwind of the largest window in the hall. All the while, I could smell that heavenly scent in the air. I once even got so close at to be light-headed.
"Hurry up, I'd like to hurry and teach you something for a change. Imagine, me teaching something the King doesn't know how to do!" She giggled to herself and a slight twinge of embarrassment rose from my mind. My lips peeled to form a scowl, but it was quickly subdued with another whiff of that flower-like smell.
"Turn here." I say, making sure she didn't go past the armory. She jerks left, and I almost stumble over my own two feet. She releases her death grip, and walks forward. I watch her think. She's staring at the assortment of bows and crossbows, trying to decide which one would be a good choice. She beckons for me, at which I step to her side, trying to imitate her professional glance, scrutinizing the bows like an appraiser would his gems.
"Tell me, Albert, have you used any of these before?"
"Well, yes, I have."
"Which?"
"This one." I point to a rather unwieldy bow, made of maple. She stares at it. All at once, she takes it from the rack, and breaks it across her knee. A feat like that was not normal. Maple was hard to break. She must have been working out…
"I beg your pardon! That was a royal bow!" She tosses it to the side, and looks back at me, a smile on her face.
"Pardon my language, your majesty, but it was a royal piece of crap, to be honest." She turns back to the rack of bows before her, leaving me with my mouth hanging open, and standing dumbfounded. I regain my composure just in time to notice her remove another bow from the rack. She stares at it with a fervor, as if she plans to break another one. She holds it in front of her, looking it up and down.
"A fine piece, I must say. Oaken limbs, a face of yew, and a copper-coated string. Incredible craftsmanship. Good, we'll use this one. Nice and sturdy." She glanced at me, giggling and smiling to herself. Again, I have no idea why. But it didn't matter. Her voice, her scent, it was all compensation.
"Alright! To the range! The indoor one, so we won't lose any of my arrows."
"Alright, Al my pal, put your feet shoulder width apart…good, now turn your body…wait, wait, are you left handed or right?"
"Right."
"Okay, turn your body ninety degrees to the right…Good. Take the bow's grip in your left hand, and take an arrow in your right…" I follow her guidance, and she smiles, telling me I have the stance of a fish out of water.
"Well, I'm doing what you say!"
"Oh calm down, sourpuss, I'm only joking. Okay, I assume you know how to shoot an arrow, so I'll just let you do your thing and evaluate."
"Very well…" Keeping the stance that she had given to me, I pull back my right arm, and with it, the bow. The string goes taught, and my arm begins to tighten just to hold the arrow back. I take aim at a target, and point the arrow at the red center. My right hand releases, and my stance quivers. The arrow sails towards its target…and then darts about three feet away from the bulls-eye. A nearby guard stifles a chuckle. At this, Miranda pulls out her own bow, and lets fly an arrow that lodges itself directly next to the guard's shoulder, . She stands at attention immediately, no longer smiling or chuckling.
"Now shush, no more comments form the peanut gallery!" She glares at the guard, letting out an annoyed humph. She turns her attention back to me, and takes a step closer to me. She outlines my body. Her arm rests upon my own, her own right hand twisting and gripping an imaginary bow string, demonstrating what I should do or change. She scoots her legs directly behind both of mine, and rests her head on my shoulder. That same scent catches my attention, and I don't hear a word she says. All I can hear is her voice, not the words, and my legs begin to tremble, albeit only a little. Apparently, it was enough for her to notice. She checks her own leg, than looks at mine.
"You know, that could be part of the problem. Your legs are shaking, come on now, straighten them out…" I try damned hard to keep them still, and she resumes her previous position. She pushes her left leg forward, effectively widening my stance. Despite her instructions and say-so's, I couldn't help but take another whiff of the air. She took notice.
"Is something wrong?"
"Pardon? N-no, nothing. I'm sorry, continue." She also sniffed the air, and shrugged her shoulders. She continued with her teaching.
"Quit inching your legs forward! Shoulder width apart! Alright, now turn again…remember, the stance is not to brace you after firing an arrow, but to steady your aim while you let go of the arrow…No, grab the arrow there, too close to the feathers and your aim goes to hell…good. Now try again." She steps back. Before I let the arrow go, I glare at the guard impudently, making sure he sees this next shot. My right hand releases, and the arrow flies so fast, I couldn't see. What I did see however, was Miranda's eyes following something about the room. I guess she was still able to see it.
Thunk! The arrow plowed into the target, and settles in about half-way. Miranda sneered.
"You might want to ease up a little on the string…But still, an excellent shot. Can you land another?"
"I can always try." Then, I had an idea hit me. I'll just mess up my stance…there we go. Stance has been screwed.
"No, no, no! What are you doing! Look here, Al…" She steps up to me again, and outlines my body. I catch yet another whiff, and I sense her head on my shoulder. Her hand is touching mine, showing my how to hold the arrow…
"Um, Al? Are you comfortable or something?"
"Pardon?"
"Um, your…head?" It was then I realized that I was leaningon her. Embarrassment claims my emotions again, but she laughs, and does something rather unexpected. She comes closer, if that was at all possible. Then she even starts to whisper.
"No, Al, your doing it wrong…" I could sense a smile in her voice. She let out a soft sigh. The guard eyes us suspiciously.
"Grip it tighter…tighter. Good…" Her words were almost barely audible. I swear, it was like my own conscious speaking to me. She whispered again, with a strange but clearly detectable tone in her voice.
"No grabbing the feathers…" My fingers curl back, trying to avoid the crimson orange sails on the back of the arrow.
"Great…now pull back…nice and slow…" Her words blow right past my ear, giving me a ticklish sensation. My legs start shaking once again. She notices, giggles in that soft, seductive tone, but does nothing to fix it.
"Ahem!" The guard gives a prominent cough, and we both snap back to reality. She stops whispering, my legs are still, and she resumes talking like an instructor.
"Uh, ahem, yes, uh, alright, good stance, good bow, good….you know, whatever…good whatever. Great, now just, um…shoot." She's blushing, and her words are coming out rapidly and disconnected. I do as she says, and the arrow sails. Right out the window.
"Um…"
"Whoa! Hey! Great shot! Okay! Let's get out of here!" She grabs my arm, and I drop the bow. It bounces and a resonating clunthk sounds throughout the training hall. She drags me out of the hall and towards the dining hall.
"What's this all about, Miranda?"
"Shut up." And I do.
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She spins on her heel, making a sharp left, and suddenly, we're in my room. She closes the door and locks it behind her. I come under her inspecting eye, and I stand at attention. I'm rigid, and I don't know if I should move or not. She circles me, almost like a vulture does its meal. And then, right there, she pushes me onto the bed. I don't know what she's planning to do, but I hope it's---
"Albert, don't play dumb. There's something wrong with you." A wicked smile plays across her face, and she crawls on top of me. Damn, she is beautiful.
"Miranda, I don't know---"
"Shush. The whole time I've been here, which has only been an hour, perhaps, you've been acting funny. Stupid, even. Like a teenager. You want something, yes? Tell me what it is."
"Uh, well, I never really…y'know…No, I don't…ah…you see, I…" She smiles and gets off of me, walking out the door, purposely wiggling her hips. I catch myself staring at her rear, but I don't care. She's so damn beautiful.
"Tell you what…you tell me whatever you want after you teach my how to use that big stick…"
