Yay! Chapter 5! Finally.
This was inspired by 'Magnet' sung by chesakurai and Hitori, as well as 'Cendrillon' sung by Hanatan and Pokota. And then there's 'Cantarella' sung by Clear and Nero. That last song was very enjoyable to listen to. Never before had I been... turned on? - being the best chosen word - by guys singing. LOL. Perhaps its the sexual noises they make? But go listen to those songs if you have a chance, and if you're okay with listening to Japanese music.
On another note, FUCK YEAH (pardon my language), the CANUCKS WON THEIR FIRST GAME AGAINST THE BLACK HAWKS. I'm so excited right now; it just rocks my socks.
Charles Grey looked around in wonder. Last time he had been served here, at the Pearl Pagoda, he had been served in the reception hall; today would prove to be the first time that he had ever been in the room of a prostitute. It proved to be quite richly furnished and stylishly decorated. The oak furniture - all of an elegant design - was polished until they gleamed like bronze mirrors. On her low dresser was a white porcelain vase that held a sprig of cherry blossom, the white-and-pink petals adding a dash of innocence in a place that held nothing but provocative secrets and sexual pleasures; a place lost of all virtue.
To one side was a vanity table, holding all of Ivory Blossom's bottles and jars of perfume and makeup, while a gilded mirror was pinned up against the wall, giving off a sophisticated air. Against one wall was a large canopy bed, the four posts standing tall and erect; the pale gold gossamer curtains pulled back. The red silk pillows shone with a gleam, embroidered with a design of white peonies and trimmed with gold lace. The scarlet bedspread donned a phoenix and Oriental dragon in flight, their bodies intimately entwined. A table of black lacquer sat in the middle of the room, where a crystal bowl piling of candy and nuts sat, along with a teapot and two cups painted with golden peonies. There was also a bottle of wine and two frosted crystal flutes. The scent of jasmine and incense infused the air.
Scrolls of calligraphy were hung around the room, each character gracefully inscribed upon the silk; exotic, he found, but refreshingly different. However, out of all the art that decorated the room, two different paintings caught his eye; although of completely different nature - one was of oil paint, the other of ink - they both told Charles Grey stories of faraway lands and cultures just by each fine line or crisp brushstroke. On the wall opposite the bed was of three stunning girls cavorting by a pond, each garbed in gorgeous robes of vivid colors, their ebony hair knotted in buns, where crowns of cherry blossoms splashed pink upon the blackness. The other, which was right by her vanity table, was a beautiful painting of distant mountains that touched the heavens, shrouded by mists that gave the painting itself a mystical and numinous air. With the only light being the candles upon the lacquer table and dresser, the flickering firelight gave both paintings a sense of depth and perception.
"Beautiful, are they not?" Came a voice, smooth and lilting. Charles Grey whirled, to be met by the languorous gaze of Ivory Blossom. She had closed the door behind them, and was standing there, her stance one of pleasurable ease. A sensual smile played upon her full lips, which shone ruby red. Although Charles Grey greatly disproved of this occupation (he felt much disgust at the thought that he was sharing a single woman with a great number of other men), he could not help but admit that the woman that stood before him was of great beauty. She wore a sleeveless gown of red silk and gold trimming, and it hugged her curvaceous body quite wonderfully. A slit run up the close-fit skirt, daringly high, flaunting her long, slender leg rather becomingly, while providing a sense of sexual pleasure, Charles Grey thought. Tucked into her pomaded hair was a red flower, which flitted between the black, playing hide-and-seek. Her eyes, shining with a hidden luster held his almost wistfully.
"Yes; they are gorgeous. May I ask who made them?"
The young woman nodded, sidling past him towards the painting of the mountain landscape. "This was painted by the celebrated painter, Gu Kaizhi." She turned to face him with a thoughtful expression, her fingers running gently over the work of art. "It has been so wonderfully preserved; did you know that it was painted circa 390?"
Charles' eyebrows rose. "Really? How interesting. And the other?"
"Ah. Yes, that was done by me."
Now, Charles felt his jaw drop open, but he quickly closed it so he didn't seem rude. When did whores ever appreciate the arts? He thought they just sold their bodies; perhaps he was wrong. "Seriously?"
The woman let out an lighthearted laugh that rang charmingly in Charles' ears. "You may think that I'm merely a prostitute, Sir Grey," she said in a low voice. "But I am actually a courtesan, and although I sell my body, I also sell my arts; many customers appreciate my talents in the zither and my skill with the calligraphy brush. Many of my customers have offered to buy those scrolls: Chinese and English alike." - she waved airily at the scrolls of elegant calligraphy adorning the walls - "The sisters of the Pearl Pagoda are not just the common whore." She said the word with emphasis, as though in disgust. Charles could have sneered at the thought; when did prostitutes have a hierarchy?
But his thoughts were cut off as Ivory Blossom continued. "I can show my zither playing later. As for the painting; yes. It is slightly reminiscent of my past," Charles could tell a hint of melancholy in her tone as she said that. "However, that is a different story for a different time." And as she said that, all sorrow was gone from her voice as she picked up the teapot and poured a cup of the amber liquid into one of the beautifully painted cups. She repeated the same process with the other cup. Passing one of them to him with graceful hands, she picked up the other.
"To your health, Sir Grey." And with that, she brought the cup to her full, sensual lips, and downed the steaming tea with a single, graceful gulp.
Lau smiled as he opened the doors of the carriage to where Spring Jade sat. As Lau helped her down, he admired the costume she wore: she was a geisha, and wore a beautiful kimono of dark navy blue silk, where silver cranes flew against a night sky, and a mystical landscape of dark trees and rocks rose from the hem. A silver obi wound around her slender waist, accentuating the thinness of it. Her pale skin needed no further whitening, while her ebony hair had been pinned up into a bun where a chrysanthemum hairpin, set in pink diamond, was fastened, in which it peeked precociously from between the black tresses. The two iron sticks he had given her were pinned into the bun, where the adornments dangled enigmatically like frozen drops of water. Diamond earrings hung from her ears, quivering with every step. Emerald eyes were lined with black kohl, giving her an enchanting, mystifying air. She looked stunningly gorgeous; an elegant girl whose seemingly prestigious upbringing gave her a grace that was superior to others.
As she stepped into the party, many people turned to look at her, awed by the exoticness of her very presence and the beauty that was deemed unnoticeable. Impressed by her foreign background, they scrutinized each of her movements, as though searching for imperfections in this seemingly perfect girl. It was blatantly obvious that they looked down on her because of her Chinese background, but the prestigious air that surrounded her and the elegant way she held herself made an impression on them all.
Already, a young man had approached Spring Jade. He was a handsome thing, with messy shoulder-length brown hair that had been tied back with a blue ribbon, a fine-boned face, high nose, full lips, and gentle midnight-blue eyes. Dressed attractively in a fitted tuxedo with a lacy ascot tie and gold rosette on his right lapel, he exuded wealth and status. With a smile, he held his hand out to the girl.
"May I have this dance, my lady?" He said in a velvety-smooth voice; obviously to charm the young Chinese maiden.
Spring Jade turned hesitantly to look at Lau, but he merely nodded at the other. Then, with a stunning smile, one that he knew so well, she turned to face the young man once again. He seemed momentarily stunned at her beauty. "I would love to," she said in her soft, melodious voice. Placing her slender hand in his own gloved one, she was led onto the dance floor, where a number of other couples waltzed. Several other young men were watching as Spring Jade danced with the handsome boy, and Lau could detect a jealously glinting in each of their attentive eyes.
Smirking, he turned his attention back to the dance floor, which was slowly filling up, watching as she moved with a grace that seemed to be always present with her - from the way she served him tea or wine, to the way she played her guqin or er-hu. Silently, he wondered if the young Earl Phantomhive would find her as enchanting as any other young man, and truly hoped that that was the case. Then, as though nothing but a shadow, he escaped the ball room, down the hall, and down a flight of steps that took him into a room of pure darkness.
Ivory Blossom was aware of Charles Grey watching her as she gracefully poured him another cup of wine. Already, his face was growing red, his gaze hazy. His lips spread into a clumsy grin, and she just smiled sweetly back at him, her fingers ever-so-subtly brushing over his arm; his gloved hand.
"I cannot have another, Ivory Blossom. I believe that I am intoxicated enough," Charles Grey slurred out, waving his hands in front of him clumsily.
Yet Ivory Blossom persisted as she tilted the crimson liquid into the crystal flute. "But Sir Grey, I must insist," she replied in a honeyed voice. "We cannot just waste this; it is one of the most expensive wines we have in our alcohol chamber. I asked the Golden Flower if I could serve it just for you." With a wink, she added, "it cost me a couple silver coins, but I can see that it is worth it. So please, Sir Grey, just a little more." She flashed him a dazzling smile, and he looked stunned.
The young man quietly, obediently, picked up the glass and brought it to his lips.
Ivory Blossom's eyes drifted over to the clock on her dresser. An hour had past - all they had done was talk and eat. Similar to the last time he had been here, there had been no touches, no kisses, no losing one's soul to desire. Several times she had hinted that he had to pay by each hour, and yet he seemed to ignore them all, or was oblivious to every suggestion. Was he not fascinated in her face, in her body? Did she not stroke the fire of desire within him? Or perhaps he was not interested in women? Ivory Blossom's heart felt heavy at the thought.
Maybe she had to be a little more obvious.
Ivory Blossom leaned forwards, pushing her breasts closer to his face. He recoiled in his surprise, eyes widening. Her voice lowered to a whisper, becoming husky and sultry. "Is there anything you would like to do, Sir Grey? Besides eat and drink?"
The young man's eyes searched the room wildly, away from her, to her consternation. Finally resting on her zither that hung from the wall, he gestured at it.
"I remember your zither playing from the last time I was here. Perhaps I would have the chance to hear it again tonight?" He flashed her a smile, which looked so delectable and attractive under the candlelight. Ivory Blossom felt her heart grow heavier, but she resisted a sigh of dismay. Moving away from the table, she took it from the wall, placing it on the ground, and took a seat before it, where she began to tune the instrument. When finished, she smiled flirtatiously at him, battering her long, mascara-darkened eyelashes, though she felt saddened at the thought of a man's ivory shaft being more appealing to this beautiful, respectable man then her golden gate. But, she was a prostitute - no, a courtesan. And courtesan was never to show her true emotion to her customer. So instead, she hid the questions of her heart underneath the battering luster of her alluring eyes; the enticing soul-sucking smile that spread across her red lips.
"Is there anything you wish to hear, Sir Grey?" She asked in a tempting voice, voice low, sensual.
The man just shook his head, eyes clouded by the alcohol. "Anything, Miss Ivory Blossom. Please, play me anything."
Ivory Blossom's smile widened at his answer, and she turned her attention to the instrument before her. She tilted her head just so, her features composing to resemble that of a scholar - detached, serene, peacefully bathed in the music from the instrument. Then, she began to play it, her long slender fingers dancing over the strings, effortlessly gliding and pirouetting as they coaxed out a song from the zither. A haunting, entrancing melody rang through the room, each note clear and limpid, dazzling beautiful yet somber at the same time.
Ivory Blossom's eyes closed as her mind began to drift atop the ancient music that emanated from the instrument, lost to a far-away place - to the quiet intonation of her mother, and the gentle whispers of her sisters…
Ciel suppressed a yawn as he leaned against the paneled walls of the aristocratic Taylor family ballroom, his one hand holding the slender neck of a wine glass, filled with a potent smelling liquor. It was stupid, he thought, to allow a child to drink wine. And yet, he did not complain; but he did not touch the drink. Instead, he swirled the ruby-red liquid around and around in his cup, hoping that it would prove enough amusement for him until the party was finally over.
The space was filled with people of the richest and most noble families, each dressed in elaborate costumes. In the middle, couples were dancing on the polished terrazzo floors to the music played by the orchestra that sat to the side of the room, while others milled around with champagne flutes and tiny hor d'oeuvres in their hands, gossiping amongst one another. Music drifted towards him: it was a piece composed by Bach. Ciel looked away from the crowd, rather bored.
It proves laughable, he thought to himself. That these noblemen and noblewomen find pleasure in speaking to one another about the latest scandals with their 'friends' at these gatherings, and yet, they backstab one another later on. He rolled his eyes. He hated parties. They were a waste of his time, effort, and patience.
"Oh! This is so fun, Ciel!" Came Elizabeth's voice. Ciel stopped himself from rolling his eyes. As much as he "enjoyed" his fiancées company, he was beginning to get annoyed at her constant gabbing. Her shrill voice rung in his ears. Tilting his head back, he let out a mild growl as his pirate hat fell over his eyes. Stupid costume. From beside him was Sebastian, and the demon stood there as stoic and silent as ever.
"Yes," Ciel muttered half-heartedly. "So fun." He could hear Sebastian's smirking chuckle, and he turned his head to the side quickly, flashing the latter a glare. He was instantly silent. With a quick motion of his hands, he signaled his butler closer. The demon leaned forwards, towards him.
"Yes, Young Master?"
Ciel gestured towards the doors that led out of the ballroom. "Go. Search for the opium."
Sebastian nodded with a knowing smile. "Of course, my Lord." Then, he turned his attention to Elizabeth and her maid. "Please excuse me," he said with a bow. "I will be back soon." And with that, he was suddenly gone, as if he had disappeared into thin air. He closed his eyes.
"Oh! Look at her! She's so beautiful, like a doll!"
Ciel ignored Elizabeth.
"Look Ciel, look!" The girl began to shake him. "She looks sort of like Lau's assistant; could she be Chinese too?"
Now, Ciel opened his eyes, his inquisition overriding his thoughts. He was curious to see what Lau's "sister" looked like. His gaze followed where Elizabeth pointed and instantly, he was stunned to a silence. A small Asian girl stood on the dance floor, talking quietly with a young man, a small smile flickering on the edges of her full lips, stained red as though by fresh roses. Her green eyes twinkled like emeralds held against the sunlight, and her long, dramatically dark lashes brushed her cheeks as those jade-colored eyes looked down furtively, giving her reserved and mysterious air, as though she held many secrets. From where she stood from a distance, she was absolutely stunning to Ciel's young eyes, dressed in a silk kimono that poured down the length of her slender build, contrasting beautifully against her milky-white, almost translucent, skin. Her raven-colored hair had been gathered into a simple bun, where a chrysanthemum peeked out from the black tresses. She was youthful in her beauty, holding a innocently chaste air that surrounded her like a perfume.
Never before had Ciel seen someone so beautiful or pure.
Her head flashed to the side, as if she knew someone was staring at her. Noticing Ciel past the crowd of people, that small smile widened into a broad grin; something sparkled in those emerald eyes. Ciel felt himself go still - for once, he wished for Sebastian's presence at his side. For some reason, he felt insignificant and small as the girl moved closer; it was a feeling very foreign to him, and he greatly disliked it. There was a giggle, and Elizabeth slipped away, to leave him defenseless against this tiny, little girl.
"Hello," came her melodious voice, like chiming bells dancing under the slightest breeze, or the haunting song of a nightingale. Her voice held a foreign accent to it, but it only added an exotic sophistication to her words. "I could not help but notice you from where I was standing, and you seemed so bored."
"Y-yes," Ciel cursed the way he stammered, and grit his teeth, furious at his weakness.
The girl giggled, curtsying daintily, as though she had fully embraced English culture. Perhaps she had been here longer then Ciel would have thought? Ciel took the moment to examine her face, and he felt tears prick his eyes. She was truly more stunning up close. As she straightened, she fixated Ciel a veiled stare, her glossy red lips curled into a decadent smile. "You must be the young Earl Phantomhive I have heard so much about. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Spring Jade."
Sebastian Michaelis slipped through the halls of the manor, as silent and fleeting as a ghost concealed by the shadows. He had left the noise of the party behind, but the sounds of couples, hidden behind the thin paneled walls, still filled his ears. He frowned, disgusted.
As he reached the end of the hallway, he noticed a large, rather imposing door. Curious, he pressed the side of his head against the aging wood, listening intently. Grunts sounded from within; the heavy noise of shifting crates and boxes; of laboring men. Sebastian's lips upturned in a knowing smile. Yes. He had found it.
Slowly, silently, he opened the door, slipping through the crack. He closed it gently behind him. Turning, he was met by a wall of darkness. It took his eyes a couple moments to adjust, and when they finally did, all he could see was a winding staircase leading down into the infinite blackness.
Sebastian crept down the stone steps, his feet barely touching the ground as he swiftly moved deeper and deeper under the mansion. Finally, he could see the glimmering flame of candlelight in the distance, and he rushed towards the light.
Turning the corner, he crept onto a balcony that hung over a large room, lit only by dim firelight. Dirty young men toiled down below, moving heavy crates back and forth, towards an opening at the very end of the garage. And in the middle of it all stood a smartly-dressed nobleman. He was smiling as he brought a pipe to his mouth. Sebastian instantly identified him as Sir Barney Tyler, the owner of the household.
Sebastian inhaled, and he instantly recoiled in his revulsion. The whole place stunk of a sickeningly sweet smell.
Opium.
"Well," came the deep rumble of Sir Tyler's voice. He exhaled, white smoke curling from his thin, spiteful lips. "This is going exactly as planned. No screw-ups; nothing. Wonderful. And you are sure that the Earl Phantomhive is preoccupied?"
The sound of sharp footsteps against the stone caught Sebastian's attention. A laugh filled the area, charming yet filled with a hidden menace. "Of course," a suave voice replied. It held a foreign accent to it that Sebastian instantly recognized; polite, yet indirect, with a mocking and facetious undertone to it. "I have made sure of it."
Sebastian watched as the two spoke to one another quietly, before he finally slipped away, off to find his master.
My laugh filled my ears, too loud, even to me. I looked up at the young man that towered over me, too tall and too menacing for my liking. I disliked it here; I felt out of place, uncomfortable. As a Chinese surrounded by a sea of yang guizi, I was very aware I was the odd one out. There was no denying that. And yet, all the young men treated me kindly, and it made me feel perhaps a little less uneasy. Only a little.
As I looked over the man's shoulder, I could see a couple of my customers lingering here and there, but they refused to pay me attention, as though affiliating themselves with a Chinese whore here, at this social gathering, would spoil their reputations. I scoffed at their hypocrisy; as if they weren't corrupt enough. And besides, they were with their wives, old ugly hags, and they didn't want to displease them, now did they?
Yet, the young men here did not seem aware of my profession, and they spoke easily with me, asking for my hand to dance or offering me drinks and little snacks. One after the other, they would introduce themselves, but their odd names would come in one ear and go out the other right after they said it. I couldn't remember all these foreign names, with their weird sounds and strange modulations! The only ones I really knew by heart were those of my customers, like Sir An-der-son, or Mister Spence-ar, or Mister Jo-han-sen, or whatever. And even then, I could not pronounce their names correctly, which became an object of their teasing.
Stupid white barbarians. Stupid English. My gaze slid around the room as I searched for Ah-Lau or Ran-Mao.
"Miss Spring Jade," a voice cut into my thoughts, and I looked back at the young man before me, whose name was like Earn-nest Rob-ert-son or something. He looked slightly offended, his lips pulled down in a frown, which looked rather unpleasant against his big-boned face. Although I knew that he was handsome by English standards, I was still unused to the large noses, pale eyes, and light hair of these foreigners. I guess I could say he was attractive enough, with soft golden hair that fell into gentle eyes the color of a cool summer's rain. He was dressed as an Indian prince, or something. "Are you listening?"
I flash him a wide smile. "Ah, yes, I'm terribly sorry," I apologize, attempting to keep my voice as sweet and as guileless as possible. "My mind was wandering off."
"I see," he replied, eyebrows furrowing in his frustration. Yet, he cannot look away from my face, knowing he is dazzled by my smile. He hesitates as he speaks. "Of course. You must be thirsty. Please, let me get you something to drink." With that, he bows, and disappears. I notice another young man coming my way, and I quickly walk off, disappearing into the small clumps of people, attempting to hide myself.
As my eyes scan the room, they rest on a young boy. I am stunned. He is absolutely beautiful, with soft androgynous features upon a white face. His nose is high, and his eyes wide, the color of the sapphires given to me by my favored customers. Yet, one is covered by an eye patch. Is he blind in that eye or something? Or perhaps he lost it? Dark grayish-blue hair falls into those wide, bored eyes. His lips are shaped like a bow, full and plump, perfectly shaped, and a pale pink in color. In him, I see traces of Jianyu, and nostalgia fills my pained heart, overwhelming me with sadness. My hands curl into fists, and I bite my lip.
He is looking at me, that boy is. His gaze is fixated intently on me, and he doesn't look away. Even when I meet his gaze.
And then, I suddenly recognize him. Yes, it had to be. He was the young Earl Phantomhive. Ah-Lau had told me about him - a handsome boy barely a year older than I. Dressed as a pirate, he was not what I expected; I thought him to be a pimply-faced pompous arrogant fool, and yet he seemed none. He was definitely not pimply-faced - his skin held no signs of blemishes or any other kind of markings - he did not seem pretentious, and neither did he seem a fool. His eyes held a sense of wisdom to them, as though he had seen and knew more about the world then someone of his age should see.
Instead, he seemed delicate almost, like a flower barely opening from its bud, or a virgin girl, not ready for the dark and sensual cruelty of prostitution.
Ah-Lau had insisted I chat to him; supposedly, he had spoken highly of me, and the young Earl was very interested in meeting me. I make my way over to him, and I see a faint blush color his cheeks. I smile; how cute.
"Hello," I say, letting a smile play on my lips. I attempt to remain playful and girlish. I feel stupid. "I could not help but notice you from where I was standing, and you seemed so bored."
The boy blinks for a moment, as though he doesn't know what to say. Then, his mouth parts, revealing two perfect rows of white teeth. "Y-yes," he stutters. I suppress a giggle, but it escapes my lips nonetheless. This boy was perhaps more naïve then I had originally thought. I mock a curtsy, and watch as his eyes grow wider. Looking up at him through my fluttering eyelashes, I throw him a tantalizing smile.
"You must be the young Earl Phantomhive I have heard so much about," I say, keeping my voice low; enticing. "Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Spring Jade."
The boy blinks once, twice, before he once more organized his thoughts. He regards me with an almost business-like look. "What a beautiful name." He bows curtly, gentleman-like. "My name is Ciel Phantomhive." His eyes become curious, inquisitive. "May I inquire how you have learned my name?"
I laugh. "Ah, yes. My big brother, Lau, told me about you."
His slender eyebrows raise. "Lau? Yes. Of course. He has told me many things about you as well. That you are a daughter of one of his clients back in Shanghai?"
My lips purse at that. So Ah-Lau had lied about my true identity. A good thing, I guessed; he did not want to spoil neither his image or mine in front of this nobleman, did he? And yet, I resist smirking at the farce of it all. But I keep to lying anyways. I must keep up a good face, should I not?
"Yes, yes. He is close friends with my father. He invited me out here to see what it is like to experience Western culture." I smile once more, though I am tiring of the pleasantries. Cocking my head to the side, I ask, "Are you becoming bored of this party?"
He shakes his head. "It is just that I have no interest in gossiping of trivial matters with these aristocrats."
My eyebrows raise now. Such odd words to come from one so young. I almost laugh at his statement. Such a serious boy. But I keep silent, waiting for him to continue speaking. His eyes drift over my shoulder, fixated on something else. I turn, curious, but see nothing. He is staring at me once more as I turn back to face him. An idea pops into my mind, and I smile sweetly at him once more.
"How about a dance, Sir Phantomhive?" I ask, offering him my hand. I flutter my lashes.
He hesitates, recoiling slightly. "Miss Spring Jade, I am not the one to dance."
I am surprised, but do not let it show on my face. And I thought aristocrats were always taught in such inconsequential things like dancing or music. But I do not take away my hand. "That doesn't matter at the most," I reply. This would be fun. "I will lead."
He hesitates a moment more, before finally placing his hand in mine. I grip it firmly, and a jolt flashes through me. I reflect on all those times so many years before when Jianyu used to take my hand and lead my through the gardens. My heart swells with pain as I remember my beloved fiancé, torn away from me, a thousand miles away.
The nostalgia settles around me like a mist, remorseful and inexorable.
Charles Grey sat, stunned as the last pure notes from the zither drifted through the air, and he felt sorry as it came to an end. He savored the last sounds of the melody, before they breathed their last in her room, once again surprised that a prostitute could play such wonderfully graceful music. Last time he had heard it, he had been rendered breathless. This time however, when paired with the generous amount of alcohol he had consumed this night, the music seemed almost divine and heavenly as he became lost in the gentle embrace of the music. Ivory Blossom's somber expression disappeared, and the dreamy shine in her eyes faded away. Tilting her head back to look at him, she smiled.
Finally, he spoke. "Miss Ivory Blossom," he whispered. "It was such an honor to hear you play such…" He struggled to find the right word. "…delicate music."
Her smile widened, and she looked almost bashful as she appraised him with her amber gaze. "Please, Sir Grey. You are once more too kind. Over praise." After a moment, she added, "and please, I beg of you, call me Ivory Blossom."
"Yes, of course, Ivory Blossom," then, leaning back, he patted the empty spot beside him. "Please, come join me. You said that picture told tales of your past" - he gestured at the painting of the three girls - "please, tell me that tale. I would love to hear it."
The young woman hesitated. Then, standing, she moved towards the bedside, taking a seat daintily beside him. After a moment's hesitation, she took his hand in hers. Surprised, he went still, but did not pull away. Slowly, tentatively, she began to pull off his black glove, revealing his pale hand. Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to his smooth skin. A chill ran up his back at her touch, but it felt so pleasurable. As the Queen's butler, he barely had time for romantic relations. Perhaps this could fulfill the yearning deep within him.
But then, he remembered that she a whore, and he a nobleman. Feeling disgusted with himself, he gently pulled away from her. "Ivory Blossom…"
"Please," she whispered, sidling closer. "Do not speak." Her eyes glimmered with a quixotic, mystifying air. Her beautiful features looked so delectable under the firelight… Her hands gently caressed his cheek. He felt something pull from within him, but he could not move away. He was too drawn in. "Do not speak…"
And suddenly, she closed the distance between them, her lips settling upon his in a tender, fleeting kiss. As she pulled away, he gasped in his longing, yearning for more. He felt torn, knowing that this was very wrong, and yet, hungering, craving for her body against his. He fought against the two conflicting emotions, before his passion finally overrode his disgust. He took her in his arms, lips locking against hers in a bruising, fervent kiss. One hand wrapped around the back of her head, the other wrapping around her hips, pulling her into his lap. Her hands knotted with his silver hair as she played with the long, messy locks, letting its weight fall between her fingers again and again.
Aroused now, his kisses became more desperate as he was filled with an ardor he had never felt in his life. His hands moved up to her back, where he unzipped the back of her gown in a swift movement. Then, she reached for the ribbon tied around his shirt collar, pulling it loose. Her fingers began to deftly undo the buttons of his vest as her tongue flickered playfully against his. His own hands danced across her bare skin, soft and tender as a cherry blossom dancing on the gentlest breeze. She then set to work undoing his button-up shirt, baring his white chest to her, the firelight playing over his fine collarbones and onto the smooth expanse of his perfectly toned pectorals. He was eager to feel her naked body against hers, and felt desire as her fingers stroked the muscular set of his body in wonder.
Still, Charles Grey feverishly kissed Ivory Blossom's lusciously sweet lips as he gently pushed her down onto the bed, body pillowed by the firmness of the mattress underneath. Then, his lips moved down her body as he eagerly explored the fullness of her breasts, the flat expanse of her white stomach. Her hands continued to play with his hair, fascinated by how soft and fluffy it was between her fingers.
Finally, Charles Grey entered her willing body, and their moans and gasps filled with the room, alive with pleasure and desire. Euphoria uncoiled around them, smothering them with an urgency that delighted them both.
The rain fell, and the thunder rumbled as their passion permeated the air in the room, exploding through their bodies as they entwined on the bed, becoming one…
LOL. I made Charles Grey seem gay in the beginning. :) Please don't hate on me for that, because I added a sex scene, where he PROVED his masculinity. It was... interesting to write. Fun, but awkward, because I am an immature little teenage girl. But don't worry. This story is about chinese 'courtesans', so there should be more... soon. :) Sure. I'll make sure to get into the erotic nitty-gritty, as uncomfortable as it'll make me. But whatever!
So yessum, PLEASE RATE AND REVIEW. :D
THANK YOU. BAIBAI.