Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing this and The Strange Case. I usually like to answer reviews personally, but I haven't been able to do that this week because I've been in court. But know that I read each review and love them all!
One common question is about update speed. At least one chapter a week for each story is what I'm aiming for. It could be more if my internship is slower on a particular week. But I aim for at least one chapter a week in each story.
Helen hardly slept a wink when she came back from Mr. Gold's house. Just being near him was intoxicating, more so than the amazing champagne he had shared with her. There was no question that he was powerful. Even if she hadn't known about his money or background just the way he carried himself made it clear that he was not a man to be trifled with. He was like a lion. His movements were efficient but graceful, and when he watched you with those intelligent brown eyes it was as if he was stalking a small animal.
For the longest time she had wanted him. He was so different from the other men in town who were indecisive or boorish. Or both. Mr. Gold was sophisticated. For years she imagined herself being swept away by someone like him. At first she had lusted after the fictional men in books; Rhett Butler from Gone with the Wind or Petruchio from The Taming of the Shrew. She longed for someone who would challenge and tease her into submission. Eventually she realized the only man in Storybrooke who could do that was Mr. Gold. Even then she'd been afraid to go to him. He didn't date. He could have anyone he wanted in town through his money and connections. She was sure that if she went to him he would just laugh in her face.
And yet, he hadn't. He'd kissed her with a passion she thought didn't exist outside of books. His mouth had been slow as it tasted her thoroughly. He moved as if they had all night before them, and many more after that. Her few fumbling kisses in the past had felt hurried, as if they were simply going through the motions of lips and hands to get to the main event. Not Mr. Gold. With him each touch had felt as if it was as important as the one before it. Each movement embedded in her mind as she could still feel his hands on her skin.
It was hard to get through the night without touching herself. Helen wasn't an overly sexual person. The fact that she was still a virgin at her age was proof of her self-control. But when the mood did strike her she couldn't control herself. She once called in sick to work after a particularly explicit dream and spent the whole day in bed with a vibrator working herself to the peak and then finding release by inflicting a shallow cut on her thigh. But Mr. Gold had said that she couldn't do that anymore. No self-harm and no self-pleasure, the two were the same thing to her anyway.
He had been angry when he had seen the scars. Angry in a way that her father hadn't been when she had first started cutting herself as a teenager. Back then she didn't try to hide them. She wanted someone to see them and ask her if they could help. But nobody ever did. They'd see them, but they would just look away and stop making eye contact with her. That was when she started wearing the heavy sweaters and long skirts.
But Mr. Gold had seen them and been concerned. He'd given her a command and she would follow it. She hadn't officially decided if she was going to take him up on his offer, he had told her not to answer him until tonight. But she was already obeying his wishes, so maybe the decision was already made. But just because he had told her not to touch herself didn't mean that she still didn't want to. What he'd started last night left her feeling unsettled in the most delightful way, but it also made it hard for her to go about her normal day.
She'd fallen back asleep after her morning shower, just for a few minutes but enough that when she made it to the library Mary Margaret's class was already waiting outside. It was the first Friday of the month, the day when the kids would come for storytime and to check out books. Helen muttered an apology as she unlocked the doors. The kids came in and formed a line to return their books while Mary Margaret followed Helen behind the counter.
"Let me do that," she said, taking the barcode reader from Helen. Mary Margaret volunteered her on the weekend, allowing Helen some time off, so she knew how to use the machine. It gave Helen the chance to get herself a cup of tea and check the overnight book drop. She came back with a cup of coffee for the schoolteacher and two paperbacks waiting to be checked in.
"Sorry about this morning. My alarm didn't go off."
"Mine either. It got turned off when we lost power from that storm. That was something else, wasn't it? It's the type of weather that makes you just want to be curled up with someone you love."
Helen nodded, trying not to imagine being in Mr. Gold's bed with only the flashes of lightening to illuminate their naked bodies. No, she had to stop thinking like this or else the day would drag on forever.
Storytime helped take her mind off of the previous evening. The children were starting to study Greek mythology and Helen was helping explain the roles that the myths played. "People didn't understand the world," she said, "and so they made up stories to help explain it. That storm last night? They might say that it was Zeus using his lightning bolts because he was angry. If there was a shipwreck the people might blame Poseidon the God of the Sea. They even used mythology to explain why the seasons changed." Helen reached for a children's picture book based on mythology and turned to the story of Persephone, holding the book so that the children could all see the illustrations.
"The Goddess of nature was named Demeter and she took care of the lands so that the farmers could have a good harvest. She had a daughter named Persephone who was known for being beautiful and kind and sweet. Everyone loved Persephone, including the God of the Underworld, Hades. He loved her so much that he married her and took her with him to the Underworld."
As Helen looked to make sure the children were all paying attention she gasped when she saw Mr. Gold standing at the back of the group. He was leaning casually against a shelf wearing one of those perfect cut suits of his, and looking as if he belonged in some high powered office instead of a small town library. Her hand began to tremble and she had to take a breath to steady her nerves.
"So, um, Hades takes her to the Underworld, but Demeter is very sad because she misses her daughter. Demeter is so upset that she neglects the lands and nothing can grow. The farmers ask Zeus to do something and he goes to talk to Hades. They work out a deal so that Persephone would spend half the year with her mother and half with her husband. During the times of the year that Persephone is with her mother the land is fertile and things grow. But when she is with her husband her mother grows sad again and then there is cold and snow so nothing can be planted. And that was how the myths explain seasons."
Mary Margaret clapped her hands and the rest of the class followed. When they stopped Mr. Gold's slow applause was still going for a moment longer. Everyone was looking at him. Of course they were. He looked so out of place that it would have been strange not to stare.
"I can help you with something Mr. Gold?"
"Only if you're done with the kiddies."
Mary Margaret nodded and then began giving the children a weekend homework assignment to come up with their own myth. Helen pulled Gold into the back of the stacks, away from everyone.
"What are you doing here?"
"Worrying about the state of public education since you bastardized that story. You left out the kidnapping, the pomegranate seeds, the entire relationship between Persephone and Hades."
"They're children. I am not sure that the unedited telling of the Rape of Persephone is really appropriate."
"I prefer the Seduction of Persephone, but your point is well taken." He removed Helen's glasses with one hand and let out a small tutting sound.
"Miss French, the last time I saw that many bags I was at an airport. Did you have trouble sleeping last night?"
"I had a lot on my mind."
"Thinking? I do hope that all you were doing was thinking."
She took her glasses back from him. "I've been following your…request."
"Dearie, I don't request. I command. And I have another one for you. I assume you are planning on coming over this evening?"
"Yes. I've decided…"
He pressed his long finger to her lips. "No, not now. Tonight. But no matter what your decision I would like you looking special this evening. I've made you an appointment at Let Down Your Hair. They will be styling you. Your gown for this evening will be waiting there for you. Your appointment is at 4, and I've already cleared it with the Mayor's office to allow the library to close an hour early so that you can meet with me about the budget."
"The budget?"
"Just a pretense, Miss French, to explain our sudden association."
Of course he wouldn't want people to think he was actually seeing her. That would be too embarrassing. She pressed down her sudden feelings of hurt with a fake smile. "Is there anything else?"
He looked as if he was going to say something, but instead he shook his head and told her to get back to her work. He watched her with the children, getting down on her knees to be at their level as she spoke with them. She was such a contradiction. Could this sweet motherly figure be the same woman who had come to him the night before asking him to hurt her?
He worried that she wasn't really prepared for this. That she didn't know what she was getting into. He'd make it clear this evening. If she wanted to take him up on his offer she would need more than to say the words. And she had inadvertently given him the perfect idea for how it should be done.