8.
~ "So, you can tell me my future?" Arthur asked lazily as his arms wrapped around her small body. He was in a very good humor and his voice was teasing and kind to her.
The chill in the room had finally found them. Her skin had gone from incredibly hot, to cold just moments ago and they found refuge under the heavy blankets. Their clothing, forgotten on the floor.
Ariadne had never felt so wonderful in her life. A euphoria, such as she had never remembered feeling, washed over her and she was alive with happiness.
Her back was to Arthur, her bottom still raw and sore from the spanking, but she didn't care. He was spooned behind her and they were both content and pleased with each other for the first time in their brief marriage.
She looked harder at the lines on the palm of his hand. The girlhood memories of ghost stories and channeling the spirt world at her boarding school coming back to her.
"Well, you see here?" she said pointing to the Y section of his palm. "You're life line is very deep."
"Does that mean I'm a deep and thoughtful person?" Arthur asked nuzzling her ear. She shied away from the ticklish feel of his breath on her neck.
"No." she said and tried not to giggle. "No, it means you make things harder than they need to be. You need to relax more."
"Well, I'm relaxed now." he said and she felt his feet rub over hers.
She blushed hard as she tried to secure the sheet over her bare chest and ignored him. Her modesty finding her again, and she was embarrassed by what they had done.
"Let's see." she said and scowled at the small imperfection on his fingers. She was trying to distract him from wanting more of her. Her body, already spent, couldn't possibly handle his needs again so soon. "You work smart, and never hard." she informed him.
"Mrs. Brandon, you know all this already." he teased.
"I don't know anything about your work life." she told him truthfully. "Just that daddy gave you a promotion for marrying me."
"You think that's why I married you? To advance my career?" he asked.
She let his hand drop and he pulled her closer to his body. His chin resting on her shoulder. She could feel his delicate, wet kiss on her neck.
"Didn't you?" she challenged. "I mean, I came with a very nice dowery."
"That you did." he agreed. "A thing I haven't touched, by the way."
She wanted to look at his face and see if he was telling the truth. But she liked the way they were curled together just now.
"What do you do at work?" she asked him in an attempt to change the subject.
"I managed the tellers at the bank. Approve all loans greater than $100 and hire and fire people." he said.
"But you don't employ women."
"No. Men go to banks to settle their accounts. They want to feel their interests are protected. If a woman was looking over their books, they would think their money wasn't being attended to properly. They would take their assets and business elsewhere." he explained.
"So, a woman can't do the same job as a man." she said growing offended.
"No, she can't. It matters how the bank looks, Mrs. Brandon. When a gentleman comes into the bank, he wants to be handled in a professional way. He needs to be able to talk to other men about his money and other problems. A gentleman would never trust a woman to understand about these things.
She sat up, clutching the sheet closer to her body.
"Arthur, I'll have you know I made very high marks in arithmetic all through out school. I was even awarded the schools high academic award. I would be perfectly capable of counting change back to customers. I could also review interest rates for loans. I might also be better at it than most men." she challenged.
Arthur sighed and sat up in bed.
"Mrs. Brandon, you are very good at managing the house budget. When you're not giving away cash to the poor flower sellers that is." he added. "But a lady's place in in the home.
"A lady's place," Ariadne seethed. "Is where ever she wants it!"
Her husband glared at her.
"What about school teachers and nurses?" she asked feeling a heated argument coming on and lacking the words to fight and win this battle.
"They are old maids." Arthur laughed. You're a married woman with a home to take care of. One, that..." he looked at his hands again. Not wanting to meet her in the eyes. "That might have children someday."
"A baby?" she said in horror. Her blood flushing ice cold at the idea.
"I think a child might bring us closer." he whispered. His arms trying to pull her to him.
She shifted away.
"I don't want to have a child, Arthur." she told him.
He gave her a confused look.
"All women want to be a mother." he said simply.
"I don't. And Mary says I don't have to if I don't want to." she informed him casually.
"Well, your husband wants children. Your husband has the right to carry on his legacy." Arthur said sharply.
"There is no reason to have a baby of our own when there are starving children right outside our door. Selling flowers with no shoes on!" she argued.
"Ariadne, I have the right to my own child. You won't deny me that." her husband told her.
She refused to look at him as she threw off the bedding and marched, naked, back to the pile of clothing they had pulled off just a short time ago.
"Ariadne." Arthur said harshly as she slipped her night dress back on and winced at the slight pain in her pelvis from their rough union. Her bottom still hurt and she knew it would give her trouble is she tried to sit down.
"Mrs. Brandon!" Arthur said more sternly as she plucked up her robe and started to leave him.
"Don't call for me in the morning and don't ask after me either." she said looking back at him angrily. Hoping the tears that sprang to her eyes wouldn't show.
"Ariadne, don't you-" he tried to say before she slammed the door shut and quickly walked back to her room.
She had to wince again at the discomfort in her body from the furious carnality they had put each other through. She was always a slender woman, but not fit or ready made for such abuse.
She didn't expect Arthur to come storming after her. Her husband wasn't that kind of man.
~ She tried to shake off the anger she felt at him just now. How dare he just make demands on her like this? How dare he just assume what was best for her, assume he knew what she wanted. A baby? A baby with all it's fussing and crying all hours of the night? Not to mention she would be in confinement for months on end. No, it wasn't going to happen. She was too young to be a mother. She had too many things she wanted to do with her life. Being confined to home with a pack of horrid children to attend to, was unthinkable.
She locked her bedroom door behind her and striped off her robe and night gown. Her bedroom was much more cozy than Arthur's and she easily shook off the chill in the air. In fact, her skin felt delightful at being totally naked in her bedroom.
It was a thing she never did out of fear some maid would enter and see her. Or that she would catch her own reflection in the mirror and see herself naked.
Now, she walked to the little bathroom with the big claw foot tub, clumsily let the hot water valve open and steaming, clear water burst from the pipes.
She wanted to take a bath. Wanted to soak in the hot, perfumes waters till she grew sleepy and forgot about Arthur.
She was unsure about how to work the knobs of the hot and cold water. The bath was too hot for her taste and she used too much of the lavender bath salts, but it was effective enough.
When the hot waters touched her abused rear end, she gasped sharply and had to lower herself very slowly.
She didn't want to think about what he had done. Didn't like the idea of herself naked in his bedroom as he spanked her. Of how he had made her...
She shook her head at the thought of his member in her mouth. She dunked her whole body into the scalding water, wetting her face and hair.
She made sure to gargle a great deal of the bath water to rid her memory of the taste of him.
She lost track of time in the bath. Her body healing and her mind relaxing as the water started to cool off.
She nimbly stepped out, fastening a towel around her body and started the long, difficult task of combing through the snarls in her hair.
Her dark tresses went well past her hips and she had always kept it very long, even as a child. It required constant care and attention that she had grown tired of on may occasions. But her hair was apart of her and she couldn't imagine herself any other way.
She looked back at her reflection. Her skin, raw and red from the hot bath water, looked back at her. Her face, free of the false smile she normally put on. Free of the light dusting powder she used when going out.
This was her in her raw form, and she couldn't seem to look away from this stranger.
As if in a trance, she went to her embroidery box. The tiny, crane shaped scissors were not correct for this job, but she didn't care. She wanted to change. She could't stand another second looking the way she did.
She pulled long each tendril of her dark hair and sniped it. Letting the helpless, innocent lock of hair fall to the bathroom floor.
She pulled and sniped, pulled and snipped till half of her prized hair was gone.
She fearlessly marched onward, cutting uneven and not caring in the slightest about the end result.
She felt lighter somehow. Free to be who she was.
Finally, there was no more long hair to cut. She had been merciless in cutting her own crown and glory. What was left on her head looked hacked off and thinner than normal. It rested in uneven layers just barely touching her shoulders.
She was brave, but not brave enough to cut it any shorter.
She looked back at the woman in the mirror. That person finally looked like her. Finally looked like someone Ariadne wanted to be.
She let out a pent up sigh, and smiled in relief.