If you want me to listen whisper/If you want me to run just walk/Wrap your name in lace and leather/I can hear you/You don't need to talk/Let us make thousand mistakes/Cause we will never learn
Smiling, I listen to Edgar's planned speech he's going to give to Charles tomorrow at the ball, informing the Captain of his and Emily's betrothal. My brother ends the speech, slightly out of breath and his cheeks flushed.
"What do you think?" I tap my chin with my index finger, the very tip of my tongue sticking out as I think about what I could tell my brother.
"Hmm, well, you might want to make it shorter so that when he tries to kill you, you won't be too out of breath to run," I point out with a laugh, walking to the room that serves as mine while I am staying in Edgar's house until the killer has been captured. Edgar follows behind me, holding his parchment tightly as he reads over it again, mumbling about cutting out a few drawn-out phrases. "Have you decided on an outfit yet? Oh, have you gotten a mask?" He chuckles at my enthusiasm, nodding his head to both of my questions.
"It appears my sister is actually excited to go to a ball," he says with mock incredulity," I do believe my heart has stopped from the shock of it." Scowling, I hit his arm lightly, fighting to keep a smile from appearing. It's true, I usually cannot stand the thought of dressing up, but tomorrow is actually going to be exciting. Not to mention the fact that I can pester Detective Fields some more. He really is a good looking man and I'm surprised he's not yet married with a child. "Actually, it makes me wonder if you are excited because a certain Detective that you are attracted to will be there."
A light blush colors my cheeks as I hide my head in my wardrobe, filled with dresses and a couple of pairs of shoes. "I have no idea what you mean, Edgar." I wince as his name escapes my lips; that was his way to know I am lying. I usually only ever called him brother just as he calls me little sister; we had no other nicknames for each other than to state the obvious. "I only like to tease him, it's nothing serious."
He sits on the edge of my bed, looking at me with sympathy in his dark brown eyes. He has our mother's eyes, dark and showing every bit of emotion he feels, like two onyx stones set into a marble bust. My own eyes are hazel, almond-shaped like Father's were, and often moving in an attempt to seek out a new client to ensure my belly was full that night.
"But you want it to be serious," he prods in a gentle tone. I'm glad he cannot see my face as it contorts into an expression of pain, tears threatening to fall. "You deserve an honorable man like Fields. You've not been close to another man after what happened to Theodore—"
"Stop." Edgar closes his mouth, hearing my voice break and undoubtedly noticing the way my shoulders are shaking. "I have not gotten close to another for the simple reason that I do not want to. Theodore was the man I love and I will not give that love to another man." Edgar sighs, shifting on my bed to get more comfortable.
"We both know that if he could, he would scold you for being so stubborn. He'd come up with some long speech that would make the one I just wrote seem as if it were written by a child." I smile at that very true fact; Theodore would be furious to know what I have done since his passing. I jump when Edgar lays a hand on my shoulder, not having heard him move from my bed. "Now, you need to pick out a dress to where tomorrow, dear sister, for the Detective's gaze mustbe drawn to you so he can see just how beautiful you really are." He gives my shoulder one last squeeze before retiring to his room down the hall. Edgar only said I was beautiful because I am his sister, I'm sure the Detective doesn't think of me that way. He probably only thinks of me as a whore.
I sit on my bed, picking up the mask I planned on wearing tomorrow; it was a silver color with a few black swirls around the eyes and a silver butterfly attached to it beside the right eye. Ivan had given it to me last year on my birthday. Such a sweet man, Ivan; nicer than most men I've ever had the displeasure of meeting, though nowhere near as intriguing as Emmett.
As I fall asleep that night I am no longer plagued by nightmares, but by dreams of one Detective Emmett Fields.
As Sarah was dreaming, Detective Fields was trying to focus on planning how to have his men be discreet for tomorrow night's ball. Unfortunately, he was thinking things that ashamed him; he was thinking of Sarah Poe and of all the innuendos she'd sent his way. In only one day the woman had wormed her way into his thoughts, making him want her in a way that made him, Emmett Alexander Fields, blush; something that was actually hard to do, believe it or not. That woman had worked some type of magic on him. That has to be the cause, after all, he'd only thought about one other woman in such a scandalous way before and he'd been married to her.
Molly, what am I doing?
He'd loved her so much, grown up alongside her and watched as she'd blossomed into a fine young woman. She was respectable, she was polite and demure like a lady ought to be, and she had been the love of his life until a fever swept her out of his arms and into an early grave. Married only two weeks, two weeks of complete bliss, and it was torn away from him before he'd had time to wonder at it fully.
Sarah, on the other hand, is a whore. Enticing men is what she did for a living; at least, that's what he tried to remind himself of when his thoughts began to wander down paths they shouldn't. How did she end up in that life anyway? Her brother obviously cared very much for her and would gladly let her live in his home until she could find a suitable husband. Had she ever even been proposed to?
A knock on his office door interrupts the thoughts that were attempting to stray even further. "Enter," he calls out, voice sounding too loud in the quiet. John Cantrell, one of Fields' closer friends, sticks his head into the room.
"I am leaving for the night, sir."
"Alright, tell Mary hello for me." Cantrell nods, shutting the office door behind him as he leaves, wondering why his friend was staying so late.
As Fields bends his head to write a few ideas down, he doesn't notice a figure shrouded in black watching him through a window, a blade hidden from sight. Fields was so focused on trying to stay awake that the figure could have easily snuck in and slit the man's throat in a second, but the Detective was a central piece to keeping the Poe siblings involved in his little game. The figure makes his way down the street as Fields looks up, the unnerving feeling of being watched becoming too much, but he sees nothing and so goes back to trying to keep his thoughts on track to no avail.
Sarah Poe wasn't what most would consider beautiful, she was certainly no Emily Hamilton, but the way she held herself and wasn't afraid to voice her thoughts drew him to her. She also has nice breasts, Fields admits, rubbing the back of his neck. A nice figure in general, but that did not give him free reign to think about her in such a way. In fact, he was certain that Sarah would hit him if she knew what kind of thoughts went through his head when she had whispered in his ear with that annoyingly captivating voice of hers that afternoon.
"She will be the death of me," he groans, giving up on his work. He wouldn't be able to do anything tonight without having to worry about where his thoughts would take him. He was sure that if he tried to sleep the little Minx would be waiting for him there in that low-cut dress of hers.
It was just his luck that he had to be right. There was Sarah Poe, lying on his bed like it was her own with a beguiling smile on her pale pink lips. He could feel himself walking to her, lying next to her, and kissing her lips with as much passion as he could muster. Her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him flush against her, her fingers tangling in his brown hair, massaging his scalp as their tongues move together.
The bodice of her dress slides off, revealing her breasts to Emmett's hungry gaze and calloused hands. Sarah's warm flesh had a few scars here and there, but she was flawless in his eyes as she arched into his hand. Her skin was like silk under his lips, her head tilting to the side to give him easier access to her neck, her gasps like music to his ears as he nips and licks.
"Emmett," she moans, writhing beneath him and accidentally brushing against him.
Fields jumps, breathing heavily as he looks around him for the woman who haunted his dreams. His heart was hammering away in his chest, like a hummingbird's wings as it looks for nectar in a flower of its choosing. But the flower Emmett wanted wasn't in the room with him and his experience had been nothing more than a vivid dream.
He was alone still.
The song lyrics are from My obsession by Cinema Bizarre