Issue 2: Summer or Purifying Flame
Act 2. The Gilded Cage
The air-conditioned suite is a relief from summer's peak but Edward still feels the heat. He pulls at his checkerboard skinny tie for the fifth time in the last two minutes. He knows because the digital display of his candy apple red pocket watch mocks him with its precision. He slips it back into his silk-lined jacket pocket and observes his outfit.
Each bright red velvet button is perfectly placed on his neon blue on blue paisley tailored suit jacket. It is cut short and fitted to his frame, revealing, he thinks, his broad shoulders quite finely.
Three hours were spent inside his ornate teak platinum and pink plastic floral engraved closet, excruciating over the most suitable ensemble to catch the attention of the one and only Madame Siobhan. She is a woman of notable status worth impressing and as his father has made sure to note, he has little to impress her with beyond his looks and charm.
Never mind that he has stolen a kiss no more than a handful of times, and though he has grown confident in the art, she will have to lead from there. A clueless young peacock.
Seldom does she open herself to new clientele. Her days are consumed by the management of her exceedingly exclusive bustling brothel.
This marks her first opening for a candidate in two years.
She is a highly respected woman known for her excessive curves, wit, and intelligence and almost just as definitively for her discernment. She wastes no time with men who bore her. His mind reels with the number of suitors that must be vying and yearning for the honor.
A beam of sunlight pierces the parlor through the geometric star stained glass window, turning his eye as it casts rainbow fractals on the gold inlaid door.
Beyond the decadent door, down the hall, stands Madame Siobhan, reviewing his application one final time. Her cobalt smile is full and delighted.
Edward is the only son of the richest province's most affluent and influential figure, commanding ownership over half the lands below the mountain and the most profitable third of the mountain itself. But she has rejected plenty of wealthy and influential men, it is the necessity of her profession. No, what endears her most is the utter sincerity with which he seeks to be a well-rounded and engaging man under her esteemed tutelage.
Just accepted into the most prestigious university in the three Kingdoms, based solely on his own physical prowess and academic achievements, he is a feared wrestler and graduated valedictorian of this year's class in his formative education.
She savors the accompanying images of him: toned, tanned, grappling and dominating his competition with an assured conquering expression.
She remembers the melodies of the vinyl he sent, how she relished his playful and tender piano arrangements.
Not to mention, his insights into the most tantalizing modern poets are a treasure, but what truly captivates her is a certain portion of his purple-inked personally type-written gold embossed application.
My favorite poem at the moment is "Hope for a Night." What a lyrical wonder representing such joyful desire. I must confess… I pleasured myself twice in a row upon finishing my first reading…and I come back to it all the time. I long to be in the lines of its descriptive lovemaking… I'm curious as to what you think of Bianca Belvedere's poetry.
"A lover ready to bloom," she muses.
She envisions he will be a rewarding and intriguing client. What a pleasure it will be to forge the mind and heart, to have the ear, of such a lovely and influential young individual.
She steals a glance at her cotton candy pink and blue grandfather clock's neon digital display.
She slips Edward's application into an unmarked drawer on a platinum console lined in glittered teal plastic against the multi-hued agate wall and makes her way to the door.
He adjusts the ruby-encrusted turquoise cat eye sunglasses perched atop his head to rearrange his moussed bronze hair and they squeak and almost slip from his sweaty grip.
He groans and wipes his hand on his matching paisley pants. He notices a scuff on his candy apple red oxfords and quickly bends down to erase the offense.
Yet, as he reaches, his pocket watch slips from his pocket, and so does his checkerboard scarf previously tucked with it.
He catches both loose items just as Madame Siobhan opens the gold inlaid door to her private suite. She is a towering feast, the most opulent treat. Her ample bosom is not hidden by her ivory satin and lace floor length chemise. Her deep rosy nipples press into the sheer fabric. An intricate silver chain belt accentuates her waist leading his eyes to her wide hips. His admiration grips. There is so much of her and all so pleasing.
With sudden dread, he realizes he has yet to meet her eyes. He's been staring.
His face flushes like his candy apple red oxfords as he lifts himself up and stuffs his pocket watch and scarf back into his jacket pocket.
He meets her gaze and her violet-blue eyes framed by lashes thicker than pine needles are a tempting but terrifying maze. Her long black hair is wound into a grand bun on the top of her head, one strand falls and curls atop her breast. Two gleaming chrome tipped sandalwood chopsticks keep the look in place.
Her cobalt lips curl into a grin. "Edward, darling, come in."
He steps inside and works to keep his jaw shut. The suite's décor is overwhelming even to his refined standards of living.
Silk abstract geometric tapestries bejeweled and sewn with strings of silver, ornate and groovy plush furniture tipped and adorned with gold, platinum, and chrome and the most elegant and colorful detailed engravings. The low soulful music coming from her gold and emerald encrusted record player only adds to the atmosphere of intimate luxury. This is just the hallway.
Madame Siobhan closes the door behind him, her presence commanding and yet…inviting. Just as her space.
"You're nervous," she observes, a knowing smile gracing her lips. "That's perfectly natural."
He blinks, nods, and swallows.
Her bare feet adorned in delicate rings of plastic and white gold pad over the polished maple floors inlaid with silver and sapphires to grab his trembling hand and she smiles so big, a flash of fire opal and rose gold suddenly glints.
"In your application, you spoke of your love for literature. Oh, I find your thoughts on all the modern poets so titillating! Come, let me show you my library. You will just adore it, Edward!"
She slips her cobalt polished fingers through his as she leads him down the multi-hued agate hall into her private library. Once inside, she turns around and lifts their joined hands to her mouth and kisses the top of his hand, leaving her cobalt mark.
"Look at those emerald eyes of yours. Aren't you just so pretty!" she gushes.
He feels his ears catch fire, a bead of sweat drips down his neck into his collar. He clears his throat and swallows and puts everything he has into speaking a complete sentence. "You are so beautiful I have lost the ability to think, forgive me."
She laughs loudly and drops his hand to grab his face with a quick kiss on the lips before strutting away.
"Well, you'll have to gather your wits if we are to be friends, Edward!" she calls over her shoulder, walking with purpose toward one of the many floor to ceiling purple plastic and platinum amethyst bejeweled bookshelves that line the twenty foot tall walls. "Your face is a delight for my eyes, but it was your mind that got you this meeting."
She grabs a slim mustard leather-bound book with green lettering, an anthology of all the most favored and controversial poems published in the last three months, and throws herself onto her opal adorned plum velvet chaise lounge. Her silver chain belt jingles. Her breasts, stomach, and hips jiggle and bounce. She grabs a matching pillow adorned in floral lace and places it behind her head and enticingly pats the space next to her.
"When I read your thoughts on 'Hope for a Night,' I longed to immediately ask you your opinion on her newer piece, 'The Night Wanes, I Dream.' Come, join me."
Edward resists pulling at his checkerboard skinny tie once more and slowly makes his way across the polished floors, his candy apple red oxfords clicking as he goes until he reaches the chartreuse shag rug.
"Take your shoes and jacket off," she insists, just as he sits a foot away from her, "I want to cuddle. That will hardly do with you dressed to the nines, now, shall it?"
Edward hesitates, caught off guard by the casual command. Madame Siobhan's inviting cobalt smile softens his sharp edges.
Nodding slightly, he bends down to untie his oxfords, placing them neatly beside the plum chaise lounge. The chartreuse carpet is ultra plush under his checkerboard socked feet.
He carefully removes his neon blue on blue paisley jacket and smooths out the fabric before draping it over a nearby blue and pink vinyl curved chair, revealing his silk crimson dress shirt embossed with burgundy hearts.
"Those stylish shades, too," she adds.
He takes them off his head and delicately places them in his jacket pocket then glances at her for reassurance. Her approving nod encourages him. He swallows and scoots closer to her on the opal adorned plum velvet chaise lounge.
She wastes no time pulling him close and guiding his head to rest on her breast.
The warmth and softness of her skin against his cheek is as enthralling as her own scent mixed with vanilla and jasmine. He can hear and feel the pulse of her slow heartbeat.
With a graceful movement, Madame Siobhan opens the slim mustard leather-bound book. It's green lettering glints in the soft light. She places the book in front of his face as her fingers begin to trail through his bronze hair and he shivers.
"Now," she lilts, "let's read."
Her voice flows over him. The verses speak of lost love and sensual yearning, of flesh on flesh when both lovers know it is already over, each line dripping with romanticism and melancholy.
Edward listens, mesmerized by both the delivery of such an erotic poem in her own cadence and the igniting sensation of her nails scratching circles on his scalp and her softness squishing beneath him.
"Such a desperately sensual piece," Siobhan murmurs. Her breath teases his ear. "It captures the essence of longing so perfectly. I wonder if her lover's tears shed were wistful or defeated… The way it intertwines hope and despair… What do you think?"
Edward nods. His mind races to form a coherent response. He is so painfully hard. "Yes, it's… The imagery, the rhythm, her metaphor of the moon… I'd have to read it again to have an opinion on his tears meaning, maybe both. It is… quite profound."
She smiles and her fingers continue their gentle exploration, twirling and twining his fine, thick hair. "Indeed, it is. Bianca Belvedere's ability to convey such raw emotion is remarkable. What did you think of its message in comparison to 'Hope for a Night'? Do you think she's grown jaded?"
Edward's emerald eyes widen as he lifts his head to meet her's and searches for something intelligent to say. His thoughts are jumbled. He suddenly cannot remember even a single line of his favorite poem, his anxiousness and arousal overwhelm him.
Madame Siobhan laughs softly, the sound eases him minutely. "It's okay, darling. You can impress me with that inquisitive mind of yours later. I have no doubt you will."
She shifts slightly and shoves his face between her breasts larger than his head, their firm warmth and contrasting softness pressing against his ears and cheeks, suffocating him deliciously.
Slightly muffled, he hears her say, "For now, just relax and have some fun with me."
She grabs his manicured hands and places them on either side of her chest and gets him to squeeze her flesh. "Why don't you use those lovely lips and give me some attention?"
Edward's hands tremble as he touches her, the heavy supple plenty of her breasts intimidating and so wonderful. He loves the rustle of satin and lace gliding over her flush skin beneath him.
He kisses her skin tentatively at first, gentle anxious pecks, then with growing confidence, he adds more tongue, as Madame Siobhan moans softly, encouraging him with gentle caresses on his nape and shoulders.
"Yes, just like that, Edward."
Too nervous to ask if he may shift her dress, he licks and sucks one of her nipples through the now soaked satin fabric and the sounds she make enthrall him. His tongue travels to the top of her breasts, tracing patterns between open wet kisses, the taste of her skin and the bitter floral mix of her perfume are an equally intoxicating sensation.
She pulls him up by his checkerboard skinny tie to her cobalt lips with one hand and kisses him deeply as she sinks her fingers through his bronze hair. Her mouth tastes of cinnamon, spicy, sweet, and tingling. A whimper escapes her. Pride and desire shoot through him with a fervor.
His hands slip to her cushy waist, his fingers dancing down her intricately textured silver chain belt, then lower, to grip her hips and bottom as a groan of his own falls from him.
His roaming hands appreciate every curve of her body on repeat as their tongues twine a deliciously long while. He wants to please her, his nervousness shaping into simply being eager.
She stops their kissing, breaks away from his faintly cobalt panting pout. "Let me teach you something,"
Their eyes lock as his hands pause their circuit.
She pushes him gently to lean off of her. She lifts the skirt of her ivory satin and lace chemise to expose her silky groomed black curls and then spreads wide her milky thighs, and her dewy rose slit slowly opens.
One hand curls into a fist at his side, the other grips around opal inlaid maple and plum velvet as he thickly swallows. His heart thunders in his ears.
"You're such a great kisser, Edward. I think you won't need much instruction."
He loosens his tie and lowers himself until his face is full of her femininity and he chews on his lip, eyes anxious and waiting.
Her voice is low and throaty. "Why don't you do that same twirling slide with your tongue that you just did to mine…"
He licks and kisses to her instruction. He hadn't imagined it would taste so decadently rich. The musky salt hint of sweet is complex and he works to decipher each note.
She invites his fingers to explore her further. He does so with a curiosity and reverence, enthralled by the yielding slickness that yet constricts him.
"That's wonderful," she praises, her hands once again threading through his hair, sending electric shivers to his twitching cock pressing into the velvet cushion just as equally as her encouraging words dripping with urgency. "Don't stop."
So thoroughly enjoying herself, Madame Siobhan forgoes instruction. When her directions stop, he listens to her every moan and gasp, learning that way what makes her tremble with pleasure.
Her hips arch and squish her wet plush warmth further onto his nose and tongue, he hears her breath pause and then come in ragged pants. She squeezes her thighs against his ears and it disrupts his pace momentarily. He can hardly breathe or tell where his spit, sweat, or her arousal begins.
He continues with his tongue and fingers, driven by her pleasure, desperate to get to the other side of the luxurious little moaning whimpers and trembling beneath him.
She stops breathing, then her body tenses and releases and her loud long cry fulfills all his desires as her thighs completely encase him. Edward, so excited by the total sensory overload of his accomplishment and the steady pressure of grinding his imprisoned cock into the plum velvet chaise lounge, too comes undone. He releases a guttural moan, vibrating her cunt, causing a shock to go through her, she tugs his hair in response, as his orgasm flashes through him, and he spills inside his pressed and tailored neon blue on blue paisley dress pants.
Madame Siobhan pulls him up to rest on her breast and breathlessly kisses him, her fingers gently caressing his back and neck. "You were magnificent," she murmurs. "So attentive."
Edward blinks at her, his emerald eyes sparkling with awe as he works to find his own breath. "Thank you, Madame Siobhan."
She smiles, prideful. One lovely chosen pearlescent tooth is thinly rimmed in rose gold and adorned with a fire opal that captures even the dim atmospheric light. "You have a natural talent for this. And I'm not just talking about your physical prowess. Your desire to learn and to please is a rare gift, Edward. Darling, please, call me Siobhan."
Thrilled, enchanted, and hungry for more, he kisses her without direction or command and her gorgeous giggle tickles his tongue. "Siobhan," he whispers against her lips, "is there anything else I may do to please you?"
She laughs again, so much laughter, he thinks with glee. "So eager, Edward. Like that, soon you'll be my most favored. But, no… Why don't you sit up for me?"
He does and she unclips her silver chain belt and tosses it on the chartreuse shag rug. It lands with a thud.
She straddles him, sliding off the ivory satin and lace floor length chemise to reveal her abundant curves to his starving eyes. It is the best moment so far of his young life. Her substantial weight pins him to the plush cushion so heavenly, all he can think to do is dig into plum velvet so as to not disappear. He already feels as if he is slipping into air.
Her cobalt polished fingers tenderly trace his checkerboard belt, gently unfastening the silver and onyx buckle with a kiss on his cheek. The clasp yields and other than his rapidly rising breath, the only sound in this moment is the soft whisper of leather sliding free.
She moves her kisses to his lips and slides her tongue once more with his as she unbuttons his paisley dress pants soaked in his excitement from pleasing her.
She breaks their kiss, her breasts just under his chin. "I would like to reward your efforts."
She frees him and the smooth soft skin of her fingers and palm stretching and folding over his thickening length make his eyes and head roll back.
Before his eyes shut, he sees colorful books, purple plastic, and amethyst aglow under low-lit digital candle chartreuse crystal chandeliers. His metallic hair is surrounded by opals and he tries and fails to lift himself into her as his nails bite into plum velvet.
Seductive, she teases, "You're in no rush to leave are you? Won't you stay the night with me? After this…"
She squeezes her fingers and swirls her wrist as she slides up his slick dick and flickers her thumb over his tip and then does it again as she grinds herself against him.
His eyes and mouth fly wide open as his head lifts.
She continues, "I would love for you to charm me with those lovely piano skills you included in that perfect application of yours. Won't you do that for me?"
He catches her violet-blue eyes and moans, "Yes, Siobhan."
A/N: Still with me? Thank you so much for reading!
I hope you felt the heat in this first half of the summer issue of The Ever-Ringing Bell because I've had a ton of fun making this all up. :)
Ever since I read the scene in Midnight Sun where Edward remembers meeting Siobhan and not knowing where to put his eyes since she was so "aggressively, forcefully female," I have wanted to write a scene with them together. And what a perfect opportunity for the temptress that led canon Edward to the dark side of human blood to teach our own little Buddha the greatest joys of his gilded cage.
Anyway… I have four more Acts lined up to be released in little bursts throughout the rest of the summer. Just putting the spit shine on them and all that.
I also edited a typo or two in the first issue. Thank you for bearing with me.
In the meantime, if you used to follow Inevitability, make sure you still are. I accidentally deleted the story and have re-uploaded it in April. I edited the first two chapters and just released the seventh. I am working on a different publishing schedule with that one I am excited about, but it will require some time, and I'll explain it over there.
See you soon and we will keep cranking up the heat!
Xoxo,
Phantomsforeverr