*Tristan* In the late afternoon I stand at the window of my office, looking out on the street, watching as people bustle by. I do not know why I had not returned to my residence with Eve. I had wanted her, by the Goddess, how I had wanted her. Standing there in my apartment with the lights from outside, and the dim glow inside casting her in shadows that ebbed and flowed with her movements, she had been a seductress. Her smoky voice and her throaty laughter had added to the allure. My eyes slide close as I remember the kiss. She is becoming quite masterful at parrying. I had almost given her rein to wrap her arms around me, almost. I had felt the brush of her hands, craved the touch as much as it repelled me. My chest had tightened, sweat had popped out on my forehead, and I had known that I would shove her aside, possibly hurt her, so I had snatched her wrists before any damage was done. I do not want her first time to be in my den of iniquity, or in my carriage, or in the stre
*Tristan* I am standing in my library savoring my Scotch. Upon arriving, I had been informed by Laurence that Miss Everly had indicated that I am to wait in the library. I am to wait for her. That is not the way of mistresses. Though I have no one to blame but myself. I have neglected to provide her with a complete list of my rules. The door opens. She glides in and I nearly swallow my tongue. My fingers are tightening around my glass and I suspect if it wasn't so thick that it would have shattered. Miracle of miracles, the black is gone at last. She wears the purple gown, the one I got made for her. Her upswept hair catches the light, causing it to flicker over the pale locks, captivating me. The necklace her father had given her sparkles at her throat, tempting me to kiss over it, beneath it, along it until I reached the shell of her ear where I could nibble lingeringly. She exudes confidence. Yet as she gets near I see the doubts, the insecurity. I wish I were a man of poe
*Everly* We eat in the sitting room that looks out on the garden. I had my father’s portrait removed earlier. I will have it returned tomorrow. But for tonight I wanted the intimacy of a smaller room. The dining room is too large, too formal, too cold. Candles flickers. Servants bring in the food, one course after another. I barely touch anything, and am aware of his constant gaze. Whether he is eating or sipping on his wine, he is looking at me. I had clung to a vain gossamer hope that things between us would not progress, that I might become more of a companion than a mistress. Talking of inconsequential topics over dinner, reading to him as he had asked that first morning. But the extent to which I am already in his debt astounds me. I had given no thought to the small things. “That’s how men lose fortunes, isn’t it ? They lose a little bit at a time, hardly giving it any credence … then suddenly they look around them and everything is gone”. He studies me over the rim of
*Tristan* In the library, I stand by the fireplace and drink my best Scotch, one glass after another, while she sits in a nearby chair, her posture perfect. In the end, she isn’t Reading me poetry but some story about windswept moors and haunting love. But I am not listening to the words as much as I am the lilt and smoky cadence of her voice. The raspiness of it has intrigued me from the beginning. She could recite the letters of the alphabet and hold me enthralled. Dangerous, so very dangerous. I want to sweep her up into my arms and carry her upstairs, even knowing the hell that holding her so close would bring. Watching her, I can almost forget my limitations, that there is so much I can not give her, and for the first time in my life, my inadequacies fill me with regret. I am vain enough to acknowledge that on the surface I am a handsome enough fellow. It is what lies beneath that would turn her away. The dark parts, the secrets, the things I have done. If she knew of those,
*Everly* He bends his arms, and manages, without his body touching mine, to give me a quick kiss on the lips. Then he is easing off of me. Cold instantly talking over his place. “Are you leaving ?” I ask. “Not yet. Wait here”. He says softly. As though I have a choice, as though I am not lethargic and my limbs haven't been turned into jelly. I study him as he walks over to the sink. I like the shape of his buttocks, the way the muscles flexes with his movements. I am a mistress now. I should probably be able to enjoy the male form without feeling guilty about it. It is my job. He washes himself quickly, then returns to me with washrag in hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he begin to gently swipe at the inside of my thighs. “There’s not as much blood as I thought there would be”. He says, his voice filled with wonder. “Am I your first virgin ?” I ask with surprise. He lifts his gaze to mine, and for the span of a heartbeat, he appears younger than he usually does, more inn
*Everly* Even if he hadn’t told me that he would be gone when I woke, I would have known. The residence takes on a different feel when he isn’t there. I can’t quite explain it, but it seems emptier, less vital, more plain. After Lila has helped me dress, I step into the hallway just as a rather short and podgy servant is opening the door to the bedchamber across the hall. Ironed shirts are draped across his left arm. I try not to stare at the clawlike gloved hand that seems to be frozen in a most uncomfortable position. He stops and gives a quick bow. “Good morning, miss. I’m Mr. Rafe’s valet. Bateman”. I force myself to smile so he will not read my mind. I am wondering how a one-handed valet can possibly see to his duties properly. He must have seen what I am thinking, however, because he explains. “My hand got smashed when I was younger. It never healed properly. Still aches a bit, especially when the weather is cold and damp”. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m certain you’re a marv
*Everly* Evening is approaching. He will be here soon. Or so I think. Hope. I had wanted to be waiting on the terrace, but a misty rain had settled in so I sit in a chair near the window in my small sitting room, not certain when I had begun to think of it as mine. I still don’t truly believe he is going to give me the residence. I can only hope that it will be a long time before I find out. Although a part of me worries that now he has had me, he will be done with me. Anyone can lie beneath him as he slakes his lust. What difference does it make if it is me ? He doesn’t care for me enough to linger beyond the mating. “You didn’t wear the red”. Coming up out of the chair, facing the doorway, I despise the joy that nearly consumes me because he is here. I am surprised by how tired he appears, as though he hasn’t slept. I wonder if he has had to deal with trouble at his club. What does he do there all day, all night ? “No, I thought in order to hold your interest that it would be
*Everly*I fear my wrists might be bruised in the morning. I know he hadn’t realized how tightly he was gripping me when he bucked against me with his final thrusts. Locked in my own web of passion, I hadn’t noticed it either until I got up to clean myself and fetch the silk robe that he had sewn for me.He has slipped into his trousers, and now sits with his back against the headboard, his ankles crossed, as he eats a meat-filled pastry. The tray of food rests between us on the bed. At least he hadn’t left immediately. Although based on the way he watched me, I suspect that we will have another rousing round before he does.“I like the necklace”. I say.“I will bring you another tomorrow”.He says it as though there is nothing special about it. It is simply a thing to be given. As I am just a woman to be taken.“You have given me so much already, you don’t have to give me jewelry”.He stops chewing, studying me as though seeing me for the first time. “Mistresses are supposed to want