Her sweet taste lingers on my lips as I wait, watching the door, wondering what she will do. Will she wait there or will she make her escape sooner?
The second I saw her, I knew none of the other women were quite as sweet, quite as naïve, quite as tempting, as this red-haired siren in the elegant but understated blue gossamer. Unlike the other women my men invited, she has no pretence of entitlement. She has demonstrated an elegant sense of awe in the grand surroundings of the palace ballroom, gliding around the edges of dancing couples.
Without my asking, the aide beside me gives me her name and a brief outline of her background. Sasha Carr. A florist, born and bred in Serenity itself, her mother and father now passed on, living alone, no connections apart from friends. An interest in art and architecture, so no wonder her attention and awe in her surroundings. The flash of awareness the moment her crystal blue eyes met mine through her elegant, fine net mask, was enough to force me into movement, bowing low and guiding her onto the dance floor. Within moments, it was a foregone conclusion. I had to have her, a little piece at a time, and she hasn't disappointed me.
My personal state of aroused discomfort aside, I have never seen anything as pleasurably desperate as Miss Carr writhing in ecstasy.
After a while, the door to the library opens slowly and I watch as she slips out again, her dress immaculately in place once more, though her hair now a little more tousled, the glorious curls only partly pinned back from her delicate face. Her mask once more in place, taken up from where I left it on the carpet by the couch as her delicate, pale body lay in throes of desire on the dark leather.
I watch her sneak along the edge of the room once more, others oblivious to her unobtrusive presence as they dance. She sinks down into one of the many silk chairs around the room, suddenly hidden from my view by other bodies in the room. I smile. She hasn't chosen to leave just yet. Slipping around the room, I take up a new vantage point, a storey above the ballroom floor on the private balcony.
"Sir, your favours. You should allow the ladies to know your choices." Samuel, my aide, appears by my side, carrying a box of freshly cut scarlet roses. I was supposed to select a number of girls to get to know over the course of the week. They were to stay here in the castle, to live here for just one week. I was to see who would fit into my life in the best manner, yet I find myself already sold on not a multitude of girls, just one. That one.
"Her."
Samuel is careful not to sound surprised when he next speaks.
"Only one, Your Majesty."
I nod slowly, a smile curling my lips; the concept of her staying here, being only meters away from me, almost euphoric. The idea of taking our earlier tryst still further is even more erotic and enthralling.
"Yes, one girl. Sasha Carr. No one else."
He leaves without another word, the curtains behind me whispering as he pushes through them. I sit, still watching her, my hand caressing the ridge of my painfully hard length through the suit material of my slacks. I'm going to have her, hopefully sooner rather than later.
~~~
The single rose lies in my lap as I stare at it. The room has once more returned to clamouring noise, the silence having abated, the stares and whispers now moving away from me. The scarlet against the blue of my dress is a striking contrast. One flower. He handed out just one of the promised favours. I feel a tightening in my chest. He handed it to me. I expected to come, see lots of beautiful things and leave. No roses were landing in my lap according to my plans, and yet here one is, the innocent velvet petals smiling up at me from the exquisite bloom. The tightening in my chest drifts lower to my thighs as I feel the familiar eyes of a particular stranger settle on me and people begin to leave.