UNKEPT WOMAN
Iwoke up feeling reborn. Had I ever been so comfortable in my life? So loose and well-rested? I stretched and blinked at the ease of the movement, wondering if I'd grown three inches after Hunter's massage.
The sun was bright, muted through sheer blue curtains, and Hunter was missing from the bed. I'd rolled over in the night once, and I recalled the way we'd been tangled together and how he'd settled me into his side with a kiss at the crown of my head. I turned to the spot now and found the dent of his head still in the pillow, the sheets rumpled.
Very nice sheets. Extremely smooth and cool. And a mattress without any lumps.
I'd never given Myra's determination to find us humans wealthy monsters much thought, but the appeal was clear now.
But I doubt very many monsters know how to massage as well as Hunter, I thought with a grin. I might grow very spoiled very quickly if I did manage to steal a life with him for myself.
For now…I needed to find out what time it was, and hopefully find Hunter in order to offer proper thanks for the night before. Preferably with my mouth. Or his, if he insisted.
I giggled at how new my body felt as I sat up, how bright the morning was, how pretty Hunter's bedroom was—clean walls and dark wood furniture, with soft blues and gold fabrics. I twisted in place and finally spotted the white note resting on the table at the other side of the bed.
My body stretched across the mattress and I hummed, the luxury of the sheets almost erotic against my skin so used to cheap, rough cotton. I flipped open the note, smiling at Hunter's familiar, somewhat clumsy script. But my smile faded quickly.
I've been called away again, little one. I'm not sure how long my absence will be this time. My house and carriage are at your disposal.
- H
The light in the room dimmed, the sun caught behind a sudden cloud, and I flicked the note back onto the table, sitting up and searching the finery around me for a clock. Nearly eleven, and I was in Mayfair, far from the theater, let alone Stepney Green. And there, hanging from the door of a wardrobe, was an elegant blue satin day dress with puffed sleeves. My own more simple and old-fashioned dress was folded tidily atop my chemise on a chair by the wardrobe, and I rose and hurried there, ignoring the cool air on my bare body.
Hunter was generous, and kind. But he wasn't here, and I wasn't his mistress or his wife or whatever Myra made us into. Not yet, at least. I was still just an actress at the Company of Fiends, and I wasn't about to dress otherwise.
Gentlemen are often occupied with business, I reminded myself, but it didn't feel like a consolation. More like a warning.
I dressed in a hurry and slipped out of the bedroom, pausing in the hall for a moment to recall the way back downstairs. It occurred to me that my opportunity for snooping was now more available than ever, but the prospect was less appealing with Hunter gone. I moved quickly and quietly to the stairs, and then paused at the top of the landing, seeing the gargoyle butler waiting for me at the bottom.
"Breakfast has been laid out for you, madame," he said, an arm stretched out toward a set of double doors.
My stomach clenched at the thought. If Hunter's table was half as nice as his bath or bed, I would find the best meal of my life waiting for me. And for some unknown reason, that hurt too. I didn't want to eat alone, snoop alone, live here in this huge and lovely and unfamiliar house alone, while Hunter was away on some unknown mission.
"I have to go, actually," I said, walking down.
The gargoyle nodded once, undisturbed by the idea of a wasted meal. "I'll call for the carriage."
"No. No," I said shaking my head. "I…have errands to run. I will find my own way."
He nodded again, a little slower. "Then the carriage will be waiting for you at the theater tonight."
I huffed and shook my head. "No, please. I don't know what your…your master told you, but never mind all of it. I will not be using the house or carriage in his absence."
This gargoyle was an exceptionally good butler, because there wasn't even a flinch of response in his face as he stared back at me and nodded a final time.
"Very well, madame."
I nodded too, shoulders drooping even as I lifted my chin high, heading for the door. And in spite of his heavy, slow gait, the gargoyle managed to reach the door first, pulling it open for me.
It was warm out, and the sun was escaping the cloud that had briefly trapped it. A dozen stares turned in my direction, and I suddenly remembered I was in Mayfair in the middle of the day. Perhaps it would've been better to simply borrow the dress Hunter had left for me, if only so I wouldn't draw so much attention in my shabby dress, exiting out the front door of the fine house in the middle of the block.
I tipped my chin down to my chest and hurried on my way, ignoring the sound of the door clicking shut at my back.
* * *
I was gasping for breath,body swamped in thunderous ecstasy, rocking into Antin's body on top of mine, Con's fingers just barely brushing through my hair, sprinkling in shocks and stabs to cut through the drowning.
"Beautiful," Antin breathed, lips grazing over mine as his rolling rhythm started to break and snap. "You are all that was promised, sweet creature."
I was too far gone to care, and even the spotlights were blinking behind swarms of darkness.
Antin groaned in my ear, draping heavily on top of me, every thought racing away as I sank into a terrifyingly sweet abyss.
It softened suddenly, and I seemed to rise to the surface again, the weight resting on me still dense but not so powerful. Con's touch was gone, and I opened my eyes to find Constantine's completed features, so handsome and close to my own. He turned his head and his mouth found mine, firm and needful, strong hands coming to circle my face.
I clenched in a final fluttering orgasm around his length, and he shuddered and hissed into the kiss, pulling away with me lifted in his arms. I hid my face in his shoulder again, but I was more alert than the night before.
Antin had taken the lead tonight, his overwhelming gift of pleasure somehow more exposing and dangerous than Con's pain.
"Will every time be different?" I whispered as the audience cheered us off the stage.
"Would you like it to be?" Constantine asked, cold and clipped.
I didn't answer, and Constantine continued on his path through the wing, back to the stairs that led down to the dressing rooms.
"We shouldn't miss curtain call," I said, even though it was a habit of mine and Mr. Reddy never really cared.
"You can't stand," Constantine said. "And the crowd is too loud."
I lifted my head at that, resting my chin on his shoulder. "Then my screams must be awful for you."
"If we were alone, I would gag you," Constantine said, but his lips twitched and I had the wildest feeling he might be joking.
"Why not have Con fuck me while I suck Antin?" I suggested.
We were halfway down the stairs, and Constantine showed no other sign of surprise but the sudden jerk of his foot missing a step, immediately corrected, his arms tightening around me.
"That would be…a good show," he said slowly. "You're much more alert this time. Pleasure agrees with you, sweet creature."
Nymph, I thought, but held back.
"Do they… Do you feel what the other feels?" I asked.
Constantine frowned and shook his head. "No, but some sense is shared. I know where I am and what I am thinking, from either side."
Which explained why Antin's movements were always so sure even though he couldn't see, and why he seemed to speak for Con sometimes.
Constantine turned briefly toward my dressing room and then paused, glancing down at me. "Do you have other clever ideas?"
"I might," I said.