Royal Fake

“What? The bedhead is a turn-off? Or is it just the fact that I’m royalty that has you running for the hills? Nothing has changed except my title.” I smoothed my hair back knowing how spiky and weird it got in the morning. “At least you thought last night was fun. I was starting to worry. And say anything you want to the press. Any press is good press they say.” I was trying to liven the mood, but in truth, I was just hurting her unintentionally.

“I won’t say anything because I don’t want to be known as a slut. I don’t roll like that.” With that, she retreated to the bathroom giving the door a good hard tug, which was very much like a slam.

I sure did have a way with women. I loved them and I had many and often. I was known as the playboy prince. That’s why it was so imperative to my father that I married Lucy so that I would put my womanizing behind me. But when one is in a field of flowers, why wouldn’t you pick a few? I had to change my ways, but Lucy wasn’t the change I needed, perhaps Avery was. I didn’t truly have any real intention of changing, though. I didn’t want to be with just one woman; there were too many in the world to sample for that. However, to take my place as king and appease my family, I would sacrifice a few years. I’d marry someone, grind out two point five kids and then get divorced, cause a scandal and still… be king.

That’s when the thought hit me. Avery was brand new. I’d only fucked her twice, I barely knew her, she’d be a perfect partner to my plan if I could only get her to agree to it. Considering she’d basically just stormed off, that wasn’t going to be an easy feat to accomplish. But if I could get her to agree, I could work out an arrangement where I’d marry her, we’d have two kids and then get divorced. I’d leave her with enough money to set her and the kids up for life and I’m sure she could find fashion design work in Ireland after her obligatory years as my queen had ended. Excited by my insane, yet a practical idea, I gently knocked on the bathroom door.

“Avery? Can I please just have a chat with you before you storm out? It’s all good to be dramatic about this, but I have something I’d like to discuss with you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was a prince before, that was deceitful, I’m sorry.” I pressed my ear to the door, hoping I didn’t hear her sobbing.

Some women could be so awfully emotional. Avery didn’t strike me as that type, but I didn’t know. Slowly the door opened, and she was fully dressed. My heart sank, I wanted to have sex with her for the rest of the day, but her wearing clothes was a sure indicator she had changed the plan.

“It’s not just that you’re a prince, though I wish you had told me, then I could have made a better-informed choice about what we did last night.” Her voice was distant and silent.

“Would you not have come to my room if you knew I was a prince?” That shocked me a little, usually, it was the other way around.

“I don’t know. I probably would have wanted to get to know you better.” She seemed to be gathering her inner strength and fortitude.

“That’s curious, why? You didn’t want to know me too deeply last night. One-night stands are fueled by lust and want, we both had that in abundance and exercised our rights as consenting adults to enjoy sex with each other. Moral laws are the only things holding us from enjoying what we desire, and they ended in the dark ages. I don’t see how my being a prince changed even one minute of what we shared last night, which I want to add was delightful. I had fully expected to enjoy more of you today… all day.” Even thinking of her naked had me so horny.

“Well, as a regular guy, you’d be free to have a one-night stand. As a prince, I’m pretty sure those freedoms are more limited. Most importantly, I don’t want to be just another woman that the prince of Ireland fucked.” Her face fell again.

“You’d rather be a woman the Irish consulate fucked? Is that more appealing?” I didn’t understand her logic.

“I don’t know what I’m saying.” She looked like she might cry. “I gotta go.”

“Please don’t. You’re not just a woman I fucked. If I were a prince, a consulate, or a chimney sweep, it doesn’t matter, you’re a lovely woman I’m getting to know. A wonderful night of sex was part of the ‘getting to know you’ package. I have no intention of just ditching you with a quick good-bye and a thank you, ma’am. Nor do I have notches on my bedpost, I don’t deface my expensive bedroom furniture. I asked that you spend the day with me. I hoped we’d spend it getting to know each other’s bodies better, but if you’d like to do something else, I’d be delighted. I just want to spend more time with you. I don’t want to let you go. I’d be crushed if you walked out that door… I will admit, most of my prior dates haven’t made it to the second day. So, by that standard, you are already different.” There it was… true honesty.