Two best friends
She was tall, at least six feet. She was dressed in black, in a
perfect coachman's uniform. She wore tight pants fit into calf-high
boots, shiny and well-polished. Her vest, cut to give her a tight
V-figure, was closed with a double row of bright silver buttons.
Those, and her white cravat, were the only thing which were not black,
black to the point of absorbing the light around her. Her hands and
fingers were long and delicate as she casually tapped the palm of one
hand with a riding crop. Her features were strong, aristocratic, not
feminine except in their beauty. Her close-cropped hair was nearly
completely concealed by a coachman's top hat. But her eyes drew you
most of all. Large, intense, as dark as her clothing, they held to the
promise of lust, passion, power and even cruelty
The band struck up a waltz on a slightly off note, shocking you back to
reality. You dimly were aware of your partner taking your hand and
leading you onto the dance floor, and the movement gradually brought
you to earth. Occasionally as the dance progressed, you would glimpse
her dancing with women (and always leading). But after every dance,
she was someplace else, asking someone else to dance; you could never
seem to get near to her. Finally, the impression of her first
appearance faded, and the evening continued.
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Night at a bar
The night air was pleasant, cool and slightly moist against your skin,
but it brought you no peace. As you leaned out over the balcony,
surveying the reflecting pools and gardens of the estate stretching out
into the moonlight, you tried to relax, enjoy the panorama, and ignore
the sound of the music, laughter, and dancing in the ballroom down the
hall from the study whose window you had flung open. Flung open at the
end of a mad flight from the ball, trying to escape that which you most
desired and, yet, by which you were most terrified.
The party had begun pleasantly enough. You had come unescorted,
determined you have a good time regardless of who had or had not come
with you. There were enough unattached men, or just outrageous flirts,
to more than fill a casual night. Perhaps you would meet someone
interesting, or particularly attractive, you had thought, but put the
subject from your mind: no expectations except for diversion.
Then, two hours or so after the first dancing had begun, she had
entered the room. It was between dances, and the crowd was busy with
angling through the floor, looking for someone to ask for the next
dance, or making themselves obvious to the person they wished would ask
them. When the dark figured had filled the doorway, many had turned to
look. Most had given a quick, appreciative glance, and then returned
to their partners. You had not; although you were across the room, you
stopped and stared as if turned to stone.
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