Authors: Melissa Macneal
‘Ooh-la-la!’ Monique’s eyes filled half her face when she saw the glorious periwinkle sheen of the costume I’d stashed behind my other clothes. I’d let three days go by before showing it to her, so she wouldn’t associate it with Antoinette’s absence — or my own — while the maids had been polishing the ballroom.
‘I found it in the attic,’ I whispered, hoping Mrs Frike wasn’t eavesdropping from the hall. ‘It must’ve belonged to Chapin’s mother. Fanny told me how much he enjoyed those lavish parties, so I’m going to surprise him with it at the ball.’
‘You’ll be the belle, Auntie! The pièce de résistance among ladies who think they’re so superior,
non
?’ She gave me a speculative look, perhaps gauging the dress’s curves against my own. ‘But I really must see you in our outfit to drive Chapin wild. Today’s the day!’
‘But why now? I’m not sure I’m —’
‘Ready?’ Monique tossed her head, nearly toppling her topknot. ‘We’re ready
not
to see more strange ladies stealing away at dawn — or cavorting in a courtyard,
non
? Chapin should know you won’t tolerate his sneaking around. A bad habit for a man soon to be mayor.’
She had instructed the sissy maids to wash windows and launder table linens today, so with Mrs Frike in charge of these activities, Monique wanted to play — to groom her student for the command performance she’d come here to orchestrate.
She fetched the large white box from Madame LaRue’s and opened it on my bed. With a feline grin, she lifted the black lace, delighting in its seductive softness as she unfolded it. ‘Not naked yet?’
Electricity passed between us as she arched her eyebrow. Was she recalling our first rendezvous in the dressmaker’s fitting room, as I was? I set aside those memories, hoping this day would mark another momentous occasion: the seduction of the husband who should’ve been my lover all along. I had to wonder if I’d feel this attraction for Monique, had Chapin come to my bed over these past seven years.
Not that it mattered to my maid: her fires flared at every opportunity, and she didn’t let her conscience prevent her pleasure. Didn’t let everyone else’s moral code affect her needs and desires.
And maybe that was her secret to finding the joy and affection she craved: she assumed her right to take it wherever — and with whomever — she found it. I envied her that. It flew in the face of the good-girl, dutiful-wife image ingrained since my childhood, yet it felt so
right
.
‘You’re thinking too much,’ she murmured, slipping her warm fingers beneath my dress.
‘Let your body move towards its target, like an arrow going for the mark. Chapin doesn’t stand a chance,
non
? Who could resist a woman like you, Auntie Eve?’
Who, indeed? I tried not to think about him as Monique peeled away my clothes with much more ardour than befitted a maid.
Rather than caress my bare body, however, she began to dress me — wrapping the film of ebony lace around me before draping the final folds over my shoulder from a deep cowl in the front. With a grin, she arranged the daring fabric so that a black rose clung to each of my bobbing breasts.
‘We’ll find you a clasp,’ she said, leading me to the jewellery box. ‘Elegant, but sturdy…ah,
oui
. This pearl brooch is perfect,
non
?’
With agile hands she fastened the clasp at my shoulder. Then she stood back to admire her ingenuity. ‘Stunning,’ she said with a decisive nod. ‘The pearls are pale and flawless, like your skin. And when it comes to seduction, a black dress is a woman’s best friend, eh,
cherie
?’
As I turned in front of the glass to watch the barely-there lace follow my bared curves, I felt more wanton — more decidedly decadent — than ever in my life. ‘For my hair, I should —’
Monique plucked out my hairpins, tossing them aside with impish abandon. ‘Men want their women’s hair
loose
,’ she exclaimed. ‘Looking slept-in, like she spent a wild night with him. So he can run his fingers through it…imagine it fanned across his pillow as he mounts her.’
Her talk was having the desired effect, for that woman in the mirror — that auburn-haired hoyden I didn’t know nearly well enough — looked flushed and ready for rampant sex. My eyes were shining and the smile I saw did wonders for my confidence. Not only did the lace’s texture tease at my skin, rasping my nipples into peaks, but it made a subtle sound every time I moved, like satin sheets being rumpled by lovers.
‘It’s awfully early to —’
‘Who says love only happens in the dark?’ Monique ran her fingernails down the centre of my belly to make the lace sing. ‘Mr Chapin’s going to the Club for lunch, so you can catch him early. Have the whole afternoon
and
all night to be his wicked woman,
oui
?’
His wicked woman.
I’d never done anything even approaching wicked — until I met Monique. Maybe it was a femme fatale Chapin wanted, rather than a mate of such prudent predictability. I let my smile overtake my face.
‘Much better!’ Monique moved behind my shoulder to gaze into the glass. ‘Now touch yourself, Aunt Evil. Starting high — in your hair. Caress every inch of your body.’
I stiffened. But then, my modesty had gotten me
nowhere
in the last seven years, had it? I placed my palms on my head, noting the way my breasts lifted beneath the filmy lace, making it ripple with my distended nipples.
‘You can do better,
ma tante
,’ she whispered. ‘Ravage yourself. You want to look and smell and taste like a woman of insatiable ways. A woman no man can resist.’
Insatiable ways.
My Lord, did it get any more brazen than that? With a laugh that sounded like a hussy’s, I speared my fingers through my russet waves, tossing my head as though I could shake all my old-fashioned inhibitions from my mind.
Monique’s grin spurred me on, until I was stroking my shoulders and then kneading my breasts. I watched, fascinated, as the ebony roses cast their shadows over my ivory skin. Lower I went, pressing both sides of my rib cage as I stuck out my chest. Grinning lasciviously at the way I bulged and bobbed.
‘Lower,’ my maid whispered, caught up in the bawdy reflection I made. ‘Rub your slit with the fabric, so your perfume clings to it. Part your legs. Watch them flex while you excite yourself. It makes quite a sight,
non
?’
The breath I’d been holding came out like a desperate pant. My hands obeyed Monique’s command, slithering over the filmy fabric to rub it against my…cunt, for that’s what she would call it. A warm wetness told me I was extremely aroused. Propping one foot on the vanity stool, I continued to ply my folds and watch the effect in the mirror, for even beneath the sheer curtain of lace, I could see my sex lips unfurling like little wings, to reveal the moist, pink tissue beneath them…that little nub thrusting out to receive some attention.
‘Oh, my,’ I moaned, captivated by the sight of my fingers strumming faster, around that place I’d been forbidden to touch since my mother had slapped my hands away.
‘Ah,
oui
,’ Monique breathed. And when she placed her palms on my hips, massaging in firm, sensual circles, I closed my eyes with the utter sensuality of it.
‘
Non, non, non!
You watch! Spread your legs and catch that trickle…push yourself over the edge, and see a beautiful rose in bloom,
ma tante
,’ she rasped.
The inner spirals curling lazily below my belly intensified: I began to gasp and thrust and strain against my fingers. I watched in awe as those secret folds deepened to a dusky blush, right before the spasms overtook me. I was shaking so hard, crying out with my climax, that I’d have lost my balance had Monique not caught me from behind.
I was still catching my breath, gathering the scattered fragments of my mind, when the maid reached around me. Quickly she slipped her hand between the folds of the black lace and up my pussy. Rubbing herself against my backside, she wiggled two fingers deep inside me to create a frothy, wet sound, panting with her own climax as she brought me to another one. Together we convulsed in front of the mirror, watching wide-eyed as we stifled our cries. Juice was dribbling down my thighs, and Monique mopped it up with the filmy black fabric.
‘
Now
you’re ready to meet your man,
cherie
,’ she breathed. ‘I’ll have Rémy bring the carriage around.’
* * *
The ride into town from the Garden District was too long, yet too short. Would things go according to Monique’s script? Would my husband come out of the Beau Monde Club, peer into the shadowy carriage, and be unable to resist the wanton woman within? As the passing scenery told me we were near that whitewashed brick building, my blood pumped with a raw edginess. The next few minutes would either be heaven or hell.
As Monique had instructed, my driver pulled up in front of the club’s doors and went inside to speak with the doorman. He, in turn, was to inform Mr Proffit that a carriage awaited him, and hopefully my husband would excuse himself from whomever was bending his ear about cotton prices or his political views.
Facing the carriage door, I bent one knee against the back of the seat and arranged my lace to fall open around my decadently bare legs and feet, so I’d be fully displayed when Chapin looked inside. Never had I felt so boldly improper. I sat back, telling myself this ploy would work…waiting…wondering why Rémy was taking so long.
Had Monique misunderstood my husband’s plans? Had all my heart-pounding preparations been made on the false assumption that he’d want —
The carriage door flew open. I bolted upright when I saw the raven hair, the bourbon skin, and that unmistakably rakish grin. ‘Dewel! You can’t let Chapin find you here!’
‘So there
is
a house afire.’ He slammed the door behind him, undressing me with eyes that glowed like a demon’s in the dimness. ‘I can smell the smoke, and something much more provocative, clear over here. Good afternoon, Miss Eve.’
Had ever a man been so exasperatingly dense? Or had old Iverson summoned the wrong Proffit? ‘I’m telling you, you can’t stay here! I’ve come to fetch Chapin —’
‘And isn’t this just my lucky day? My God, but you’re gorgeous, darlin’.’
‘— so I can — can —’ I stopped my verbal flailing to scoot to the edge of my seat, knees together, when he sat down across from me.
With utmost arrogance, Dewel relaxed against the leather upholstery. Then he stretched a long leg over to tap my bare toe with his boot.
‘Stop it!’ I snapped. ‘Every woman in this world does
not
play mouse to your Pied Piper, Mr Proffit! Monique’s been preparing me for this — because
you
sent her to! Now
leave
!’
His face lost its wolfish angularity. ‘I see,’ he said quietly. ‘So it’s not only my mistake, thinking you’d prepare yourself for such a rendezvous with me, but also my misfortune to bear some…unfortunate tidings. Chapin’s not here.’
My mouth fell, along with all my shining expectations. ‘But Monique heard him say —’
‘Oh, he was at the Club earlier. But he left.’
‘But where —’
‘You don’t want to know, sugah.’
I shivered, and then flushed with the truth he was trying not to tell me. ‘He left with
her
?’
‘Had I known of your seduction today, I’d have talked him into —’
‘You’re not my husband’s watchdog, dammit! Of all the filthy, low-down —’
‘Cheating, dastardly,
bastardly
things to do,’ Dewel muttered in agreement.
But my shattered hopes rose up into my throat, until I had to sob for breath. ‘Shut up, Dewel! Get out of here!’ I shrieked. ‘I want to go home. Rémy, please —’
My brother-in-law crossed the carriage in one fluid move, to cover my mouth. ‘I’m sorry, Eve,’ he murmured against my ear. ‘I didn’t intend to make light of your efforts, or this unforgivable situation. You have every right to be upset.’
Upset?
Was that why my entire body quaked while I tried not to wail like a baby deprived of its most basic needs? Like a woman denied her rightful place beside her husband? Like a widow…mourning her marriage?
Hot tears rushed down my face. I turned away from the man who tried to comfort me, for comfort was the last thing I could accept. It was humiliating to learn Chapin was off with that floozy Savanna again, but even more degrading to have his smug half-brother witness my disgrace. My failure to entice my man.
Yet when Dewel slipped an arm around my shoulders, I railed against this injustice — the hopes nurtured like flowers, now evaporated like the dew. Driven by a shame rapidly turning to anger, I sobbed against his shoulder. How could I feel so weak and defeated when only moments ago I’d been flying like a kite?
How, indeed.
I sniffled. Pulled myself together by thinking how Monique would handle this unanticipated detour, on my road to becoming Chapin Proffit’s undeniable wife. Or had I come to a crossroads? A realisation that I might never reach the destination I’d set out for…and that perhaps I needed a whole new travel plan.
I sat up, blinking away my tears. ‘Please excuse me for acting so —’
‘Loyal? Lovin’?’ Dewel thumbed a tear from my cheek, lifting my chin. ‘Any man should consider himself damn lucky to have a woman like you waitin’ for him in this carriage, Miss Eve.
I
certainly would.’
Even in consolation, his words were edged with egotism: he’d probably had dozens of women awaiting him over the years, for his animal magnetism drew them like moths to the proverbial flame. Yet, as he focused those blue eyes on me, studying my face and my rumpled hair and the dress that now seemed extremely inappropriate, I felt a compassion I hadn’t anticipated.
‘So here we are again. Brought together by Chapin’s cheatin’.’
It was such an opportunistic observation, I wondered if Dewel had lied. What if he’d simply seized the moment to beat Chapin to the punch — enrage him again — after Monique had hinted I’d be coming for my husband?
Yet his hands remained chastely on my forearms. And he wasn’t kissing me, or making lewd suggestions, or unbuttoning his fly — although I couldn’t miss the ridge that had risen there, and the way his breathing filled the quiet carriage.