Thread: The Manor (Mr. Quixotic & Malicious Lullaby)

There was a plethora of attractive, young, well-dressed, and sweet-scented woman in the ballroom all of who would have been willing to accompany Hawthorne to a private suite, and shed their clothes in a heartbeat with the opening of his wallet. If asked, he couldn't have articulated why, out of all of them, he'd been impelled to approach Izabel. It may have been because she stood alone at the bar - an island amongst the sea of couples, and escorts working their charms on the guests -, however not for the fact that it made her an easy mark, but for what Hawthorne had intuited it said about her. She was somehow different. As with any other male, it couldn't be denied that Hawthorne was attracted to youth and beauty, but unlike the others, that wasn't all he was attracted to. Once you'd slept with so many such women, there remained nothing special about it, and Tisch required more to arouse him. Intellect, conversation, wit a woman's brain was as erotic to Hawthorne as any cleavage on display, or that which she possessed between her legs particularly a brain which retained a sense of naivety and innocence. Rightly or wrongly, as he spoke to Izabel, that's the impression he gained. Was she playing him, was he playing her, or were they playing each other. Her change in demeanour and seductive words had put him temporarily off balance. For a moment she'd become one of the hookers wishing for nothing more than what the rest had also come for but then he'd recalled her honesty, and the sincerity in her tone, and his questions were ones of real curiosity. He drank in her perfume, and allowed his hot breath to float over her skin when his hard, lean body pressed against hers, and he nipped her throat. The gasp that escaped her mouth when he asked her intentions was, to Hawthorne, a sign that she was not even certain regardless of what answer spilled from her mouth. Azure blue eyes held hers when his hand motioned for her to dance, then a throaty, uninhibited chuckle emanated from his chest, and fell from his lips. Hawthorne's head shook with mirth, and he linked her fingers between his. Touche, Izabel. His gaze flicked to the two men she'd spoken of, as he allowed her to lead him towards the dance floor, then it returned to her. You may have made your choice, but I'm not a man who allows others to make his. Rest assured that when my decision is made, you will be the first to know. It is nice to be desired, after all. The host grinned underneath his mask, and his eyes scanned hers. However, if not me, I'm certain they would love to punish you, and offer an exorbitant amount for the pleasure. Possibly they'd be willing to so in this very room, so that we could all watch? Hawthorne's tone was light and teasing as her hands slid to his shoulder, and he placed one of his own on the small of her back, and the other on her waist. Come here long enough, and you'll meet all types of men, learn things that you never dreamed of. Some enjoy participating, and others remain voyeurs. He didn't expand, leaving Izabel to possibly wonder if he were one of those, as he manoeuvred them between two slow-dancing couples. Then, such a public display may be too much for one who has not experienced punishment before. It was a question posed as a statement, and Hawthorne allowed it to hang in the air as the song began, and he pulled her closer so that her body would press against his. In time with the slow music, he moved, and piercing blue orbs shone through the holes in the mask. What are my expectations? I have not yet decided. A roomful of beautiful, and attractive young women, yet they bore me. They flirt and flaunt, and spread their legs, and moan and scream and pant, but it's all an act, Izabel. They take our money, and pretend to derive pleasure from what we do with them - and surely, some of the ladies, in the moment, do even love it. However, in the end, it's only a job and what occurs has no meaning. No impact. The escorts return to their husbands or boyfriends, count their earnings, and what has occurred becomes a distant memory. Hawthorne's head had dipped closer, and his palm slid down to cup Izabel's ass as he turned her in time with the beat, and lightly brushed his lips against hers. I'm one who likes to make an impact, Izabel. I desire to know that, when a girl departs the Manor, she is never going to forget me, and I've affected her life. For worse, or for better, it doesn't matter, and really, is there such a vast chasm between the two? Is it not only a matter of perspective, and conscience, as to which is which? Tisch pulled back, so that he could once again eyes with Izabel, his palm returned to her back, and the grip on her waist tightened. The mans voice remained calm, and demeanour friendly, but his words became more crude. I could fuck you tonight, if you allowed it, and compensate you for the pleasure, but where would that leave us? Your innocence would be removed in one fell swoop. Hawthorne's gaze intensified as his head shook, as if that just wouldn't do. No, Izabel. A woman such as you? I'd much prefer she return to her life untouched, and imagined it being me the next time she was ravished by her lover - you do have a lover, don't you? To allow her time to contemplate what could have been, and then to discover if she'd dare return, with no other intent than to deliberately fuck a strange man for money. No alcohol, no spur of the moment decisions, or peer pressure. No excuses. Purely by virtue of her, alone, and in full charge of her faculties, making a conscious choice to do that which she knows she shouldn't. His speech was slow and sure, and he continued to move his feet in time with the music, partly wishing he could see underneath the mask, and gauge the woman's reaction. Does that excite you, Izabel? Would you return of your own volition or in the cold light of day, would the guilt and your morals cause you to flee? His eyes briefly roamed over her shoulder, to the two men she had indicated. Because, despite your pretences, I do believe you are an innocent. However, it is also possible that I could have you pegged wrong. If so, my loss, and you may wish to approach my associates with your offer.