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

Hawthorne only partook of the pleasures offered by the many women who attended the Manor when he was in the mood, and found an escort who attracted him not only physically, but intellectually, or who had a certain aura one that couldn't be easily defined, but Tisch recognised when present. However, he'd never slept with the same woman on more than occasion, or wished to see them a second night. It wasn't because they weren't sexually adventurous enough for his tastes or that they didn't at least pretend to appreciate his prowess, and shower him with flatter and praise they did. But what else was to be expected? The attendees he fornicated with were Escorts, paid to fuck, and that told its own story. Not that he had any moral compunctions, or thought lesser of them for their profession, but they weren't what he searched for. Izabel was new, she was fresh, and she hadn't been supplied by the Agency. Any naivety and innocence he sensed, if his presumptions were even correct, bore no relationship to intelligence or virginity. It was a state of mind more than anything else, and what Hawthorne believed she possessed. Izabel had yet to be exposed to the ways of the world as those others had, or experienced what they had experienced had not become immune to the desires and requests of men, no longer easy to shock or surprise. Where there was no surprise, hesitation, or second-guessing, to Hawthorne, there was no emotion and no feeling. To experience something for the first time, which filled you with either dread or excitement, and caused your nerves to jangle, and body to pump with adrenaline, was one of the reasons for living. The whores had seen it all, done it all - if not in practice, then in theory -, however, not Izabel. No, Izabel, I don't believe you are a virgin, however one doesn't need to be a virgin to retain their innocence. And one isn't required to have slept with a multitude of men to have lost her purity. It has nothing to do with your actions, it all has to do with up here. Hawthorne spoke softly, and tapped his head with a finger as Izabel reacted to his speech. That it had impacted her was obvious, but wasn't certain in what manner. Had he shocked her? Offended her? Aroused her? The uncertainty was part of the thrill. It was why he didn't attempt to stop her as she insisted it time to leave, or react to the defeated tone in her voice. He may have offended her after all, however that wasn't the intent. Possibly when given time to contemplate his exact words, she'd come to realise what he'd actually been attempting to convey. That he wished to sleep with her, and desired Izabel above all others in the room, but only with her fully informed consent. When she was sure, within herself, and with the knowledge it would come at a risk. That of Izabel metamorphosing into someone she may not even know existed. Goodbye Izabel. Or should it be Au Revoir? Hawthorne felt a sadness as he called out, and lifted a hand to wave at her retreating back. Would she return? Had his words encouraged her, or driven her away? Only time would provide the answer. The man departed the dance-floor as she stepped through the exit. Steve Kirk napped on the living room sofa in his two-bedroom, third floor apartment, with a book lying on his chest, when the phone rang. The novel landed with a thud on the floor as he reacted to the sound, and eyes flew open. It took a few seconds to locate the phone, then he smiled when he saw who it was that called. Harper. Though they'd only dated a few months, the twenty-eight year old physical education teacher had a good feeling about how their relationship was progressing. The moment he'd laid eyes on her at the beginning of term, he'd found himself attracted. Unlike most of the other women her age, Harper wasn't an outrageous flirt who wore way too much makeup, and dressed like a slut. She appeared to have a good, mature head on her shoulders. It hadn't mattered that it had taken them quite a while to have sex, and their first time had been only a month before. Not that he didn't enjoy the physical side of a relationship, but there were more important things which led to contentment for Steve, such as love, commitment, and companionship. He could already envision the wedding, then the three kids and a dog who'd fill their split-level house, with the perfect green lawn, surrounded by a white picket-fence. That dream had been good enough for his parents, it would be good enough for him. What more could a man want out of life? He heard something in her tone that sent a note of discord through him, but didn't question her about it over the phone. Harper had requested he come over and, regardless of the time, that's what he'd do. It was always best to speak face-to-face. Steve threw on a pair of sweatpants, and a white t-shirt which clung to his athletic torso, then after a lick of the comb through short-cropped blonde hair which sat atop a conventionally handsome 'All-American' face, was out the door. It wasn't far to Harper's apartment. Steve knocked, and she enveloped him her arms before he could even say hello or take a look at her. Automatically, he returned the gesture, Hey baby, and kissed her on the forehead. The seductive words, issued in a manner he wasn't used to hearing, took a moment to register. When they did, he pulled back with Harper still in his embrace, and his green eyes widened. Instead of the request arousing him, as it may have most men, Steve's expression was one of confusion and concern. Everything okay? His hand began to rub her back, and he nuzzled his neck against her lips when she kissed it, then cupped her chin gently in his palm, and lifted her face so that their eyes met. Did you and Stephanie have a fight? It was the only reason he could think of for the urgency he heard in her demands.