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

It was the first time he'd ever yelled at her, and as the door slammed behind him, Steve immediately felt guilty. As he reached his car, he paused to glance up to Harper's apartment, hoping to get a view of her through the window. It wasn't so much the words he'd spoken - although they could have been much better framed - that he regretted, but the manner in which they'd been issued. That Steve was a man who possessed the ability to deal with situations as they arose, without anger, or losing calm and composure, was something he prided himself on. It was why he thought he'd make such a great Father. His throat was dry as he resisted the temptation to walk back up the stairs and apologise. After all, it wasn't all his fault, and given time to contemplate what he'd actually said, Harper might realise it was only because it cared about her, and her feelings. Steve desired a life partner an equal who'd be with him every step of the way, and share in all major decisions not one who thought her ability to spread her legs, and allow herself to be treated as a whore, was more important to him than her mind and companionship. That it may be what Harper actually desired, in the bedroom, and that the two were not mutually exclusive was a concept Steve Kirk was incapable of comprehending. Any hope that she may have forgotten about the incident, or that her anger had lessened, was quickly put to rest on the Monday morning. Of course they ran into each other during working hours, but they didn't really speak. Once or twice, he considered an approach, to ask they if they could talk, however on each occasion, he resisted. Just give her some time and space, that was for the best. The school days were always long and stressful, so he'd leave it to Saturday or Sunday. There was a carnival coming to town the following week, and he'd give her a call, see if she'd like to go. Women always enjoyed watching their man win a prize didn't they? After, he could cook for Harper at his apartment, display his culinary skills, and discuss the future direction of their relationship, calmly, over a bottle of wine. Yes, that's what he'd do. He missed her terribly, but he didn't want to appear like some obsessed stalker. That showing how keen he was, or taking action which demonstrated that Steve Kirk was a man who knew what he wanted and that was Harper could be seen as a positive attribute wasn't even thought of, and the demeanour she'd displayed the previous weekend was pushed to back of his mind. To Steve Kirk, that was a one-off, the result of hormones, or alcohol, and she was only angry because he had yelled. Friday came and went, and the Physical Education teacher retired to his apartment. Alone. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hawthorne Tische had been occupied during the week overseeing his many different investments, investigating further business opportunities, and meeting with potential clients. The monthly balls provided a lucrative income stream, but Hawthorne intended for that to be only the cream on top. The man desired more. Businessman who'd pay thousands of dollars for an evening with a Lady of the Night, would surely pay an exorbitant fee for other, more exclusive, services, wouldn't they? Hawthorne Tische was certain they would, and it was why he'd kept notes on the peccadilloes of the men who'd been escorted from the premises for requesting acts not normally provided by those women from the Escort Agency. Izabel was placed to the back of his mind, never quite leaving it completely, but pushed aside. She'd either return, or she wouldn't, and it'd be her choice. Tische wasn't one to concern himself with matters out of his control, however, the excitement which coursed through his body as George Carpenter stepped into the office, in which sat Hawthorne behind a solid oak desk, cooking his books for the IRS, and mentioned her name, couldn't be denied. Sorry to disturb you Hawthorne, but there's a woman outside, here to collect a cheque for attending the ball. George paused, as Tische impatiently stared up at him, wondering what the hell the man was talking about - he made payment directly to the Madame, who then forwarded it to the girls - and raised an eyebrow. There was a glint in the other man's eyes he and Hawthorne had spoken about the party, and the intriguing lady Tishce had spent the evening with. Not that Carpenter had laid eyes on her he'd been too busy taking advantage of the 'perks' provided by his employer. She attended under the name Izabel. Very attractive too, I must say. The mischevious smile turned into a grin. Would you prefer I ask her to leave? Tische's eyes had clouded over, and his mind lost focus, as he whispered her name under his breath.Izabel. Then Carpenter's words brought him back to reality, and his gaze locked on his friend. Would you like to keep your job, George? The man laughed, and shot his employer a wink. Yes Sir. Hawthorne took the opportunity, as George departed to collect her, to regain composure. He ran fingers through dark hair, smoothed wrinkles from khaki slacks and white cotton shirt, and took a deep breath. When she appeared in the doorway, he was as calm as calm could be. Izabel, I believe? His breath almost left him as he appraised her the body already seen, but this the first opportunity to gaze upon her face, unmasked. Her gorgeous green eyes were matched by the rest of her features. Hawthorne motioned to a red leather chair on the opposite side of the desk. Why don't you take a seat. A brow raised, then he then reached out to collect a piece of paper, and pulled it towards him, before he glanced back up at the woman. Tisch was curious to see if she'd recognise him, and, as on the first occasion, wasn't averse to teasing. His gaze flicked to the paper a second time, then his lips pursed, and he leaned back in his seat. A finger lifted to tap against teeth in a pose of contemplation. After a moment or two, his hand left his chin, and he focused back on Izabel, green eyes sparkling, and lips curled into a smile. I'm somewhat confused I don't see your name on the guest list supplied by the Madame, and if you had attended, I'm certain I'd remember. A woman such as you would be difficult to forget. Tische ran his gaze over her body as he spoke, leaving no doubt as to what he was referring to, a mock-curious expression on his face when his eyes lifted back to hers. May I be so bold as to inquire which man received the honour of your services. Or did you neglect to gather his name?