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

Hawthorne poured himself and Izabel a glass of water from a crystal decanter, and pushed one across to her, then relaxed in his leather chair. His gaze rested on her face to gauge her reaction, and to see if she'd realise it was 'Robert' who sat behind the desk. Tisch had made no attempt to change the timbre of his voice or to avert his eyes, which she'd had plenty of opportunity to see on the night of the Ball. As it was said, the eyes were the windows to the soul, and he'd have recognised Izabel by hers, even if she'd stepped into his office with a masquerade mask once again covering her features, and attired in a potato sack. Only a nod of the head accompanied her words of recognition, and he twirled the crystal glass in his hand before taking a sip. No other reaction was displayed no emotion to indicate the excitement he felt being in her presence again. The shyness and hesitation which had first told him that Izabel was different from the Escorts who'd attended the Ball was again evident when she spoke, and it was understandable. Surely the woman must be nervous the grandeur of the residence and ostentatious display of wealth, and of course, Hawthorne, could do that to a person who wasn't accustomed to them. Though he didn't consider himself to be an intimidating man, Tisch realised that others did view him in that light, however he believed there was a vast difference between deliberate intimidation, and displaying the confidence to know what it was you desired, and being unwilling to accept anything less. The teasing of Harper was part of the 'courtship', if you like what the man desired above all was a woman, who whilst containing a certain degree of innocence and naivety, also possessed the intelligence and will to challenge and test him. That those qualities may reside within 'Izabel' struck with even more force as, with face revealed, and emotions less able to be disguised, her tone and demeanour turned to ones of confidence and sureness, with such force that it almost formed a physical presence. Harper Collins the name rolled off Hawthorne's tongue was a woman who could give as good as she could got. However, was the confident and assured young lady now in front of him the real Harper, or had the Manor, and Hawthorne Tische, brought out of her simply a glimpse of the one she wished to be? Countenance relaxed, fingers tapped against the wood of the desk, and his lips pursed in contemplation of how best to respond. My name is Hawthorne Leonard Tisch......Junior. He shot her a smile, Full enough for you?, then the taunting tone ceased. And, no I wasn't concerned that you'd begin to stalk me. In fact, Harper, if you'd spread your legs, I'm certain I would have very much looked forward to it happening again. However, would you have allowed it? I'm not much of a man to conform to the rules of society, but you? If you'd sold your body, how would you have awoken the next morning? Full of regret and remorse, possibly shame? This isn't about my values, Harper, I'm asking of yours. Tisch paused to scan her face, and let the rhetorical questions hang in the air as he sipped his water. When the glass left his lips, a finger lifted lifted to tap his temple. The mind is a curious thing. In the cold light of day, sober, would the voice of conscience, driven by the silly expectation that women remain virtuous, and keep their desires hidden, have made you regret your acts, attribute them to alcohol and the intoxicating atmosphere, and forced you to keep your distance? If I had paid for the pleasure of what would undoubtedly have been physically arousing, but ultimately still meaningless and emotionless sex, would you have returned? Because is that not why you're here today to seek out 'Robert'. For more than just a good fuck? A querulous brow raised, and he paused momentarily, then averted his gaze and twisted in his chair only speaking again when he'd began to write in the cheque book he'd fished out of the top drawer of his desk. I didn't accept your offer, not because I didn't wish to see you again Harper, but because I did. However, I could have you pegged wrong, and as you've stated, the sole reason for your presence is to simply collect your payment? Tisch's focus returned to her as, with a flourish, he tore out the cheque made out in the name of Harper Collins, for the sum of 5,000 and held it up between two fingers, then allowed it to drift down onto the desk in front of her. If so, feel free to take it and depart, with no hard feelings. However. Hawthorne's curled lips contained the hint of tease as he leaned forward, with elbows resting on the desk, and locked green eyes on green eyes. Please, first, do satiate my curiosity, and inform me of exactly what occurred when you left the ball, and met with your lover. Did you imagine it was I as he entered you, or did the man take you with such force and urgency that it caused you to forget, in those moments, that anything else mattered, that anything else in the entire Universe existed, apart from his desperate need for you? And yours for him? Has any man ever taken you such as that, Harper Collins?