I’ve enjoyed posting my fantasy musings. Please drop by my web site or say hello at alyshaellis@yahoo.com.au.
As a farewell I’ll leave you with the start of my short story Passion’s Wings. If you’d like to read the rest, email me and I’ll send it to you in PDF or for Stanza.
Passion’s Wings
Seraphina gave a last reassuring pat to the tower of powdered curls on her head, subtly adjusted the placement of her jewelled mask, smoothed the gathered heaviness of her white satin and velvet gown, wriggled her shoulders to settle the weight of the angel wings on them and stepped forward into the ballroom.
The tall vision in white and silver, breasts round and blushing, trembling on the edge of the low cut neckline, the long line of leg covered by the voluminous swathes of her dress but hinted at by the sensuous swing of her skirts as she moved, piqued even the jaded appetites of eighteenth century France.
Music played, but the gloriously costumed creatures in the Versailles inspired mirrored room were more intent on dalliance than dance. Every person there was a member of the aristocracy and knew perfectly well the behaviours expected of polite society. They also knew at this ball, masked, private and known to only a select few, those behaviours had been put aside.
Marriages, made for reasons that had nothing to do with love or attraction, were forgotten. Random couplings were part of the entertainment, where costume, if one chose to wear it, and the anonymity of masks, gave license to behave in a way that would shock the bourgeois citizens of Paris.
From out of the crowd, a man, taller even than Seraphina, gorgeously clad in a silver-laced frock coat, and silver breeches, clocked stockings on his shapely calves, his shoes diamond buckled and sporting red heels, stepped in front of her and bowed low. “An angel has graced our festivities.” He looked up from where his lips caressed the hand she offered. Behind the mask, his eyes, as intensely blue as her own twinkled with amusement at a secret Seraphina could not guess. “How delicious an irony.”
Seraphina raised arched brows. “Irony, sir? How so?”
He hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “Why, only that in this den of iniquity it is surprising to see one who represents such purity.” He tucked Seraphina’s arm in his. As logical as his words were, Seraphina had the impression he had not told her what he really meant.
With no more than a glance he brought a footman to his side and procured two glasses of champagne. The first sip exploded in her mouth. “Oh, I am drinking stars!”
His shapely lips curved. “This is a new experience for you, Madam?”
“Yes. Oh Yes.”
“It is refreshing to see someone express enjoyment. Ennui is very much the style here.”
Seraphina glanced around. Her eyes glittered. “There is so much to see, so much I want to experience and I have such a short time.”
“Ah. A jealous husband perhaps? If your time is limited, let us make the best use of it.”
He walked with her through the curtains at one end of the ballroom, into an alcove where lounges lined the walls. The true nature of the evening’s entertainment was revealed. A Dresden shepherdess lay on her back, her flounced and ruffled petticoats frothing around the head and shoulders of the harlequin who knelt between her thighs. His head bobbed as he kissed and licked, an erotic dance choreographed to the musical score of the moans and sighs of the shepherdess.
Seraphina gasped, but she leaned forward, her eyes widening as she took it all in. Her companion looked not at the scene in front of him, but at the angel by his side. He stroked her cheek. “So warm. You blush, my angel. Can it be that you are not so worldly wise after all?”
Through tightened throat, Seraphina gasped out. “No. I haven’t… I wanted to see… but I didn’t know…”
His arm, where her hand rested, tightened against his side, pulling her in close. “Do you wish to leave? Does it offend you?”
Seraphina slowly shook her head. “No. I want to…” She turned to look at him, put her hand to her breasts. “It makes me feel, fluttery, warm…”
The man slid his finger under her chin, lifted it and lowered his lips to hers. His mouth moved softly, subtly, until her lips opened under his and his tongue moved and mated with hers. Again she tasted stars. Sensation fizzled and popped where his tongue stroked and explored. Hers moved shyly and his arms tightened around her. She was surrounded by his scent and taste, warm, honey sweet. Its depth and intensity weakened her muscles until she clung to him as her only support.
Long, long moments later he pulled back and looked at her, his breathing heavy, his eyes under the mask hooded, the wide black pupils almost obscuring the celestial blue. “You are divine, my angel.”
He bent his head again and this time Seraphina heard the music of the spheres, its clear perfection sweeping her into a new realm. Her lover moved, forcing her backwards. She prepared to sink onto one of the vacant couches. “No.” His deep voice whispered in her ear. “We do not make sport for lesser beings.” He took her hand and led her out, up a staircase and into a private boudoir. He turned the key in the lock. Flames danced in his eyes as he stepped forward and unbuttoned his coat. “Turn around.” His voice commanded, left no room for hesitation. Seraphina did as she was told.
He unlaced her dress, discarding the attached wings. He pushed the gown off her shoulders, running his hands slowly across the smooth skin of her back, lingering on her shoulder blades long enough to make Seraphina stiffen in trepidation. He murmured, “I wonder.” But before Seraphina could ask him what he wondered, he pushed the dress and all its petticoats down past her hips and turned her for another kiss, hotter and more arousing than the last. He lowered her onto the bed, stripped off his own clothing and came down onto one knee beside her. He ran a long finger over her rosy, aroused nipples. “But how delightful, my dear. No underwear at all.”
Seraphina felt her face heat. “I didn’t know about underwear.”
He laughed. “I dare say you didn’t. Some information is hard to come by, isn’t it?”
Her brow wrinkled. His words seemed to hint at knowledge he couldn’t have, but before she could think more, he kissed her again and all thought flew from her head.
His hands slid over her body, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. Her skin tingled and heated, making her twitch and squirm with a fever of desire for something she couldn’t name or describe but knew she needed more than she had ever needed anything.
Passion's Wings

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