Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
My mind drifted to the romances of the Victorian era, full of dance cards and missives between great homes. At first glance, sex seemed to be absent from the narratives, yet they were so sexy. Beneath the powdered hair and tightly strung bodices were quaking breasts and dripping quims. How did they manage the mechanics in such a constrictive society and clothing?
The answer was obvious, the more I fantasized about it. Gingerly, slyly, I hitched up my dress, slipped off my underwear, and returned it to my suitcase.
Someone began knocking on my door. “Who is it?” I called through the thick solid wood.
“Me,” called back a female voice.
I opened it to find Gail standing there, completely dressed, hair styled, and her makeup applied so thickly that her face looked as if she was dead. I said nothing but looked at her.
“You look awesome,” she began, and I nodded with silent acknowledgment. “May I come in a moment? I was not happy with the way things were left between us.”
I motioned her inside if only to be able to close the door again. “I think you made your case. What else is there to say?”
“Nothing, if it were anyone else. But you, Biba… you don’t deserve to be treated in that shabby manner. Not by me, not by anyone. I hope you will accept my apology. I was awake a good bit of last night, thinking about my cowardice. What good will it do me to make friends if they are so shallow as to preclude me from being friends with you? You have been nothing but kind to me. I would like to resume our friendship. Will you accept my apology?”
I hadn’t ever experienced anyone humbling themselves so thoroughly to me. What could I possibly do but forgive and move forward? I opened my arms, and we shared a quick hug.
“And for the record, you look awesome, too. Men will be staring down that neckline all night.”
We giggled and went straight to the mirror to check out our hair. Since mine was so long, there was more to fiddle with. Gail pulled and then reset some of the pins I’d used.
“Wait, I’ll be right back,” she said as she bustled out the door and came back a minute later. “Stand before the mirror again.” When I did, she reached up to put the most beautiful diamond barrette into the thick braid of my coronet. “There you go. That’s just the right touch.”
“But Gail, this looks old, and it certainly looks real.”
“It is. It was my grandmother’s and then my mother’s and now mine.”
I went to pull it out. “I couldn’t possibly wear your family heirloom. I can’t imagine how much it must be worth. It could drop out of my hair on the dance floor, and someone would scoop it up. No, no,” I insisted, extracting from my hair.
She put a hand upon mine. “Biba, if that happens, it happens. But it’s a dear possession, and I want you to wear it. It makes me feel as though you are my sister.”
I could tell by her expression that she was quite serious. I didn’t want to start something up again, so I finally nodded and let it be. “Thank you. This means the world to me. I will take the very best care of it.”
Gail answered me with a smile and a nod. “That would please me ever so much.”
The time had come. We could hear the odd musical scale or run drifting down the hall leading to the ballroom.
“I think this is it,” she said.
We clasped hands for confidence and began our walk, tottering in heels we weren’t accustomed to wearing like a pair of drunken egrets. But we were beautiful egrets, at that.
Chapter 11
Biba
The ball was already in progress by the time we arrived. I was glad we weren’t first—I’d never been to a ball before. I thought Gail was feeling the same as we became the storied wallflowers. We each held a glass of champagne punch, shifting from foot to foot as our shoes were killing our toes.
A warm breath materialized next to my cheek. It startled me. “May I have this dance?”
Turning my head, I saw a man dressed in black with a white cravat. His eyes were combing my body as he held out his hand in invitation. I looked up at his masked face that accented his strong, masculine jaw. He didn’t say a word, but the energy from his body was overpowering. I felt a quickening deep inside my female parts as I accepted his hand and was swept into a waltz. Thank God it was one of the dances I’d studied.
He held me at a proper distance, but I could feel the strength in his arms. I wanted him to pull me flat against him. The champagne and music went to my head, filling it with swirling, magical images that transported me. I saw us alone, the orchestra there just for the two of us. As one song ended after another, he continued to hold on to me, making our dance last forever. There were a few who tapped him on the shoulder to have a turn. He merely turned us to avoid the interference. I felt desirable, elated, and completely his captive.