Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“All…all right,” Imani agreed breathlessly, though she knew she shouldn’t agree to any such thing. “But for now, let’s go down to the party.”
“All right.” He rose smoothly and followed her down the short flight of steps into the crowd of drunk, laughing Mistresses.
“Let’s mingle for a minute,” Imani whispered to him. “But if you see Judge Thoughtgood, let me know.”
“She’s right over there.” With his superior height, J’are could, of course, see over the heads of the entire crowd. He put a hand on Imani’s shoulder and pointed her in the right direction.
All she could see was a towering hairstyle—purple this time—but she could tell it must be Judge Thoughtgood.
“Perfect,” she whispered. “Let’s make our way over there and find someone to talk to, so she can see how well you’re behaving. Then we’ll kind of bump into her by accident.”
“All right.” J’are came with her, obediently walking two paces behind as Imani made her way through the crowd.
On the way, she picked up a lime green drink that fizzed and crackled from the tray of a passing waiter, just to look like she was taking part in the festivities. She took a small sip of it and winced—it tasted like someone had mixed lime Kool-aid with Mad dog 2020.
Well, I won’t be drinking any more of that, she thought, fighting not to cough as the tiny sip she’d taken burned the back of her throat. But she kept the drink in hand, the better to preserve the illusion that she was just another guest having fun at the gathering.
Looking around, she could see that J’are’s adopted mother must have had serious money. The ballroom had a black marble floor that had been polished to a shiny, mirror-like sheen. She could see her own reflection in it when she looked down. It was surrounded by black marble columns and filled with huge urns with rare, flowering plants whose exotic scents drifted through the air. Gold leaf ran around the tops of the columns and outlined the walls.
A fountain with a vast white marble statue depicting a female goddess riding some kind of chariot in its center dominated the middle of the room. The goddess held the reigns of four creatures that looked very like dragons to Imani. They reared, their marble mouths open to spout water which had been filled with golden glitter.
Yes, very fancy indeed.
“A vulgar display, isn’t it?” someone said in her ear.
“Excuse me?” Imani turned and saw the pink-haired Mistress she had rescued from under her bodyslave that morning at the Luxx. “Oh, Mistress Yank’doodle!” she exclaimed. “How are you?”
“Very well, thank you, Mistress Williams.” The other woman nodded her head civilly.
“And how is your bodyslave?” Imani asked. “I hope he wasn’t seriously harmed?”
“Oh, he’s built like a brick wall.” Mistress Yank’doodle made a shooing motion with one hand—she was holding a smoking blue drink in the other. “He’s about as smart as one too, but he’s nice to look at and very, er, accommodating, as I’m sure you remember.”
She tittered as though she’d told a naughty joke and for a moment her cheeks went as pink as her hair.
“Oh, yes,” Imani said, smiling. “Um, this is my bodyslave, J’are.”
“My, my, my…” Lady Yank’doodle ran an appreciative eye over J’are, taking him in from head to foot and lingering on his shaft. Her eyes widened when she saw his size. “He must have Kindred blood,” she remarked. “They’re always so well endowed.”
“As a matter of fact, he does,” Imani said. “Um, what were you saying about the fountain, though? Just a minute ago?” She wanted to change the subject away from J’are’s extra large endowment—it didn’t seem right to be talking about how huge he was right to his face.
“Oh, I was just commenting on how vulgar and garish it is! All that gold glitter clogging up the water! And the gold leaf that’s been added everywhere…” She motioned with one hand. “Why, old Mistress Hownow must be turning over in her grave at this outlandish display and the way her old home has been abused!”
“Really?” Imani asked, surprised. “I’ve never been here before but I thought—”
“Thought that it had always been like this? I’m sorry to disabuse you of the notion, my dear Mistress Williams, but it’s not so. No, Natilda Hownow was a simple, honest woman—who also just happened to be extremely wealthy,” she added, looking around. “Not that the one who inherited her wealth is using it very well. Though she’s lucky to have it—before she got her hands on old Mistress Hownow’s estate, she was going straight to the poor house by way of the debtors’ prison, if you know what I mean.”
“Are you talking about Mistress Bittlebum?” Imani asked, surprised. “Our host tonight?”
“Of course I am!” Mistress Yank’doodle exclaimed. “Why, you never saw such a money-grubber in your life. Always lived above her means, she did—trying to reach the top echelon of Yonnite society—though she didn’t have the money to do it. So she begged and borrowed and some say stole, and she was just about to be arrested for non-payment of her debts right before she inherited this place.” She made a sweeping motion with one hand, indicating the vast mansion.