FIVE

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A hooded cloak, long and plain brown, did much to render Rebecca more anonymous. With a gentle rain starting to fall as we left Weston House, nobody would have thought the cloak at all conspicuous – if anything, my own lack of one was more so – and even should one get close enough to peer under the hood, her masque was, she told me, much like anyone else’s who’d attended the ball.

I hadn’t thought to conceal her identity, but on reflection it seemed a suitable thing to do. If this entire mess wasn’t just a phantasm conjured by my own smitten mind…

We passed by a jeweller who was just about to take her shingle indoors, when Rebecca bid me wait and went over to talk to her. A quick flurry of conversation ensued, and the two women went into the shop, the jeweller taking her shingle with her. Some minutes later, just as the light within was extinguished, Rebecca emerged again.

“This is somewhat impulsive of me, it’s true,” she said as she rejoined me. “But even if you are being… unexpectedly protective of me, I think you’ve a good heart. And it may help keep your employer from asking too many questions. Might you be willing to have another of these grace your ear?” She held up a small box, flipping it open. The glare of the electric lamps running the street glinted off bright metal and blue stone.

I confess that I stared for a few seconds. Angelique had been seeing me for two years and not seen fit to give me a second earring – though perhaps I now knew why. And now, the second time we met, Rebecca was offering me such a thing?

Practical concerns gave me breath. “My ear is only pierced the once, as yet,” I pointed out.

“True. But if I’m planning to give you this – if, say, I’ll do so should I be happy with your performance this time – your madame may be more willing to let this… irregularity in timing slip by.” She slid her masque back into place, tucked the box under her cloak, and reached up to touch my cheek. “It needn’t be a sham, Edmond, though I do feel we should at least let this second night go by, first, before making anything… official. You seemed to enjoy me, though, and I most certainly enjoyed you, so…”

“We’ll see,” was all I could think to say. In the end, it was her choice – I didn’t have nearly a strong enough reason to object – but my mind truly wasn’t on such lighthearted things at the moment.

Her ploy did prompt a slight delay; the physician was still at Blue Ribbon House, so on learning that Rebecca might favour me with a second stud, there was a quick scramble to see her and get a fresh piercing through the rim of my ear, a simple steel stud holding it so it could heal. Not the most comfortable thing, no, but I’d had worse by far, even over my time at the Blue Ribbon House.

Once the physician had finished looking me over, I fetched Rebecca from the lounge and we continued on to my room. I was somewhat at a loss as to what to actually do there; overnight guests were not a thing I’d had before, nor any guests at all who weren’t there because they’d come seeking sex.

Though perhaps the latter point wasn’t an issue here; I was brought out of my reverie by a hand sliding over my trousers.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, Edmond,” Rebecca murmured against my shoulder – she’d shed her cloak and dress and all while I’d been inattentive, clad only in her own rich, white pelt. “You’ve got me here, now; sitting in silence won’t do either of us any good.”

I swallowed. Her fingers were quite pleasant; even if my body was slow enough to respond that I was rather certain she wasn’t yet on heat, it was responding. But it was doing so with some reluctance, fed, perhaps, by that going through my mind. “With what I heard earlier, I should think that some worrying is natural,” I protested.

“Worry in comfort, then,” she laughed, tugging at my belt and relieving me of it. “Come, lie down with me, and tell me some more of what you heard and how.”

She certainly had a valid point: sitting there and fretting was getting nothing done, and if I was going to do it anyway, it might as well be in comfort. Perhaps, if I told her some more about what had happened, she would have some insight – perhaps she’d be able to tell me I’d imagined the whole thing. Though why that imagination should include a name that I then heard at Weston House was entirely beyond me.

I joined her on the bed, sliding up behind her and draping an arm over her side, and I just lay there with her for a time, schooling my thoughts and letting my body relax. Her fingers stroked over mine, her tail hooking over my leg, and she leaned back against me, breathing slow and steady in turn.

After a few peaceful minutes, and at her prompting, I started my explanations. That the woman had been my most frequent and most regular client since I started. That I’d heard the first questionable remark as she was dozing after our latest encounter. How she’d seemed to not know she’d said anything, and then seemed to say two different things at once. How she’d left in something of an unaccustomed hurry.

As the explanation went on, her fingers grew still, and her body became somewhat more tense against mine. Not to the point of alarm, but she certainly did have a more serious demeanour by the time my narration wound around to my stepping out to seek her.

“I don’t know,” I said in conclusion. “So much of this seems so odd. Yet I’m not perceiving anything else strange, and it sounded so very real – it doesn’t feel like I’m hallucinating…”

“Perhaps you aren’t.” She twisted around to face me, peering into my eyes, her expression… not quite grave, but certainly serious. “It wouldn’t be unheard of. There’s a telepath at the castle; perhaps she could say for certain if you’re developing a talent like hers.”

That certainly caught my attention. “A telepath?” I couldn’t help but shiver some. My mother had scared me into obedience with tales of people who could look into a boy’s mind and see all the disobedient things he’d done and all the lies he’d told. “I didn’t know they were… well, real.”

“Oh, they’re most certainly real. Uncommon, but real. The Queen’s edict bans anyone from being condemned to death unless guilt is read from his or her mind.” Her fingers idly followed the line of my collarbone. “It usually shows up as one is first growing from a child into a man or woman, but… that’s when another telepath is actually looking for it. They typically visit schools when the students are sixteen.”

“I was on the streets when I turned sixteen,” I admitted, feeling my ears pin back in shame. “The older boys had sometimes talked about someone coming to see if they were meant for service to the Crown… I’d thought they were talking about the Navy, but I lost my home before I reached that age myself.”

“I don’t pretend to know all the details, of course,” she said. “But tomorrow, I can take you there. She’d be able to tell if you had a genuine moment of perception – I have heard that it’s easier to reach people who are relaxed and fond of you, which might be a part of why you’ve not noticed its like before.”

Well. Strange as it sounded, at least it was an explanation for what I’d heard that wasn’t waning sanity on my part. Not an entirely comfortable one in itself, for having violated someone’s innermost privacy, but better than being mad, certainly.

With the explanation behind us, and not much to be done until morning, it was a little easier to allow myself to be distracted by her stroking fingers, coaxed to full attention and arousal, slid into her. For whatever reason, this wasn’t the vigorous coupling that was my usual fare; perhaps we both knew there wasn’t a cause for it yet, perhaps one or both of us simply wasn’t feeling adequate for the task. Instead, she lay atop me, her hands spread over my chest and her breath warm and quick on my throat, while I stroked her back and sides and we rocked against one another.

It was a gentle sort of pleasure, gentle and simple, and it took us through a good portion of an hour – half of it at least. I barely noticed my own climax, a gentle note of pleasure that scarcely rose over the bliss I was already feeling, accompanied by the mildest of shivers. Her reaction to it was a fair bit stronger, pausing atop me, pressing in close, letting a soft, delighted crooning sound waft over my jaw.

And there we lay, with my manhood spent but still firm in the warm grip of her sex. Neither of us had a need to be elsewhere, and her warmth was pleasant indeed atop me. The first time I caught myself drowsing, I blinked myself awake and lifted my head; but she touched her fingers first to her lips, then to mine, and urged me to rest.

When sleep next made a bid to claim me, I did not resist.

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