His Majesty's Measure

by Pamela DuMond

  The devil on my other shoulder whispered, “You’re fucked for your entire spineless life, Leo, if you don’t find out. A weak, sad sap of a guy who will forever wonder what your measure would have been like if you simply knew. What harm is there in knowing if Vi was ever interested in you? What’s wrong in finding out if she’s still interested? After all, you don’t have to act on it…”

  My soul careened as I whiplashed between good and evil.

  Between my desire, and my resolution.

  What was a Majesty’s measure?

  Where did one draw a line in the sand between doing that which was right and giving into long-held forbidden needs and desires? Is this lust what fucked up Henry the Eighth so badly?

  Pat-pat-pat. Vi’s determined hand continued to move on my shoulder as my cock grew harder, warm blood stirring it to life. My heart thumped in my chest, my stomach sank and rose in sporadic fits.

  Her head tilted down and then up. “I think I got the lipstick stain out,” she said. “A minor miracle.”

  I caught a generous glimpse of cleavage, the swell of her breasts, practically within licking distance, and the devil won the day.

  “Excellent,” I said. “Look, Vi, I’ve got to ask you something. Considering the current dicey circumstances, it’s probably something I shouldn’t be asking right now.”

  She regarded me quizzically. “Okay.”

  “We’ve experienced stuff. Heavy stuff. Weird stuff that most people don’t experience. I suspect you and I are bonded in a way that others might not ever be. Might never understand.”

  “Right,” she said, and chewed on her lip. “Besides fucking up your shirt, did I do something else wrong?”

  “No.” I took her hand, hope soaring. A boulder lifted off my chest. My head cleared. After a year of feeling like a loser, an asshole, a man who had screwed up his life up, I suddenly knew what I wanted.

  Clarity.

  Honesty.

  Transparency.

  I needed to know. “You’ve done everything right, Vi. You never slept with me. You could have, but you didn’t. You came clean with me.”

  “I told you that when we stood at the Royal Cathedral’s altar on our wedding day. The timing was bit awkward.”

  “Awkward as fuck. But you did it. You walked away from our marriage even though you could have gotten away with it. You could have been the next Queen of Bellèno.”

  She blushed. “Leo.”

  Here cheeks were rosy, her lips full. I wanted to kiss her but I could not. She knew where I was going with this. “Hear me out. You gave it all up, Vi. You left this country and went back to your job as a cocktail waitress at that bar in Chicago.”

  She shook her head. “Leo. I can’t do this. Max is—”

  “I know. But if I don’t ask, I will always wonder. I’m not asking for anything now or in the future. I simply want to know. Please. I need to know if during all that time we spent together—in the past—did you find it in your heart, did you ever wonder, did you ever have feelings for me?”

  There was a pause as our eyes met. I waited an eternity for her to answer. She bit her lip and her cheeks grew as red as the lipstick that had been pressed into my shoulder.

  I imagined shuffling her back against the wall, pressing my body against her, walking my fingers up her thigh until I hit the hem of dress. I imagined sliding the hem of her dress above her panties with one hand, and yanking my pants down at the same time. I imagined tugging the silken bits covering her pussy down her thighs, skimming my thumb across the soft, delicate skin of her inner thighs, playing with her folds, finding her clit and circling two fingers over it until she moaned.

  Only when her breath came in short bursts, only when she was dripping wet for me—only then would I bury my cock deep inside her.

  Heaven beckoned from one shoulder.

  Hell tapped on my other.

  “Vi?”.

  “Now’s not the time to ask, Leo.”

  “Vi,” I commanded.

  “I can’t.” She pulled her hand from mine and began walking away.

  Heaven slammed its gates and left me standing in front of them, holding my heart in my hand, my dick pulsing in my pants.

  “If not now, then when?”

  “If there’s ever a time, I’ll let you know.” She turned a corner, out of sight, my hopes dashed.

  The angel whispered, “See what I mean? Pick your battles, buddy. Your brother’s girl isn’t one of them.”

  The devil crowed, “Good job, dude. You opened the door. Your time will come. Trust me on this one. I saw the look on her face. I know how this shit plays out.”

  Chapter 20

  VIVIAN

  We stood inside the entrance to Monte and Carlos’ largest gaming room. It was a whirl of well-attired people gambling their money away at blackjack, slots, and poker. Servers circulated among them passing out free drinks, loosening inhibitions and pocketbooks. I tried my best not to look at Leo, uncertain if I could hold his gaze.

  How could I be hopelessly in love with one brother and be attracted to the other? What was wrong with me? I’d simply ignore these feelings and they would go away. Just like they always did.

  “My ear is itchy.” I wriggled a finger between the soft skin on the back of it and the lacquered, coiffed wig. Anything to get away from the awkwardness that had just sprung up between Leo and me.

  Honestly, I already knew it was brewing. Bubbling like fantasies you entertain in warm bath water when you close your eyes, lean your head back, and let your fingers wander to the V between my legs. Except this fantasy was dangerous. I didn’t think I had to address any of these feelings because they lurked very deep, well under the surface. Tucked away in a safe place I had never acknowledged because I was unequivocally in love with Leo’s brother, Max.

  “Don’t panic, Vivian,” Bea said, “I think something’s crawling out of your hairpiece.”

  “Crap!” I yanked on the wig and had it half off my head when Leo captured my hands.

  “Stop. There’s nothing creeping out of that wig.” He smoothed it back on my head.

  Tenderly.

  Gently.

  Cautiously.

  His touch was no longer reassuring. His fingers aroused feelings. I didn’t know whether I wanted him to hold me or fuck me. It was confusing. I didn’t want to break out into a sweat when he touched me. I didn’t want to think about having airplane sex with anyone other than Max.

  My thoughts scurried around, uninvited. Go back to your corner little mouse. Squeeze back through that hole in the wall, hide in the darkness, and eek out your tiny, safe little life. Do not pay attention to the big fat piece of cheese that beckons to you from outside your lovely nest.

  “Do not scare the good patrons of this fine casino and do not call attention to yourself,” Esmeralda said. “Do you want someone to recognize you and alert the photographers?”

  “No. Maybe performing on stage at a bustling betting establishment wasn’t the best idea,” I said. “Calls more attention to ourselves than is needed.”

  “Nah,” Esmeralda said. “No one cares about us. We could be Muzak as far as they’re concerned.

  “They’ll notice Leo,” Joan said.

  “Who wouldn’t notice Leo?” Bea said.

  Leo smiled. “You flatter me, Lady Hafligher.”

  But she was right. Leo’s sexy, sparkling eyes. His full lips. The way his face flushed when he was praised. Like it did now. Who wouldn’t notice Leo? Not to mention he was the most eligible Prince on the royal circuit.

  “I’ll leave,” Leo said. “I’ll go to some hotel or wherever we’re staying tonight.

  “No, Esmeralda said. “Your Majesty’s presence can help us, actually.”

  “How?” he asked.

  “I’m percolating,” she said. “Look around, all of you, and tell me what you see.”

  I eyed the ladies. “I see that we’re dressed like a pack of disco queens.”

  “We should ventur
e out Halloween-ing together,” Bea said.

  “That’s a terrific idea,” Joan said. “I bet we’d get the good candy dressed in these outfits.”

  “I see we’re in a large gilded room with gold floral tapestry on the walls, gold chandeliers, carpeting, and bars filled with people gambling their hard-earned money away,” I said.

  “I love the wallpaper,” Bea said. “It would look terrific in my second bedroom. I should take a picture of the pattern and match it on Pinterest.”

  “Daira is a few dozen yards from us and the croupier at the roulette wheel,” I said. “She’s wearing a sexy, albeit cheap tuxedo with a hint of cleavage and decent makeup. Hmm. If I squint and don rose-colored glasses, she looks kind of wholesome. I can almost see her appeal. She’s like a slutty Heidi.”

  “If Heidi were an alien,” Bea said. “Or, who was that actor with the gigantic wobbly eyes?

  “Marty Feldman,” Joan said. “The casinos want their staff to pull off an understated, sexy look. A hint of appeal but nothing close to hooker-dom, or they’d start getting investigated more frequently. And all the escorts who are actually here with their johns could get arrested. These places don’t solicit scandals. They prefer them to fly under the radar.”

  “But these places love celebrities,” Esmeralda said. “Take a seat at Daira’s table, Leo. It might distract her.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Leo said. “She’ll flirt with me.”

  “You’ll be our honey pot,” Bea said.

  “I don’t think men are called honey pots,” Joan said.

  “I always thought Leo was sweet as sin,” Bea said. “Bzzz.”

  “Behave!” Joan said.

  “Leo’s right,” Esmeralda said. “He should position himself a few tables away from Daira’s.”

  “Got it.” Leo walked away.

  A man approached our tiny stage in the corner of the room. “Ladies! You are the replacement band, yes? The Ice Cream Dreams?”

  “Yes,” Esmeralda said.

  “Name’s Bill Beauregard. You didn’t stop at the management office and pick up your All Access Security Pass lanyards. It’s imperative that you wear them on casino property.” He passed them out to us.

  “Thanks,” I said, and pulled it over my head.

  “Your set starts in five minutes. Your outfits are spectacular, but we didn’t hire you to stand up here and look pretty.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Beauregard.” Esmeralda said. “The Ice Cream Dreams are nothing but professional. We were just checking our sound equipment.” She arched an eyebrow at me.

  I dutifully tapped my mic. “One, two. Testing, testing.”

  “Sounds all right by me,” Bill said. “How weird was it that all of The Extremes came down with the stomach flu on the same afternoon? I hope they’re hydrating. By the way, do you know “Stop in the Name of Love”? That’s my favorite.”

  “That’s on our playlist,” Joan said, lying like a trooper.

  And just like that, two minutes later, Bill introduced us to a less than enthusiastic crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen. Monte and Carlos Casino is proud to present the musical stylings of The Ice Cream Dreams. Give them a warm Monaco welcome.”

  A weathered guy at a craps table applauded, but pretty much everybody else ignored us.

  Esmeralda gathered our attention with one commanding look, tapped her foot, and said low, under her breath, “One, two, and three…” as we launched into “Baby Love”.

  A few verses into the song I realized that I could totally do this. What was I worried about? I moved my hips in time to the music and rocked the sparkly sequins on my dress. I was totally harmonizing with the other ladies. They went high—I went low. They went wide on the melody—I honed in and sang it a bit more narrowly. Memories of being on stage in Brigadoon in the 7th grade captured my brain cells and for the first time since my disastrous wedding, endorphins flooded my body like a chill pill doused with a splash of happy.

  Esmeralda smiled at the crowd and walked a few steps toward me. “You’re flat,” she said and switched off my mic.

  “I am not flat.”

  “Like a tire on the highway, honey. Thump-Thump-Thump flat and pulling off onto the shoulder.” She nodded at the audience. “Focus on Daira. Nine o’clock.”

  I turned and saw the woman who was instrumental in ruining my wedding day.

  Bitch.

  Daira was manning a roulette wheel. A decent crowd had gathered around her table. I picked up my dead mic, walked down the stairs, and made my way into the crowd of gamblers, partiers, and wishful thinkers.

  I flipped my mic back on and started chatting people up. “How you doing tonight, sir?” I asked a man in a tuxedo. “Are you having a Supreme kind of night?” I held out my mic to him as my ladies warbled in the background.”

  He looked at me and winked. “I’m having an Ice Cream Dreams kind of night, baby love. Thanks for asking.”

  “I hope you hit it out of the park tonight, sir,” I said, and edged through the crowd closer to Daira.

  “Place your bets,” she said, as people huddled round her table.

  “A special shout out tonight to Captain Sam, affectionately nik-named Major Peters,” I said. “Your presence is requested on the casino floor.”

  I spotted a young woman wearing a cocktail ring the size of Peru, dressed in a gown that barely covered her sizeable assets. “You look heavenly, tonight, miss,” I said, and held out my mic toward her. “Are you celebrating a special occasion?”

  “Weirdo.” She frowned at me, and waddled away as fast as her ass implants would allow her to move.

  “And, thank you! Yet another satisfied Monte and Carlos Casino customer.” I glanced over as Daira placed the ball on the outside rim of the roulette wheel.

  “There are so many of you here tonight,” I said into the mic. “This gaming establishment is so dope. Let’s talk to a Monte and Carlos’ employee.” I moved to Daira’s table and edged in behind her.

  “No more bets,” she said.

  A special place in hell opened up inside my chest. For all the rage I felt, it might have been a direct portal to fire, damnation, and Satan. I longed to pitch her there for endangering my Maximillian, screwing my wedding day, and making me the butt of gossip magazine jokes for probably the rest of my life.

  “Tell me, lovely.” I leaned my mic in close to her as the ball spun around the wheel. “If you were a betting girl, what would you bet on?”

  “Thanks for asking,” Daira said, “but as a Monte and Carlos employee, I’m not allowed to comment on that.”

  I caught Esmeralda’s attention with a high snap of my fingers. “Where’s Captain Sam?” I mouthed.

  She pointed over my shoulder. I turned and bumped into his solid chest. He was a tall one, and I could see up close and personal why Esmeralda was interested in him.

  “Do you have my back?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  “Good!” I swiveled just in time to see the ball drop into the winning slot on the roulette wheel. Daira collected the bets from those who’d lost and paid out the winners. I discretely turned off my microphone and held it out to her. “Are you sure you’re not a betting girl?” I looked at her nametag, even though I already knew her surname. “Ms. Ailey?”

  “No. I’m not a betting girl. How about you? You look awfully familiar. Have we met?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “What do you like to bet on? What’s your game?”

  “I play the long game. I watch things unfold around me. I assess the players. I learn first, then I play.”

  “Deferred gratification,” she said. “That doesn’t stop you from being a target for those seeking the quick punch and grab. The adrenaline junkies. The money grubbers.”

  “You’re right. That makes me vulnerable at times. It also makes me more determined.”

  “How nice for you. Sorry I can’t chat. I’m busy working,” Daira said.

  “I�
��d wager that people who consistently run roughshod over people will one day get nailed for it.”

  “Good luck with that one, Diana.”

  “I’m not Diana.” I pointed to the stage. “Obviously, my friend in the red dress flaunting the dangerous curves is playing ‘Diana’ tonight. I’m simply one of the Dreams.”

  “Funny thing about dreams,” she said. “Most of them never pan out.”

  “You’re right. But sometimes they do. I also bet on true love and fairytale endings. Because in my version of this story, true love stands a chance. Maybe happily ever after endings can beat out posers, imposters, and those who seek take advantage of others. Maybe if more people believed in true love, we’d stand a better chance at redeeming this world.”

  “It sounds like you live in a fairytale movie, Ms. backup singer,” Daira said. “Ladies and Gentlemen. Place your bets!”

  “I already placed mine, Daira Ailey. You threatened Prince Maximillian Rochartè of Bellèno. You convinced him to hop into the back of a florist van to save my life and the lives of all the people in the church. I suspect you know where he’s hidden and why.”

  “How do you know... I mean, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “That’s why my friend Captain Sam Firestone is here with his friends, members of the Bellèno Bureau of Investigation, and local police. They’d like to have a word with you, Daira.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She backed away from the roulette wheel.

  “I’m pretty sure we’ll figure it out, bitch.”

  Captain Sam cuffed her.

  “In fact, I’d bet on it.”

  Chapter 21

  VIVIAN

  Daira Ailey had been taken into custody and was being interrogated by the proper authorities. The ladies and I were tired, practically punch happy, and wanted to call it a night. We bounced down a back hallway in Monte and Carlos Casino and I texted Leo.