The Wolf of Dorian Gray

by Brian S. Ference

  The stately ballroom was lavishly adorned with various rare artwork and exotic statues. A spattering of works that showed the proud face of the Duke or his fabled ancestors were spread among them. The eye was immediately drawn to the center of the room. There a flowing stonework peacock fountain shot water from its tail feathers and mouth. It was placed in the center of a gilded dance floor that had been constructed specifically for the evening. Brightly colored gas lamps highlighted the couples as they moved gracefully across the floor to intricately choreographed movements. Looking down upon the dancers was a tall ceiling which displayed baroque paintings in bright colors. The cross sections were adorned with sophisticated wood carvings and floral stonework. Several colossal crystal chandeliers hung low and spread a warm glow throughout the room.

  The full orchestra was set to playing a lively waltz. With a laugh, Sibyl took Dorian’s hand and pulled him towards the center of the floor. He smiled brightly as they assumed their positions with a bow. Dorian placed his right hand firmly on the back of Sibyl’s left shoulder and pulled her close to him. The two began to move in unison as Dorian led with a confidence and boldness that put Sibyl at ease. She gazed deeply into his eyes as the two flowed across the floor. The music quickly diverged into various Polkas, Schottische, Valse à Deux Temps, and a modified Varsouvienne. Dorian’s mastery of the many forms quickly put the other gentleman in attendance to shame. But all eyes were on Sibyl as she gracefully twirled and spun in her dazzling dress.

  Throughout the evening, the pair were inseparable and remained together for nearly every song. They laughed together over private jokes and exchanged witty banter with the other guests. They drank sweet Champagne as they teased and flirted with each other late into the night. Finally, at half past twelve, a look of fear reached Sibyl’s eyes as she realized the time. Dorian understood her plight immediately and escorted her without protest from the Duke’s home to the waiting carriage. He instructed the driver to return to the poorer section where Sibyl’s home was located.

  During the carriage ride, Dorian and Sibyl sat very close and nestled together for warmth. Dorian lifted Sibyl’s hand to his lips and planted several soft kisses on her palm and fingertips. He breathed softly as his mouth moved up to her delicate wrists. He paused at the sensitive skin of her inner elbow and let his tongue play, swirling around lightly. Sibyl let out a giggle of delight as the sensation both tickled and caused a throbbing between her thighs. Dorian continued to move upward, nibbling at her neck and shoulders while savoring the moment. Then, his lips began to explore her smooth face. When his mouth finally found hers, she opened her lips as their tongues darted in and out to intertwine in small circles. They caressed and stroked one another as the passion and heat grew—only to be interrupted by arriving at their destination far too quickly.

  As the driver brought the carriage to a stop, Sibyl could barely bring herself to end the amorous and longing kisses the two now shared. She reluctantly urged Dorian to remain in the carriage, as she hurried out and towards the small apartment, where she knew her mother would be waiting—furious at the late hour of her return home.

  Sibyl had to endure several multiple bouts of screaming and many threats to call the local constable to have her Prince Charming arrested before her mother finally calmed down. Eventually, the two women agreed to postpone the argument in favor of some much needed sleep.

  The next morning, Sibyl tried to appeal to her mother’s sense of romance and drama. “Mother, I am so happy.” Sibyl sat with her mother, who was currently stooped over her sewing. She sat in a faded armchair located in their dingy sitting-room. Mrs. Vane’s thin figure seemed unjustly aged beyond her years. A hard life spoke of many bitter disappointments and relentless labor. This could be seen in her lined face, thinning straw hair, and dull eyes. Her wrinkled and cracked hands were no longer the smooth and powdered instruments of grace befitting an actress, but were now more suited to those of a scullery maid or seamstress. Yet, her nearly transparent and spotted skin was still framed around the delicate bone structure and heart-faced profile that had lent itself to her own long-gone acting career. Now that beauty could only be reflected in her only daughter.

  “Happy?” Mrs. Vane winced at the ache in her hands as she struggled to pull the stubborn thread through the ever elusive eye of the needle. “I am only happy when I see you on stage. You mustn’t let this Prince Charming of yours distract you from your acting. It is the death of a young thespian’s career to fall for the wrong man. It happened to me, ruining my illustrious future on the stage and I won’t have the same terrible fate befall you as well.”

  “Mother, what does acting matter when I have the affections of such a glorious young man? He is a gentleman and the kindest and most handsome man I have ever met!” Her lips parted with a remembered kiss and she trembled slightly, reliving the moments spent together as he had courted her. Her Prince Charming had been shy at first, then surprisingly confident. His gentle demeanor gave way to more aggressive advances that bespoke of previous experience—but Sibyl didn’t care. She loved him truly and deeply. “I love him, mother.”

  “Foolish child! It has only been a few weeks and you have only recently introduced him to me. I do not even know his rightful name! Rich he might be, but is he devoted to you? You must think of your acting above all things. Only with a firm offer of marriage should you even consider such a thing. Even then, a man’s attentions can be a very fickle thing.”

  “Not my Prince Charming. He loves me as Antony did Cleopatra, as Orlando loved Rosalind! I do not even know why, or what I have done to deserve it. But he is the perfect image of what love should be. I know I am not worthy of him, but I try to be every day. Forgive me Mother, but I am so happy and I want to be this happy forever.”

  “You are far too young to fall in love. What do you really know of this man? Why, with your brother James leaving for Australia, this is a most improper time. Wait until your brother returns and can make the proper inquiries. How rich do you say he is? By his gifts, he certainly seems rich. Are you sure that necklace is real?”

  The two broke off as the short, but stocky figure of James Vane entered the room. “Come Mother, Sister, it is time I was away—only first let me walk with Sibyl awhile to speak of this gentleman caller of hers.”

  “Ah James, my dear son, I will miss you dreadfully. How cruel the world is that we must be parted in such a way—but, I suppose, it must be so. You will return to us one day, with influence and position, to regale us with the great tales of your wonderful adventures. I hope you will be happy with your choice of a life at sea. You could have easily entered the troupe, or asserted yourself in London as a solicitor.”

  James patted her hand reassuringly. “Of course Mother. Only, promise me that you will watch out for Sibyl on my behalf. I hear this gentleman calls on her every night at the theatre.”

  “Oh James, do not worry. Of course I will watch over my own daughter. And this gentleman is very polite and obviously well connected. He is likely an aristocrat and if so it could be a brilliant match for your sister. He really looks remarkable and they make a most charming couple. They could contract a marriage alliance and he could fund her future performances—wouldn’t it be glorious?”

  Mrs. Vane glanced at her two children and with a grand theatrical gesture brought them both to her embrace. She played out the scene with tears brimming her eyes, as her children left her to make their farewells alone. It was a touching scene, worthy of one of her finer performances on the stage of her former life.

  Her brother paced outside the small apartment in his impatient way. It was clear he was not fond of this subject of discussion. “Come, Sibyl.”

  The two exited the humble neighborhood and began strolling down the road near the park that framed the other meager surrounding buildings. It was a rough and poor area, but Sibyl felt confident with her brother’s presence and safe walking under his protective gaze.

  James pulled her aside. “Listen, I need to
talk to you. When I am gone at sea there will be no one here to protect you. Who is this friend of yours you have been spending so much time with and staying out so late? It isn’t right. Why haven’t you told me about him? He is no good and will only hurt you. I don’t even know his name!”

  Sibyl grew angry and shouted. “Jim, stop! You must not speak anything against my Prince Charming. I love him!”

  “How can you love him? You don’t know anything about him.”

  “I know he is the most wonderful person in the world. You will meet him someday when you return from Australia. Then you will come to love him just as everyone else does. If only you would delay leaving for a few days and come to the theatre—he will be there and you two can meet. Then I will be Juliet, but for the first time actually in love.”

  “Beware of him Sibyl, I don’t trust him. If he hurts you I swear I will kill him.”

  “Jim, don’t talk that way. Some day you will be in love yourself and then you will know how I feel. Then you will understand. Life has been so terribly difficult for both of us but this is my chance. I have found the one to rescue me from it all and start a new adventure, just like the one you are setting out on.”

  “I suppose. As long as you truly love him.”

  “I will love him forever!”

  “And he?”

  “Forever, too!”

  “He had better.”

  Sibyl merely smiled and put her hand on his arm. She led her brother to a lighted archway where they hailed an omnibus to take them home. Later, they parted in peace—save for the dangerous mistrust James held in his heart for this stranger who had come between the siblings. They said their emotional farewells and James made his way towards the misty docks and his thrilling new life at sea.

  That evening, Sibyl met her Prince Charming at a darling little Italian Restaurant that had just opened. To Dorian, she had never seemed more exquisite. She was dressed in a simple but form-fitting blue dress, likely borrowed from the theatre for the occasion, and wearing the necklace he had gifted her. After she had discovered the engraving on the clasp: for my dearest Sibyl Vane, she hardly ever removed the piece of jewelry from her neck.

  As the couple was seated at the candlelit table, they could hardly keep their hands from coming together under the table cloth. Dinner began with a brief caress here, and a lingering touch there. They started the meal with a very expensive-looking bottle of wine that Dorian selected. He expertly swirled the dark red wine in the sample glass that the waiter poured. As he raised the glass to his lips, an impish look appeared in his eyes. He leaned in for a kiss, and then secretively let some of the sweet liquid fall into Sibyl’s ready mouth. “Do you find the wine satisfactory?”

  She swallowed delicately and giggled. “Any wine delivered with such a kiss is more than satisfactory.”

  When the appetizers of buttered-kissed oysters with caviar arrived, Sibyl set to consuming hers in a seductive manner. She had Dorian’s full attention, so she slipped off her shoe under the table and delicately ran her foot along the inside of his thigh. Dorian’s oyster shot out of his hand and onto the floor. Sibyl laughed freely and spoke in a whispered voice. “Careful, they can get quite wet and slippery.” Dorian was at a loss for words. Fortunately, the main course was arriving.

  After a delicious dinner of pumpkin tortellini with grated cheese, the two shared a decadent pastry with chocolate filling. They fed the rich dessert to each other teasingly, placing a bite near the other’s lips—only to pull it out of reach as the other bit down.

  Then, after finishing more wine than was proper, Dorian paid the bill and bid the host to hail a hansom. He had the driver of the two-wheeled carriage take them on a romantic ride along the park. The moon brightened the night sky, preventing the couple from taking their kisses and fondling too far—for fear of the driver seated behind them seeing. It seemed to Sibyl, the most romantic evening of her life.

  To her surprise, the hansom stopped at a private guest house Dorian had apparently rented for the evening. He dismissed her objections of impropriety and led her towards the arched entranceway. It was a beautifully appointed estate with an extensive garden out front. The grounds were filled with delicate smelling flowers, whimsical trees, small fountains, and beautiful statues. Sibyl was moved by the gesture and that Dorian would go to such a great expense. Perhaps it was the wine, but all objections faded on her lips when she looked into her love’s eyes. They walked slowly through the garden, admiring the colors and scents and laughing together. The world began to fade until it contained only the couple, gazing longingly into each other’s eyes. Upon entering the house, Sibyl was delighted to find the rooms adorned with all manner of flowers, delicate fruits, and an expensive bottle of Champagne.

  Dorian removed the bottle from the ice, displaying it in his hands for Sibyl to admire. Sibyl rubbed the cork of the bottle suggestively. Dorian placed his hands over hers, and together they popped the cork. Sibyl gave a playful scream as she felt the small explosion. It crashed into the ceiling and the two laughed together again. He poured the frothy liquid carefully into a pair of delicate crystal flutes that were waiting on the table. Removing his coat, Dorian lifted his glass. “To a perfect evening with my beautiful love.”

  The two clinked their glasses together, maintaining a steamy eye contact. They each drank quickly, competing on who could finish the flute first. Dorian smiled knowingly as he let Sibyl win. He put down his glass, then grabbed her roughly about the waist. Sibyl gasped, as she felt a quiver of anticipation between her legs. Dorian leaned in but then pulled his kiss away, mimicking how he had teased her with the dessert earlier in the night. He clasped her hand with his and they danced slowly together, as if to some unheard music. The two drew ever closer and more intimate until Sibyl melted fully into his arms.

  Dorian began kissing her neck, and she shivered as his lips brushed her skin. Dorian spun her in a simple twirl and Sibyl took flight, continuing her spin and whirling around as fast as she could—as she used to do as a child. She felt wonderfully dizzy.

  Dorian chuckled and pantomimed her spin, then elegantly dropped to one knee. His face became suddenly serious, as he declared his undying love for her in a flowery prose that she was sure was borrowed from the work of some poet or another. Her heart leaped from her chest as he continued, looking deeply into her eyes. “We were destined to be together. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  The proposal must have been on a whim, for Dorian had no ring to offer, but Sibyl did not care. She loved him completely and the necklace was worth a dozen rings. Sibyl went to him, with tears in her eyes, and they embraced passionately. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! I love you with all my heart.” The two stood together and began dancing again, this time in a mock-wedding waltz.

  Dorian promised that after he requested the proper permission from her relatives, they would soon be engaged and he would let her pick out whatever ring she desired.

  The two were so entranced, their minds so intermingled, it seemed they were already as man and wife. They danced slowly towards the bedroom door as if drawn by some magnetic force.

  Dorian’s hands became ever more daring as they deftly explored Sibyl’s dress and the figure beneath. His fingertips snaked their way beneath the fabric to clasp her full breast and delicately trace along her soft skin down her backside. At his touch her skin tingled and a shudder of pleasure ran down her back, causing a pleasant moistness to arouse between her legs.

  She pulled off his waistcoat, hastily breaking two of the buttons. She started to remove his silk shirt and trousers, her pulse quickening at the sight of Dorian’s broad chest, strong shoulders, and taught muscles.

  Dorian shed her dress skillfully and began removing her corset. They were both filled with an intense need as Dorian slowly kissed her full lips, perfect ears, and slender neck. His hands moved beneath her petticoat and found the swell of her exposed breasts, with his thumb gently flicking her hardened nipple. Then he moved h
is mouth to circle the other nipple with his tongue. Sibyl moaned in pleasure, as her hands struggled to release the swelling in his silk drawers.

  Dorian suddenly lifted her off the ground in his powerful arms, causing Sibyl to gasp in surprise. He laid her down gently on the bed and the worship of her body continued, his tongue playing teasingly across the areola of her breasts, then to her taught waist and stomach, reaching her curvaceous hips, and finally exploring between her slender thighs.

  Sibyl’s chest and face flushed, as Dorian’s tongue began to swirl around her clitoris. Finally, unable to wait any longer, she urgently pulled Dorian on top of her. The weight of his body felt so warm and reassuring.

  Dorian groaned in pleasure as he finally entered her, thrusting slowly. The two became entangled in the most passionate moment that either had ever experienced. Time seemed to slow as they reveled in each other, Dorian grasping her hips and waist, and Sibyl scratching at his back and shoulders. Sibyl arched her back, and Dorian increased his pace, penetrating deeper as their need for one another crescendoed into the perfect climax.

  Their muscles convulsed and they collapsed into each other’s arms. The love-making had lasted longer than either could have hoped. They lay together, satisfied and intertwined in a most delicious exhaustion—all their senses tingling, at the perfect warmth and comfort they found in each other’s bodies.

  Later, as they quickly dressed, Dorian was filled with a most vicious, doubting regret. He vowed silently to correct this transgression and meet his gentleman’s obligation, with the quick purchase of a ring and a formal proposal through Sibyl’s mother. Until then, he swore her to a secrecy she agreed to most easily—as it was an incredibly romantic and dramatic thing, more vivid and forbidden than all the times she had played out the love between Romeo and Juliet on stage.