The Rose

by Tiffany Reisz

  She also had a tennis racquet with her.

  “Mum found my business cards,” Rani explained. “I’ve had to take up tennis.”

  “I have an appointment in two hours,” Georgy said, crossing one leg over the other, silver boots flashing. “What’s up, boss?”

  Lia leaned back against the fireplace mantel and took a deep breath. Not even a swagger stick would make this conversation any easier.

  “I’ll make it quick. We have a problem.”

  “Another one?” Rani asked as she bounced her tennis racquet off her white trainer.

  “Another one,” Lia said. “A worse one. We have a security breach.”

  “What?” Jane’s eyes were wide and scared behind her glasses. Georgy, perpetual slouch, sat up straight in Lia’s armchair, and Rani stopped making a racket with her racquet.

  “It’s all right.” Lia held up her hands to calm them all down. “I have it under control. I think. Someone I was involved with a long time ago has a bit of a grudge against me. He somehow figured out our gardening and tennis club...isn’t. He threatened to go to the police and the papers unless I paid him off.”

  “Bastard,” Rani said. “Who is he? We’ll gut him.”

  “Nobody is gutting anyone,” Lia said. “I have the money. The end. I’m only telling you this so you’ll keep a low profile for the time being.”

  “What does that mean?” Georgy asked.

  “It means get your arse in the garden,” Rani said. “Or play some tennis with me.”

  “Admittedly,” Lia said, “we might have chosen a better name for the company, considering none of us play tennis or garden. But that’s not the point. The point is I have everything under control. Just be careful and call me if anything happens. And no slipping strangers our business cards this week, please and thank you, even if he does look DTFMEL...” She looked at Georgy. “They might be someone working for my old friend, trying to get more dirt on us.”

  “Dirt like...” Jane began, “our boss lady is sleeping with August Bowman, the sexiest male escort in London?”

  Rani laughed behind her racquet strings. Georgy stared at her in shock, horror, envy and joy, which made for quite an expression.

  “Is that true, boss?” Georgy asked. “He was supposed to play tennis with me.”

  Lia blushed, cleared her throat and smiled.

  “This meeting of the Young Ladies’ Gardening & Tennis Club of Wingthorn Hall is now adjourned.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After warning the tennis club about David, Lia felt better. It would all be over soon enough and she could get on with her life. Until then, she had a date.

  Lia arrived at August’s house at nine sharp. He buzzed her in and called her up to his office/bedroom. In his office, she encountered a strange sight. August was nearly fully clothed—well, for him, anyway. He had on his jeans and nothing else. But that wasn’t the strange part. He seemed to be placing steel chains and locks around the black iron posts of his weird space-age bed.

  “Do I want to know?” she asked from the doorway.

  “I had a brainstorm on the way home today,” he said, dropping a few feet of chain onto his bed. He waved her over and, before she could ask what his brainstorm was, he kissed her.

  “What was that for?” she asked when he pulled back from the kiss.

  “For me,” he said. “I like kissing you.”

  “Hmm. We are pleased. Now what about the chains?”

  “I want to prove to you that the Rose Kylix has true supernatural powers.”

  “You do, do you?”

  “Do I? I do.”

  She stared at him.

  “Go on.”

  “Here’s the idea—you’ll chain me to the bed,” he said.

  “This is a train of thought I’m prepared to board.”

  “Then you’ll go to any room in the house that isn’t this room, as far away from this room as possible. You’ll drink from the kylix there. We’ll meet each other in the fantasy world. Then at some point, if you remember to do it, you’ll tell me something. A line of poetry. A number between one and a trillion. And then when we both come back to our senses, I’ll tell you what it was. Something I wouldn’t possibly know unless you told me. What do you think? Clever plan, yes?”

  Lia rocked her head back and forth, as if considering the idea.

  “Hmm...no.”

  His eyes widened. “But it’s a clever plan. Did you miss the clever part?”

  “It’s terrible plan. Stand there silently while I list all the reasons why.” Lia held up one finger. “One, I will absolutely not chain you to a bed and then walk off and leave you there. What if the house caught on fire and you were trapped here while I’m off in Narnia shagging Mr. Tumnus?”

  “Are we doing Narnia tonight? I thought we were doing Eros and Psyche?”

  “Two.” She held up two fingers. “You got yourself untied from my bathrobe handcuffs last night without batting an eyelash. You could unchain yourself some other fancy way you have, Houdini.”

  “I thought of that. Set up your phone to video me the whole time. And...” He paused, turned and picked up a white envelope off the nightstand. He opened it to show her it was full of white powder.

  “That’s not anthrax, is it?”

  She was going to be very unhappy with him if that was anthrax.

  “Talcum powder.”

  “Why do you have talcum powder?”

  “I own leather trousers.”

  “Right, of course.”

  “I’ll put the key to the lock in the envelope full of talc, and that way if I need to get out, I’ll have the key right there and you’ll know if I’ve gotten into it because, well, I’ll look like I’ve just finished eating a dozen beignets.”

  She had to admit the idea was ingenious. But she didn’t have to admit it out loud.

  “Three,” she continued. “It won’t work. If you’re in here and I’m in another room, and you’re not talking me through what’s happening—”

  “I have never done that,” he said. “Never once. This cup has real powers. This will work.”

  “Why do you want me to believe the kylix is magical?” she asked him. “Why’s it so important to you?”

  “I want you to believe in magic,” August said. “I want you to believe...”

  “In what? The gods?”

  “In Eros,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I don’t want you to think I’m a liar or a trickster or a fraud. Or just delusional. You had one taste of the power of Eros with David, and it broke your heart.”

  “Beyond repair, I’m afraid.”

  He shook his head. “I refuse to believe that. As a duly appointed representative of Eros, god of sexual love, it is my sworn duty to heal your erotically induced wounds.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that part of your mission statement?”

  He furrowed his brow as if seriously considering that idea.

  “We should have a mission statement. I’ll work on that. Good call.”

  “August, it’s sweet of you to try to heal my stupid heart. But it’s not going to work. No matter what tricks you pull to try to convince me this is real, I’ll find a rational way to explain it. I know you believe this is real magic or real miracles or really the gods playing with us. I respect that. I respect Catholic nuns and Buddhist monks and Jewish rabbis...all of it, even though I don’t believe what they believe. Can you respect my beliefs?”

  “Respect that you don’t believe?”

  “Right. It would take Aphrodite appearing in my bedroom wearing a crown of roses and floating two feet above the floor to get me to believe in love again, and even then, I’d think she was held up by wires. You’ll just have to accept my romantic atheism,” she said.

  “Can you at least believe in me?” He star

ted to wrinkle his nose and she stopped him by putting her finger on the tip.

  “I’m here,” she said, tapping the tip of his nose. “I’m with you. I like you. I even trust you a little, and I don’t trust any man who isn’t my own father and barely even him. So let’s put away the chains and the anthrax before someone—you—accidentally gets hurt. Please?”

  “You adore me,” he said, grinning. “Don’t you?”

  “Not in the least. It just so happens I don’t want to be in the papers for accidentally killing a male prostitute. Polite society frowns upon that for some reason.”

  “Shame. I had this bed frame made specifically for high-level bondage.”

  “I was imagining Cirque du Soleil.”

  “That, too. See?”

  Lia watched as August stretched to his full height, grabbed the high bar of the bed frame, where a canopy on a normal bed would have gone. In one smooth, athletic motion he swung his legs over the top of the bar and then hung upside down from it, like a bat.

  “Ask me what I am,” he said.

  “No. Because you’re going to say, ‘I’m Batman,’ and it’s not funny. He wasn’t even upside down when he said that in the film. I will not laugh. Let me save you the trouble and spare us all the embarrassment.”

  “I can’t believe you’re not impressed. I’m literally hanging from my own bed by my knees.”

  “Why, may I ask, would you do that during sex?”

  “Note the location of your mouth in relation to my cock.”

  Lia stood in front of him. “Ah,” she said, nodding her approval. “Tab A and Slot B line up nicely.”

  “You can put my cock in your mouth if you want. But only if you want. No pressure.”

  She did want, in fact, but she wanted something else a little more. Lia pressed her mouth to the three-petal rose brand on his stomach, above his hip, and kissed it. At first only tenderly, running the tip of her tongue over the raised edges of the rose. August groaned, and Lia sucked the branded flesh into her mouth.

  Then she bit it. Hard.

  With a gasp, August slid down off the bed frame and onto the bed in a heap. Lia laughed. She’d turned the brand on his stomach bright red from sucking on it.

  “That dismount was shamefully executed,” she said. “You’ll never win the gold with that technique. Hard to believe you actually made the pros.”

  He grabbed her so suddenly she had no time to steel herself for it. She squealed as he threw her down onto the bed, straddled her, took her wrists in his one hand and held her down.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Sticking my fingers in your cunt.” His pushed his hand under her dress. Lia knew she could stop him with a word but then...that would stop him. He yanked the fabric of her knickers aside.

  “You keep calling it that just to annoy me,” she said.

  “If you say the word cunt right now, I’ll leave you alone,” he said.

  “I won’t. You can’t make me. And let’s be honest, that’s hardly an incentive.”

  He laughed. “You’re so wet,” he said. Of course he sounded pleased with himself. She trembled at the light tickling touch. He ran his finger up and down that wet seam. With his fingers he spread her open, and Lia repressed a groan. She didn’t want to make a single sound while he did it. She was embarrassed enough as it was without making a fool of herself moaning all over the place. The rough tip of his finger found the entrance of her vagina, the tender little hole. He stroked it lightly, teasing it.

  Her toes clenched inside her boots as August pushed one finger into her. It was dizzying. As wet as she was, it slid in without resistance, and in a second, he was inside her body. She really thought she might faint, it was all so sudden and sensual. They’d been joking, teasing, playing, laughing, and now everything was very, very serious. He pushed a second finger inside her and she whimpered, whimpered again when he spread his fingers, opening her wider...wider...until Lia was digging her boot heels into the bed to lift her hips off the sheets and into his hand.

  “Not so prissy now, are we?” he said, his tone mocking. “Legs spread for me, pussy dripping all over my hand, so hot inside that your cunt could give a lesser man a second-degree burn...”

  August moved his touch lower, to a soft hollow place just inside of her. He pressed his two fingertips into that hollow lightly, very lightly, but her body reacted strongly...very strongly... A muscle inside her clenched around his fingers. A nerve fired like a gunshot.

  “August...” She made his name a plea.

  “Tell me again,” he said, gazing down at her, “how bad my technique is.”

  “I apologize,” she said breathlessly.

  “Apology accepted.” He gently extracted his fingers from her body and sat back on his knees. Lia watched him, legs still spread wide, lungs burning, vagina clenching, as he put those two fingers in his mouth and licked her wetness from them.

  “God,” she said. He smiled, stood up and undressed before lying back naked and stretching out on the bed.

  “Get the kylix,” he said.

  Lia was shaking so hard from arousal she nearly spilled the wine when she poured it. But she managed to get enough control of herself to carry it to August without disaster striking. August drank deeply from it and closed his eyes with a happy sigh. Lia undressed and took a deep drink from the kylix. She crawled into bed and lay very near August, her arm over his chest.

  “Fair warning,” he said in a sleepy voice. “Making love while wearing wings can be awkward. You’ll want to stay on top so they don’t get crushed.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Bad experience at a fancy-dress party. I’m fading fast. I’ll see you in your dreams.”

  “Not if I see you first, Psyche,” she said.

  Lia felt the woozy wobbly feeling come over her again. She closed her eyes and thought of August in a blindfold. She fell asleep smiling.

  When she opened her eyes again, she was in paradise.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Lia stood in a meadow on a hillside, her bare feet sunk deep in the softest green grasses. The sun hung low and red in the sky. She turned around, orienting herself to this new world and saw, at the top of the hill, a palace that shone bright as polished ivory, with gold columns and silver stairs. She walked through a carpet of wildflowers in the fading sunshine. She paused at a stream and gazed into the water. There she was... Eros. Goddess of passionate love. Her hair fell in ringlets of chocolate brown around her face and a diadem of pearls sat upon her brow. The gown she wore was the finest satin. And from her back sprang two wings of silky white feathers.

  “Oh my goodness,” Lia said to her reflection. “I’m precious.”

  She turned her head to gaze at her hair in profile and got a face full of feathers.

  “Right, wings,” she said, pushing the wing back down and into place. “I was warned. Watch out for the wings. Wait. Wings. I can fly.”

  It was just like every lucid dream she’d ever had. Once Lia realized she was in a fantasy world and wearing wings, she pushed off the earth and flew up into the air. Freed from the bounds of gravity, she rose higher and higher to watch the sun sink into the ocean.

  Night was almost upon them. Her wedding night.

  Lia’s immortal ears heard footsteps wandering in her palace.

  No one was ever to be allowed admittance into the private chambers of Eros, therefore it could only be Psyche, the young prince she’d loved at first glance and had summoned to her home.

  She flew to her palace but kept herself hidden behind an ivory pillar, waiting for the prince to appear in the hallway. She held her breath and listened to the approach of two lovely feet.

  Would he like the palace? She had made it just for him. For weeks, she’d eavesdropped on the people of his kingdom to learn anything she could about the prince. She knew he loved to ride horses, so she’d filled her stables with gray mares and brown stallions. She’d heard he’d laughed with a child’s delight at a traveling circus and the panthers and tigers that walked on leashes like dogs, so she had every room in the palace painted with exotic animals—elephants, lions, unicorns. She’d heard a rumor that his grandmother had made him a wool blanket for his bed and had it dyed a rich rare violet, and he loved it so much that—even though it was faded and tattered—he kept it to use as a horse blanket when he rode. No surprise that she’d put a blanket of the finest silk dyed the rarest purple on their bed. Silk coverlet, cotton sheets from Egypt, a dozen pillows full of the softest feathers... She lived to please him. But would she?

  For the first time in her immortal life, the little goddess worried the corner of her wing in her fingers.

  She was nervous.

  His shadow rounded the corner before he did, and the goddess held her breath again and made herself as small as possible as she slipped behind a tapestry.

  Oh. There he was!

  She grinned and bit her wing tip.

  At the first sight of him she almost laughed. The part of her brain that remembered she was Lia and he was August did laugh. August had transformed himself into a teenage boy, all youthful beauty, long limbs and awkward energy. He was so lovely he made her nervous. And how silly for a goddess to be so nervous at the sight of a mortal boy of eighteen winters and seventeen summers.

  Oh, but he was the loveliest of all the boys in all the world. He had black hair that waved like a nighttime ocean and a smile bright as the noon sun in autumn. He spoke rarely, taught to hold his tongue in the presence of his elders, but when he did speak, he spoke well and wisely. He always took time to pet any dog that wandered his way. Even as a boy, he’d never pulled the tails of the mouse-catching cats in his home. He blushed in the presence of pretty serving girls but never talked to them out of turn. He was happiest on the back of a horse, riding on the beach at sunrise and sunset.

  If she hadn’t decided to marry him, he would have joined the army. So she had summoned him to her palace to spare her sweet prince from that bitter life. She wouldn’t allow him to get so much as a scratch on his knee.

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