On Lute and on Lyre

Paris: 1548

All things considered, Sylvie felt herself extremely fortunate. Not many women who earned their livelihood in a Paris brothel could say this, but Madam Diane ran an uncommon establishment, and considering the alternatives, Sylvie was grateful to have secured a place with her. Many Paris brothels catered to unusual tastes, but Sylvie knew, from memorable conversations with other women in her line of work, that she was fortunate to have found a place at this one.

Madam Diane, like all Parisians, believed Paris to be the most cultured city in the world. She saw no incongruity in capitalizing on this in her pursuit of the oldest profession. There was never a shortage of women in desperate circumstances to populate Paris's many brothels, but Madam Diane chose to cater not to the common run of men seeking such diversions, nor to the men who craved more exotic or sordid pleasures. Her establishment specialized in women of culture and accomplishment, who were prepared to entertain men who could appreciate their refinements. A brothel is a brothel, and its chief stalk in trade was never in doubt, but Madam Diane found that offering more sophisticated preliminaries allowed her to charge much higher fees than other establishments.

Sylvie had joined them three years ago. Madam Diane judged Sylvie's singing and playing to be excellent, and was glad to add her to the menu of musicians, versifiers, scholars, dancers and visual artists she had painstakingly gathered around her. Men associated such accomplishments with upper-class women, women who were not generally available to them, and who were not often skilled in the erotic subtleties. Madam Diane's specialty was to straddle the line between whores and courtesans: to offer her customers sophistication without the obligations of keeping a mistress of their own. Here, men of a certain class could come to be entertained and stimulated, then satisfied by the kind of women to whom they didn't normally have sexual access.

Sylvie was accustomed to entertaining men who were visitors to Paris; foreigners were not especially noteworthy. Likewise, the dapper figure of Charles Severgny was familiar to her, but when he arrived in the company of two strange men, obviously not Frenchmen, she was intrigued. One sported the red hair and unusual dress that identified him as a Scotsman, possibly one of the men-at-arms attached to the household of Mary Stuart. The other, more commonly dressed man was shorter, black of hair, and bore a liveliness of expression that caught her eye particularly.

Madam Diane introduced them as the lord Colin McLean, and Owen ap Reese respectively. When Sylvie raised a delicate eyebrow at the latter's unusual name, Madam Diane elaborated by explaining that Owen was a Welshman. Sylvie had never met a Welshman before, but she had heard tell of the legendary musicianship of the Welsh. She smiled invitingly and gestured for the men to seat themselves with her in one of the parlors where men were welcomed.

Sylvie took the lute onto her lap and began to play a song she knew Charles Severny favoured. He smiled his appreciation. Sylvie was tall and graceful, with a healthy, vital complexion that needed little enhancement. Her gown was draped becomingly low across her breasts, and displayed her flawless carriage.

Sometimes Madam Diane had to carefully coach her women in the niceties in order to gloss over low birth or inadequate training, but not in Sylvie's case. As was true with many of Madam Diane's employees, Sylvie came from a cultured and affluent family. With the carelessness of youth, Sylvie had created scandal, and when the pregnancy had terminated early in a still birth, she had been dispatched to be hidden away in a convent. She had managed to get word to a lover who arranged to rescue her from a life to which she was eminently unsuited. His fickle tastes had, however, soon left her without alternatives to support herself, and she had found her way to Madam Diane.

After listening to a few of his favourites in Sylvie's repertoire, Charles made an unobtrusive departure with Madam Diane for more private accommodations. The two younger men were pleased to be left alone with Sylvie. As she strummed the lute, she drew them out about themselves.

Colin McLean was indeed in Paris as a man-at-arms with the Scottish Queen Mary Stuart. Owen had been Colin's foster-brother since childhood, and Colin defined their relationship with a Scots word Sylvie didn't know, but which entertained her. Curious, she asked Owen to speak to her in Welsh. She was delighted by its musical lilt, and presented him with increasingly provocative phrases to translate for her.

Finally she said to Owen, "I have heard it said that the Welsh are renowned musicians. Are you willing to take up the lute?" She smiled invitingly and held the instrument out to him. He took it willingly enough, but looked to Colin.

"We might grace the lady with your latest creation," Colin said judiciously, while his grey eyes glinted with mischief.

Owen struck up a lively tune, and nodded to Colin to take up the song, which he did, with Owen joining him in the last chorus.

"Come play for me now on lute and on lyre,

lie back and show me my heart's desire.

Open your throat till I hear the choir,

oh play for me now on lute and on lyre.

Caress and strum with rhythm soft,

my throbbing strings they long for you.

Offer up the sounds of love,

that I might sing the song with you.

Come play for me now on lute and on lyre,

lie back and show me my heart's desire.

Open your throat till I hear the choir,

oh play for me now on lute and on lyre.

strum in time with fingers strong,

pluck my strings with fingers deft.

Oh sing of pleasures loud and long,

till I collapse with no song left.

Come play for me now on lute and on lyre,

lie back and show me my heart's desire.

Open your throat till I hear the choir,

oh play for me now on lute and on lyre."

Sylvie applauded, laughing with delight as she leaned back against the cushions. The men looked at her with open admiration. She looked back coquettishly. She had at first thought Owen the more attractive of the two with his mobile features and lively eyes, but as Colin sang, she was conscious of the pleasing resonance of his base voice, his powerful body in relaxation, the intensity of his gaze as it travelled over her body. She wondered which one of them would claim her.

She fluttered her eyelashes demurely. "Some of my friends here are musical also. Shall I summon Marie for a duet?"

"I think not," Colin said amiably, "Owen and I have a taste for solo performers." He rose easily. "I think I'll stretch my legs, wander round a bit." He picked up the decanter of wine and filled their glasses. "Drink up and play on, I'll be back presently."

When he had gone, Owen came to sit beside Sylvie and handed back the lute. Charles had described to them the customs of this house, and Owen knew there was no hurry. Madam Diane encouraged the drawn out flirtation which could, if conducted skillfully, add great savor to the main course. He and Sylvie both enjoyed themselves finding songs they both knew and could sing together. Sharing music with a woman in this way was completely novel to Owen, and he found it more intoxicating than the excellent wine Madam Diane provided.

Colin too had listened while Charles told him the ways of this particular establishment. He knew that, on the main floor, guests were free to wander through the various parlors at their own whim, providing the door of the room was open, signaling that the guest being entertained did not require privacy. As he wandered, he soon perceived that the desire for privacy was highly individual, and that some patrons were quite willing to be observed or joined.

In one room, he came upon a man sitting naked in a chair pleasuring himself slowly, while a naked woman stood behind an easel drawing him. In another, a woman in a white gown was reading aloud in Latin. He recognized the text as coming from the Song of Songs. Close by, a man knelt over a woman who was lying on her back, her long brown hair spread out around her, her legs open.

The man was kneading her breasts in his hands, while his penis slid slowly in and out of her. Colin leaned against the wall, enjoying the sight. The voice of the reader blended scholarly precision with sensuality in a way he'd never heard before. Every so often, the man would lean forward, pressing the woman's body beneath him and kissing her deeply. The rhythm of his fucking would speed up briefly, but then he would raise himself once more and return to his slow, almost meditative enjoyment of her.

After a time, Colin moved on. He passed a few closed doors, and came to a parlor where three young men were being entertained by two women in varying stages of undress who were dancing together. They were doing an admirable job of imitating the formal patterns of a man and woman dancing together, but every few minutes one would gracefully divest the other of some article of clothing.

Colin was cordially invited to join the spectators, and he did so, pouring himself a glass from the decanter. There was an aloof, formally dressed woman playing for the dancers on a harpsichord in the corner.

Colin enjoyed the performance very much. When all of the women's clothing had been removed, one of the men instructed them to release one another's hair as well. One of the men beckoned imperiously to the taller of the women. Colin rose casually to his feet.

"Will you not stay?" one of the men asked hospitably. "That's kind," Colin replied lightly, "But I've left someone waiting for me." The dancing women were indeed enticing, but he thought of Owen and Sylvie, and turned his steps back to their parlor. When he reached it, he entered and closed the door behind him.

Sylvie and Owen sat close together, singing harmony in a bawdy song Colin recognized from some of the rough taverns they occasionally frequented. The singers' faces were alight with the pleasure of music shared, and Colin smiled, recognizing the light in his friend's eyes. They finished the song, and looked up at the sound of Colin's enthusiastic applause.

"Colin my brother!" Owen exclaimed, "We thought you lost!" Colin grinned, seating himself on Sylvie's other side.

"I did stray here and there," he replied easily, "But I never lost track of where I meant to end up."

Sylvie's eyes went to the closed door, then to Colin. He took the lute from her and placed it on a nearby table, then took her hand in his. Owen took her other hand.

"Then it is you who will offer a duet?" she asked, looking from one to the other.

"That's right," Colin replied, his hand sliding slowly up her arm.

"Perhaps you have engaged in duets before?" she asked. "Those who have not sometimes underestimate how challenging they can be, particularly for two who are friends. Duets call on different strengths in a musician, and can put a strain on two who are only accustomed to soloing."

Colin smiled at her perspicacity and deft use of language. "We are no strangers to this art," he assured her easily, his fingertips now grazing her bare shoulder. "When we first came to Paris, many things here, all things here were new to us." his finger traced a line from her throat to the top of her breast. "There are many beautiful women in Paris. When it happened that Owen and I developed a violent attraction for the same woman, we first had a memorable drunken tavern brawl over her, then sat down like civilized men and talked about what to do." His hand cupped her breast through her gown. "We thought that maybe this would be only the first time we both wanted the same woman, and we'd better figure out ahead of time how to keep from killing each other in drunken brawls over it." Owen lent forward and took the hem of her gown between his fingers. Colin went on, "So we decided if we weren't willing to share, as we do with all else, than we didn't deserve her." Colin reached behind Sylvie and began unfastening.

"Well your time in Paris has at least taught you how to undress a woman," Sylvie remarked. "And was the woman in question willing to indulge your foreign peculiarity?"

Owen's hand was running up her leg. "Indeed she was," he said. "I'll say, I'd never thought of doing such a thing, but it has a savor I hadn't anticipated." He slid to the floor before her and placed himself between her legs.

The Ladies at Madam Diane's were always dressed in the best of tasteful display, but in a nod to practicality and the impatience of male lust, their dress often omitted many of the more cumbersome aspects of a respectable woman's ensemble. Owen discovered that Sylvie's legs were bare of stockings, and Colin found her gown less difficult to unfasten than he had expected.

Partially undressed, Sylvie allowed herself to be pressed back into the cushions by Colin, who lent over her, running hands across her breasts, and pressing his lips into the hollow of her throat. Sylvie raised one leg onto the cushions, inviting Owen to touch her. This situation might have alarmed her, involving as it did two strangers to the house, but they had come with Messieurs Severgny, and she sensed that she was safe with them.

Sometimes with patrons, her responses were considered, deliberate, intentionally skillful. At other times she allowed her instincts to rule. She had learned to know when doing so would be the reliable path to pleasing the men she took. Skill and a practiced sensuality could take you so far, but a genuine response was what most men of quality would appreciate, and appreciation usually translated into coin. She was glad when things went this way, because it meant she enjoyed herself too. Such times offered an unnecessary reminder that, risks notwithstanding, she had chosen correctly when she'd left the safety of the convent: such a life was not for her.

She pulled Colin to her and kissed him, tasting the wine on his lips. Colin looked down to where Owen had pushed up the hem of Sylvie's gown, exposing her graceful legs, spread in a delightfully wanton manner. Colin undressed enough so that he could guide Sylvie's hand around his hardening penis. He lent one hand on the back of the cushions, and, leaning over her, used his other hand to brush himself over her face and throat. He put a hand behind her head and thrust himself toward her open mouth. he gasped as she took him expertly between her lips. She took him slowly, placing a hand on his hip to guide him as she relaxed the muscles of her throat and took him all the way into her mouth. He groaned, pressing hard on the back of her head for a few seconds before letting go to slide out enough for her to catch her breath. He pushed inexorably back again, slowly, giving her time to catch her breath, but not breaking the rhythm of his insistent movements. He removed his hand from behind her head and reached down. Her gown was part way off, and he pulled one breast free of the lace to squeeze and caress it. He lent even further forward so that she was entirely on her back. As he was beside her, she had to turn her head to take him.

From where he knelt between her legs, Owen said appreciatively, "I love to see a woman arch herself upward that way to take as much as she can."

encouraged, Sylvie arched herself even further, and Colin caught his breath.

"She's very good," he gasped. "You'll love fucking her mouth."

Owen's hands tightened on her inner thighs and pressed them firmly apart. He said, "I want her naked, help me undress her."

Sylvie lay in playful passivity while they removed every stitch from her. When she lay naked before them, Colin lent over her once more, brushing his hard penis across her breasts, finding each nipple with the end, and rubbing sensitive flesh over sensitive flesh.

"Let's have a look at her backside," Colin suggested, "Turn over for us lass." She didn't recognize the word he used, but obediently she rolled onto her stomach.

"I'm eager to try her mouth," Owen said. He slapped her inviting behind. "Up on your knees," he said jovially. When she obeyed, Owen sat on the cushions so that her head was in his lap. Taking his penis in his hand, he guided it into her mouth. "All the way down," he instructed, and she sank herself slowly down till he felt the head of his cock squeezed between the controlled muscles of her throat. "Stay like that as long as you can," he demanded. She moved her head, recreating a grinding sensation against the head of his cock as it rubbed around the inside of her throat. Finally she came up for air, gasping.

"Good girl," he said, stroking the hair away from her face to see better. She used her tongue on him while she caught her breath. "Again," he said, and she once more sank slowly down on him. He placed a hard hand on the back of her neck holding her there, grinding himself slowly into her mouth. He released her neck and let her come up when she was ready. As she gasped for breath again, she appreciated his good manners. It increased her enthusiasm, and she took him all the way again, nuzzling her face into his crotch and rolling her head slowly around so he touched everywhere inside her mouth.

Colin was kneeling behind her on the cushions, running appreciative hands over her bottom, which she pushed into his hands by arching her back. Colin's hands ran up and down her inner thighs, then finding her parted lips and sliding his fingers inside her. For a time, he rode her with his fingers, in time with Owen's slow thrusts into her mouth. With his other hand, Colin playfully slapped her and she squirmed. Then he knelt up and put the tip of his cock inside her. With some practiced skill of his own, he gave her only the tip, teasing her for so long that she began to push back against him, encouraging him.

"I think the lady wants something of you," Owen said hoarsely. "Don't try to speak sweet," he said pushing upward into her mouth, "I will be sure you get what you want." He reached a hand beneath her and grabbed one of her breasts. He kept the other hand on the back of her head. he only pushed down hard for a few seconds at a time, but he never released her enough for his cock to leave her mouth. "Is she not quite ready?"

Colin made a rough, noncommittal sound as he squeezed her bottom and made subtle thrusts into her. "Almost. I think pinching her nipples would ready her fully." Owen did so and Sylvie gasped. Leaning forward, Colin slid his hand underneath to her other breast and did the same. She moaned.

"Would you like all of me sweetheart?" She moaned more loudly, making unmistakable movements to answer him. "She has a lovely mouth don't you think?"

Owen Groaned and his hand tightened on her breast. "Tell me if she is as lovely between her legs."

Colin placed a hand on each of her hips, then thrust hard, entering her as deeply as he could. She cried out, the cry muffled by Owen's cock. Owen let her come up to catch her breath.

"I do love the sound of a woman with her mouth full," Owen said smugly, and urged her head back down, reveling in the sight of his flesh disappearing between her lips. "Fuck her slow and hard," Owen suggested, "I like to feel the impact."

Colin obliged. Owen's hand lay lightly on her head now. His eyes were closed. With each of Colin's thrusts, Owen could feel Sylvie's body take the impact. The sound of her moans muffled by his cock, and the faint vibration of her stifled cries against his flesh were overwhelming.

"Oh you're going to love fucking her," Colin said lazily. "She's tight and wet for us." His fingers dug into her bottom, and then he put his hands around the front, pulling her back against him with each of his forceful thrusts. She almost lost her rhythm on Owen's cock, and Owen placed hands on her shoulder and torso to steady her. he held her stable while Colin fucked her. She got her elbows underneath her and regained her balance. Owen let go his hold on her and returned one hand to her breast and the other to the top of her head. Colin's thrusts began gradually to speed up.