Chapter 2: The Party
Elmeera catches up with her wealthy libertine guests and contemplates who to entrust with her little mouse first. Read through and cast your vote to decide Yelena's fate! As always, this is just fantasy.
-Inescapable
Many of my friends and acquaintances think of me as creative, because of my lavish parties and excellent decor. I try to take the accusation with good humor, knowing it's meant as a compliment.
Aldis was excessively creative -- so much so that I've had to ban him on several occasions from my dear Ulla's chamber for fear that his creativity would provoke a complete breakdown. And my grown daughter, Selera, was cursed with a dreadfully creative childhood, to the point where we couldn't even keep a tutor for her until we, well, kept one.
But I must forsake modesty to say I have no use for creativity myself, because I have something better: patience. Once I set on a course of action, I simply take my time to find the right pieces and assemble them correctly. Why flit about from inspiration to inspiration like a starving poet, when you have the wealth, resources, and upbring to do otherwise?
So I fixed my outfit and makeup and returned to my guests, looking for the first few pieces for my newest project: collaborators who could be trusted to guide my little mouse on her adventures.
Vincent was the first to greet me.
"Elmeera, you look darling as ever," he said, in his gruff baritone.
"Not half as darling as your lovely date, Vincent," I said, smiling at the wide-eyed, wide-hipped blond hanging on Vince's arm who was currently adjusting a rather daring scarlet dress that had no doubt been purchased by her much older suitor a few hours before.
The girl smiled back nervously, covering her generous and extravagantly displayed cleavage with one hand, as if it had slipped out without her notice.
"Oh, hi! I'm Callie, and you have such a lovely house," she said, shaking Elmeera's hand vigorously. "Although I guess the word is château, isn't it?"
"Estate, I supposed, but thank you, dear," Elmeera said. "If you two stick around, I'd love to give you a complete tour later in the evening."
"Oh, that sounds great, but I have to leave early so I can rest up for my history midterm in the morning."
"Oh, a college girl," I said, glancing at Vince. "Is that how you two met?"
"Oh, not at Vince's college," Callie responded. "No, a dean dating a student would be... frowned upon."
Elmeera smiled, waiting for her to continue. The girl's flush and hesitation told her the answer.
"We actually met at the bar where she works," Vince explained a little lasciviously, seeming to enjoy the girl's discomfort.
"Ah, of course."
Another of Vincent's strippers, then, although one with her faculties intact. A new relationship, then.
I had told myself to cross Vince off the list. He was Aldis' younger brother, and the more eccentric of the two. Taking on the role of Dean of Psychology six months before had seemed like a good sign -- even if the job had been purchased with family money -- but his behavior had only grown stranger.
Towards the end of his last relationship, he'd taken to referring to the girl as, "my experiment," even in front of her. I had shrugged it off. I prefer candor in men, even at the expense of tact. And whatever the experiment had been, it initially seemed to improve the girl -- or at least the experience of being around her.
She'd tried to be charitable towards the girl when she first met her; her low birth certainly wasn't her fault, nor the rather unsophisticated dress sense that no doubt came from it.
More tiresome had been the bragging about her accomplishments, her political campaigns, her frustratingly antagonistic politics. So when she grew quiet and cheerful, and her contributions dwindled to giggles and making the most of her cleavage, everyone had counted it as personal growth, on multiple fronts.
I would have counted it a rather touching success, if Aldis hadn't told me about what happened on the evening she disappeared. The dim little thing had been hunched in a corner, frantically abusing herself while giving fellatio to an antique candlestick, while her date strolled obliviously around the garden.
Aldis quickly took it away from her, and tried to return her to her senses. He had almost coaxed her up off her knees when her cheek happened to brush against his crotch, and the girl was consumed with the same undignified compulsion.
At least, that's how he tells it; I suspect my husband was rather exaggerating his innocence because we'd agreed to mention our outside interests to each other before indulging in them. I'm not angry -- even at her best, it would have hardly counted as cheating -- but I wasn't able to mention that to him before he told me his version of events.
It had almost gone quite badly. There'd been company about at the time, and the girl had almost caused a scene, but Aldis had been resourceful enough to enlist the help of the kitchen staff, who dutifully occupied her until Vince could be located.
Although I have no doubt it was necessary, it apparently had an unexpected effect on Vince's experiment, and by the time my husband made it back with his brother, whatever remained of the girl's original public persona had been replaced by a rather vulgar sexual servility that she'd no doubt previously reserved for her low class friends.
At any rate, it all did turn out alright. As I recall, the kitchen staff retained her for a as a bonus, although I can't recall the exact arrangement, or what became of the girl. If there's anything left of her original personality, I'm sure her political conscience is somewhat mollified to find she's serving working men.
Turning the whole evening over in my head, I realized that if anything, it proved how much Vince could be trusted. After all, it was Vincent himself who caught Ulla snooping around, and prudently put her in chemically induced slumber until we could deal with her. So I know he can keep a secret.
And if not for that night, Ulla would never have made the difficult journey from a rather disloyal and overcurious employee to my dearest treasure. He also showed his resourcefulness, somehow keeping his job and ensuring neither the papers nor the police became involved; all in all, no harm, no foul.
I looked up, struggling to playback what he'd just said. "I'm so sorry, Vincent. I was lost in memories for a moment."
"Pleasant ones, I hope," he said good-naturedly. "I'll leave you to make your rounds. Say hello to my brother if you would. I have an experiment that might interest him," he said, his eyes flicking to his new stripper, whose name I'd already forgotten.
I nodded, giving my approval to whatever the two planned to do, the terms of my agreement with Aldis, satisfied.
"
I
may have one that will interest you as well," I said. "In a little while," I added hastily, immediately regretting opening my mouth.
If he saw my husband first, he'd ask him about it, and I really didn't want them plotting. My husband is quite sane, but terrible at planning, while his brother is the opposite on both counts. Having the two get started before I could lay down rules and make the necessary calls could be disastrous.
"Really? Well, my dear, I'm glad my brother is still the same adventurer you married. I really should go find him and say, hello," he said, turning to leave.
Shit.
"I didn't say it involved him, Vincent, and I'd appreciate if-"
"Oh, don't worry Elmeera. I'll be the soul of discretion," he said, leading his date away.
* * * * *
Well, what was said was said, and making a scene wouldn't help. With his date along, Vincent hopefully would use some discretion. I pushed the episode out of my mind as soon as I spied my dearest friend, and sometimes rival, Annette, holding court across the room. Despite engaging half a dozen admirers, she saw me immediately, and bid a hasty adieu to her companions, leaving the men staring and blinking at each other sullenly.
"Elmeera, my darling!" Annette said, exchanging air kisses. "Another perfect fete."
"Dear Annette, you look as beautiful as ever. How do you manage so many admirers?"
"Oh, they're easy," she said, gesturing to her pale décolletage, floating on a sea of lace. "I put on my heavy overcoat, and away the admirers go. I take it off, and back they all come. But you, Elmeera. You love me even when I am all bundled up!"
I gave her a wicked smile. "I'd even do the bundling if you'd permit. But tell me: do you have any favorites among them?"
"Oh yes, my projets," Annette pondered. "Yes, eh, there is this young boy from the town. A dancer. He writes me poems every night, gives me mournful eyes whenever I enter the room."
"And how are the poems?"
"Terrible. I, how you say, punish him for each one. I think he only writes them for to be punished now," Annette laughed musically.
"You indulge him," I said, my tone playfully reproving.
She sighed. "I do. And he is becoming a bore. What I am really looking for is a woman who can't resist me. Someone discrete." She fluttered her long lashes. "Do you know anyone of that description, my darling Elmeera?"
"I just might, dear Annette."
