Protector.
But he’s not watching me.
He’s watching Isaac and I don’t know why.
“William wasn’t able to attend tonight.”
I overhear Isaac. He’s talking to the mayor for the city, a woman who is effervescent and attractive, containing more charisma in her little finger than most of the male politicians in this room. Except Isaac.
“Why’s that?”
“A few issues with his family. Nothing serious. He’ll be okay.”
She nods. “We’re only human. Or at least I am after coffee.”
That makes me smile. I head over to them, the bell ringing for the second part to begin.
“After coffee and not before eight in my case.”
She smiles at me. “Your Highness.” There’s a slight bow, just enough to acknowledge my rank without it being obvious.
I blush. Or maybe it’s the chardonnay. “It’s Melonie, isn’t it?”
“Thank god you didn’t use my title. I save Worshipful for when there’s alcohol.”
“So please don’t use mine. It’s for Sunday use only.”
“Blair then.” She offers me her hand.
I look at it and recognise a ring on her finger, silver and thick, patterned intricately. Unique.
The last time I saw her hand, it was wrapped around the cock of a man who was demanding his punishment and asking to kiss her feet. Melonie has been to one of the same clubs as me.
I don’t smile and my face slips on its mask of regal purity. Micky would be proud. “I love your city.”
“Thank you. It’s pretty special. I love your country.”
She’s a sympathiser, one of those who wants us to re forge the ties between our two countries. I know this from my research and her tone.
“You should come visit. See our theatres and cities.”And clubs.
Ben is by my side, dwarfing me and everyone else. “Can I escort you ladies to your seats? Show’s about to start.”
Melonie eyes him appreciatively, subtly. “That would be kind.”
I get the feeling that she’d rather be enjoying something else.
* * *
We sit back down and this time I don’t try to restrain myself to the space Ben and Isaac allow me. I claim it, letting my knees fall where they wish and stretching my legs out. I’m bookended by their heat, their musky smells of cologne, a million darts of chemicals and something more.
The play is good. The direction thoughtful and creative, and the actors would normally captivate me, but I can’t concentrate. I keep seeing Ben naked in the showers, wondering what his body would feel like under my hands, what his cock would taste like in my mouth now. When we were younger, he wasn’t gentle. He tried – the first time he fingered me, when I told him no one had done that before, he was almost scared, but after that he realised I wasn’t made of material that would break easily. I feel my nipples harden and the warmth between my legs grow. It’s been months since Cuba, since I’d had a man inside me or even kiss me.
Isaac’s leg brushes mine and the awareness I’ve been trying to ignore suffocates me. His swarthy skin and dark hair and permanent stubble reminds me of a pirate and I sense beneath his poised elegance and political charm, there’s something dangerous.
And Ben doesn’t trust him.
The play ends and we stand to applaud, the audience appreciative. There are drinks and a reception straight after, with the actors attending also and I need to keep my smile fixed and my words polite even though I want to go back to my anonymised hotel room and hide in sleep.
