Wow.
He just identified the problem.
I’m almost proud of him.
As though I could collapse at any moment, he brings me carefully toward the bathroom. My breath catches as a low few orbs of floating light ignite near the ceiling, casting a bluish fiery glow across porcelain and marble. Black and white.
It’s lavish.
But harsh.
The sharp cuts of the darkest dark against the purest white sting my eyes.
With another unwelcome kiss to my cheek, the faerie directs my attention to the two sinks, and the two square stone cups beside each of them. “This is mine,” he says, referring to a black toothbrush in one cup. “This one…is yours.” He plucks the other brush and presents it.
It’s quartz.
The handle is quartz.
What is this?
It’s the most beautiful toothbrush I have ever seen.
Once I’ve taken it, the faerie man swells. “And this,” he says, excitement building once more as he references a group of hand towels on a rack above the sink nearest my toothbrush cup. “These are yours, too.”
They’re white. To contrast the black ones hung over the rack on the other side.
He goes to the tub, which is nothing short of a small pool. Another glass window in the ceiling casts a gleaming ray of moonlight over it. “I can run you a bath, my love. I prepared candles for you. Cotton and fresh linen. A tame scent, in case overwhelming fabricated scents bother you, too.”
They do.
I don’t know how he knows that.
I don’t know why he’s saidtoo.
Every time I have done perfume shoots, they’ve had to replace the liquid with water. And even then, the people around me wearing the product have sometimes been unbearablytoo much.
“I have rose petals and orchid petals. Gardenia,” he continues. “If you’d prefer to shower first or need to wash yourhair, I apologize. I didn’t know your hair type, so I’ve only my shampoo and conditioner. I will remedy this first thing in the morning. Or immediately. Whichever pleases you most.”
Whichever…pleasesmemost?
I’m still stuck, holding a toothbrush that has a place in a stranger’s bathroom, when the man sweeps away from the tub and the candles he was arranging intently around the far rim. “Your nightclothes. I forgot. You’ll need them before you bathe. Blindfolded or not, the knowledge of your nearness in a towel… We’ll not tempt me like that until at least next week. Unless you…want to?”
“Want to?” I echo, kind of…lost here.
“Unless you want to torture me.”
“Oh.” I wet my lips. “No… I don’t want to do that.”
“Pity.” He smiles, forlorn, as though my refusing to torture him is a very sad thing. “Your nightclothes, then. Allow me to retrieve them.”
He leaves me alone with the heavy toothbrush, and I stare at it, barely gathering my thoughts before he returns to hang a long silk nightgown with a matching robe on a hook by the standing shower. He takes a moment to adjust the frills of the lavish robe, and the fabric seems to change before my very eyes. A low hum rises from him. “If it’s too big or too small, let me know. I’ll fix it. Does the color suit your tastes? Women like pink.”
I do like pink. The soft pink matches the color I usually kept my nails when I wasn’t in active shoots and had to maintain my social media, back before I stripped anything that might draw attention to myself away. I haven’t worn makeup or a particularly clean dress in weeks. “The color’s…fine.”
He smiles, then he rushes back to the tub and draws me a steaming bath.
After dictating how to control the water’s temperature, showing me a clip in case I want to put up my hair, and tellingme how to lock the door, he tips up my chin and kisses my forehead.
