Lady Ceclia (An Autumn Short Story)

Fall has always been my favorite time of the year. Warm days followed by cool nights. The vibrant green leaves turning into a brilliant spectrum of burning flames. It’s not just the color of orange, gold, palest yellow and burnishing reds that capture my greedy eyes. It’s the play of all those shades layered together in a canopy that only nature can provide.

The perfect backdrop for a mysterious and gay masquerade ball! A dance with decadent waltzes, lively foxtrots, hearty reels and a sedate march. The food will be glorious and varied to tempt the most cynical taste buds. Yet, it’s the costumes and masks that are the true lure. To be clothed in a mystical ornament, glittering accessories and hidden from all eyes behind a fanciful mask. The idea of being someone different, doing something a little wicked and getting away with it gave me a secret thrill that I held close to my heart.

The ball was everything I could ask for and more! Armed in my dark fairy costume and mask, I found myself in more than one dance with men of wild repute. One of them, the infamous Lord Alexander, paid more than close attention as the night drew closer to midnight. He was everything my lady Mother had advised against. Tall, bright copper blonde locks that fell adorably over his face, wicked green eyes and a smile that promised decadent delights that no true lady should ever consider. Rumors say that he’s ruined more than one proper young miss and that he’s been caught with several of the married ladies of court. Drowning in his green eyes, the feel of his strong arm beneath my hand and the way he whispered naughty observances in my ear-I willingly fell beneath the charming rakehell’s grace.

That night, we stole away from prying eyes and he taught me how to kiss, to tease his lips with mine, the way my body will shiver at a simple touch, shudder under a flicking thumb, come alive in swollen need and the truth of a man’s passion. The hardness of his rampant rod and the primal cries of release. He praised my quick wit, alluring curves that begged for touch and the innate sensuality that eagerly caught onto the act of love. He promised to meet me the next night. He said that there was so much more he would teach me about love. That what we had was only the smallest taste of many wild hedonistic pleasures that I have never could have dreamed.

I eagerly drank in his passionate whispers, his promises and voluptuary designs. I did not hide my moans or trembling loins from his sight as he cleaned the flood of our releases from between my legs, upon my belly and thighs. I held close every piece of our memories to my heart and replayed them over and over again as I waited for the next night.

One night became two in a bewildering purgatory of wild imagination and no information. Two turned into three. The days passed in sullen drag of lifeless mud. Even the autumn colors and weather failed to rouse me from the dreadful well of misery I have become.

Then I found fire.

A furious fire of a woman scorned.

An urgent note arrived from a dear friend who has fallen ill. Of all my friends, Lady Amelia was my best friend. We told each other everything and she is the sister of my heart, if not family. Of everyone I know and love, she is pure in heart and angel in life. Where I could not find the spirit to care for myself, I drew up strength to be strong for her. I found a spark of my old self, dressed and left to see my closest friend. I found her listless and drawn. I thought she had caught a cold or bodily ill. Instead, with some persistence, I heard a familiar tale of deviltry, curiosity, debauchery, promises and heartbreak.

Apparently, Lord Alexander has been a very busy man. Very busy indeed.

Sorrow for broken dreams quickly burned beneath the lava thick heat of my anger. Dangerous hatred drew several plans and rejected each until a sound strategy set. I shared my intentions with Lady Amelia and vowed that she would be avenged. That we would both be avenged.

It was simple matter to approach my oldest friend. He fostered with my own family when he was young and we have been close ever since. As Lady Amelia is a sister of my heart, he is a brother of the same. Then all I had to do was draw Lord Alexander out, which I did. The fool never suspected.

I watched avidly as my family wrought their own vengeance on Lord Alexander on a fine autumn day. The fiery leaves a splendid foil his rude comeuppance.

****

This short story was inspired by another short story that I read. Both of the stories are part of a writing challenge for September 2013. Hopefully, you will enjoy reading this story as much as I had fun writing it. Enjoy! Comments are always welcome.

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