So how’d it going so far? I don’t usually write so flowery, but I was working on writing with a different “voice”. Instead of my usual all-knowing, comprehending, down-to-earth style that I usually use… This is weird isn’t? Gives an appearance of an old-school type of story. I look at this and sometimes I wonder if I really wrote it… when I put up a different one, you’ll see what I mean.
This story also uses very common, very normal people names… something that I normally don’t use…. in other stories I have: Anasashu, Zusio, Zeal, Krim and other names that I don’t usually hear around me, I also have a tendancy of using Asian names mostly Japanese, and I think I have one or two Chinese names throwed into the mix… But oh well…
This chappie has as a smootch scene, but nothing to graphic. please take the time to drop your two cents, for I am a poor begger.
Chapter 3: The Unveiled Truth
The breeze blew ever so lightly, and lifting her head in a small tilt towards the inklet sky, Emanuella drifted off in thought. The court yard was a close off section of the hall that didn’t allow guests because it was unfinished with their remodeling. The flowerless ground was well seeded, and the roads paved with grey pebbles. There was a tall hedge that blocked the view from the outside streets allowing it to be the place of utmost privacy. Emma, chuckled to herself thinking how they had forgotten to seal off this entrance, but now it was better for her so she can get away from the choking atmosphere, this proper tight-fitting society.
Arms like two large thick ropes tied around her waist, imprisoning her, confined her. Her eyes widened, thinking wildly the thought, “What’s this?!”
Ogito’s voice gargled right next to her ear.
“I want you…”
Feeling his lips caress skin of her neck, she slowly closed her eyes. Slowly slowly, slowly. He fingers played with the strings of her corset, eventually pulling them, and they loosened.
She let out a sigh, the first utterance of sound coming from her throat, a rather light, a rather soft sound. She showed no sign of resistance, deep inside Ogito concluded; she needed this whether it came from a man or a woman.
“Let me see you…” he begged as the corset slipped to the pebble paved ground. She didn’t say a word; she couldn’t of course, but only sigh once more a signal of her yearning. “Emanuella, court me, you’ll see I can please you in any level that you ask,” he teased as he moved his hands to hers. Trailing his fingertips all the way up her arms to her shoulders, it rested there and began to descend again, this time taking shoulders of her dress with it.
A man clothed in a long black trench coat stepped in. A rugged unshaven face, a cigarette hanging at the tip of his lips and hypnotizing ebony eyes. A broad rimmed hat that shaded a part of his visage. Unbelievably tall, followed buy a cute blundering adolescent. A sweet curly headed blonde, shining his marine coloured eyes about the lively ball party. He smiled and tugged on to the shady detective whom he served as his assistant.
“So beautiful, do you not think so?”
“We are here to see what she is up to.”
The child-like youth chucked his head down, “Yes, Sir Blackman.”
“Emanuella,” he croaked a deep voice. An intake of nicotine and a swift exhale, “I’m not letting you get away with anymore deaths….”
Several women eyed the strange detective with amorous eyes. The man was wild and handsome, something out of their wildest paperback epics. He took more steps into the festive atmosphere contrasting with everything. Some people stopped and stared. He wasn’t invited, yet he came anyway. Conducting investigation ruining the happiness of it all, producing a feeling of uneasiness, causing people to think that some thing awful was bound to happen.
Standing by the beverage table, he examined and scribbled down notes. After scanning everything, he did not see her, but he overheard someone mention her name. She was here definitely. He looked over to his ‘Watson’. The boy was trying all the types of drinks. He poured one class of hard liquor into a regular wine cup filling it to the brim and as the glass touched the youth’s lips, the man snatched it.
“Albert, this is liquor, it is not meant to be taken in such glass.”
The youth blushed, already feeling intoxicated, he frown as tears sprang from his ocean-green eyes, “I do not like, the fact that you suspect Lady Emma,” he looked up to him longingly, “Why not search for another cause, another suspect?” His voice cracked in a whine, “Why?”
The drink sways his emotions too strongly, he thought. He whispered to himself, “Listen, for these five past months there are recorded findings of five dead males dropped off at the base of the Ileana River. All of them over the course of those five months have been persistent suitors of that woman. The river is less than a ten minute walk from her manor.
“So?!” he moaned in teary sorrow.
“Al, all the bodies are headless. If I can find some concrete evidence of the heads then my suspicion of her will be cleared. I assume that she may have contacted a hit man to do her dirty work. Her family had always been tied to black market operations in the past. Although it has all been cleared away, there may be shadows of alliances left behind, connections that she can still utilize… “
“You lie!” he cried clutching on to his coat. He warm face buried into the layers of jackets and button shirts that he wore. He placed his arms around him and held him. The boy had never voiced his feelings for the woman before, only now that he was under alcohol’s hypnotizing curse.
“This is very hard for you now,” he cooed to him softly, “But you must look all investigations with the wise gaze of the impartial judge. Do not mingle your feelings with facts and reality. Promise me you will do so”
“Um hmm” he voice in an inaudible tone.
“You will rise to be a detective far greater than I, boy.
The silk sky blue garments slipped, the sleeves hanging at the bends of her elbows. He walked around to face her, he needed to face her. She her face, her body, the exposed breasts, excited by the fact that she wore no bra. When he did, he stopped. He stared. And stared.
She walked up to him. He stepped away. The torso of a man, yes a man. A man stood before him, a man. Frozen, slowly taking in the reality presented before him. She slowly stepped closer, he didn’t move. Placing both hands softly on his cheeks, the scent of expensive perfume seeped into his nostrils. He closed his eyes, inviting his lips to touch hers. He felt aroused all the same, so did it matter now? Why should his obsession end here? He had been a she when falling into this love, so should it matter that now he knew that he was a he?
“Who are you really?” he breathed as their lips parted.
Emma stared into his dark eyes, dire fixation gleamed in them. The ice of her own narrowed, “Nothing else will satisfy you…” she spoke.
Indeed. She spoke. In a voice that was her own. It was warm gently toned, natural un-manipulated. A sound that created ambiguity between sexes. Her arms drew away from him disgusted.
Another one. Fate has cursed me to find another one.
“I am what you see…” she replied.
“A man,” weaved in Ogito, “But I don’t care about—“
“A woman, are you blind?”
“Oh, on the contrary…”
A tease, from the suitor, a scoff from the lady.
The corset was tied up once more the silk placed in the way it was prior to everything. She walked around him. “Can’t I ever shake you off?”
“Never, fate has sealed our gazes as well as our lips. A bond of everlasting love.”
A slight gag. Stepping up to him and placing her fingers underneath his chin, she spoke silvery rasp. “I will drag you to hell…”
He shivered in pleasure, “And in the heat of the flames we will make the sweetest love, my dear.”
She pulled away from him. He grabbed her hands. Tugged him to her. Pressing his lips against her once more entering into a more passionate kiss. Emma gasped taking in his tongue, wildly running her hands into soft mane of ebony. Grasping the roots clinging on to him desperately, panting hopelessly. She parted, startled, realizing her uncivilized nature.
Ogito smiled feeling glorious, finding that he had proved a fact, she yearned for him.
“Don’t give me that look!” she hissed, “I don’t need you, it is my Sarah—my… my Sarah,” she brought her arms to her chest clutching her hands over her own heart, “The only one for me….”
“You deny your own truth, but you yearn for heat of a female body—in a way a man does?” he teased once more.
She raised her downcasted face, “You are wrong!” She stared ahead towards him in calm security, “I know who I am. I know my feelings and how they are implied. I live as woman, because I am a woman. I will love a woman as a woman who loves another woman.”
“Your mind is so twisted,” Ogito concluded, “Let me guess, this was the way your mother raised you…”
Emma slowly closed her eyes and turned to face the sky spotting the stars that shone in the midnight sky.
“My mother, I have given so much to my mother. I am the air that my mother breathes, the life energy that continues to drive her into the tomorrow. Her beloved first daughter that was lost in an accident she had while she was with child. The daughter she yearned for, she birthed her lifeless. I, as the second child must live up to her expectations. Incarnate myself to that daughter that never was.”
Ogito’s eyes softened, realizing the burden that she carried. Standing closer to her now, he moved a lock of sable over her ear, ever so gently ever so sweetly, “It’s alright, to admit it. To who you really are, I don’t really care and you shouldn’t either.” He whispered into her ear.
She faced him and looked into his eyes. Reflected back towards him were such shockingly clear, very light piercing blue orbs, appearing frustrated, confused. “But I am, am…” Looking down into her hands, warm tender unblistered, hands that have never known hard labor.
He placed his arms around her holding on to her gently. “It’s alright, to admit. The truth doesn’t matter. If you feel comfortable dressing this way, I don’t mind it. Truth is, you look rather stunning…But please admit this to yourself.” He kissed her forehead.
Emma closed her eyes. “Do not share this with any one.”
“Never, my Love.”
“About my mother’s past.”
“About my voice.”
“About… who I really am.”
“Never to be known, discovered only by the deepest recesses of my heart.”
“Poor fool,” said she, “Poor, poor, fool.”