Waltz Katzen Blut

Waking up was slightly harder then usual. Less ability to breath at least. Kenneth blinked up at the painted ceiling that displayed a night sky and twinkling stars. His room didn't have this paint job on the ceiling... where the hell was he? He sat up and his chest strained against the movement. Then he remembered, He had tested out the new French girl last night and it turned out she was into some interesting things. Spanking and being placed in a corset were two things Kenneth never needed to experience again, now he needed to find a way to get the stupid corset off.

All the lacing was in the back so he couldn't simple untie it.'I have a knife in my room.' he thought to himself as he slowly stood up making sure not to move the bed enough to wake the sleeping French girl. He slowly slipped into the hallway. Hopefully no one was up yet, having to explain what he was wearing wouldn't be hard, but it was still embarrassing to him.

Octavia's door was only slightly opened but he didn't hear her moving around,so he assumed she was still asleep. He crept past the other girls rooms and made it into his own.HE found his knife under his pillow and cut himself lose. Taking a few needed deep breaths before pulling on proper pants. He was about to throw on a shirt when there was a knock at the door.

Through the slats of barely parted fingers, wrapped and reeling tighter about the dull ache of her skull, she counted at the cracks in the plank wood floor. A calming mechanism she oft employed that had lost it's effectiveness a quarter past a knothole ago, and now she felt the breath she held between gritting teeth slowly slipping from her grasp, not so unlike her patience.

"Mark these words and mark them well. When I was assured that a certain someone had procured Siamese twins for one Mister Grant, I'd have thought they would have the good and blessed sense to adhere to authenticity." A blur of pigment and speed, her hand was a quick shot out to the far side of her, and into a room where two miraculously un-conjoined women of questionable relation, even to one another, were trembling. The fabric of their slap-shod dress flaking off bared shoulders with each convulsive sulk, no different than weather worn paint from a forgotten farmhouse door. "I do not care if you have to wade to Siam yourself and slither up onto the lands like the first toad with his best and brightest idea for bigger things - bring me something, or someone back that match the assurances you make in your posts. And - keep this notion firmly held in your mind better than your dollops of trollops you you bound up in twine."

It was just a slight of hand, barely a flick really, that produced a man's pointed chin in her palm, seemingly from the thinning airs. She leaned in to whisper, twisting his head far from a rather garish sight she did not wish to be witnessed by unintended eyes, lest the severity of her request, and the man she made it supposedly on the business-end behalf of, be lessened to a degree that would rival Mister Grant's current state of undress. "Mister Grant does enjoy to peruse a purchase before he makes them, be thankful it was me to have seen to your oversight - and not him. He might have done to your girls what I did to their dress, and there would be a dire scarcity of string to hold your ruse together, what with all of it wrapped tight about your throat. "

Full lips thinned to smile, a prettily made line of cursive and rouge. Relinquishing her hold of the procurer's chin, she even did him the kindness of straightening his lapels before giving his chest a pat-a-pat with the tips of her fingers, and slowly drew away. A taffeta swathed beast in retreat, her dark brows piqued, to snare his attentions once more, "This then goes without say that if you ever promise me a unicorn beast, that you not try to peddle a painted pig with a Christmas cone tethered to it's head. Mm?"

Mother Mary help those with that impossible imposable intellect dangling there between their legs. Octavia bowed her head into the bent to broken clasp of prayer hands, lips to thumb knuckle, and holding him there in wait to be dismissed until a half naked and wholly ridiculous looking Mister Grant had found his way back home again. It was not until the halls were clear of roving imposter fops, she nodded her head and flicked her fingers in a swift ascension between the both of them. "Now go - and take that, or them - what have you, away with you."

Counting the cracks now would no longer do. Not when her wits were better spent maintaining a calm head to rest atop her shoulders at his latest exploits with their newest acquisition. That French girl. "Did not have the heart to wake her, so that she may let your bosom out of it's contraption." This was never an aspect of business she enjoyed idling the while on about with Kenneth. Supposing it was the 'wife' in the false wife in her that sought to object his liberal sampling of wares as any inn keep might with every cask that rolled into the cellar. Though really, what could be done of it when she did not deny the coffers her own contribution once in that great while she entertained a client of her own. Perhaps she'd not wait until the ledger lines fell into the red again before she considering taking on a client or two - perhaps even at the same time.

Her arms uncrossed from over her breasts, to occupy herself in the collecting of more ruined garments. "And so I see it was taken upon her own self to determine that you had been a bad boy for the evening?" The last of it pushed the air from her lungs, "I trust then, since you did not wake her to unlatch you, that it is safe to say that you will not be waking her to toss her arse into the streets, mm?"

Kenneth bent backwards and cracked his back "I do not envy you women and your torture devices of dress. That feeling was worse then being poked by the knobby end of a priest." He chuckled at his own joke before pulling on a vest and no shirt. Kenneth had never cared what he looked like and the pairing of a vest and some dark pants made him look as if he had escaped a woman's bedroom while placing his garments in hast.

'Yes we will be keeping the girl, she'll serve the men that enjoy being spanked and dressed up as if dolls, and no, I am not one of those men." He smirked and kissed Octavia on the cheek already knowing the answer about the twins. "Toss them out, they aren't needed here." With that he moved past her and headed towards the stairs. Before reaching the stairs he was greeted to a chorus of small giggles as Tao and Deva came walking out of their shared room. Tao and Deva where the two exotic girls of the house. They were the best of friends and suspected lovers. Kenneth bowed his head to both of them allowing them to descend the staircase first.

After both Tao and Deva had cleared the stairs Kenneth did a scan of the landing making sure that no one was watching as he slid down the banister and right in front of Ellen Flint. The buildings house keeper. The old woman had stayed even as the once grand standing home had morphed into the pleasure den it was today. She raised an eyebrow at Kenneth as he straightened himself up.

'Really Master Grant can you not hold in all that energy for just a minute?" she tutted as she buttoned up his vest covering the plane of hair that was called his chest. Kenneth chuckled as he bowed to her as well and headed towards the heavenly smell that was floating from the kitchen. Fresh bread and the smell of salted fish erupted from the room as he waltzed in greeting the cook and grabbing the bread and a bit of the fish on a plate before joining Tao and Deva in the planning of the 'Exotic' night that they had been planning for a few weeks.

There would be performers from India and China in the main hall and all the girls would be dresseda bit fancier than normal and all services would cost twice as much. It was a brilliant plan.

Such was the business of fun and games, the score keeper oft time sat them out. She was certain she knew what the warden of a mad house felt like when all the loons called out in their delusional reverie. Fingers knit tight into the bone grooves of the corset, and wrung the damnable thing twisted up in her grip as she watched him there. "Done, and done again," the send off on a sigh before she gave a quick lean to, to catch at his kiss, just before his back grew smaller and smaller until it vanished completely through the thresh.

Back then again to the raucous of the hall below them. Octavia followed out, but not after. She waited her own turn with one freed hand pressed to the banister that flanked the second story above the sinking room, while the other held behind her bustle, a ruined corset that was soon claimed by Sabine, who had found for herself a small portion of meekness on the floors, laying there with her garters. "Mend that, and do not use it until it is so mended. You do not have the years or the funds yet to wear whatever you damn well please."

Feline eyes darted down the length of wood, polished anew by Kenneth's backside. attentions paid and kept. She hardly needed to pay Sabine any further mind, not when the air went cold and vacant as she had seen herself out of the small space the French woman fitted herself into behind Octavia. She watched him follow after a truer set of twins than she was just proffered up. Tao and Deva required little more than a single dress to fit into and matching rouge before they might bill them as proper Siamese twins. It mattered so very little that their countries of origin were but distant cousins from one another - they were joined at the hip, and other parts and pieces in going by the things that she had both seen and heard.

Another con for another consideration, a time away from this one, she was sure. Drawing back from the banister the paper lady of the house took to the servant's stairway, a cut through the crowd and an artful avoidance of the well intending Mrs. Flint, whom she did not have the energy within her this night to even spare the kind spinster an apologetic look for the - exuberance - of "husband." He was having his fun after all, as he was want to do. Octavia did not have the heart to douse whatever incendiary passions had him flitting from one attraction to the next - even if it did leave her in her slow burn.

Octavia tried on her brightest of smiles, right there in the stairwell that opened to the kitchen by the grace of a simple swing door. It wasn't anything but another costume piece in her wardrobe, like Sabine's corset, like the false twin's dress - just another easily ruined costume piece. Though she held it firm and fast to her teeth as the door swung open. "Mister Grant, Ladies," a nod for each of them as she entered but gave no impression that she was there to remain. "I trust your line up is set and your dresses are looking smart." A purse string of lips skewed her smile to one side of her face when she regarded Kenneth again, "You forgot your Sultan's Cap to match the rest of your garments. I'll have Sabine fetch it for you since she's intent on playing dress up with wooden dummies tonight." She too was not above laughing at her own raillery, most especially when she felt to be just a touch embittered.

When the lightest of chimes ended, she nodded to the three of them, "I know it will be nothing short of a brilliant spectacle - and so it is with great regret that I can say I will truly miss seeing it for myself. Though I should enjoy hearing all about it come morning, tut tut then yes?" She reached between the three of them to claim an apple for her purse, a repast intended for her small and furry traveling companion that had found his comfort in the gather of her sleeve.

She had been here twice before, for the same reason. And while her curls were as glossy as her lips and her dress as dark as her eyes, Lillian Thorndyke did not blend with the other ladies who were just as glossy and dark, if not more so. Maybe, despite her semblances, her dissimilarities were too pronounced. Her posture was too rigid while the others were more sinuous. Her expressions were more guarded while all eyes that passed her, male or female, sought a hint of recognition in her eyes. But, did not find it.

Perhaps, after all, her most significant difference... her virginity... was an ostentatiously golden thing, too gaudy and... unrealistic... for so real a place.

Yet, here she was, unchaperoned and unafraid, meeting all the eyes that regarded her with interest then discarded her as unreal. Lillian did not suffer for her strangeness here, though. While they might not readily engage her, they did not mistreat or disrespect her. And they would be equally surprised to know that she admired them all. To Lillian, every woman here was stronger than most. They had all overcome shame. And, to Lillian, there was no greater a killer of a woman's soul.


She watched them all move about, the night nearly upon them. Like a troupe before a performance, cosmetics were applied, costumes perfected, lines rehearsed, and as undercurrent to it all, there was the delicious expectation of yet another performance worthy of ovation.

She could be one of them, Lillian thought without a blush. But, that golden and gaudy and unrealistic thing that she alone seemed to possess here was her strength, though none would believe or understand. Maybe not none.

Lillian saw her moving about the other players, the Dame around whom they all twirled. She was Mrs. Octavia Grant, and though Lillian believed such an enigmatic blossom might have married far below her ability, she was unwilling to assume that the dark and fragile woman did not know precisely what she was doing at all times

Still, she was a woman. A woman who, despite her better opportunities and better judgement, loved her husband. Lillian thought it sad that that love should cause her such disquiet. But, was that the allure of Octavia? Her tragic smile? Her sighing eyes?

"Miss Thorndyke," Mrs. Flint seemed to finally notice her, moving from the stairs to where Lillian stood. "So sorry to keep you, Lilli. Please, follow me to the kitchen and I'll get your money.

"Did you manage more of those rarer herbs?" the old woman asked over her shoulder as she bustled toward the kitchen door. "They were very popular."

"I have managed," Lillian assured her, staying close behind. The kitchen was a very busy place, as well. Lillian set down her basket and folded over her cheesecloth cover. "Of course, in addition to the usual enhancers and inhibitors, I have managed these."

Lillian removed two slender bottles of brown glass and set them before the rest. Absinthe. It was difficult to acquire these days. The opium trade was making the sedative liquid scarce for legitimate consumption.

"These are not reflected in my bill," Lillian assured the old maid, showing her a meaningful look. "Please remember me to your Mistress and perhaps she might have a few minutes to talk with me when next I come.

"I have... other things... with which I would like to tempt her interest."

Lillian looked to her skirts, taking the opportunity to cast about furtively to see who might have overheard.

Kenneth checked the time on the fragile time piece that had been gently mounted into the metal table that he was sitting at. It was around one in the afternoon. Overall there hadn't been tons of activity. There was a woman lurking by the door but he chose to ignore her. There were plans to be made after all and a wife to entertain. The woman was eventually swept up by Mrs. Flint and was no longer an issue he had to attend to.

He stood wrapping an arm around Octavia before she could scurry away to get ready for a walk around town, which was her usual cure for things before Kenneth swung the Fleece into a crazed frenzy and she would have to deal with clean up. The sugar glider in her sleeve squeaked and crawled onto the offending arm. Kenneth smirked pulling his wife back to him and giving her a proper kiss as her sugar glider climbed to his shoulder and then clinging there for dear life as Kenneth spun Octavia lightly.

"You will be at the party, You'll have to be around to keep the annoying French one away from me." He whispered quietly into her ear.