Cinder was smelling Dirk’s shirt and became startled when she saw him out of the corner of her eye. She resumed her pumping, laughing with embarrassment, a wonderful spritely laugh like the ringing of small bells. “I want to make sure it is clean,” she lied with a blush. Cinder looked at Dirk as she wrung out his shirt; he was himself looking around the small room. There was no table or room for one, just a two foot deep shelf under which sat a bench. If any meals had ever been taken in that room, there was no evidence of it. But, the kitchen did have a small stove and a sink with a pump; not common in the older buildings where he and Melissa lived; the structures which made up over half the buildings in the city. The residents of those apartments and homes had to go to a common well, usually located in a hallway on the ground floor or in the basement, and fill their kegs and water skins.
“I bet you’re glad that I don’t live on the second floor, huh?”
“Why?” Dirk asked, turning to look at her.
“Because you would have had to work hard to get it up,” she said, still chuckling to herself, though Dirk was not aware if it was over the same humorous thing that had initiated her mirth, or if something else had happened, since he had still not seen anything humorous up to that point.
“Melissa would have helped me, that’s all,” he said, brushing off Cinder’s laughter, feeling it was at his expense, and finding that, despite her strong charisma, he wanted to leave.
“Is Melissa a friend of yours?” Cinder asked, rinsing his shirt one more time.
“Yeah. She just started this week,” he explained for no reason he could fathom.
Cinder hung the garment over the sink then turned to face Dirk, folding her arms under her breasts. Customer and deliveryman looked silently at each other, but their expressions were descriptive enough to convey their thoughts. To Dirk, maybe it would be easier to give in to the desires of women than to keep resisting. “This would be a good time,” he thought, with Cinder clearly showing more than a polite interest in him. A lot of women had wanted Dirk, but none of them like Cinder. And Melissa had recently made him realize how enjoyable sex could be. While Dirk was uncomfortable with the dark-haired beauty, his slight anger at her subtle giggling made him want to bed her rather than to avoid her as he avoided most women, as if afraid of her.
As if Cinder could read his mind, or maybe Dirk made some unintentional invitation, she walked over to him, put her hand against his chest then gently laid her face against its cool, damp surface. Dirk had not noticed how tall Cinder was until she stood there, against him in her high-heels. She seemed so tiny in her thin, elven way—though he had no idea she was half-elven—that he just pictured her ‘small’.
Cinder kissed his chest, licking the moisture from his soft hair. It exhilarated him; her tongue was wet and incredibly soft and it made the hair on his neck stand up, sending chills down his spine. He looked down and watched her, but that was the last thing he should have done if he truly wanted to leave. But then, maybe he really didn’t. Cinder’s lips were like swollen red ribbons, her tongue, glistening and pink. Her hair fell over her shoulders and in front framed her breasts, which were pressed up out of her dress, bound and displayed by her bustier. Dirk knew that he would be late getting back to work. Wagon trouble again, he thought, sounded as good as any excuse.
Cinder took his hand and led Dirk out and over to the bed. She turned him toward her and placing her delicate hand around behind his neck pulled him toward her and gave him a kiss he thought could melt steel. His knees trembled and he felt like he would fall. Cinder dropped her dress and stood there in her corset, undressing herself like Melissa had done, but so very differently. She sat, and then laid back on her bed, oblivious to the clothing underneath her. Her hair lay out and around, indistinguishable from the dark bed cover, contrasting her fair, voluptuous body. Dirk looked at Cinder, undeniably moved, then set himself beside her. He only slightly wondered what a strange coincidence it was that he met the only women who had ever truly moved him only a few days apart from each other. In time, that coincidence would matter little, and in that moment it mattered not at all and flittered from his mind as quickly as it had come.
The bell above the door rang and Olaf Svenson emerged from the back to see who was calling on his business. He wrung his hands together nervously, studying Melissa as she browsed, carelessly pulling the rain-soaked hood from her head. She was carrying a dozen arrows tied with a piece of string.
“Ah, right over there,” Olaf exclaimed, pointing to a table which held several quivers. Melissa looked at him strangely, his dark sunken and tired eyes, wondering how he knew, then walked over and quickly picked one out, as well as a new belt to replace the old, frayed one she still wore. On her way to pay, Melissa eyed some of the other items, all made by Olaf Svenson the leather worker: clothing, animal collars and leashes, tack, boots, packs and pouches, an array of whips, a few suits of stiff, boiled leather armor, and a host of other sundry items. Olaf moved toward Melissa, not as if to speak with her but perhaps to secretly move up behind her. Engrossed in her examination, she did not notice his approach. Then the bell rang again and Olaf quickly returned to his counter.
Another young woman entered the store, this one seemingly not yet twenty years old. She was lithe but strong, with short, spiked blonde hair and sharp attractive features. She wore a light mace and a long curved knife at her belt. Melissa and Olaf both watched her absently as she too shook the rain from her cloak and smiled. “Hello?” she said curiously in reply to their gazes. “I love this new store,” she said spritely.
Melissa paid and turned to leave, nearly bumping into the girl, who had moved up to the counter, a whip of nine tails already in her hands. Melissa stepped around her then out into the street, heading back to Bessemer’s. A few moments later, as Melissa was putting her arrows into her new quiver, she heard a voice call out and she turned: following behind was the girl from Svenson’s, but the voice was not that of a girl. It was more mature, more commanding, not timid or quiet as one might expect from looking at her.
The sun shone down through the quickly dispersing clouds and a rainbow appeared above. The day grew warm and began to burn the water away, as wisps of steam rose from the hot streets, so Melissa opened her cloak and cast it over her shoulders in relief from the heat she knew would be returning to the stifling streets once more. The rain had been heavy and torrents of water still rushed down the gutters from the noble heights, the higher merchant and trade districts and north end of town, sweeping the filth and garbage into the sewers. It was there with the bright sunshine reflecting from the white buildings and red tiled roofs that Andrelia felt and smelled completely different; it was as lovely as it ever had been. To Melissa it almost matched the beauty of her farm back home; only because Andrelia looked so gray in contrast at any other time, and because her latest memories of home were so gray as well.
“Wait,” the girl called and Melissa did, finishing storing her arrows and sliding the string into her pouch, saving even the most trivial things for possible later use. “Hi. Can I walk with you?”
“Sure,” Melissa said with an unconcerned shrug, “but I’m heading back to work.” She began her trek once more.
“Oh yeah? Where do you work?”
“Bessemer’s,” Melissa said, looking over at the girl.
“Oh? Doing what?”
“I take care of the horses...deliver things sometimes.”
“I thought maybe you were a mercenary or a hiresword,” the girl said. “A pretty one, but still...with the bow and all. You know?” she said, not wanting to insult Melissa and pointing to the great bow Melissa carried over her shoulder.
“That’s all right. No offense.”
“Maybe you’d be interested in working with me. My boss needs another person.”
“Why me?” Melissa asked, looking around with a nod and wave of her arm. At least half-a-dozen armed men could be seen: some escorting robed merchants, others standing against buildings idling
their time, still others loading or unloading wagons, etc.
“Well, we have three men and one other woman. You look like a nice person and all. I mean, if they find another man...well, I’d rather have another girl,” she stuttered. “I didn’t say you could have the job: that would be up to my employer. But I wanted to talk to you and at least see if you were nice. Are you interested?” This girl could feel, as Dirk had, that Melissa was someone who, just by looking at them, you immediately knew would be your friend if you just got to know her; a sort of kindred spirit. There was definitely a draw between the two young women.
“I don’t know. What do you do exactly?” Melissa asked, still walking along.
“Nothing. Actually, we guard this rich map maker. We have our own house, the five of us...six with you. He supplies our food and drink...it’s real easy. The pay’s not excellent, but it’s better than you’re making, I bet. But the benefits with room and board really make it worthwhile. And guard duty consists of sitting in his mansion answering the door, making sure that no one ‘gets him,’” she snickered. “My name’s Fiona.” She held out her hand in greeting and though it was not something people, women especially, in Stoneheim did often, Melissa grasped the smaller young woman’s hand. “Maybe you’d like to come and check it out at least.”
“I don’t know. I just got this job and I work with this real cu...nice guy. We’re friends and...”
“You can still see him. He can come where we stay whenever you, or he, wants. No one will care. Just come and see if you like it, unless you really don’t want to,” Fiona said with a shrug and sly, devious look.
“No, I’ll come,” Melissa added quickly. “It can’t hurt, I guess. I’m not afraid to make more money.”
As they walked Melissa wondered if maybe being away from Dirk during the day might help their affection blossom. She felt that their relationship had turned kind of awkward. It was strange being friends and coworkers all day and lovers at night. She was willing to give up working with him, expanding on the romance and letting the coworker arrangement slide. This might be the perfect opportunity.
Dirk had not told Melissa what happened the day he delivered the wardrobe, naturally. He thought about that afternoon as little as possible, almost as if by doing so he could make it have not happened. He found it quite difficult to be with Melissa all day, to face her brusqueness for long hours of work, then her warmth all too briefly at night. He was confused and had no idea whether it was more fun to be with her as friends, or as lovers. He treasured both but could not see how they could coincide. And if that was not complicated enough, there was Cinder…
The half-elf stood on Bessemer’s door step, kicking her heel against its corner. Presently, Dirk came out and she eagerly took his arm. “I have to get cleaned up first,” he warned as they began to walk.
“That’s fine,” said Cinder.
It was the first time Cinder had seen Dirk since he delivered her wardrobe three days earlier. He had sent her a note just the day before, asking if she would like to go to dinner. She did. Their sex had been astounding, just short of spectacular. Despite her three dates with other, older men since, Dirk was all Cinder thought about. If there had been one downfall to their meeting, it was that Dirk had left her too soon. Cinder could love all night, and often liked to, but Dirk returned to work after only a few hours with her. But that was fine too, for Cinder. Their brief encounter had held her, albeit anxiously, until that day. Dirk was a human, if there ever was one, who would be of interest to one of elven blood. He had a gentle spirit, which would appeal to the loving children of Nature, but he had a fire, a drive, and a physique found only in humanity. He was the perfect combination of brawn and heart to a half-Faerie looking for a human in whom she could trust.
Cinder had awakened a lust Dirk never realized. His encounter with Melissa had helped, as well. He still liked Melissa, a lot. But Cinder was addictive on him like nothing he had ever experienced. He could not explain the draw, then, after so many years of being able to resist. “What the hell,” he thought. “It feels so good, and what’s wrong with it? Maybe I’ve been a prude long enough.” Cinder was too incredible for Dirk to not see again or to fight his attraction to, even if she did not promise to be the friend that Melissa was, even if he believed in his heart she would never be with him longer than a few weeks: she was too incredible to ever want a deliveryman. And he certainly put to the back of his mind any relation to the Dirk there with Cinder and the one who worked with Melissa all day. Again, if he simply pretended hard enough, he could be two Dirks, at least until he could figure out what he wanted and how to have it all.
“Why haven’t you come to see me?” Cinder asked playfully.
“I told you. I don’t have the money to buy anything, and I work all day, too.”
“Yes, you told me. But it doesn’t cost any of your gold just to visit. You don’t have to buy anything.” She squeezed his muscles.
“I’ll come one of these days.”
“Okay,” Cinder said happily. She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her hair was held up off her neck by a long blue ribbon which matched the color of her large eyes and that of her knee-length dress. They walked, passing a mercer whose display overflowed into the street, taking up the entire sidewalk in fact. When Cinder stopped to view his cloths, Dirk examined the ribbons hanging on a stand, like that in Cinder’s hair, and he bought her several.
“Oh, how sweet,” she said, taking them and kissing his cheek before walking on. “It wasn’t easy getting off work so early. I can’t believe that you’re finished so soon.”
“I start just after sunrise,” Dirk explained. “It’s only fair I get a few hours off so I have daylight to do some personal business. A lot of places close at dusk.”
Cinder put her wrist to his nose. “Like it?” she asked.
“It smells nice,” Dirk admitted and Cinder stretched to whisper the price in his ear. “Great gods!” he exclaimed. Cinder laughed and covered his mouth.
“Shhh. You don’t have to buy it and neither do I. I get to use whatever kind I want when I arrive at work. Just don’t come and see me before then or I won’t smell pretty,” she explained, laughing sweetly and sounding like a child in her innocence; an innocence Dirk could not believe existed within the same woman who had nearly sexually devoured him. But strangely, she did posses innocence and Dirk saw it as naturally in her as in anyone. Despite her sexual fire and playfulness, Cinder truly was like a child, without immaturity. Only her caring, her curiosity and her affection were childlike; her mind and speech and mannerisms were all well developed and proper. Cinder was a combination of traits Dirk could not imagine within one body, and each one dynamic beyond the scope of the same traits he had witnessed in people possessing only one.
“Well,” he looked at her, “I’m sure that your boss doesn’t want you using up all the expensive stuff.”
“Oh she doesn’t care. If people like how I smell, then they might buy it. Then they would be buying the most expensive ones, yes? Besides, you only need a drop of the really fine perfumes...and I thought tonight was a special occasion.”
“And what would that be?”
“Seeing you,” Cinder said, her eyes softening for him, seeming as if she could see right through him so intense was her gaze.
“You do look nice,” confirmed Dirk, blushing at her straightforwardness.
“Thank you,” Cinder said routinely, dropping his arm and twirling around in display. Dirk agreed; very much so. He wanted to touch her, but was afraid to. Cinder was, judging by the way she looked and dressed, probably always in the company of rich merchants or noblemen. Dirk accepted that these men were better than he and knew how to treat her better as well. But Dirk was proud of himself and thought he had done well for an orphan. While many of his former mates at the orphanage had resorted to crime to make a living, Dirk had stayed honest and did not sacrifice morals or hard work simply to secure an easy life or money. And he was working on p
lans for a promotion beyond all that, at no one else’s expense, no less.
The lovers reached Dirk’s home and climbed the stairs. “Here you go,” he said, following her in the room after opening the door. “I’m sorry. It’s not real nice.”
“I don’t care,” she scoffed, sounding slightly insulted. “I’m not a snob...really.” Cinder went to his bed, which he had made that morning for the first time in weeks, knowing that Cinder might be there. He had borrowed a couple of paintings from Bessemer’s warehouse the night before and hung them for decoration: he would have the pieces back in the morning before they would ever be missed.
“Thanks,” Dirk said, beginning to wonder if his fear of pleasing her was all in his own mind. Cinder really never had given him reason, other than her exquisite beauty, to think that she needed any special treatment.
“Is this your bed?” Cinder asked almost as if in awe, running her hand across it and smiling. She sat down, stroking the covers as Dirk pulled an old towel from his dresser and walked to the door.
“I have to go down to the first floor,” he explained, trying to ignore Cinder’s infatuation with sex, despite what he had dreamt of doing with her in that very bed every night since he had met her; when he wasn’t with Melissa.
“What?” Cinder asked, having not heard him, thinking instead of his bed, what they had done in hers the other day, and what she wanted in his right then. Dirk repeated himself. “Okay. I’ll be here,” she said, patting the bed. Dirk left, then thought he had better warn her that he might be gone some time. He walked back in to find Cinder standing by the bed, bent over and lifting the covers. She dropped them, stood up, and smiled.
“Yes?” she asked perkily. Dirk looked curiously at her.
By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) Page 8