Rendezvous in the Romanowskian Empire

12. Art of the concubine

Walking through the cream-walled hallways, Cheryl observed her surrounding. Marble pristine interior with a water fountain in the centre.

Men and women roamed around, some going into their assigned rooms, others having friendly talks.

A concubine was a mistress of sorts who came at one level below the status of a wife. But, not only should they know about matters of pleasing, but they must be acquainted with every work an ancient housewife did.

And as much as Cheryl liked to flirt, she shuddered this time when an alpha-all-muscle for a man grinned at her from a distance.

Spotting the fountain hall, she entered the corridor at the fountain's left and walked briskly, keeping her head bowed.

It was a good rule no man was allowed to touch any woman except the one given to them.

A familiar giggle at the end of the corridor made her head turn.

Long black braid.

There she was, that fierce cub.

Up against the shadowed corner of the wall where her fiancé held her delicately. He leant towards her ear to whisper something, and she burst into a wave of laughter.

Concubine Lola took in a deep breath and sighed a great deal. The sight eased her nerves a lot.

Keep calm and be like Fierce cub, she chanted in her head and waddled towards the assigned room.

Gently opening the door, she entered the pint-sized room.

Stratos was drinking his ass off.

He was one heavily built chunk of flesh, looking like a guy straight out of a romance movie gone horribly wrong. Clearly hungover, as if his girlfriend of ten years had dumped him for his brother.

Drunk men screamed disaster that she wasn't ready for.

"My booze is my baby huhu
Hahahaha my booze is my baby huhuhu," he sang out.

Swirling the orange liquid in his goblet, he took in another swig of the booze, sputtering out some in the process.

Cheryl cringed.

Carefully tiptoeing through the corners of the room, her eyes trained on him as he swayed now and then.

Thank god at least he isn't butt ugly. She exhaled.

She kept stepping backwards, reaching an old cupboard filled with cobwebs. Dragging it discreetly away from the wall, she took out her AI book from under her robes and dropped it in the gap between the wall and the furniture.

Stratos's red eyes shot towards her.

Art of seduction rule three - when a man catches your unaware attention, the concubine classes reeled in her head.

You've got this Cher, yes you can do it. You can always go full self-defence and knock him unconscious, anyway. She remembered; steeling herself. 

Slowly standing up from the ground, she made a curve of her waist, dusting off her dress in a way that made Stratos's breath hitch at the sensual sight.

Biting down on her lower lip, she trudged towards his seated self, pulling out the little wooden stick that held her hair and swung her head carelessly, letting the silk hair fall around her arms.

He gulped, his eyes not blinking for a second as she tore out the linen draped around her torso to reveal a single strapless piece of cloth tied around her chest.

He lost it.

Cheryl smirked at the lust swirling behind his ombre eyes. Now that the animal was under control, she could tame it.

"May I, master?" she leaned forward, looking like a docile cub as his eyes kept flickering down her neck.

"Lola," he husked, keeping the booze aside.

"You remember my name, hmm," she was a walking tease by now as she strolled in front of him.

But that didn't go on for long as he grabbed her by her arm, making her fall on his lap.

She tried to squirm away, but it only made him hold her tighter. "I've never seen a woman so graciously taught in the art of love," he whispered, biting on the earlobe that made her hiss.

"You were drinking. I don't like to do it with drunk men," she slurred in a complaining tone. The room was tidy, except for the mess this drunkard had made with his booze.

Though she thought she could pull this act with ease, she was a nervous wreck on the inside.

She had to take the lead or she would be go, went, gone.

"That was recuperation, darling." he nuzzled across her neck, taking in the fragrance of the rosemary oil she had to apply to her body.

"Recuperation from?" she asked, skillfully moving her hands through his hair.

"My love Ira!" he growled, "that bastard saved her little sister from some other bastard and now she's all over him!" he began sobbing down her neck.

"Which bastard?" she asked softly, and he raised his head sharply to glare at her.

"Why?" he asked slowly, dangerously. "You also want him?!"

"No no, I'm here to cheer you master and no one else," her heart jumped to her throat when his hand crept up her back to fiddle with the single piece of cloth.

"Prove it, Lola," he smirked, tugging harder on the cloth. Seeing no other choice, she pushed him onto the bed below her and started kissing his bare chest.

When she heard him groan with his head thrown back, she continued with the kisses, picking up a thrown goblet and his booze bottle.

Quickly pouring in some, she bought it close to his lips, "you can't refuse a drink from Lola, can you?" she whispered seductively and he voraciously gulped it down.

If he won't be drunk to oblivion, she never knew when his urge would grow stronger in the heat of lust and drunkenness.

The more the better. She filled another glass and poured it down his throat.

God, I don't want to do anything with him! She fretted. Though she was confident enough to handle him. Soon his eyes became all droopy.

"You know he is not even Egyptian, he's a damn... damn Persian!" he bellowed, throwing the goblet across the room and finally laid his head back on the bed, breathing harshly.

"I am sure, master, you'll be able to get the love of your life back. Who is he that dares to take what is yours?" she said because, frankly, she wasn't getting another comeback line to soothe him.

He was tired of the hangover by now but still murmured that couldn't, at any cost, go unnoticed by her.

"I will kill him. I will kill that Fartaxerxes."