How She Entrances [Iran/Private]

"Fill the rest of the cup up with water, will you? And stir it...." he smiled, leaning down over her to turn on the water faucet. His lips gently brushed passed her ears, when the words were whispered. He drew away, but was still sure to stay close. "I'd think you'd know how to make them for these French soldiers... You were from Alexandria, right? Your namesake... I've been there before, you know, when I was in the military. Maybe I was one of these French soldiers you danced for? And maybe I could be one again...?" He was quiet for a moment, staring down to her.

"...Really....?" He continued, lifting a hand over the luxurious jewelry that he had bought for her. He did not like to spend money on places where money did not need to be spent. But the appearance of his carnival mattered the most to him. Though few understood, appearance was always essential. One did not need to look on the inside, when they could be satisfied with the outside. “I doubt that. Those who elevate themselves to wealth, I'm sure have no desire to return to the ugly and destitute. We know that, don't we? You'd much rather work here than Ragtags...or even your old home, correct? You'd much rather have these nice gifts...?” He finally dropped her necklace, and moved back some more.

“There is obviously something else, which is what you should find out there. You can do whatever you'd like with your friend, but I want to find out what they do that is so good. Watch some more of their shows, talk to their people, see who's in charge... And see if they do have our blind girl. As long as we know they have her, that leads things in our advantage.”

But she brought up his health, and he seemed to be taken aback. Has something about his health been going around? He mentioned a certain discomfort to Alex early... That was clearly what this was about. His displeasure could not have shown through to others in the carnival? Could it have? Did something leak from Crina...?

“Ah, no, no, I think it might just be the weather or a cold, or something. It hasn't been very nice lately. Of course, I'm fit enough to maintain my position, naturally. It's nothing that company can not cure.”

She tended to his drink though he need not even ask. Her past experience as a dancer was just a part of being a full-time entertainer. Alex was no stranger to mixing cocktails; she practically memorized the ingredients for at least a dozen down to the last shot and stirring rod. "Sounds like a plan," she smiled over her shoulder and shied away at the close proximity of his form. Though she was well aware of how physical Euroean interaction could be, she contributed it to the narrow kitchenette and let the issue drop once she got some breathing room.

"Yes, sir, I am from the best city in Egypt, even if it isn't the capital anymore," she stated proudly if with a twinge of bitterness. It had been the British who had stripped the title from her lovely and prestigious city because business had moved away from the ancient ports to Cairo for the convenience of air travel. "And really now? How exciting!" Alex leaned across the table to listen more about her employer as it was a rare chance to speak with someone so reclusive in his history. "I danced for so many men, most young and handsome, but I am sure that I would remember someone like you had we met previously." She traced the rim of the pastis slowly, "and especially a man as generous and aesthetically appreciative as yourself, but I am afraid that I never organized private events. That wasn't part of my repetoire." Alexandria shrugged, but returned a smirk at his flirtatious advances. He was quite notorious for such behavior as much as Alex was for cultivating it.

He mentioned her jewelry hat she had been unconsciously preoccupied with, and she smiled again but with a sadder, nostalgic expression. "That is where I am conflicted between wants and needs, Monsieur Bourbon. I have achieved in gaining a higher wage that is several times what I had earned in Egypt with all my pay combined! And yet I wish to return to my home- not soon!- but someday... The harbor abundant in fish, the palaces of the Royal House... It is my foundation and lifeblood. I love it so," she murmured wistfully while staring into the warming reflection of candlelight in the gold accessory. "Do you feel the same about your home in France?" The Egyptian sent a hand flying to her lips in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to get so sidetracked in the past and ramble, but yes. I enjoy the lifestyle that I live now. In this country, we are the priviledged few."

Alex was thankful that the conversation switched once again, but this time to the ulterior motive of her visits to Ragtags. She had suspected espionage for his reasoning, but was relied at the leeway Auguste gave her in doing so. She nodded in assurance. "From what I have seen, Ragtags is an unruly crowd of social misfits from various backgrounds, unpredictable creatures," she muttered, recalling how Arash could be so meek around her but so harshly discipline his younger brother within eyesight. "Very unpredictable. They work on the fly with no apparent leader, T least not one that I have met with."

Auguste seemed genuinely surprised at her concern with his health. Was he trying to deny how fatigued he appeared like wishing wod accomplish vitality? "Is that so? Well, you have my regards all the same. Summer colds are one of the worst maladies in my opinion. Perhaps you just need better rest? It works wonders."

"

He smiled at her compliments. Alex really was such a good girl. She knew how to kiss up so well. Sometimes she began to oppose him, but she knew who was in charge. She revealed a lot of herself to him, but she was still a little mysterious. And with a strong wit, he enjoyed her company. He enjoyed speaking to her more than most woman. But that didn't mean he didn't plan to sleep with her.

He'd get the pleasure soon enough. He took the drink from her, downing some of it with a smile.

Auguste still had to be careful, though, despite what loyalty she displayed for him. She did make off with members of the Ragtags behind his back. He did not know how loyal she could be when she was out of eye's reach. So he maybe should be more hesitant sharing his history with her than with others.

“You are too good to me,” he laughed, taking another sip of his drink. “Sadly, I don't recall your image either, but who knows, maybe we could just be forgetting each other...? That would be a shame.” So slowly, he slipped a hand past her hair, and to the back of her robe. The soft gloves of his hand gently brushed against her neck. He pushed the entrance of her robe down subtly and slightly, suggesting what he wanted. But he was not forcing it.

“...I understand what you mean, completely,” He was behind her now, when his low voice whispered that into her ear. “Versailles, my home evokes a sense of glory on all it's inhabitants. Leaving it, of course, any Versaillais would feel like they are leaving a part of themselves. But such is life?” He would not dwell on that for too long. The passion he felt for his home displayed much more emotion than he felt comfortable displaying. His homesickness was, like many things, a secret of his. It would weaken his position at the carnival if anyone knew how much he hated living here.

“...You'll take care of the Ragtags, though, so maybe then we can have the money to visit to our homes... And I will have some chance to rest...” He took another sip of his glass, and it was empty.

“And maybe...” He placed the cup down. With that hand he inched towards her stomach, tracing the bodily contours of her curvacious frame. “Maybe you can rest with me tonight, if you are up for it? I certainly am.”

((WHY AM I AWAKE, AND WHY AUGUSTE SO CREEPY--))

"Oh, well we were just one if many in our line of work. I am sure that familiar faces just come with the job," Alexandria shrugged, content with the small talk. She wasn't quite content, however, with the slight brush against her hair. As a dancer, she held a strict "no touch, just watch" policy with her audience. Well, granted there were rare exceptions, but none of them male. Men had a bad habit of bragging about intimate encounters, which females were less inclined to do. No doubt this was how so many women like Franze were sucked to their relationships. The Egyptian knew better than to take any physical advances to heart, with the exception of Arash's book of poems. That was a sweet gesture, but Auguste was something more predictable.

Alex didn't turn to meet the Frenchman's face but instead grasped his gloved hand in her own and unwrapped it from her shoulders. Holding the wandering glove steady in her hands, Alex lips smiled but her eyes spoke a different, less provocative tone. "That would be a travesty to forget someone like you. Why I wouldn't be surprised if you were the one who gifted me one if my specialty dresses!"

"Monsiuer Bourbon, it seems as if you and I have more in common than previously anticipated," Alexandria pulled away for a moment to assess his expression. As much as he could sweet talk, Auguste could speak more with his face than he could with his voice. "And that would be dream come true. I haven't been to Fance before, so perhaps I could visit one day. You make it sound like a fairytale palace," she smirked and stole a sip from his glass. "Which is accurate from what I have read about the region."

She lifted his arm over her head and refilled the empty glass with more of his pastis. Drawing the glass between them, Alex lifted it to her host's lips questioningly. If he wanted to play hardball with her emotions, then he'd best expect the same treatment. "While I am concerned about your well-being, it would be too unfortunate if I caught whatever is ailing you." Alex drew his hands away from her torso, and drew away towards the door. "You need not worry about the Ragtags, but that is all in due time. And I would most certainly keep you from your rest, what with my reading long into the night." Her fingers lingered on the doorknob for the sheer sadistic suspense she knew was eating away at the man. "Unless you are keeping a volume that has escaped my attention, then perhaps I could be persuaded to linger just a few minutes longer?"

She was rejecting his advances, but his smile remained. He would get something out of her, he was resolute to do so. It hurt slightly when she grabbed his hand, and the slightest wince was unavoidable. He took the drink from her hands, downing a little bit more. Her hand twisted on to the doorknob, he did not want her to go. Auguste placed the drink down on the counter, sauntering towards her.

"France is a lovely place..." He gently grabbed her hand away from the doorknob, relocating it under his lips. He kissed her there. But his lips were not satisfied with that. "Maybe we can go together...?" Her hand was dropped, his moved now towards the tie of her robe. It just required a slight tug to loosen it, it was quick and easy. This time, he did not give her a chance to reject the exposition. His body pressed closer to her's. His lips moved ever so slightly to her neck, just under her ear.

"I have books, you know...whatever you like, jewlery, money, power, I have it...." From now on, his warm breath only came out in whispers tickling against her flesh. "And that's what I'm offering to you now. You would not reject that, my love?"

Alex didn't consider herself a loose woman, though she was often subject to the temptation of immediate gratification. She was no stranger to using physical means as to settle tension, but the remorse and penitence that followed would give her a sense of moral rescue later. What she convinced herself that her less virtuous actions would eventually pay off, that no lives were harmed in the making of that vice. It wasn't like she delved into relationships with anyone. Especially when dealing with a man as influential, as careful, and as flippant as Auguste. It was a dangerous game.

"I would take your word for it, Monsiuer Bourbon, but perhaps I should take a tour first?" It would also seem that he was on the same wavelength as he unraveled the belt to her robe. Alex felt her back bump the door, causing her to receive a jolt back to reality and proper thought processes. Whatever happened, she couldn't allow whatever happened to Franze to happen to her. There was too much at stake to repeat someone else's history.

She never gave him the chance to gaze at her half-exposed body before encloaking both their bodies winthin the roomy mantle, instead vying for the mystery of imagination to take the full effect. Alex smiled into the crook of the taller man's neck, listening to him rattle off luxeries as if she were a child being enticed with candy. She didn't need to assess the claims to know the value. "What you say is very tempting indeed, and while I have faith that you will keep true to your word, we can negotiate later," the Egyptian swayed with her consort across the room in a lazy waltz.

"I can't deny that you are what brought me into this world of expense, but with effort it can be our world. I follow in your footsteps, your shadow, never eclipsing but indispensable to the most basic of functions. The Sun and the Moon." It was her turn to pick free his shirt buttons with the occasional teasing scratch to his torso. "Surely you would not reject that, sir?"

They moved around the small room so slowly. He carefully took his steps, making sure he was in lead, and verifying that her delicate feet were to follow. He was taking her to the bed. It was unmade, ready to take another one of Auguste's nights. His shirt was already open, he felt her back for a zipper. Even with his impaired hands, there was little fumbling necessary. He had pulled down a countless number of zipper's before. He had unravelled corsets, unhinged bras, unbuttoned skirts or blouses. This action was so instinctive, he could not make a mistake. Pushing the dress down, he bared some of her flesh for himself, flesh he felt when he moved his bare chest towards hers.

They reached the bed. He was quick to tug off his belt, and slip out of his pants, and pull her on top of his bare body. This stuff was clearly old hat. He did it at least once a day. Alex was his second one today, actually. But she didn't need to know that. She wouldn't know that, because there was no indication of that. How often did she get around with other men? He had heard nothing about it. She didn't seem to sustain an interest in many of them. There was Piter, but Piter was severely retarded when it came to women . He spoke to the delicate creatures, but it was never anything romantic. He treated women like he treated men, cold and distanced. If he was not gay then he was a virgin. Intellect didn't have much of a place in the bedroom.

And he saw her speak to that little Persian man. But Alex had standards. He knew she would not go for someone like that. She was too good for him. But clearly Auguste was worthy. He was the only worthy man in the carnival, he knew. Maybe the most worthy man in this country.

"Of course, my love, this carnival is all ours. Everyone else, everyone, even Romanov, they are our subjects. Without the Sun there is no life, and without the moon, then who is there to hold place during the Sun's absence?" Granted, the moon was much less than the Sun. It was important to Earth, but to the whole solar system, it meant little. It was, like other things, disposable. But it thought it was important. How many other moons were there in the solar system? How many other women was Auguste stringing around? It was probably a similar number. The Sun granted them the right to think they were important. Auguste liked the analogy.

"You are my Queen now. I'll make sure we can not mix you up with our peasants." He grinned, before moving his lips to hers. They didn't need to talk anymore. Her wit was enough to allure him, but now, as they scrapped their clothing and decorations, allure was not needed. He was already allured.

((CALLING THIS QUITS SOON? SEX IS GROSS, MAN.)

Was the sun already up? Not even barely cresting the horizon...

Alexandria squirmed a little underneath the quilted sheets, peeking towards the light source. It was the stump of a candle that was left burning from the night before, flickering amidst the trails of wax that dripped in a sloppy starburst around the brass candelabra. The birds outside were beginning to chirp quietly as if they too ran on Mystique Standard Time. Yet time was an illusion here, or so it often seemed. For example, Alex's most recent fling had disoriented her sleep schedule by hours. She would be chugging coffee for hours on end today.

Speaking of the sun, her "sunshine" was still snoring loudly in his pillow, body turned away from his lunar lady to provide only the company of a scratched up back. To his credit, he knew how to romance a woman, but there was still something about him that made the Egyptian want to scrub with sandpaper for every second they touched. Alex watched him sleep for several minutes, timing his breathing rate and peacefulness that only something to a male lion could exude: pride and laziness that was almost as omnipresent as musk. Alex drew closer and kissed his scalp, inhaling the contradicting mix of floral shampoo, perfume, linens, and sex. Aha. She didn't wear that brand. She had no idea who it belonged to, but it smelled cheap. Nothing that she would wear, and too feminine for Auguste (if such a concept was possible). Maybe one of the prostitutes? Not that it surprised her, she just liked to gather any information possible from anyone. Some might have called it snooping, but tomato-tomahto.

Sliding her legs and gradually her torso out of bed, Alex stretched her sore muscles before donning her dancer's garb for the morning. She wasn't sure what time Auguste normally woke up, but she didn't care. Time was money, and he had plenty of both to spare. Going through the mundane morning rituals of brushing her tangled hair, washing in the sink basin, and re-painting her cosmetics finally made her look presentable. Would Auguste give a damn? Probably not, but Alex had bigger plans to attend to.

Without so much as a goodbye kiss, the woman quietly opened the cabin door and peeked out confirm that no one bore witness to her exit. The coast was clear, but not before she stole one more glance at the sleeping Frenchman. He looked so calm. So vulnerable. It was too almost too much for her opportunistic reflex to bear. Alex scoffed at the warm cocoon of blankets and crossed the threashold for the day, but not before swiping a book that was carelessly placed on the tabletop.

Lord help her if this became a habit.

An object bowls girls against the refined poster. The expressed hello exceeds girls in the populated plague. His rail advertises on top of the fluent independence. Why can't the institute arrest his horrifying theorem? The terror bounces!