Time for the content warning, folks. This installment features heavy duty BDSM and the big ol' lady dick from part 2. Oh, and adultery and heartbreak. So, you know. Watch out if you don't dig on those!
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Each sip of the icy cocktail gave Karandreya a small shiver that had very little to do with the temperature. She'd ordered the first thing the beleaguered waiter had suggested when he returned to the bar - something they called a Blue Room, a citrusy concoction of gin, blue curacao, and a peculiar liqueur that tasted like nothing quite so much as an art cupboard - and drinking it gave her an opportunity to breathe. Her plan had worked despite the odds! Here she was in the Locks club, a successful infiltrator, and her quarry had fallen for her wiles!
Why, then, did she feel so nervous? She pushed the thought down, and took the last sip of the drink, rapping the bar for another. It wasn't an entirely unpalatable mixture, and it had the kind of fire on its edge that told her that, if her nerves refused to surrender to reason, she could rely on it to bludgeon them into submission. Breathing deep through her nose, fingers playing over the fringe of her chiffon stole, she turned away from the bar with her fresh drink in hand.
It must just be because it's new... People do this all the time.
She tried to tell herself, but her heart refused to leave her throat. Some part of her knew that wasn't it - it wasn't just first time jitters over her adultery. Hainora's dreadful stare had made her flush and stammer, left her weak in the knees, and now, she realized with the benefit of distance, dampened the gusset of her panties. Being looked at like that - stripped bare, objectified, and reduced to the level of mere prey - had excited her despite it being beneath her station. She was in danger of losing control over the chase, and with a shudder at her own body's wretched betrayal, she took a deep drink and deliberately made her way out of the smoky gambling den and back into the grand salon.
"You can do this..." She whispered to herself, disguising her attempt to recover her self control by staring at an abstract art work that seemed to consist entirely of variously coloured cubes that, queerly, gave her the impression of the innocent joy of a child running through a garden. "...You can do this. You just have to fuck her and then tell Bliss, that's all, and you're even. So what if she wants it too? That just makes it easier."
Her words were hollow in her ears and she lingered before the art for a moment, then pulled away, desperate for distraction. The door in the opposing wall seemed as good a place as any to start exploiting her license from Hainora to roam and explore. It opened into the club's library, lit by gaslamps in a way she could only describe as intimate. Here and there reading desks glowed, their green-hooded lamps small puddles of light in the twilit sea. A curious, throaty giggling whispered from one of the quiet alcoves between the floor-to-ceiling shelves, and Dreya slunk towards it.
It whispered again - not an echo, for the leatherbound books and chairs seemed to swallow sound in a way most other libraries could only dream of - as she neared, and she pressed against the bookshelf. The scent of the leather and musty pages overwhelmed the cocktail in her hand, and she nearly swooned. Was this club life? Secret assignations in the libraries, outrageous gambling, and opulence of a kind that more than a few nobles would murder to obtain? No wonder Seawhisper had been so emotional about it!
Her heart in her throat again, but now with an excitement she hadn't felt since playing hide or seek as a girl, Dreya slowly shuffled to the corner of the shelves, held her breath, and leant her head out to peek. It took a powerful effort for her not to gasp, as there was her escort in this strange land, Sir Anton, wrapped in the arms of another man! They kissed passionately, so passionately there could be no mistaking it for a mere fraternal embrace, their bodies enmeshed together hungrily. In shock, Dreya drew back again and slunk away from the shelves. Sir Anton was married, she knew, from their conversation - but there he was!
And why should that shock her, she thought suddenly, when she was here to commit adultery herself? It was enough to reduce her to a stifled giggle of her own as she made her escape back into the grand salon and sipped at her cocktail. It was almost a shame that she'd be burning any chance of joining the Club tonight with her revenge, but it would be worth it, she was sure, to see Bliss's rage when she told her she'd fucked her wife. The reassuring warmth of the gin blossoming in her chest was finally settling her nerves, and she allowed herself to linger there in the beautiful salon. Her solitude gave her a chance to take her time with the art, to indulge in each piece.
"You didn't wander far." Hainora said behind her, and she jumped. She'd been caught in the appreciation of the delicate lines of one of the statues - a woman in marble so carefully carved that it looked as if someone had petrified a real person, every fold of the clothes layered and draped just so - and hadn't heard the large elf approach. Heart pounding, she turned, smiling.
"No, I suppose not, but with all of this... I could scarce resist. I've always loved the art of sculpture."
"Of course." Hainora smiled at her indulgently, and looked over her shoulder. "And the Marin pieces like that are certainly worth a close inspection. Did you touch her?"
"Touch her? Whatever for?"
"Go on. Trust me."
Raising an eyebrow, Dreya nonetheless turned and stepped close to the statue and reached out, running her fingertips over the cool surface. She shivered involuntarily at the touch of the mirror-smooth marble, and Hainora laughed softly behind her.
"See? Everyone does that, every time. Something strange about how he did it. I've never been able to figure out why. Is it just that you're touching a true masterpiece - some memory of the thousands of hours of love, care, and knowledge Marin poured into it, living in the stone, that comes out at the touch? Maybe he used the Art to do it and we can still feel it."
"It's... It's certainly something. Almost electric." Dreya whispered, unable to keep from running her palm over the petrified cloth. She half-expected it to move at each touch, but instead every hard, delicately sculpted ridge passing over her skin gave her a fresh shiver of pleasure.
"Have you ever felt electricity?"
"Hm? No, it's just an expression..."
"Not quite." Hainora laughed again behind her. "I've dabbled in the sciences - never had the touch of the Art, but the mechanical and I got along - and I've felt it a few times. It's nowhere near so pleasant as touching a Marin, or a lover. That's what I've always thought the frisson closest to - the shiver when fingers meet."
"Y-yes." Dreya found herself whispering, and despite herself, her resolve began to melt again. The faint sense of longing was returning, intensifying, and she looked over her shoulder at the much larger woman, eyes wide. She'd never felt it with Adrene, the sensual pleasure that made her fine hairs stand on end and her muscles tense in such a queerly wonderful way. Her breath caught in her chest, and she swallowed nervously as Hainora met her gaze.
"Would you like to come up to my suite, Dreya?"
"Y-yes please." She whispered again, letting her hand fall away from the statue as she turned and meekly allowed the mistress of the club to lead her astray.
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