Let me take you back, hundreds of years, to the height of the Middle Ages...
***
It was a warm night in June, and all was calm and still as the city watchmen walked the streets of London.
The alleys, however, were anything but still...
Warm, golden light spilled out into the lane from the unshuttered windows of the Dancing Bear, one of the less reputable establishments of this less than reputable quarter of the city. The distinctive sound of drunken laughter and conversation spilled out with the lantern-light, but over it all soared the pure, high notes of a young girl's song.
The young girl in question was named Alysoun, and she stood in the common-room of the tavern, singing a song about a knight and his lady fair...
"...And he took up his lance, and strode into the fray
And many a dragon did his longsword slay
And the maidens do speak of him, still to this day-
Sir Val and his weapon of wonder!"
She had been prevailed upon to sing by her companion Christina, who sat nearby, chin in hand, her dark eyes not wavering from Alysoun's lips. The girl in turn, gazed at her friend. Christina's soft, black hair seemed to absorb all light that came its way, crowning her head in shadow that trickled down in glossy curls over her shoulders. High cheekbones and a prettily-tilted nose were accented lovingly by the light that spilled over her from the lanterns and nearby fireplace, lending a warm tint to her alabaster skin. Her small mouth was curled in a smile, and mischief made her eyes sparkle.
All eyes in the room were still on Alysoun, however,and voices around the room had started to join in on the chorus. The girl's raven hair fell in shining waves to her waist, and her green-blue eyes sparkled. Her face was rounder than her companion's, with fuller lips and a button nose, but other than that, they could have been sisters- their colouring was so alike.
Both women were dressed surprisingly richly for patrons of this particular establishment, Christina in a black velvet gown accented with red satin and ivory lace, and Alysoun in a simpler, deep red velvet gown, girdled with silver.
If any man there wondered why two such wealthy ladies visited the Bear, they said nothing of it, but sang along to Alysoun's song with gusto, stamping their feet and thumping tankards on tabletops. She finished, and they gave her a rousing cheer, before turning back to their ale. The usual chatter slowly resumed as Alysoun wove her way through the tables, tossing her jet-black hair over her shoulder as she took her seat facing Christina.
She smiled prettily at the quietly handsome young man sat at the same table, and he smiled back, nodding in lieu of a bow. It was fairly obvious that he could not believe his luck. Two beautiful ladies, enjoying his company? He had to be dreaming...
As Alysoun sat down, Christina smiled warmly at her, moving a slippered foot to stroke her ankle under the table.
"Well done, my dear. Definitely a suitable choice of song for your audience!"
She took a sip of her mead, and when a drop clung to her lips, she delicately licked it off. Alysoun saw the blonde youth swallow, his gaze on Christina's lips, but turned again to Christina as she felt that foot slide a little further up her calf.
"Master Taylor was just telling me that he is a writer. Mayhap you could write a song for Alysoun, sir?"
Master Taylor raised an ink-stained finger to brush his nose as he replied, modestly,
"I would not presume to call myself a writer truly... I work as a scribe, but I am working on a small play of my own that I hope will be performed eventually." he smiled again. "And please, call me Tristan."
Alysoun's eyes brightened. "A playwright!" she exclaimed. "Oh, we love the theatre, don't we, Christina?"
Her friend nodded. "We go whenever the players are in town."
Alysoun cut in again. "Could you truly write a song for me, master Tristan?" she asked, resting her elbows on the worn tabletop and leaning forward. Her gown was laced tightly, and she knew that the fabric would be straining against her breasts as she did so.
Sure enough, the young man had a definitely covetous look in his eye as he leaned forwards to answer.
"Oh, I would not profess to own the skill that could match words to the beauty of your voice, my dear. Truly, no nightingale ever sang so sweet."
It was an overblown compliment, but then, they did not want him for his ready wit...
***
A scant fifteen minutes later found Tristan the scribe sauntering smugly up the stairs to a private room, Christina on one arm and Alysoun on the other. Behind his back, Christina raised an inquiring eyebrow at Alysoun, who nodded with a wicked smile.
"Now then, my dears, shall we have that...private performance?" asked Tristan as the door closed behind them, and he was not disappointed as Christina grasped him by the collar and kissed him deeply.
She broke off, stepped away and said with a glint in her eye,
"I hope you'll be a...responsive... audience! Come here, darling," she finished, beckoning to Alysoun, who all but flew to her side, to be swept into a passionate kiss. The girl melted into Christina's embrace, rapturous as always to simply be this close to the woman she adored...
...it was heaven. The feel of those soft, soft lips on hers, strands of ebony silk falling through her fingers as she ran a tentative hand through Christina's hair. And that scent...that delicious, sweet scent of Christina herself that was so ...entrancing... Alysoun always had a hard time keeping her head when Christina kissed her like this.