[Adult] She's a silver lining

[Zelda Rhodes]

[Continued from here]

Zelda leaned back against the seat with a warm chuckle, and bit briefly against her bottom lip. "My compliments to them, then. I look forward to discovering how thorough your tutelage has been." Having high hopes was, she knew, a recipe for disappointment. Keeping her expectations measured was the only possible method for approaching a night with anyone new. Yet she was slick already at the notion that this man, this near-stranger for all that he was her mother's countryman, might prove all he had advertised.

"Some men, and perhaps women as well, would suggest I didn't know my place, Mr. De la Cruz. But the answer is no, not yet." Her smile curled, sly, and she slipped her foot forward to run the toe of her shoe along the length of his calf. She did not want to be smug, but it was rare enough to receive compliments regarding her work that she felt justified in preening just a little.

"You have the air of a creative," she added with a gesture his way. That he was not drab said it all. "I've been known to enjoy a play or opera when they are smartly-written and well-performed." There seemed little reason to disguise her pickiness behind pretty words; he would discover that she preferred things a certain way soon enough.

The carriage slowed and then rocked to a stop, and the shocks creaked as the driver hastened from his perch to open the door. She wondered whether such service was typical, or just for her — He had gotten two decent fares that night on account of her business, after all. "Here we are," she said to Rafael, and accepted the driver's hand as she stepped down to the sidewalk.

[Rafael de la Cruz]

Her laughter was a recurring delight, and Rafael enjoyed also the way that those teeth flashed briefly to hold her own lip. More than anything – more than any physical act, more than any perverted action or words – he wanted to be looked at in such a fashion. He wanted to be desired, devoured, reshaped into that which was found most pleasing. He hoped that he would see such a look over and over, through the length of the night... And beyond, if she found him to his liking.

"I am sure those men and women would tell me that I do not know my place either. It is my pleasure, and their loss, to disregard such jealousies." It would be crass to point out where he found his place, and anyway it hardly seemed necessary. They, the both of them, knew exactly where he was happiest.

"I suppose I do. I will admit, then, that I am a playwright who has been known to write the odd opera or play that is smartly written. Unfortunately I rarely have much say in how they are performed." While he was certain that he could impress her later with his works, that was not what he wished to be regarded for at this moment. Instead, he allowed her to disembark from the carriage before hurrying after, knowing far better than to keep such a woman waiting.

He was ready to open the door for her, should she desire it, but more than anything he was eager to be in the warmth and privacy of her home. "How do you require me to address you, once we begin?" Rafael asked in a low voice, watching Zelda carefully. Now the game had truly started, and while he did not boast emptily, it was always something of a challenge to begin anew. If this was to be a regular appointment between them, he would learn her likes, dislikes, and expectations. For now it was entirely terra incognito, and Rafael so desperately wanted to make a good impression.

[Zelda Rhodes]

Poised on the cusp of the door's threshold, Zelda examined him a long, pointed moment. "Very well trained, then," she allowed, and then smiled with a soft chuckle as she motioned for the door to be opened. Her apartment was on the second floor — Quite nice, she felt, for a single woman on an academic's salary, but not posh enough for a doorman, which was perhaps for the better.

Stepping close, she leaned in and murmured to her most-obliging companion. "On the way up, I'd like you to consider what name to call me might make you hardest." With a tap of her index finger against the side of his chin, she withdrew and proceeded inside and up the staircase.

The apartment was not large, but the furnishings were of high-quality, and a level of cleanliness that spoke to hired help despite no one opening this door, either. Zelda paused only to turn up the lights a fraction and to deposit her wrap in the slim closet by the front door before she sauntered further inside, past the sitting room and into the bedroom beyond. A postless bed dominated the space, much bigger than any single woman of upright morals had a need for. A bench upholstered in rich blue velvet stood at its foot, and she settled upon it to watch him follow after her.

"Have you decided?" she asked, and tugged up the hem of her skirts so that she might lift her right foot. If he wanted to be of service, he could begin with her shoes.

[Rafael de la Cruz]

The anticipation was not the best part of evenings like this – it would be absolutely ludicrous to say as much, even to a poet like Rafael. That being said, it was fully delectable in its own manner. He would play the perfect gentleman until they were safely ensconced in the privacy of her apartment, but that did not stop him from looking at her with adoration and bare hunger as she paused to give her first true order. Oh, it was phrased sweetly, but that did not make it any less of a command.

It might surprise those who knew of Rafael's peculiar tastes, but he had no particular fondness for any moniker or theme more than any other. It then became a guessing game of what might excite his partner, or at least prove the best for any particular session. This being his first time with Zelda (the first of many, he already hoped), simple seemed safest.

So, as he knelt before her after following her into her bedroom, obediently and gently removing her shoes, he smiled up at her. "I have, Mistress." Lest she judge him for lack of imagination, or think him withholding the truth of his desire from her, he continued, "As long as it is in service to you, any name is equal to another as far as my cock is concerned." A hint of an impish tease danced on the edges of his words and smile. Experimentally, watching closely for any hint of displeasure from the woman, he ghosted a hand up her calf, delighting in the soft stocking under his hand. "May I help you disrobe, Mistress?"