Durante Androsciani was irritated. He hated attending events hosted by Emilio Mazini. The man was an insufferable prig who only invited Adrosciani when he wanted to brag over his latest acquisition--whether it was a new horse, or a rare piece of fine artwork, or a fresh faced courtesan. And now he was wandering Mazini's overdone halls looking for Theus knew what. At least when Androsciani invited people over to show off, always put his newest toy out in the open for everyone to see. None of this scavenger hunt bullshit.
He didn't even know what he was looking for. A statue, a painting, a woman, it could even be a book for all he knew. Though it probably wasn't a book, he wasn't sure Mazini knew how to read, let alone know the value of old texts (Androsciani didn't either, but he had people working for him who did). And it wasn't a woman. Mazini had a new one, gorgeous, sensual, sultry. Lust personified, wrapped up in an obscene amount of red. But she wasn't for sharing--Mazini had made that quite clear by the way that he kept her close and watched her like a hawk whenever she was anymore than three steps away. He was probably enjoying her right now, the bastard. He'd probably set up this whole wild goose chase just to get his guests out of the way.
Androsciani ducked into Mazini's study. It was, he reasoned, one of the last places anyone would think to look. Who would think that Mazini would display anything in this place, full of dry, dusty books no one read, and chairs that no one sat in, in a room that hardly anyone...
He stopped at the door of the study, his search forgotten. Because there she was. Mazini's vision of desire. She was facing away from the door, examining the books. He watched her fingers run lightly along the rows of books, and he couldn't help but imagine those nimble fingers running along his skin. He could see bare flesh, from the nape of her neck where her dress tied in back, all the way down to just above the curve of her buttocks, where the train of her gown cascaded nearly to the floor. If he closed his eyes, he could see the clinging, shimering confection of lace and silk concealing her body from her neck, over the swell of her breasts, descending from her hips to her feet. It was covering enough to be modest and yet suggestive enough for him to imagine the fabric sliding silently to the floor.
She was looking him, he realized. Watching him over her shoulder, that damned teasing smile on her face.
"I think I came to the wrong room," he ground out through clenched teeth. He wanted to go over there and wipe that smirk off her face. To show her what a real man, not that poseur Mazini, was like.
"I think you know you didn't," she smiled, turning around and stretching her arms above her head. Androsciani swallowed as he watched her back arch, pressing her ripe curves against the taut fabric of the dress. And then she was sauntering towards him, with that mesmerizing sway of her hips--each step revealing a silky smooth length of leg, from her ankle to her calf, up her thigh...
"...what?" He asked, taking a step back. She was saying something and he had missed it. Reluctantly, he dragged his eyes away from the bare flesh of her leg, up across the expanse of taut fabric clinging to her skin, up to those perfect lips. They were upturned, smiling wickedly, with just a hint of smug condescension. He swallowed, feeling the solid oak of the wall against his back. He wondered if she looked at Mazini with that same smile when she let him have her--the man certainly wasn't forceful enough to take a woman like this.
"Well, I was asking if you liked my dress," she purred, running the tip of her tongue along her lips as if in anticipation while her eyes traced his body, "but I can see that you do."
He coughed, a blush rising to his cheecks. This is silly, he thought. Here he was, pinned up against a wall by a woman half his size while she made him blush like a girl with her first crush. He bet Mazini put her up to this, looking for a way to embarrass him. Well, I'll show him, he sneered mentally as he groped for the door, I'm nobody's fool.
Still, he was unable to tear his eyes away from her sensuously approaching form.
"Emilio didn't want me to wear this tonight," she pouted, so close now that he could reach out and touch her--almost did reach out and touch her, "something about being too much for his guests to handle. I'm not too much for you, am I?"
"N-no," he stammered, as she reached out a finger and ran it along his jawline. If this wasn't part of Mazini's plan, then he was in big trouble. The man might be an ass, but he could have Androsciani killed without too much trouble. There! He'd found the door knob! Still the thought of tasting this bit of forbidden fruit sent a thrill down his spine.
"Hmmm, then why are you reaching for the door?" she breathed, so close that he could smell the heady scent of her perfume. He tugged once at the door, but it didn't move.
He glanced down and discovered that perfect leg, left bare by the slit along the side of the dress, ending is a delicate slipper holding the door shut.
"You didn't answer my question," she said as her hand left his face and traveled down his arm, "why are you reaching for the door," she asked, taking his hand and guiding it to her bare flesh, "instead of for me?"
Androsciani swallowed, trying to think of what would happen if Mazini ever found out...but it was impossible with her pressed up against him, her silky soft skin under his hand...
She leaned her head in closer. Part of him tried to shy away, but there was no more room to retreat. He thought she was going to kiss him, but instead she moved her lips to his ear, and ever so softly whispered, "This will be our little secret..."
It was too much. Androsciani growled, sliding his hand up her leg to pull her tight against him. His free hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head to one side as he buried his face in her neck. Her body shuddered as he held her and she let out a quiet moan. "Hmmmm, where have you been?" she sighed excitedly.
He was about to turn, to pin her against the wall, like he'd been pinned, trapped by his own desire. But the sound of someone just on the otherside of the wall, yelling, "Eureka! I found it!" made him freeze for just a second.
And far faster than she had entered into his embrace, she broke free of Androsciani's grasp and leapt clear of his fumbling grasp.
"Time's up, " she chirped, though he thought he could detect a lingering trace of huskiness.
"I think not," he growled, unwilling to let this little tease get away without showing her exactly what she had awakened.
"Oh, I think it is," she laughed, skipping back further out of reach. Androsciani lunged for her, but came up short. Looking back, he saw that his doublet had been pinned to the wall by an exquisite hairpin.
"Perhaps you will be better prepared next time," she laughed as she slipped out a side door in a swirl of red silk and pale skin.
With a grunt of effort Androsciani, freed himself. Next time, he swore, she wouldn't get off so easily.
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