Maid of Marvels
Lurking with Intent
- Joined
- Jul 30, 2001
- Posts
- 5,184
Madrigal came into a room much in the same way a snowstorm like the one that was brewing outside blew into the city - only she exuded a sultry heat that made men wipe their foreheads and the backs of their necks. All eyes turned as she descended the stairs, kicking out her low-heeled leather boots to afford every man and woman in the tavern a hopeful glimpse of the legendary dreams that lay beneath the fabulous drape of the burgundy skirt with interior ties that created a scalloped hemline. Her black blouse was off the shoulder with a dangerous décolletage from which a shadow of... something... a tattoo, perhaps?... peeked mysteriously.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Madrigal's discerning eyes swept over the people in the room while she paused to smooth the trinkets that dangled from her narrow belt before tapping the brim of the beribboned coachman's hat perched on top of her chestnut hair. There weren't many strangers in Niew Amsterdam at this time of year, but she had spotted someone - and that someone was who she headed toward.
"Well, well, traveller," Madrigal's voice - as smooth as silk and as thick as honey - had a taste of well-disguised venom hidden in its depths (for those who were smart or wise enough to hear it and most were not). "What brings you back to the Red Dragon?"
The question was almost a challenge. Madrigal well knew the tales that had been told about this man and his reputation. She knew that he was considered dangerous, also. It was the danger that piqued her interest, for as unattainable as this woman was, there were still some that she deigned to bestow her favors on. Might he be one of them?
A flick of her wrist sent a barmaid running into a room beyond a heavy mahogany door with a bottle filled with an amber liquid and two glasses on a tray. "You might be more comfortable... " A flick of her finger and a look over her shoulder as she sashayed toward the office were all she left for the stranger who seemed oblivious to the envious looks of the men within earshot.
Would he come, Madrigal wondered. Perhaps. Perhaps. This one had a lean and hungry look about him and she... well... she chuckled to herself and nodded confidently. She was about to feed him.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Madrigal's discerning eyes swept over the people in the room while she paused to smooth the trinkets that dangled from her narrow belt before tapping the brim of the beribboned coachman's hat perched on top of her chestnut hair. There weren't many strangers in Niew Amsterdam at this time of year, but she had spotted someone - and that someone was who she headed toward.
"Well, well, traveller," Madrigal's voice - as smooth as silk and as thick as honey - had a taste of well-disguised venom hidden in its depths (for those who were smart or wise enough to hear it and most were not). "What brings you back to the Red Dragon?"
The question was almost a challenge. Madrigal well knew the tales that had been told about this man and his reputation. She knew that he was considered dangerous, also. It was the danger that piqued her interest, for as unattainable as this woman was, there were still some that she deigned to bestow her favors on. Might he be one of them?
A flick of her wrist sent a barmaid running into a room beyond a heavy mahogany door with a bottle filled with an amber liquid and two glasses on a tray. "You might be more comfortable... " A flick of her finger and a look over her shoulder as she sashayed toward the office were all she left for the stranger who seemed oblivious to the envious looks of the men within earshot.
Would he come, Madrigal wondered. Perhaps. Perhaps. This one had a lean and hungry look about him and she... well... she chuckled to herself and nodded confidently. She was about to feed him.
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