in regards to a certain letter;

[luxuryflower]

My - no, dear I won't call you, not in this - thus, to my writer,

There was no need, certainly, to write this letter of which we shan't speak further than what I now have to say. He will never receive it, neither will he read it and what use has paper, truly - simply lying about in a drawer, collecting dust and benefiting no one? It is a waste! A waste of words and time. I am a careful, if not cautious woman and you must know that I do not treat any familiarity with recklessness. Especially not Armand's and my relation. Consider... the power he holds over me. To this day.

Too much is at stake, my dear. Do not make me slip in this manner again, it shan't even be worded as a plea.

Kindest regards,
Marguerite Gautier

Comments

[luxuryflower]

If you knew the words I strewed around me like seeds in barren soil in that letter, my dear, you would think differently.

[napoleonical]

... well.

1/2

[luxuryflower]

[luxuryflower]

Have you been sneaky, my dear? Have you taken liberties with me that were not yours to claim?

[napoleonical]

No, I don't think so.

[luxuryflower]

Yet, you know of this letter which was surely mine. Down to the very wording?

[napoleonical]

Let's not make a big deal out of it. It's just a letter.

[luxuryflower]

Just a letter? Monsieur, you don't understand, clearly... [Her cheeks are turning gradually redder and her eyes taking on a shine of sheer rage.] It was personal, private, not intended for other eyes. But his.

[napoleonical]

... are you really making a scene over this? [Chuckle.] Don't leave such things out in the open next time.

[luxuryflower]

[She stomps her foot.]

It was in my drawer, Jean Louis!

[napoleonical]

[... he pauses, eyes narrowing and smile freezing.]

And it still is. Marguerite.

[luxuryflower]

[Breathing erratic, she simply stares at him for a couple of long seconds. Then, she - from one moment to the next - shifts back into her old persona.]

Would you not say, my dear, that I do have a certain way with words? Surely, this letter would have melted his heart, had he ever read it. Like you have.

[napoleonical]

You have a flair for dramatics. Quite obviously.

[luxuryflower]

Let us be pragmatic now, my good Monsieur. Dramatics sell, in my field of work.

[napoleonical]

Everything sells. [He gives her a sharp smile this time.] A hooker, longing for boundaries.

[luxuryflower]

A courtesan. A courtesan, Monsieur Duroc. I should have hoped the difference would not escape you.

[napoleonical]

A courtesan, then. [Smile gaining a bit of warmth.] Come now. Don't be upset.

[luxuryflower]

[She meets his eyes, looking every bit the 24-year-old that she'll soon be.]

Do admit that you have wronged me. I wish to hear you say it.

[napoleonical]

[... LOL.]

But I don't think I have.

[luxuryflower]

Then, you have not merely wronged me, but are in the wrong as well.

[Huff.]

[napoleonical]

I'm okay with that.

[luxuryflower]

There is a man in New Dodge whose recent network post intrigued me quite.

[napoleonical]

Oh?

[luxuryflower]

He advertised his cock in very unmistakable terms. Surely you must have seen it. [The slightest of pauses, then a small smile.] Ah, the post, I mean. Naturally.

[napoleonical]

[Both, actually. His life sucks.]

I did. What about him?

[luxuryflower]

One must wonder why he hasn't sought me out, if he finds himself in such desperate need. Wouldn't you agree, my dear?

[She makes no note of whether she would have accepted him into her bed.]

[napoleonical]

It's no great mystery. I told him not to.

[luxuryflower]

He is an acquaintance of yours? How... very apt, indeed.

[napoleonical]

Apt.

[luxuryflower]

From what I can gather, he seems both resourceful and useful, traits that I know how highly you treasure.

[napoleonical]

I do. Just look at you.

[luxuryflower]

What a compliment, my good Monsieur. Now, the question remains, after your little slip-up, shall I accept it as such?