By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) (11 page)

         Cinder had awakened a lust Dirk never
realized.  His encounter with Melissa had helped, as well.  He still liked
Melissa, a lot.  But Cinder was addictive on him like nothing he had ever
experienced.  He could not explain the draw, then, after so many years of being
able to resist.  “What the hell,” he thought.  “It feels so good, and what’s
wrong with it?  Maybe I’ve been a prude long enough.”  Cinder was too
incredible for Dirk to not see again or to fight his attraction to, even if she
did not promise to be the friend that Melissa was, even if he believed in his
heart she would never be with him longer than a few weeks:  she was too
incredible to ever want a deliveryman.  And he certainly put to the back of his
mind any relation to the Dirk there with Cinder and the one who worked with
Melissa all day.  Again, if he simply pretended hard enough, he could be two
Dirks, at least until he could figure out what he wanted and how to have it
all.

         “Why haven’t you come to see me?” Cinder
asked playfully.

         “I told you.  I don’t have the money to
buy anything, and I work all day, too.”

         “Yes, you told me.  But it doesn’t cost
any of your gold just to visit.  You don’t have to buy anything.”  She squeezed
his muscles.

         “I’ll come one of these days.”

         “Okay,” Cinder said happily.  She smiled
and leaned her head on his shoulder.  Her hair was held up off her neck by a
long blue ribbon which matched the color of her large eyes and that of her
knee-length dress.  They walked, passing a mercer whose display overflowed into
the street, taking up the entire sidewalk in fact.  When Cinder stopped to view
his cloths, Dirk examined the ribbons hanging on a stand, like that in Cinder’s
hair, and he bought her several.

         “Oh, how sweet,” she said, taking them
and kissing his cheek before walking on.  “It wasn’t easy getting off work so
early.  I can’t believe that
you’re
finished so soon.”

         “I start just after sunrise,” Dirk
explained.  “It’s only fair I get a few hours off so I have daylight to do some
personal business.  A lot of places close at dusk.” 

         Cinder put her wrist to his nose.  “Like
it?” she asked.

         “It smells nice,” Dirk admitted and
Cinder stretched to whisper the price in his ear.  “Great gods!” he exclaimed. 
Cinder laughed and covered his mouth. 

         “Shhh.  You don’t have to buy it and
neither do I.  I get to use whatever kind I want when I arrive at work.  Just
don’t come and see me before then or I won’t smell pretty,” she explained,
laughing sweetly and sounding like a child in her innocence; an innocence Dirk
could not believe existed within the same woman who had nearly sexually
devoured him.  But strangely, she
did
posses innocence and Dirk saw it
as naturally in her as in anyone.  Despite her sexual fire and playfulness,
Cinder truly was like a child, without immaturity.  Only her caring, her
curiosity and her affection were childlike; her mind and speech and mannerisms
were all well developed and proper.  Cinder was a combination of traits Dirk
could not imagine within one body, and each one dynamic beyond the scope of the
same traits he had witnessed in people possessing only one.

         “Well,” he looked at her, “I’m sure that
your boss doesn’t want you using up all the expensive stuff.”

         “Oh she doesn’t care.  If people like how
I smell, then they might buy it.  Then they would be buying the most expensive
ones, yes?  Besides, you only need a drop of the really fine perfumes...and I
thought tonight was a special occasion.”

         “And what would that be?”

         “Seeing you,” Cinder said, her eyes
softening for him, seeming as if she could see right through him so intense was
her gaze.

         “You
do
look nice,” confirmed Dirk,
blushing at her straightforwardness.

         “Thank you,” Cinder said routinely,
dropping his arm and twirling around in display.  Dirk agreed; very much so. 
He wanted to touch her, but was afraid to.  Cinder was, judging by the way she
looked and dressed, probably always in the company of rich merchants or noblemen. 
Dirk accepted that these men were better than he and knew how to treat her
better as well.  But Dirk was proud of himself and thought he had done well for
an orphan.  While many of his former mates at the orphanage had resorted to
crime to make a living, Dirk had stayed honest and did not sacrifice morals or
hard work simply to secure an easy life or money.  And he was working on plans
for a promotion beyond all that, at no one else’s expense, no less.  

         The lovers reached Dirk’s home and
climbed the stairs.  “Here you go,” he said, following her in the room after
opening the door.  “I’m sorry.  It’s not real nice.”

         “I don’t care,” she scoffed, sounding
slightly insulted.  “I’m not a snob...really.”  Cinder went to his bed, which
he had made that morning for the first time in weeks, knowing that Cinder might
be there.  He had borrowed a couple of paintings from Bessemer’s warehouse the
night before and hung them for decoration:  he would have the pieces back in
the morning before they would ever be missed.

         “Thanks,” Dirk said, beginning to wonder
if his fear of pleasing her was all in his own mind.  Cinder really never had
given him reason, other than her exquisite beauty, to think that she needed any
special treatment.

         “Is this your bed?” Cinder asked almost
as if in awe, running her hand across it and smiling.  She sat down, stroking
the covers as Dirk pulled an old towel from his dresser and walked to the
door. 

         “I have to go down to the first floor,”
he explained, trying to ignore Cinder’s infatuation with sex, despite what he
had dreamt of doing with her in that very bed every night since he had met her;
when he wasn’t with Melissa.

         “What?” Cinder asked, having not heard
him, thinking instead of his bed, what they had done in hers the other day, and
what she wanted in his right then.  Dirk repeated himself.  “Okay.  I’ll be
here,” she said, patting the bed.  Dirk left, then thought he had better warn
her that he might be gone some time.  He walked back in to find Cinder standing
by the bed, bent over and lifting the covers.  She dropped them, stood up, and
smiled.

         “Yes?” she asked perkily.  Dirk looked
curiously at her.

         “I...” then he paused, perplexed, “I may
be a while.  There’s usually a line.  I said in the note that it would take me
a while and that I could meet you somewhere else if you wanted...”

         “I don’t mind waiting.  Go ahead,” Cinder
said.  Dirk did leave again, but rushed suspiciously back into the room. 
Cinder was still standing there, smiling expectantly, her hands folded politely
before her.

         “Good-bye,” Dirk said, shaking his head
in puzzlement.  This time he went downstairs. 

         Cinder walked to the door and peeked
out:  he was gone.  She went back to the bed and pulled the covers down, then
she knelt, smelling it.  It smelled of him.  She remembered his scent from the
first time they had made love and it excited her.  She climbed onto the bed,
rubbing the cool sheets.  She lay there sad and lonely for several minutes, her
imagination simply not enough to hold her until Dirk’s return.  Minutes
passed.  Then more, and she could no longer wait, the anticipation driving
Cinder mad with desire; she needed to be away from his room, his bed and his
scent.  Cinder cast open his window shutters and inhaled the less exhilarating
smells of human civilization.

         In time, her mind cleared, Cinder
returned to his bed to wait.  When Dirk entered his room, Cinder leapt up with
Elven quickness and she was standing beside his bed as if she had not moved
during his absence.  It took Dirk a few moments to notice that his bed had been
messed.  He turned to face Cinder, hands on hips, head cocked, as if saying
‘now what?’  Cinder shrugged, blushing, and ran quickly over to straighten his
sheets before sitting on the bed, long legs drawn up beneath her. 

         “I have to get dressed now,” Dirk said,
laying his dirty clothes on his dresser.  “Do you want to wait outside?” 
Cinder looked at him as if he spoke in tongues.  “I’d feel better,” he added
sincerely, obviously thinking it was the proper thing to do. 

         Cinder whined with disapproval.  “I have
seen you with your clothes off.  You have nothing to be ashamed about, believe
me.  Please,” she literally begged, “I won’t look,” she added excitedly, as if
it were a game, which to her it was.

         “Fine,” Dirk said angrily.  “Fine.  If
that’s what you want. 
I’m
not embarrassed,” he assured her
insincerely.  Dirk pulled his clean clothes from their respective drawers,
turned away and removed his towel.  Cinder gasped and Dirk pulled the towel
quickly back on, turning his head.  Cinder covered her mouth, giggling.  He
removed his cover again, watching her closely.  Cinder’s eyes grew wide, her
mouth still covered, this time with both hands.  She lay on her side on his
bed, legs curled up, watching intently as Dirk unwittingly tantalized his
friend, hoping to do just the opposite.

         Never taking his eyes from hers, Dirk
slid on his trunks.  He paused when Cinder rolled to her stomach, legs kicking,
chin in hands; gawking.  He could see down her dress, but forced himself to
ignore it.  Dirk stepped into his pants, still watching her.  Cinder, this
time, bit her lip and he pulled his pants quickly up, causing Cinder to elicit
an audible sigh of appreciation, one meant more to tease than one
unintentional.  “All right!” he yelled, “stop it!  You make me feel like...like
a...like a tramp...or a hussy....  Don’t!” Cinder rolled onto her back and
stared at the ceiling, arms folded, pouting, and Dirk hurriedly finished dressing,
donning his shirt.  He slapped on some cheap cologne then brought his socks and
boots over to the bed, where he sat and pulled them on.  Cinder looked at him.

         “I like your bed,” she said softly.

         “I like yours, too,” Dirk said abstractly
and she smiled.  “Do you want to go?” he asked as he finished dressing.

         “Well...” she paused, “there’s no
hurry...is there?”

         “I just got dressed,” gasped Dirk
impatiently.

         “I know; and bathed.”  Cinder knelt up
behind Dirk, arms around his neck, hanging on him, though as light as she was,
he hardly noticed her weight.  “And you smell so good.”  She sniffed just to
prove her point, her elven senses attentive.

         “Is that all you think about?” Dirk
asked, standing up, unable to contain himself any longer.

         “No...well, yes...sometimes,” Cinder
whined, releasing him to kneel up straight and face him from his bed.  “I can’t
help it.  I like you,” Cinder blurted.

         “I just hope that you’re not like this
with everybody.”

         “No, I’m not,” she pouted.  “Not everyone
is you.  That’s a dumb comment.  You’re not just
anybody
, Dirk.  And I’m
not...not like
that
.”

         “So you only like me for my body?”

         “No, that’s not it,” she assured him,
giggling, which of course upset Dirk even more.  “You are nice, considerate,
hard-working,” she pressed, trying to be serious, though his behavior seemed so
irrational to her that she could barely keep from laughing hysterically. 
Cinder had not met any man so modest, so decent in Andrelia.  He seemed like
the rustic human folk living in the old elven settlement of Falondell that she
had visited many times growing up.  Knowing that he had been born and raised in
Andrelia broadened her appreciation and understanding of humanity.  “I do not
know you very well yet.  Of course your looks caught my attention...did I say
strong?” Dirk sighed and Cinder giggled again, exaggerating her desires just to
make him laugh, mirth beloved of the Elves, though Cinder’s carnal sense of
humanity was a trait more common to the rare half-human/half-elven breed.  She
just could not describe her feelings for him in the human tongue.  Her speech
lessons had never been in formal language, and she had honed her mother’s
teachings, basically, with the talk of the street as taught by her father. 
“Give me a chance to know you and I’ll tell you if you have any other good
qualities.  Just understand that I’ve been studying people for a while, and you
seem nice...and honest.  I can trust you.”  She got up.  “Let’s go,” she said.  When
Dirk still seemed forlorn for reasons Cinder just could not fathom, no matter
how she tried, she blurted:  “Smile.”  Cinder pushed his mouth into a smile. 
Dirk laughed and, placing an arm around her slim waist, led Cinder out.

         Dirk took Cinder to
The Shield
, a
fine, classy establishment famous for its fowl and in-house bakery.  He had
reservations for nine bells, or about forty-five minutes after sunset.  Dirk
also bought new clothes that day from Bessemer’s so that he did not look out of
place with a woman as fine as Cinder.  They ate dinner and, opposite of
Melissa, Cinder ate very little.  But she did drink; heavily.  She loved wine,
especially brandy and by the time dinner was over, she had had four glasses of
wine and two of brandy.  It cost Dirk more than a month’s pay and he wondered
why he conceded, even while looking across at Cinder’s glamour.  Was she worth
taking out every two months and being broke in between?  Probably not, but he
didn’t want to think about it right then.  He decided that he might as well
enjoy it as his money raced from his purse.  After dinner they shared one more
bottle of wine before heading to a tavern for entertainment.  Dirk took her to
the
Raging Bull
where they drank some, gambled only a little, and won
even less.