Authors: Eva Corona
Slowly he had begun to touch her body, to caress it with soft gentle kisses and had felt her body respond. When she moved she called him closer with her eyes. He caressed her for long, feeling the softness of her skin.
So often Siddhartha would remain silent and she would wonder at his thoughts. His eyes were so distant yet so calm and at peace. Se wanted to take hold of his sadness and speak of it, tenderly caress it away. The future told by his eyes was one of love and peace.
Siddhartha and Fatima lay in bed. The sun shone through the curtains and reflected rainbow lights from the mirror beside the bed. Siddhartha kissed Fatima gently on the cheek. “I love you”. He whispered. “It looks like a beautiful day today,” said Fatima, butterflies in her stomach from his kiss. “You look like an angel.” Siddhartha smiled. “You are my angel.” Fatima wrapped her arms around him
Siddhartha rubbed Fatima’s back. He lifted the bottle of jasmine oil from beside the bed and let a few droplets fall onto her soft skin. He rubbed slowly, easing the tension from her muscles and then stroking her with easy movements. She relaxed fully into the massage, feeling the crisp white sheets against her skin and the warmth of Siddhartha’s hands.
“Make a wish Fatima.” Fatima closed her eyes. “Hmmm” she murmured. “I wish you would feed me fruit.” Siddhartha returned with a plate of strawberries. She allowed herself to be carried away by the sweet senses of seduction.
She had never felt a freedom like this before. She felt free in every possible way. Physically she felt as if she could walk among the stars, mentally she felt as if she could understand them, and spiritually she felt she could enter every dimension. Everything seemed to flow in blissful cohesion. As she looks at you she looks past you into an unknown world.
COPYRIGHT 2003 Francesca Marks
The
Prince
And the
PROSTITUTE
Heather Swan
PUBLISHED BY:
CORONA
Copyright© 2012
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
____________________________________________
Chapter 1
The funeral procession marched onward amidst crowds of paparazzi. His highness Prince Jacob VI of Denmark struggled to keep the tears falling from his eyes as his mother’s coffin was carried before him. The only way he could do it was by imagining he was not here, he was somewhere else, somewhere afar, and somewhere his mother still lived and loved.
Every step he took he felt he was carrying such a heavy weight. The people all around him swarmed into some kind of blur. He turned to face his fiancé Natasha who stared solemnly ahead, her face as cold as stone. He needed to be held. He felt his heart breaking. He stared ahead, detaching from his feelings, wishing he were dead.
Back in the palace quarters, Jacob stared blankly at the wall, as Natasha bathed and talked to him. Her words drifted across the room, yet he couldn’t understand what she was saying. She didn’t seem to care. His mother was dead and she didn’t seem to care.
Jacob took off his tie, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He felt like screaming, breaking something, jumping out of the window. He stood up slowly.
“I’m going out.’ He said gravely.
“What darling? Where?” replied Natasha.
“I don’t know.” Said Jacob, and slammed the door behind him.
As he exited through the bedroom door, his guard bowed.
“Your Majesty”.
The Prince nodded.
“Oh dear.” He thought. “The palace guards. How am I going to avoid them?”
He entered the library quickly and went over to the bookshelves at the back. He took “The History of Mankind” off the bookshelf and slowly turned the knob behind it. The bookshelves slid open to reveal a large iron door. The prince opened the door and looked down the long dusty tunnels, so dark.
“Oh God.” He muttered. No one ever used these tunnels now. They had been escape routes from the palace used centuries ago.
He thought to himself.
He then rummaged around in the desk draws and found what he was looking for. A torch.
He exited through the tunnel, closing the door behind him, and hesitatingly turning the knob on the other side to close the bookshelf. He would not be able to get back in now unless he made it out the other side. God he prayed he did. He was not thinking straight. Now his life depended on making it out of a tunnel, which had not been used for so long. Who knew what he would find. He had not taken his mobile because he did not want to be located. He did not know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away escape; somehow break free from this agony that was breaking his heart.
Chapter II
The long deserted dusty tunnels seemed to stretch on for miles and he nervously began regretting the decision he had made. Still he could not turn back now, and was not sure he would remember the way even if he tried. He was determined to keep going, to find escape and freedom somehow from this nightmare he was living.
He had always thought that he loved Natasha, and felt lucky that he would be able to marry someone he actually did love. Though since the death of his mother, Natasha just seemed so cold and emotionless. It had made him wonder if he had ever seen any flicker of emotion in her ever before. His mother had been his best friend and confidante. Always it had been her he was closest to. He did not know how he would survive living in the palace without her.
The wind howled through the stone corridors and Prince Jacob quickened his pace, his heart thumping. Oh God, now he just really wanted to get out of these corridors. How long had he been walking now? It must be at least two hours. They would be wondering where he was at the palace. At least they would never find him. That thought made him feel a little better. He was free, for now at least. His face grimaced, as he looked around the corridors, dark and dusty, with no sign of life in sight. How bad his life must be if he considered this freedom, he thought to himself. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a large hole tunnel opened up in the ground before him. He did not have time to stop himself. He slipped and fell, down, down deeper into the earth.
“Aaaaargh!” he yelped.
Suddenly he found himself in murky thick dark waters.
“Parghhh!” he spat out.
Oh no! He was in the sewers! Yuk!
Quickly he looked around as a rat scuttled across the side.
“EW!”
He saw a light in the distance and as best as he could make his way toward it. He pulled himself up on the rocky stonewall and out into the air. It was dark outside. Had he been gone that long? Where was he?
Jacob looked up at the twinkling starlight and the milky white moon. He seemed to be in a disused car park near a lake and the palace was nowhere in site. He looked down at himself. He was filthy.
Suddenly he heard voices in the distance that seemed to be getting nearer. He looked around. Three thuggish looking punks were coming toward him.
“Oh well what have we got here. Looks like a little fish swam up the wrong river! Ha ha ha.” Said the tallest punk, who seemed to be the leader of the group.
Another punk, short with a rugged beard chewing on a toothpick came over and pushed Jacob. Jacob jumped back, into a defence position.
“oooh, oooh, ooooh”
Suddenly all three punks were upon him and kicking and punching him, searching him to rob him.
Jacob fell into a heap on the ground. His lips were bleeding and he could taste blood in his mouth.
“Oh no! Not this! “ He thought to himself.
“Hey hey hey, what have we got here.” Jacob could feel them taking off his gold medals.
“Come on, let’s fun!” They grabbed the medals, gave Jacob one last kick and then fled off into the distance. Jacob passed out, unconscious.
Chapter III
Natasha frantically twisted the telephone chord around her finger.
‘Ok, ok, well please let me know if you hear from him. Thank you.” She hung up the receiver.
“Where is he?” she thought to herself. “It is not like him to disappear like this.” She paced up and down the thick red carpet of their palace bedroom, and thought back to the moment he had left, how he had just stormed out, and ignored him, very strange behaviour for Jacob, he never acted like that. She furrowed her brow, trying to think back, wondering where he could be now. There was no way of contacting him, he had left his mobile behind.
There was a knock on their bedroom door.
“Come in.” She called.
A palace guard entered.
“Ma’am, this is the last report on His Highness Prince Jacob.”
He passed her an envelope.
Hastily Natasha tore it open.
She read the one line.
“Nothing!” she exclaimed.
“Bloody nothing. No one knows where he is, and no one has seen him. Can no one do his or her bloody job around here? Get out!” She screamed. The palace guard made a swift retreat.
Chapter IV
Sunlight streamed through the white lace curtains of the small sunny bright room. Jacob awoke in a soft comfortable bed. He felt so warm and cosy, in fact warmer and cosier than he had ever felt in his life. “Mmmm” he murmured softly as he stretched under the big white duvet.
“Where am I?” he thought to himself. Suddenly that thought made him sit up with a jolt. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. He saw a beautiful petite blonde girl sitting on the chair in front of the bed, smiling at him softly.
“Shhh.” She placed a hand on his forehead. “Don’t rush.”
She dabbed the wound on his head with some damp cotton wool. He winced. “Ow”
“It is okay, you are getting better.”
“How long have I been here?” he asked.
“About three days.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Jemima.”
“Why am I here? What do you want?’
Jemima smiled confused but did not reply.
“Does anyone else know I am here?” Jacob asked, tense and agitated.
Jemima tried to reassure him.
“You need rest. You were badly beaten and hurt. I found you unconscious on the floor in the parking beside the lake.”
“Oh God. Yes I remember.”
Slowly memories of the three punks who had robbed him came back to him, the journey through the palace tunnels, the death of his mother. His heart thumped. He swallowed hard.
“Are you okay?” Jemima asked, tenderly, softly.
“I’m f-f-f-fine” Jacob stammered.
“Does anyone know I am here? Where are the guards?”
“What guards?” asked Jemima.
“The pa- p-……” Jacob paused.
“Do you not know who I am?” Jacob asked.
Jemima laughed.
“No, I still do not even know your name. You have not been too much of a conversationalist the last few days.” She paused as she noticed his concern and confusion.
“I’m sorry,” she continued with compassion.
“No, no one knows you are here. I just did my best to help you. I saw those punks running off after beating you. I could not help it.”
Jacob looked at her with suspicion.
“Well, what about…” he stopped as he remembered that the royal medals had been stolen from him. Perhaps she was telling the truth; perhaps she really did not know who he was. But then why would she help him.”
“Shhhh, you need to rest.” Jemima put her hand on his forehead again. It felt so soothing.
Jacob quickly fell back into a peaceful sleep.
Jemima back on the chair again. He seemed so sweet, this wounded man, so confused. So many days now she had sat watching him, nursing him slowly to health, she felt as if she knew him, though she had only just discovered his name. She shook her head, what was she thinking?