Loveology
CHAPTER 188
You turn the handle with the scorpion etched on it and push.
The gate resists, but ultimately gives way to your weight.
With a triumphant air, you enter the premises and approach the front door. The perfectly manicured garden around you gives off a proper air of superiority, like much of the surrounding neighborhood. You expect the resident of this home to be much like your neighbors: straight-laced and proper as could be.
So you're a little take aback when the front door swings open and a man in a flamboyant purple costume steps out. Feathers cover must of his body, save for a pair of tights that cling to his well-formed legs. Despite the matching mask that covers most of his upper face, you can make out a pair of blue eyes dancing with mirth and a blond beard covering the lower half of his face.
"Bonjour, madame!" The man exclaims in a clearly fake French accent. "Tell me," he says in his natural English accent. "What is your name?"
"I'm, uh, I'm Carol." You step back to the edge of the porch, feeling the need to put space between you and this strange man. He pays no heed to your discomfort and steps closer.
"And what do you think of my costume, Miss Carol?" He throws his arms out to the side, inviting your criticism and sending a flurry of feathers tumbling to the ground. "I'm attending a masquerade."
"I think," you answer as calmly as possible. "It might be wise to... tone it down a touch."
His laughter surprises you. You'd quite expected anger.
"I'm afraid my butler agrees with you," he explains. "What is it? Too many feathers?" He waves his arms again, sending more feathers to the ground. You can't help but laugh at the ridiculous picture he makes. He smiles at your mirth.
"Where are my manners?" The man removes his mask in a flourish, bending down to take your hand. "I am Malcolm of the Masters Estate." He places a kiss to the back of your hand, his beard tickling your skin as you blush. "Pleasure to meet you, madam."
"I, um, yes," you stammer. "You, too, sir."
Malcolm grins as he straightens back up, righting his outfit.
"Well, I suppose I ought to get changed if I'm to arrive fashionably late," he says with a wink. "I'll see you another time, Miss Carol."
He bows and returns to his mansion.
You let out a wistful sigh and return to your home as well.
You turn the handle with the scorpion etched on it and push.
The gate resists, but ultimately gives way to your weight.
With a triumphant air, you enter the premises and approach the front door. The perfectly manicured garden around you gives off a proper air of superiority, like much of the surrounding neighborhood. You expect the resident of this home to be much like your neighbors: straight-laced and proper as could be.
So you're a little take aback when the front door swings open and a man in a flamboyant purple costume steps out. Feathers cover must of his body, save for a pair of tights that cling to his well-formed legs. Despite the matching mask that covers most of his upper face, you can make out a pair of blue eyes dancing with mirth and a blond beard covering the lower half of his face.
"Bonjour, madame!" The man exclaims in a clearly fake French accent. "Tell me," he says in his natural English accent. "What is your name?"
"I'm, uh, I'm Carol." You step back to the edge of the porch, feeling the need to put space between you and this strange man. He pays no heed to your discomfort and steps closer.
"And what do you think of my costume, Miss Carol?" He throws his arms out to the side, inviting your criticism and sending a flurry of feathers tumbling to the ground. "I'm attending a masquerade."
"I think," you answer as calmly as possible. "It might be wise to... tone it down a touch."
His laughter surprises you. You'd quite expected anger.
"I'm afraid my butler agrees with you," he explains. "What is it? Too many feathers?" He waves his arms again, sending more feathers to the ground. You can't help but laugh at the ridiculous picture he makes. He smiles at your mirth.
"Where are my manners?" The man removes his mask in a flourish, bending down to take your hand. "I am Malcolm of the Masters Estate." He places a kiss to the back of your hand, his beard tickling your skin as you blush. "Pleasure to meet you, madam."
"I, um, yes," you stammer. "You, too, sir."
Malcolm grins as he straightens back up, righting his outfit.
"Well, I suppose I ought to get changed if I'm to arrive fashionably late," he says with a wink. "I'll see you another time, Miss Carol."
He bows and returns to his mansion.
You let out a wistful sigh and return to your home as well.