Honestly he were more than pleased that he had not been the one to cause the scandal of his marriage. And he was assured that there would be an annulment soon since the woman could not be found to testify for herself. Either she showed up with a brilliant and iron clad story of his mistreatment or inability to perform his consummatory duties or she dared not to show her face in Venice. And he for now had no concerns of over ambitious maids hoping to cash in on his misfortunes.
But enough of the past now he had to renew his investments oh entertainment for the future. And he had planned an impressive opener for one of the finest and most sought after courtesan’s in France and Venezia. She were known to many as simply ‘the Flame’ . But he has taken his sweet time to create the perfect innuendo and gift that might amuse and titillate the creature. In his query he had learned that this flame was seldom one to lay down for her entertainments.
This intrigued him greatly as few women could command so many men’s attention for any length without the use of the flesh… eventually. Which if he were lucky enough to secure the reception of his gift he could boast something mightily that few to no other patron could. He just hoped that the Lady would enjoy his sense of humor as much as he did.
So on this day the Lady of Gilded Lady was in for a treat and all of Venice would be talking about it either way. More so if she refused. A cache of castrati that had been left to him upon his wife’s sudden departure and he had thought o toss them into the streets of whence they came when he got the brilliant idea from his engagement party to use them one last time and pay them handsomely.
The four men so willowy with voices of some enchanted rare bird for lack of testosterone to lower their timbers dressed as Persians carried aliter with the sweetest little girl lain under the canopy. The liter was covered with sumptuous pillows and silks and the canopy of bright colors to keep the girl from the sun. And the scene made their way through the Venetian water ways. The men sung, a lament of a man denied the bed of his ardent love and how that woman watched his suffering from her comforts.
They arrive at the estate, a spectacle for sure and the dulcet little feminine nightingale lets loose her song.
Study with me this Florentinian treasure,
Whose undulous and muscular design
Welds Grace with Strength in sisterhood divine;
A marvel only wonderment can measure,
Divinely strong, superbly slim and fine,
She's formed to reign upon a bed of pleasure
And charm some prince or pontiff in his leisure.
See, too, her smile voluptuously shine,
Where sheer frivolity displays its sign:
That lingering look of languor, guile, and cheek,
The dainty face, which veils of gauze enshrine,
That seems in conquering accents thus to speak:
"Pleasure commands me. Love my brow has crowned!'
Enamouring our thoughts in humble duty,
True majesty with merriment is found.
Approach, let's take a turn about her beauty.
O blasphemy! Dread shock! Our hopes to pique,
This lovely body, promising delight,
Ends at the top in a two-headed freak.
But no! it's just a mask that tricked our sight,
Fooling us with that exquisite grimace:
On the reverse you see her proper face,
Fiercely convulsed, in its true self revealed,
Which from our sight that lying mask concealed.
— O sad great beauty! The grand river, fed
By your rich tears, debouches in my heart.
Though I am rapt with your deceptive art,
My soul is slaked upon the tears you shed.
And yet why does she weep? Such peerless grace
Could trample down the conquered human race.
What evil gnaws her flank so strong and sleek?
She weeps because she's lived, and that she lives.
Madly she weeps for that. But more she grieves
(And at the knees she trembles and goes weak)
Because tomorrow she must live, and then
The next day, and forever — like us men.
And when someone came to see what all the fuss was about they had a letter only for the Mistress.
Singorina Aramoire,
It would be my ardent pleasure if you’d accept my gift and please accompany me to the Opera; in doing so I would be the luckiest man of all Italia and France as being one of the only men to see your gilded bed. Even should I never lie upon is silken sheets.
Signor Felix D’Apcher
The very liter that had been carried to her house through the canals and alleys covered so no one else could truly see what it was.
@TwilaD










