Marcus Bennett
Marcus had pressed against the wall with his eyes closed as he attempted to clear his mind by continuing to trace an index finger around the rim of his glass. He kicked himself mentally, regretting having left Vivian's side so abruptly; she certainly would be upset by that. A cool breeze blew across the balcony, ruffling his hair and carrying the heavy scent of his cologne through the air. The High King's eyes snapped open as another scent reached him, one that he easily identified as Isobel's.
Seeing her closer up, Marcus's blue eyes widened subtly, though it was a great enough change for Isobel to realize it. Gingerly, with semi- shaky hands, he laid his champagne glass down on the edge of the balcony, still staring at Isobel. If one had asked him which woman he thought was more attractive that night, Isobel or Vivian, he most certainly wouldn't be able to answer. Or, maybe he would, but he was smart enough to know that questions like that would bring about talk of a scandal and, then again, there was already enough talk of scandal around here.
Isobel slowly took her place beside him, approaching him with her sultry, slow walk that seemed much more like a prowl or a stalk than a simple gait. It was these small things that made Mark's mistress absolutely irresistable. Leaning slightly against the corner so she was looking directly at him, Isobel sipped from her champagne glass slowly. His head turned to the side, trying to show some strength instead of weakness, though it miserably failed. In fact, his quick turn of the head probably did show more weakness than anything. Mentally, he cursed himself for doing it and glanced back. As he faced his mistress, Marcus felt her fingertips slowly brushing against his cheek. His eyes closed subconciously in pleasure and a slight smile crossed his face. Her hands were so smooth, so loving. His eyes flickered back open again and he met her gaze, fighting to hold it.
"How are you enjoying the party?" Her words were thick with a false innocence but a sultry tone that caused Mark to gently press his tongue against his cheek, holding back a soft moan of pleasure. Clearing his throat, he slowly placed both hands into his pockets and glanced around the balcony.
"It is...alright," he replied, pausing as if he were choosing the correct word for the situation. A smirk crossed his lips and Marcus chuckled gently. "It certainly became much more interesting once you arrived, my love." He leaned closer to her, lowering his face so he was mere inches from her. His breath, smelling pungently of cigar smoke and alcohol, came out slowly in soft, lusty breaths. "Thank you for the glass of red wine, by the way." Gingerly, Marcus rested a hand on her waist, which was exposed on one side by the opening in the dress she wore.
"What a naughty girl you are...coming to the ball dressed up like this," he teased, "tsking" gently with a clucking sound. "Purposely trying to overwhelm me." He chuckled softly. "You're just so...seductive." He pulled away slowly and took a step back as if waiting for her to make the next move.