From within a book-an author's tale (FoxyRoxy and Monroe)

[FoxyRoxy]

She sat upon her couch, lounging there with her legs dangling from the end. Her laptop opened with a half-written page sitting in front of her. Lenora James sat scribbling notes on a yellow notepad; the bestselling romance novelist was working on her next book. With two books around under her belt, she finally would get the chance to write about her dream man. He was a rogue, strong and powerful, a ladies’ man. His description was a little fuzzy; she could just see his dark grayish eyes staring straight into her soul.

She thought about starting the story off at a masque, where the hero would meet another damsel and swept her off her feet. Lenora sighed, if only she could be that damsel, would he just swept her off her feet or would he fall in love with her. She chuckled, that would be a feat of strength for any woman to make her man fall in love. Her man…she actually hadn’t thought of him any other way. She started to notice him, in her first book. It had not been his story, but his appearance was a surprise, both for her and lady whom he intended to seduce before her wedding. Yet Lenora couldn’t write that scene, her hands shaking at the thought, he might have been a rogue, but he did have a certain trait that wouldn’t allow him to being unusually cruel.

She thought that a little odd, and she wanted to write about him, call it an itch, call it an obsession, she couldn’t get him out of her head. So it had been a long winter and the season was starting on the cobbled streets of Venice.

Yet she couldn’t get it right, something was missing, it was the story. She needed some inspiration, maybe what it felt like to be in the city of Venice. She glanced at the coffee table and looked at the plane ticket there. She would find out soon enough.

Three days later she was followed the tour guide through the ruins of what use to be a beautiful castle. She could picture it in her mind, the fancy furniture, the dark crimson colors, and the beautiful people. Most importantly she saw him, standing in the corner gazing around the room. “Ok this way please,” the sound of the tour guide woke her from her vision and shook her head. It seemed so real for a second, and she wondered what it would be like to be standing in the same room as him. Perhaps his gaze glancing at her as she pretended not to notice, she needed to stop the daydreaming, as it had already distracted her from the guide’s history lesson. She tried to look interested but her mind was wondering. Especially when they came to the winding staircase that led to the upstairs. The group wasn’t allowed up there, as the upstairs hadn’t been seen in ages. She wondered what it looked like up there, and it was just more then curiosity. “This way to the gardens,” she heard the guide say and the group started toward the doors that lead that way. She hung back, a feeling telling her to go upstairs.

She waited and made sure no one saw her, she could probably get in trouble for this, but she did not care at the moment. She took the steps slowly, hearing them creak and moan, the farther she went the older the smell seemed to get. She found herself staring down a long corridor, doors on either side of the hallway. The first one of the left was open and she peeked inside. “Hello,” she whispered, as if someone was in there, but all it held was a single couch. She could also picture a harpsichord sitting nearby and a roaring fire. She sat down on the couch, hoping the termites had not gotten to the legs. It held her weight, which was a relief. She sat and closed her eyes; she knew that she was tired; it had been non-stop since she had gotten to Venice, like she wanted to drink in the city. So she was asleep, dreaming of a long time ago.

What seemed to be hours later, she awoke, thinking how strange it was that she could feel the fire that she thought in the room before. She shifted and a rustling sound made her look down. She was wearing a red dress, low cut and tight around her waist. She was so startled that she stood up to fast and had to grasp the arm of the couch for support. She looked at it, it looked almost brand new. She glanced about the room, sitting there was the harpsichord, and other furniture that she had not seen before.

What the heck was going on…?

At that moment she heard the music and the voices, and she slipped from the room. Lenora had no idea what to do but to follow the sound, which seemed to be coming from downstairs. She found in her hand a black mask, and put it on. She slowly descended the staircase as she noticed the first of the people. They were dressed for the time period not her own, yet she didn’t stop. She walked very slowly to the main ballroom. She was getting glances from some of the guests, but none stopped to even ask her a question. She slipped inside the ballroom; it was crowded with a number of people. The music in the air was dreamy.

A thought popped into her head…was he here? She glanced about the room again, her eyes searching casually.

[Monroe]

He was making a circuit around the crowded room, every now and again being cast a knowing smile from the gently curled lips of a beautiful woman. He was a lover, by all aspects of the word. He had yet to be married, and Luciano quite enjoyed his bachelorhood. Many women could boast the same thing. Single women, married women, virgins. The wealthy Italian noble loved them all. He saw beauty in the plainest of faces, in the shyest of smiles. Often is was the much ignored wall flower at the back of the room that proved to have the greatest fire burning within her.

How many passions had been ignited by those flashing, dark gray eyes, by those skillful, long fingered hands? Countless. Luciano was a gentleman, by all senses of the word. He did not make false promises of love and devotion. Every woman he took was well aware of his reputation, yet they succumbed to his charms anyway. They knew he never repeated affairs, yet they all longed to find out if he was really as good as they said he was. No one was ever left disappointed.

Now, Luciano was scanning the crowds, looking for his latest conquest. The Italian man was tall and fit, with strong arms and broad shoulders. His black hair fell over olive skin, from which his startling gray eyes came as a surprise. It was unusual for someone with such a dark complexion to have such vibrantly colored eyes. They gleamed like the polished edge of a sword.

The man was clothed in black, with a silver trimmed doublet and a simple black mask over his eyes. The mask was doing very little to hide his identity, though. Everywhere he turned, women smiled coyly and their husbands glared. He was very unpopular in court lately, though no had the nerve to outright accuse him of debauchery. He was a duke, nearly untouchable.

He turned and caught a flash of crimson from the corner of his eye. He turned to see who the beautiful minx was who had just entered the great hall. Her scarlet gown stood out because of it’s vibrancy, and a black mask covered her eyes, but she was unmistakable. Lady Lenora, the lady of the castle in which he stood. A soft smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he walked between couples, shoulders twisting and feet side-stepping to get to her. Lenora, a woman he had never met, but he had heard rumors of her beauty. Her reputation certainly did not precede her, thought Luciano, and he finally reached her.

“M’lady,” he said, bowing at the waist. “May I have the great honor of a dance?”

[FoxyRoxy]

She saw his approach, almost counted the steps he took and almost forgot to breath. It was unmistakable, this was her Luciano, his characteristics no longer fuzzy, but vibrant before her eyes. She had a smile peeking its way from the corner of her mouth, who did he think she was. His dark grey eyes glancing from behind the mask, before taking another breath with his bow.

Yet she was still bewildered, how did she get here, wasn't she in the 20th century just hours before. Was this some sort of dream, "Yes, you may," she said before offering her hand. If it was a dream she hoped not to wake up soon.

She heard murmurs around her, whispers almost of horror, was she making a mistake. Of course she remember, this man was notorious for his conquests, a lover, and some said a fiend. He had many ladies, including the wall flowers. She almost smirked at the thought, that had been a little bit of herself she supposed, always the wall flower. She did have a passion inside of her that she felt only when she faced the possiblity of writing about him. Yet she was different from his previous conquests, she was a modern woman.

Yet then why did she feel almost giddy at the thought of being held in his arms.

[Monroe]

Luciano’s smile widened and he took her hand, leading her into the very center of the crowd, as if she were some great prize he wished to show off. To him, she truly was. A woman he had not yet wooed, a beauty whose appearances in public were rare.

“You do me a great honor,” he told her, teeth flashing behind a soft smile. “All men will be jealous of me tonight, to be dancing with the Lady- no, no names tonight.” He decided. “We are at a masque, after all. Tonight, I am only a man, and you are the angel deigning to dance with me.”

He took one of her hands and held it aloft, while his other hand went to her waist and pulled her close. A new song began playing; a waltz. He moved with grace and surety to the three beat pattern, turning them gracefully in an arcing circle around the floor, their forms crisscrossing with the other couples in tempo.

He held her slightly closer than was strictly necessary, the scarlet bodice of her gown pressed against the black doublet he wore. He could just make out the feel of her body through the thick layers of fabric, and was able to use that as a guide through their dancing. “You dance quite splendidly, my angel.” He told her with a sly smile, using the nickname for her he had just coined. “Do the angels dance in heaven, or only tempt mortals on their rare visits?”

[FoxyRoxy]

She did not feel like a prize to be presented to anyone. Underneath the confidence in her eyes, she was nervous. Here was the man she had been dreaming about for nights on end, she was touching him, seeing those eyes in a color she was never able to justly describe. Her were a little green with a touch of blue, the cascades of black curls landed about her mid black. She wished she had looked at herself, before coming down the stairs, she wondered what it was that he saw.

His slip with the Lady, made her wonder for a second to whom he was talking about. "Angels do not tempt just any mortal with a dance. They only chose the one's that peek their interest." They circled the floor several times, Lenora felt like she was floating on air. However she couldn't help but notice the glances she was getting. He was holding her slightly closer than necessary, which she did not back away from in the least. He was a man who could have any woman in this room, in fact he already did have some of them.

"Yet I am no angel sir, I do not hold that power to tempt any man." The dance coming to an end, she wondered what the next step should be, she wanted to leave him curious, holding on to his interest was important, yet she must not appeared to eager for his attention. A woman worth any man's time wouldn't give in so easily. As the music stopped she stepped away, and gave him a curtsy. "Perhaps we can share another dance sometime." She started to walk away not really sure in what direction to go, she needed a familiar face (which was ironic because everyone was wearing a mask).

Get a grip, Lenora, what would a woman trying to conquer this man do. She would outwit and outlast him. Yet for a person like him, he could have any woman he wanted, especially since she could see some of the heated gazes she was getting from the others. Two or three of them she recognized even with their masks on...Lady Penelope Ashcroft the heroine of her first book, had been coming to Venice for years before falling in love and marrying the Duke's brother. Penelope's sister was also standing there, as was their cousin...Lenora almost narrowed her eyes. If there was one person she wished she never conjured it was Veronica. She was a courtesan by trade, in every way an equal to Luciano in both escapades and wit, and the one woman she made sure never crossed paths with the duke. Lenora could not equal Veronica on anything, including her beauty. Yet she wasn't a conquest, she would freely offer herself to any man, yet the one she wanted the most was her Luciano.

She did not want to be judged by these woman, who were all very opinionated about the role of a woman in this society. The truth being only courtesan's could get an education, they weren't only worshiped for their bodies, but for their minds as well. It seemed rather harsh that the only way to gain knowledge as a woman was to sell your body as well. She turned back to the duke, "Unless you wish to take a turn about the gardens and let me walk in the earthly treasures for a bit longer."

(I thought I needed to add some more...)