Life and Times of a Priestess: Ch.12: Mireau (Section 2)

Section 2

    Soon they arrived at the hall where the ballet was to take place.  Descending to the ground Danella was thrilled by the strong touch of his arm.  Rarely did she feel so excited by a man and Mireau was very different in build and in character from Ravelleon.  For one thing he could be highly critical of many of the things, whether buildings, people or institutions around him.  Mireau suggested they go to the bar in the hallway of the playhouse before going to their seats, as there was time before the performance was due to begin.  She watched as the relatively prosperous of Dumis flowed through the bar.  Mireau quietly pointed out some famous personages of the city and gave light hearted anecdotes about them which made her laugh.  She enjoyed his refreshing attitude towards wealth and the people who believed too strongly in their own status.

 

    “Perhaps Mireau we can have a good time together.  You already make me laugh.”

He had a charm which men in Pirion did not need in order to ingratiate themselves with women.  She could see that he had practised long and hard to develop his wit and charm, but now it had become natural to him.  She enjoyed the sensitive conversational attention he caressed her with. “So tell me about the ballet,” Danella asked as the time to go into the theatre neared.

 

    “The ballet is a fitting symbol of our city,” he remarked.

 

    She laughed, he had an idea on every subject.

 

    “How do I explain the ballet.  It is showy, passionate, and a little too big to be believed.  It contains suffering and joy.  It consists of extreme passions.  For we Dumisians take our pleasure together with pain.  The ballet tells a story of extremes of joy and pain, and if we Dumisians do not have enough joy and pain on our lives we go to the ballet, or the opera, to find pleasure in the joy and pain of others.”

 

     She laughed, “But the stories are not real.”

 

     “Of course not exactly, but they do tell us something about some people’s joys and sufferings.”

 

     “Some of the opera’s I have seen here are very tragic.  Lovers are unhappy.  Sometimes they take away their own lives.  Only sometimes do they find fulfilment at the end of the story.  You know I come from a land where there are few tragedies in life, except now with the war.  But before that few were lonely, few were unhappy, we do not fight over our lovers, instead we share them.” It was a thought she had shared with no other Prancirians since she had come to this city.  She had been careful to remain polite and acceptable as Ravelleon had instructed her.  She must pretend, as the Prancirians did that love means commitment and ownership and is to be sought for above everything else.  Mere sexual friendship was here thought to be valueless and indeed shameful, despite the secret desires of so many people for it.

 

 

     After the ballet she said to him, “You know you are different.”

 

     “Different than what?”

 

     “Different to Ravelleon, different to other Prancirian men I have met,” she reiterated.

 

      “Is that a complement?” he smiled at her, knowing already that it was.

 

      “Oh yes, of course.”

 

     “And in what way am I different to Ravelleon and other Prancirian men?” he asked.

 

      “You have a humour which doesn’t care too much about yourself.  Unlike most men here you are not self important.  You have a good job but you don’t go around proclaiming it to the world.  Besides I can tell that you do not agree with all you are told to.  Ravelleon is a beautiful man but he is unwilling to be his own man.  He belongs to his government.  He cannot question it.  He also loves himself and cannot see his weaknesses.  He is typical of many other men here.

 

     “I believe in sharing,” she said.  “Sharing fears, our thoughts, and our bodies.  Nature’s healing.”

 

     “I too believe in sharing, occasionally.  It makes one feel good.  As you say it heals.  I get through life by giving myself some of what I want.  It keeps me fairly contented,” he said.

 

      She looked into his eyes again and imagined Mireau lying in place of Ravelleon in his bed tonight, pulling his penis free of his pants and nibbling on it.  It was happening more quickly than she had imagined, quicker than she had thought possible in the ‘respectable’ heart of Prancir.  Sexual attraction seemed to hover over them.  Every word contained the scent of it.  Every sentence was loaded with potential.  She knew it for sure, as she could read the hearts of so many men.  She knew she was going to taste this man soon, but there was no time tonight.  Ravelleon would be back from his meeting soon if it were not already finished and he would be waiting for her to return from the ballet in his bed.  If she was not where he expected her to be he would be annoyed.  In Prancir she was at his mercy as much as she would have been in Dalos, more so because he had so far been her only friend and guardian in this strange, barbaric society.

 

     “You must come and see where I live,” he offered.

 

     “Don’t forget that Ravelleon may be waiting for me,” she reminded.

 

     “I will take you back then,” he sounded disappointed, yet surely he was as afraid as she of upsetting the General.  She sensed that he was unsure of her.  He said enough to gamble upon her feelings, but he remained restrained.  He had not the confidence of experience a Pirionite male would have had.

 

    “Ravelleon is due to be away all tomorrow day.  Must you be at work?  You must visit me and we will get to know each other better all day.” She made it plain for him.  He would understand.

 

     “Yes alright.  I can rearrange my work,” he said.

 

    She did wonder how it was possible for any Prancirian to take such time away from work.  They worked so hard.  Her soon to be lover must be in a good job indeed.  She was pleased.  The carriage took them back to Ravelleon's house.

 

    “I had better go, I think Ravelleon will be waiting for me,” she said.  He offered a polite kiss, unsure of what the moment required.  She who had comforted so many could not be satisfied in such a way.  Opening her mouth wide she thrust forward to his, offering her tongue to his.  She pushed it between his teeth wrapping the lizard around his tongue.  With one hand she lightly caressed his nipple over his shirt while her other clutched at the buttock of his pants, holding him as if he was hers to control.  She felt her own flesh rub against his through the fabric of their clothing.  He responded, clutching her back.  Yes he was hers.  Presently conscious of time and the waiting carriage driver she drew back.

 

    “Tomorrow,” she said.

 

    “What time, and are you sure of Ravelleon,” he asked.

 

    “Ravelleon is definitely out”

 

    “What about the servants?”

 

     She had not considered the servants.  They would not be intrusive but they would know Mireau was visiting.  It would look suspicious, and in this land servants feared their masters and could be expected to inform them of most disloyalties.  Many people seemed to condemn sexual disloyalty and, she had come to understand, particularly the sexual disloyalty of a friend such as Mireau, and a woman, any woman.  She thought quickly, “Are there servants at your house, and where will your wife be.”

 

     “I have servants, but they are not there all the time.  My wife is away visiting relatives.  I may not have been able to escort you this evening if she had been at home.”

 

     She brightened, “Wonderful, I will come to your house in the morning.  You may dismiss your servants during the day and I will pay you a visit.”

 

     Mireau gave Danella a description of directions to his house and she departed the carriage feeling pleased with herself.  She returned up the garden path alone to a bout of pleasure in the waiting arms of her General.