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Tales of the Meridian Society! (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Time passed. Slowly.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Professor Swift raged. "Your pronunciation is atrocious! You speak French like... like..." Words failed him.

"Lahk Ah'm a Tejas Senoritia what speaks Creole, an' not this snooty Pay-ree Fran-says?" Sam said, failing to hide the grin as she deliberately laid on her accent."

The Professor glowered at her. "Precisely. An accent is to be expected, as you will be passing yourself off as a debutante hailing from Dallas. But you must sound educated, and your accent must simply be an accessory to your role." With a sigh, he tamped tobacco into his pipe. "Not an accomplice."

Sam sighed as well. "All raht.." She bit the word off. "Ah mean... ahem... shall we try ah-gain, Professor?"

He nodded approvingly. "Yes. We shall indeed. Repeat after me. 'Betty bought a bit of butter...'"

"Betty baht a bit o'..." Gritting her teeth, Sam tried again. "Ah... thet... that is, 'Betty bought a bit of butter...'"

"'...but she found the butter bitter...'"

"'But she found th' bitter butter buta batta BLEAH!" She would have spat, but Madame LaMonte didn't keep spittoons in her home. So she settled for stomping a booted foot in frustration. "What'n th' name o' tarnation's all o' this nonsense got ta do wit' anything?"

"It has everything to do with learning to speak clearly," was the Professor's frosty reply.

"Yeah?" Sam folded her arms with a huff. "Cain't we jes' skip this, an if'n someone wants ta talk about butter, Ah reckon Ah'll jes' play sick an' talk about somethin' else!" She glared at the Professor. "Bloody stupid topic o' conversation, anyway. Ah'm supposed ta be an awl heiress!"

The Professor sighed. "Madame LaMonte? Your student, I believe."
 
Madame LaMonte stifled a sigh as she stepped up. They had been taking turns on Sam but it was very slow-going. Teaching Sam diction in English--never mind French or German--was a Sisyphean task and it seemed like for each bit of progress they made they slid back on the previous day's work. She put in front of Sam a copy of an alphabet which she had written out phonetically--aay, bee, see, dee, etc.--as well as a few common phrases she often mispronounced or bit off in inappropriate places.

"You seem to be having a bit of trouble with your 'o's again," she pointed out with an air of forced calm. Even she was beginning to lose her patience after so much time with so little progress. "So try this one: 'The coat from the coast cost more than the most.'"

~*~

"Yes well, you have an excellent grasp of folk dancing--"

"Folk danc--! It's a national--!"

"--And a passable understanding of the waltz." Erik favored the indignant Irishman with a stern look over the rim of his pince nez and continued as though he'd never been interrupted. "And I would assume you have also a working knowledge of this new sort of jazz though I doubt there would be any of that at this particular gathering. Why don't we focus today on the Foxtrot and, if we have time, a Tango. Just for variety's sake." He smiled tightly.

"Rick, I can dance just fine," Kieran insisted.

"Then show me." Erik held out both his hands, eliciting an uncomfortable look from Kieran. So far he had merely demonstrated which steps he knew without the aid of a partner. Erik couldn't help but snicker. "Would you prefer to dance with Captain Drake then?" he suggested, finding no idea more incredible and hilarious than the thought of two men who despised each other so thoroughly being forced to dance with one another and vie for leader.

"What? No!" The pirate's eyebrows shot up and he fidgeted. "I just--I--Fine!" He took Erik's hands before any more could be said or the slight flush could be noticed. "Just show me how to do the bloody dance."
 
A few days after that...

Sam considered her cards. "I believe," she said, enunciating carefully, "that I am growing weary of the effort I am being required to put into these ell-o-cue-shon lessons." The word 'elocution' was excessively pronounced for humorous effect, but the strain on her face as she fought against her accent showed. "And I simply do not believe I will ever master proper French." She laid down the King of Hearts. "Against your meld, Erik."

After a moment's consideration, she discarded her Ace of Clubs and then scowled as Colin scooped it up. "A Run of Clubs," he declared, laying down the Ace, King, and Queen. "And I wouldn't worry about mastering French, if I were you. No native Frenchman belivies that anyone from another country speaks their language properly anyway. Concentrate the majority of your energies on English elocution."

"It is nearly as foreign a language as French, I declare," Sam managed. "I grew up speaking Mexican primarily, although my parents still spoke English at the supper table."

"Spanish, Miss Cavendish. You grew up speaking Spanish. Mexican, although a distinct dialect, is not a distinct language." Professor Swift entered the room, adjusting a cufflink. "And that is not a legal run, Captain Drake. Aces may only run with low-value cards in gin."

"It is a variant game," Sam informed him, "the version my father taught me to play on the farm outside of Edzná..." she bit that off. "I mean, in our drawing room. In Fort Worth." She considered the professor. "And you are finely dressed this evening, Professor."

"Indeed you are, Professor," Colin added, scooping his cards back up. "What's the occasion?"

The Professor eyed them both balefully. He wore a black tail coat and black slacks, over a white vest and white wing-tip shirt with a black bow tie. Tugging on white gloves, he growled "Need a gentleman provide a reason for dressing like a gentleman?"

"In your case, Professor?" Colin asked, sorting his cards once more. "Yes."
 
"Now, that's hardly fair," Erik defended Professor Swift. "A gentleman never needs a reason for dressing like one, not even Professor Swift." He was losing terribly at this gin variant and was glad for the distraction. Kieran had long ago given up and was drinking at the sideboard, and he was tempted to join him; he was too honest for cards. "What, ah, what is the occasion though, if I may ask?"

"The occasion," Madame LaMonte glided in, holding a top hat, "is that he's being forced to have a little fun tonight. You forgot your hat, Professor." She handed it to him before brushing a speck of lint off of his lapel. She was dressed in a flowy, dove grey gown and barely glanced at the others as she pulled her own gloves on. "I expect we shall be rather late, but there is still another car if any of you wish to go about the city. Just let Bernard know whether to tell the cook not to make dinner, hm? It is only polite. Ready?" she added to Professor Swift, taking his arm and looking up at him with a somewhat eager smile.

Erik watched them carefully and continued to stare at the door once they were gone. While the obvious had escaped him regarding the aeroship captains, he didn't think he'd ever seen Madame smile so genuinely before. Her carefully constructed facade of a charming seductress had slipped for a moment in front of them all, and he wondered if he'd been the only one to see it. "You don't think...?"

"Nah." Kieran waved it off, though he'd seen it too. "That'd be far too messy."

Although if he were honest with himself, he'd felt a tinge of jealousy. Anne Marie liked Professor Swift, that much was clear to him, even if he were paying her to sleep with him--if they were sleeping together. And even though he wasn't attracted to women and knew now that he never had been, including Anne Marie, the friendship that had formed through his therapy sessions left him jealous and watchful.

~*~

"La Bayadere has enjoyed a revival lately," Anne Marie informed Professor Swift as the driver navigated the cobbled streets of the city. Lights from shops flickered over her face as they passed. "I've never seen it, but I've heard it's bittersweet."
 
"You don't think...?" Erik asked, watching the Professir and Madame LaMonte depart.

"Nah," Kieran replied, also watching. "That'd be far too messy."

"That," Sam tossed out, "depends entirely on how they do it." The laughter she produced as Colin choked on his drink and the other two men stared at her in shock was as close to a giggle as anyine had ever heard from the tough Tejas Ranger. "If they were to..."

"Please," Colin requested hastily, "may we change the subject?"

"That sure was a pretty dress," Sam observed. "I do hope she's carefulnwith it."

"I'm sure she will be," Colin responded slowly, puzzled.

"Good." Sam downed her port. "I'd hate fir her to get it all stained and wrinkled..." She laughed again as Colin buried hus face in his hands.


"Bittersweet?" the Professor asked. "A true tale of life, then. For life is bitter and sweet in equal measure, is it not?" He glanced in the car mirrors, the habits of a lifetime compelling him to watch for a tail. "I fear I have not seen it either - I rarely make time for such... entertainments. For their own sakes, at least."

She knew that as well as he did. After a lifetime of association, he suspected she knew his habits nearly as well as he. And while one could never say never about any human endeavor, he rarely did anything without ulterior, calculated motives. "And I took the liberty of securing dinner reservations at Le Grande Véfour, for after the performance."
 
Erik nearly choked on his own drink, but recovered and settled for a shocked look which nearly unseated his pinc nez. At the same time, however, he had the urge to ask her about exactly which ideas had come to her mind. Their "language lessons" had continued throughout her training for the ball and he was interested to hear her ideas. That was a conversation for later, however.

"What I meant," Kieran put in after her exchange with Colin, "was neither of them are the type to get involved with a coworker. It's too complicated." 'Complicated' certainly hadn't stopped him and Colin, however, and he was careful to avoid the other captain's eyes in an effort not to give them away.

"They've been friends since I've known them," Erik pointed out. Professor Swift had insisted that they gossip about his taking Sam out, so he was eager for a little tit-for-tat. "I get the feeling they knew each other before either of them were in the Society. A friendship that long...things are usually bound to happen. I'd be shocked if they had, but if it were anyone other than Madame and the Professor I would have absolutely no doubt of it."

~*~

"Bittersweet?" the Professor asked. "A true tale of life, then. For life is bitter and sweet in equal measure, is it not?"

"Yes, generally speaking," Anne Marie answered slowly. She noticed him glancing in the mirrors, doubtless keeping an eye out for a tail. Algie had never been able to separate his personal and professional lives.

"I fear I have not seen it either - I rarely make time for such... entertainments. For their own sakes, at least. And I took the liberty of securing dinner reservations at Le Grande Véfour, for after the performance."

"How very thoughtful. I love Le Grande Vefour." He was still watching the mirrors. If he'd made reservations so that he could meet a contact or some other rubbish, she would leave right then and there; Professor Swift rarely did anything without some hidden agenda and she had to wonder at it. Anne Marie reached one gloved hand over and gently tilted his cheek so he would have to look at her. "Algie, we're out for a night of fun," she reminded him gently. "No work. You promised." Her brow puckered slightly, as it did whenever she was annoyed or concerned, though of course it was never deep enough to cause a permanent furrow; even Madame's subconscious movements were designed to entice.
 
"No work?" Professor Swift favored her with a smile. A genuine one, not one of the gent,y condescending expressions he generally employed. "My dear Madame LaMonte, I promised that I would set aside concerns about our mission for the evening. But you know as well as I that our work only truely ends in one manner."

His expression softened. "But I take your meaning, my dear. I should at least look as if I am out for the evening. But I did warn you - a lifetime in the Great Game has left me a trifle set in my ways." A soft chuckle. "But I shall endeavor to set thzt aside and be congenial company for the evening."

Still, he caught nimself checking the reflections - an action he attemoted to cover by watching the flickering red and blue neon tubes. "I suppose we are the center of a great deal of speculation right now. Amongst the children."
 
Anne Marie did indeed know that there was typically only one way out of the Meridian Society, and that was in a box. In her years with the Society she hadn't known anyone to actually retire, even if they said they had. One friend of hers had retired no fewer than seven times before the battle of the Somme. Still, she had earned a genuine expression of softness and an acquiescence from him and that in itself was enough to distract her from thoughts of work. She raised an eyebrow at his wording, however.

"Oh so you'll only look as though you're out for the evening, will you?" she teased lightly. "No possibility of actually enjoying yourself? Loosen your tie just a tiny bit?" A smile played at the corner of her lip, daring him to lighten up a little. Anne Marie sighed dramatically. "Still, I suppose if congenial is all you'll be then I shall have to settle for it." She chuckled softly and settled back in her seat.

"I suppose we are the center of a great deal of speculation right now," he posited. "Amongst the children."

"Oh, children are they? Most of them nearly as old as I?" Anne Marie challenged with a smirk. "I'm certain there would be no speculation at all if they knew how hard I had to pull your hair just to get you to stop being so very formal with me. Had I known, I swear I would have just shot Gustave and gotten it over with, consequences be damned. At least I would still be Anne Marie to you after twenty years, had I not married the bastard." She paused in thought for a moment. "No...I would just be Mademoiselle Delphine wouldn't I?"

Had her in-laws not been absolutely convinced that she'd offed him--not that anything could be traced back to her anyway--Anne Marie would have rid herself of Gustave long ago and returned to Delphine. She wanted no part of that man left in her life but it would have thrown great suspicion on her not to keep his name. Still she had to wonder whether Professor Swift would have insisted on calling her Mademoiselle if she had.

"So tell me, Algie, about what 'the children' might be speculating?" she asked, a twinkle of amusement in her eye.
 
"Madamoiselle Delphine? Hardly." He favored her with a hard stare. "I should then refer to you as Madame." He maintained his set expression for a moment or two, and then allowed the corners of his mouth to crook up in a small smile. A smile that transformed into a small but genuine ,augh at her follow-up question.

"The soeculation, of course, begins with the very natour of this evening out. All of them saw me yield to your wishes in this matter, after all. And it is behavior none of them have seen before. And so..." Professor Swift thought for a moment, considering.

"No doubt the speculation will begin with Seniorita Cavendish, and focus on why I yielded, and will settle on the fact that I have known you longer than any of the rest of them. It will then proceed to assume a romantic element to that relationship, because they are all too young to comprehend the possibility of friendship between a man and a woman."

As he spoke, the car rolled to a stop and the door opened. "And it seems we have arrived." He stepped out, and offered her his arm. "Shall we, Anne Marie?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
 
When he finally smiled a little Anne Marie did her best to look offended. "Mister Swift!" she gasped. "How positively boorish of you! Never, in all my years..." But she couldn't keep from smiling, even at the implications of old age and spinsterhood. It was impossible to say how her life would have gone had she not married Gustave LaMonte, and even more impossible had Professor Swift not found her. Still, regardless of the nature of her work she was glad for having had him in her life.

When he explained to her that "the children" had never seen him yield to anyone's wishes, let alone hers, she had to concede that it might look suspicious. "But they know we're old friends," she pointed out. "I've never said it to them, but given our work and my lifestyle as well as our history it wouldn't be difficult to conclude that you are my best friend in all the world. Why shouldn't friends give concession to one another?"

Anne Marie was grateful for the relative darkness of the car, which mostly hid her blush. Algernon Swift wasn't usually a terribly affectionate man--at least not in the way most would define affection--so admitting to him that he was her best friend felt deeply personal to her. He'd taught her that personal connections and affinities only served as weaknesses in the long run, but try as she might and aloof as she may keep from others--even Kieran, friends though they were--Anne Marie couldn't help it; he was her weakness and always had been. She chose not to explore the deeper implications of these thoughts at this moment.

"No doubt the speculation will begin with Seniorita Cavendish," Algie explained, "and focus on why I yielded, and will settle on the fact that I have known you longer than any of the rest of them. It will then proceed to assume a romantic element to that relationship, because they are all too young to comprehend the possibility of friendship between a man and a woman."

And that was why she never chose to explore any such more intimate thoughts about Algie Swift. He had, to her mind, mentioned friendship too pointedly for coincidence. Glad she hadn't thought any more deeply on the subject, Anne Marie slid gracefully from the car once they arrived. She took his arm and positively glowed when he finally used her given name without prompting. Outside of the darkness and privacy of the car Madame LaMonte reassumed the lofty grace of many years of training as she glided in on Algie's arm and they took their seats.

The ballet was beautiful and tragic with a bittersweet ending just as promised. When Nikiya was bitten by the serpent hiding amongst the flowers Professor Swift felt a slight pressure on his arm as Anne Marie squeezed it, anxiously watching as the dancer chose death over life without her beloved. Her grip eased over the next few scenes and she withdrew her hand, realizing he might find it inappropriate. In the end when the hero died and the lovers were reunited he would hear a soft sniffling. Anne Marie quietly wept into her handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes and trying to regain composure before the house lights came up and he saw. Only around Algernon Swift could she ever truly be her whole self, and really at heart she was a bit of a hopeless romantic. She knew he'd chide her for being silly. As the cast came out she quickly tucked away her handkerchief, still sniffling a little, and joined the rest of the audience in their ovations.
 
Algernon Swift knew he was not the tzrget audience for the ballet - or for most theatre, to tell the truth. He prided himself on being a student of psychology and sociology and history, and on being a realist. The intricately-crafted plot of the ballet, with its tragedy and triumph and tale of love overcoming all left him unmoved. Real life, with its complexities and uncertainties, its strange coincidences and unsatisfying resolutions, was what interested him. Not melodrama that aspired to greatness through music.

At least the dancers were skilled, he decided. The athleticism that went into the performance, stylized though it was, made the ballet bearable. But still, by the time it ended, he was heartily glad of the fact. Life was complicated, and true love was at best a myth used to justify impulses. It certainly did not overcome all. If it did, he...

He glanced sidelong at Anne Marie, watching as she dabbed at her tears. His features hardened ever so slightly. It did not matter. If such a thing as true love existed, if it could be felt and returned, then he...

He choked off the thought. Again.

"An exquisite performance. Would you not agree, Madame LaMonte?" Only a close friend would have seen the small, subtle smile on his lips and the fondness in his eyes as he emphasized her name, teasing her gently with it. Rising, he offered her his arm. "Perhaps I will persuade you to accompany me to another one, once our business is concluded. I havecit on good authority that the full Der Ring des Nibelungen will be performed at the Deutsche Oper Berlin in the fall." He paused, reflecting. "Assuming we are still welcome in Germany, that is."

It was several minutes later, as he was escorting her from the theatre, that the enormity of what he'd done dawned on him. It was one thing to invite a young woman to a perfirmance in the same city. It was another entirely to invite the same young woman to accompany him to another country for several weeks. And while they had travelled together before, that had been on business. Not...

He clamoed down on the thought.
 
Professor Swift rose and offered her an arm. She took it, still gathering a few fragments of her normally impeccable mask and replacing them. The fondness of his look wasn't quite as subtle to Anne Marie, who over the years had come to learn his moods and expressions nearly as well as her own. She returned his smile but couldn't meet his eyes for very long as there were still a tear or two in hers. She knew ballet, music, the arts in general did not move him and part of the reason she had all but dragged him out was in a decade-long effort to make him appreciate the emotion and passion of performance. He was complimenting the performers for her own benefit and they both knew it.

"Mais oui," she said with a tiny sniffle before settling the mask entirely back into place. "It was quite beautiful, very moving. The young woman who played Nikiya was very talented; she will go far."

"Perhaps I will persuade you to accompany me to another one, once our business is concluded. I have it on good authority that the full Der Ring des Nibelungen will be performed at the Deutsche Oper Berlin in the fall."

Anne Marie looked up at him and tried not to stare. They had gone out together before, of course, and of course he'd invited her to lectures and cerebral things of that nature. But never had he volunteered to go to any sort of theatre or opera performance at all, never mind one which was weeks away in a country they may or may not be assigned to.

"Assuming we are still welcome in Germany, that is."

"Assuming we are still welcome I would be delighted," Anne Marie finally managed to get a hold of her own words. "Of course you would be a Wagner man. I'm not sure why I didn't see it before." She smiled and nudged him gently, choosing for now not to reflect upon his extracurricular invitation. He had probably meant nothing by it, anyway. They were old friends, and old friends were allowed to make plans regardless of work assignments...even though Algernon Swift rarely if ever made non-work-related future plans.

"For now however, I will allow you to buy me dinner," she added after a few moment's pause. "I'm positively famished, and I believe you said we have reservations?"
 
They did indeed have reservations, and the restaurant reflected Professor Swift's tastes and preferences in spectacular fashion. The service was superb, the food world-class, and the atmosphere refined. And cold, somehow, as if the restaurant itself somehow considered the humans within to be a necessary evil that must be endured. Despite this, or perhaps because of this, the Professor relaxed a little.

"Why, of course I enjoy Wagner's works," he said, sipping his wine. "The man is a genius, after all. Despite some rather unfortunate political leanings. But one must forgive an artist his eccentricities. And not all Germans are as reasonable as young Erich, after all."

He was in for a penny now, after all. So he may as well go all in.

"Although that reminds me, and I hope you'll forgive me 'talking shop' once more." He sipped his wine again. "This situation with Samantha and Erich... I find it disturbing. I suppose attraction - physical or romantic - is unavoidable among men and women who work closely together for long periods. But..." A sigh. "I had rather come to see her, at least, as sensible. Far too sensible to allow her personal and professional life to become entangled in such fashion."

He found himself gazing into the middle distance.

"No matter how desirable that may seem."
 
Anne Marie delicately arched an eyebrow at Algie's description of Wagner's rampant antisemitism. "I would hardly call it an eccentricity. And I have met many a reasonable German as well as our Herr Heinz-Schmidt." She watched him over the rim of her glass as she took a sip, daring him to contradict her. Not as often as when she was younger but still semi-regularly Madame LaMonte liked to goad her dear Professor into a spirited debate. Often they were of one mind on a subject and she would play Devil's Advocate just for the fun of it. She knew he enjoyed the mental stimulation and she enjoyed conversing with him.

But Professor Swift went another direction with it, instead focusing on Erick and Sam's new relationship. Anne Marie smiled and rolled her eyes, setting her glass down and lacing her fingers. She wondered briefly whether Algie knew he was close to a breakthrough, but didn't dare to hope. She wasn't entirely sure what she would do if he did anyway, and so sent those pesky thoughts scattering, choosing to live in the obliviousness in which her dear friend seemed mired.

"They are both much too sensible for their own good," she stated frankly, "and I for one am glad to see it. If it comes to naught in the end--and I don't think it will--I trust them both to have the maturity to handle it appropriately. But their entanglement as you put it has yet to interfere with their work. In fact I feel it's improved their work. Samantha is learning to shoot first and ask questions later a little less often and Erick is learning to, as Captain Shane would put it and do forgive my language, 'remove the broomstick from his arse.' They're both beginning to think outside of their usual boxes because of their entanglement. And until it begins to effect their work negatively I for one see it as none of our business."

She picked up her glass again. "But I suppose that's your decision, as our fearless leader. Just remember Algie, not everyone is terrified of their own heart." Anne Marie smirked cheekily before taking another sip of wine. "So tell me, is that what you mean to do? Administratively separate them for fraternization?"
 
Algernon started to speak, hesitated, then stopped. "No," he finally admitted. "No, I won't. Not so long as their relationship does not interfere with their work." He smiled a thin smile. "I suppose that it is unrealistic to expect our level of discipline from agents whose training has been on the job."

After a moment, he sipped at his wine. "And here I am, returning once more to business when I had promised I would abandon the topic for the evening. Really, Anne Marie," there was an almost teasing note in his voice now, "you should remind me when I do so."

Algernon examined his glass, swirling the wine as a cover for his sudden feeling of loss. He had known Anne Marie since she had been a you g woman - a girl, really. After all this time, one would think he could easily converse with her on a myriad of topics, not merely the business at hand. He had conversed with her, many times. So why the sudden hesitation?

Because he knew what he wanted to... no. No, he would not even complete the thought. Instead, he geetured for the check. "I suppose we should return. We have much to do, tomorrow."
 
"You told me to forgive you for 'talking shop,' Algie," Anne Marie pointed out with a smile and a shrug, "so I did. I'd never not forgive you."

But then he gestured for the check and she sighed. The moment had been lost. "Not even dessert, hm?" she asked. Another sigh. "Ah well, I got you away from work for an evening. I should content myself with that much. We do have work to be done in the morning." Anne Marie rose and took Algie's arm before going out to the car with him.

At the house there were few lights on. One appeared to be in Colin's room and the other Sam's and Anne Marie couldn't help but shake her head in amusement at the coupling going on under her roof. Algie would staunchly disapprove if he knew. But she said nothing and instead accompanied him to his door, kissing his cheek and bidding him goodnight before moving on to her own room. She refused to acknowledge her sense of a missed opportunity as she readied herself for bed.

A few more weeks passed and passage was booked for Berlin, traveling primarily at night. Kieran had tried to insist they take his aeroship but Anne Marie staunchly refused to go among pirates which weren't all necessarily the lovable rogues he was. Instead they traveled discreetly by locomotive and under assumed identities: Erik and Sam were put together in a sleeper compartment as the young, recently married Müllers coming home after a honeymoon; in the next compartment were Colin and Kieran, cousins going to Berlin on business (and the butt of many "kissing cousins" jokes in private on Kieran's part); and at the end were Professor Swift and Madame LaMonte, two friends on holiday and never mind the scandalous implications of their sharing a compartment. All in all the journey wasn't difficult and they arrived in Berlin early the next morning and Erik was very clearly glad to be home again.

The Heinz-Schmidt Mansion was neither so large nor so resplendent as the Hotel de Carnivale, but he took pride in knowing that his family had earned their wealth while Madame LaMonte had simply inherited old money. The servants welcomed him home, though had he not known them it would have seemed they weren't glad to see him. The staff was very professional, conducting themselves in a stern and Prussian way as they showed each of the guests to their rooms. Sam, of course, was put two doors down from Erik, and only that far for proprieties sake. He knew that while they were professional and cold, servants anywhere would talk when gossip was so easy to come by and he didn't want Sam to be made a target in the work they were about to undertake. The servants had reported a gradual spread of the antisemetic rhetoric Herr Hitler was spreading and it was growing increasingly dangerous to be associated with a family like his; she could handle herself but he wouldn't put a target on Sam's back for her.
 
Sam sat before the mirror in her room, drawing deep, slow breaths in a fruitless effort to calm her nerves. It ain't like this's the first mission I've done for the Society, she told herself. But... this wasn't like any other assignment. She'd been used as an investigator, and as a brute squad. The kind of thing she'd been trained for, as a Ranger. But this? Masquerading as a wealthy debutante? Sam Cavendish was way out of her depth here, a few etiquette and elocution lessons notwithstanding.

Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath and counted to five. "'Cept y'all ain't Sam Cavendish, not here," she told her reflection. "You are Samantha Cavendish, daughter and only child of James Cavendish. Of the Dallas Cavendishes,". She straightened her back a little more and lifted her chin, imitating the posture of the fine Doñas she'd see in Cuidad de México. "And Samantha Cavendish is not one to be nervous."

Still and all, she'd much rather have been back on the train. Another day or two as Frau Müller, just back from a Parisian honeymoon with her new husband Erik. Because just pretending to be his wife had left her giddy. Left her thinking oddly domestic thoughts that she'd have laughed at just a few months ago. Samantha Schmidt. Or, maybe, Samantha Cavendish-Schmidt. Either way, it had a ring to it.

With a melancholy sigh, she shoved the thought away. Wool gathering wouldn't help, and wishing didn't make it so. And right now, she had a formal ball to dress for.

As soon as she figured out which gown she was supposed to wear. And how.


"No, no, no," Colin said, setting his whiskey and soda Dow as he rose. "Here. Let me."

He'd been sitting in Kieran's suite for close to half an hour, making conversation and offering suggestions on how to dress. The Irish pirate was quite handsome and possessed a certain rakish sense of style, but it was clear that he'd never moved in society.

Colin had. Which was one of a number of reasons he found himself appreciating Kieran's company more with each passing day.

Snatching the black cloth from the Irishman's hand, slipped it around his neck. "Bow ties are ridiculously complicated," he said, hands moving automatically through the rhythm. "I can manage, but I would still cheerfully throttle the man who invented the bloody things. There you go!"

The knot wasn't perfect, so Colin fiddled and adjusted until it was better. Then, smiling a little, he tugged at the tie and pulled his new liver into a lingering kiss. "Relax, he whispered. "You're a merchant. Nobody will expect flawless manners ". He winked. "Just don't be yourself, and you'll be fine."
 
There was a gentle knock at the door before Erik stepped in and closed it behind him. "And how is Frau Müller coming along?" he teased gently before seeing that she wasn't dressed. He'd been walking on clouds during the twelve hours he was married to Sam and had thoroughly milked the lovestruck honeymooner alias, taking every opportunity he could to kiss her or touch her or hold her hand. Now, however, she was back to vacillating between Sam and Samantha Cavendish and it pained him to see her struggling. He crossed the room to stand behind her and look at their reflections in the vanity mirror.

"You'll be just fine, liebchen," Erik promised, putting his hands on her shoulders. "You are a beautiful, intelligent, charming, confident young woman already. All you need to change is the way you step and the way your mouth moves. Well..." He grinned and leaned down to place a kiss on her neck. "Don't change the way your mouth moves too much, hm?" He traced gentle kisses behind her ear, down her neck, to her shoulder before standing up. "Professor Swift and Madame LaMonte said they ordered a gown for you and had Greta put it in your closet. Let's see shall we?"

He crossed to her closet and slid hanger after hanger aside until he found the only dress that could have possibly been meant. It was a little old-fashioned, but that sort of thing was in right now anyway and he found it far more flattering to Sam's form than these modern sorts of dresses people were calling "flappers." Erik grabbed the hanger and shook his head, tisking as he brought it out of the closet.

"Well this just won't do," he informed her. "Our cover will be blown instantly! Everyone will be wondering who this is, this beautiful goddess on my arm, and why have not I married her?"

~*~

He was just about fucking fed up with this whole fucking and why the fuck did he have to dress up this much in the first place? Kieran unknotted the bowtie for the tenth time and hurled it to the ground. He was tempted to stomp on it, but instead bent to pick it up only to have Colin take it from him. He was grumpy enough already, having shaven his scruff clean and wiped all traces of makeup and jewelry away, erasing his carefully crafted identity in favor of a respectable businessman. And now he was fumbling around with a bowtie in front of someone who had clearly tied more than a few.

"Why are they so fucking complicated?" he demanded, lifting his chin to allow his lover to tie it for him. "It's a bow. Anyone can tie a bow. Children tie a bow in their bloody shoelaces! And I can tie a great number of knots a hell of a lot more complicated than this!" Usually Kieran insisted on being taught how to do something he didn't know rather than someone doing it for him, but at this point he had given up and he didn't plan on ever wearing a bowtie again anyway. "Thanks mate. I--"

Colin stopped his lips with a kiss and there was a weird twisty feeling in his gut. Kieran had gradually stopped fighting it, but it was all still very strange and very new. One hand slid to Colin's ass, squeezing a little, while the other hooked fingers in one of his belt loops. He didn't let go when their kiss broke.

"Relax," Colin whispered. "You're a merchant. Nobody will expect flawless manners. Just don't be yourself, and you'll do fine."

"Fuck manners," Kieran murmured, lips brushing against the captain's, "it's the dancing I'm concerned about. You just be my partner the whole night, eh?" He squeezed his ass again and left it there before grabbing up Colin's other hand and leading him about the room in a lazy, playful waltz. Their waltz ended with Colin pinned against the door and Kieran tracing kisses down his throat, grinding against him. "Nervous energy," he mumbled against his skin. One hand slipped between them and stroked Colin's shaft through his pants. "Think we got time?"

As though in answer there was a knock on the other side of the door and Anne Marie's voice warning that they were leaving in twenty minutes. Kieran cursed but didn't relent, insisting it was enough time though he knew it may not be.
 
Sam barely heard Erik's affectionate teasing. All of her attention was on the dress he'd found, staring in wonder as she hesitantly reached out to take it. "It... it's beautiful," she whispered, stroking the fabric. "Ah won't look lahk a deb-u-tahnt, Erik. Ah'll look lahk a princess." Self-consciously, she crossed her arms over her chest and stroked the old pock-mark scar above her breast, staring at the neckline. The gown would cover most of her scars, but that one would be on display for the world.

The realization brought back all of her old insecurities, her belief that she was scarred and ugly. Fears that she thought she'd dealt with, that Erik had driven away. He didn't think she was ugly. But... She huddled into herself, shaking a little as she turned away from the dress. "Ah...Ah cain't, Erik," she gasped, shaking. "Ah cain't do it. Ah cain't."


"Nervous energy, hm?" Colin strained against the pirate's grip, just enough to make it fun. As they tussled he managed to accidentally press his hips against Kieran's groping hand, letting the Irishman grip his hardening cock better. "We might..."

There was a series of sharp blows on the door, making him jerk with surprise. Madame LaMonte's voice followed the percussive blows, and her news made him sigh with frustration. "Twenty minutes," he gruumbled. "Not really enough time. Unless..." He pulled Kieran to him, cupping his chin as he kissed him. "What, exactly, did you hsve in mind?"
 
"Well of course you'll look like a princess, liebchen," Erik replied with a smile. "Who else would you look like but yourself, ja?"

But Sam didn't seem open to compliments right now. She didn't seem open to anything. Erik's smile dropped as she started shaking. He draped the dress over the back of the chair, looking concerned, before taking her elbow gently and guiding her to sit at the nearby window seat. Gingerly he pulled her hands away from her chest and squeezed them, ducking his head to look into her eyes.

"Hey...what is this all about, hm?" he asked gently. Erik's eyes fell onto the bullet scar above her breast and he frowned. "Is it this?" he asked, touching it lightly with the tip of his finger. "This silly old thing? It only has as much power as you give it, schatze." He leaned down and kissed that scar like he had all of her scars many times before. Erik loved her scars and always made a point of telling her so. "It's flesh, nothing more," he reminded her quietly, leaning his head against her collarbone and kissing the pockmark again. "There are so many women in this world who have no marks at all, and it tells the story of their lives. Boring, sedentary lives where they've gained everything only by having it given to them. But you Sam Cavendish, you have earned everything you have, you've fought for it all. You've taken on a life of adventure and unbeatable odds and you won. In this country we did not have Native Americans, we had Ash Men, Vikings. And those Vikings, some of their women would go on raids with them and fight along side them. They would share their kills and their plunder and their glory. Those women were called shield maidens, schildmaidin." Here he leaned his forehead against hers again, looking into her eyes and cupping the back of her head with both hands. "I would rather have my shildmaid than a hundred Mexican debutantes, Samantha. I would rather have my one strong, beautiful shildmaid than a thousand princesses or geisha. The kaiser can have his riches, the wise men can have their books, the knights can have their glory, I have my incredible shield maiden with the story of a life well-lived written on her skin where anyone could see and know that here is a woman worthy of the gods. I have my Ranger, and she will be beyond any shadow of a doubt the most radiant woman in any room."

Still holding her head Erik kissed Sam's forehead tenderly. "A shield maiden can do anything, Samantha. And so can a Ranger, to hear you tell it." He smiled gently. "You've worked so hard on this, for weeks mein Geliebte. Is a schildmaid, a Ranger, going to let a little piece of fabric stop her without even trying where Indians and bandits and inhuman metal men couldn't?" He nudged her gently, letting her take her time with her answer.

~*~

"Well, nothing that would require me having to re-tie this bloody thing," Kieran answered with a smirk, holding Colin firmly in place as he playfully struggled. "I've got several things in mind," he murmured against his lips, "depending on just how hard you want to cum tonight. After, I mean." Another brusque knock on the door, as though Anne Marie could just tell what they were doing in there. Which, based on her daytime profession, she probably did.

Another sigh. "Oooor," he suggested, "we could wait and find a nice quiet spot right there in the chancellor's house. Bloody Krauts aren't all as decent as Rick there, y'know, so he probably deserves it. The risk would be fun..." He squeezed Colin's cock gently before pressing his thigh gently between his legs. "Whaddya think, love?" More kisses were placed in a line down his throat as he ground his leg still gently but a little more insistently into Colin's groin. "Your call, really."
 
Sam leaned into Eric, appreciating the feel of his body against hers as he showered her with compliments. "Shield maiden, hm?" she laughed. "Well, Ah reckon y'all know Ah ain't no maiden no more." Her cheeks flamed at that, and she nestled into his arms. "Ah reckon Ah'm jes' bein' foolish..." She bit that sentence off sharply. "No, no Ah ain't."

Taking Erik's hand once more, she sat on the bed and scooted over so he could join her. "Don't get me wrong, Erik. Ah ain't gonna let... let this stop me. It's jes'..." She grimaced, looking away for a moment. "Ah've been jawin' wit' Anne Marie a lot, past few weeks. About all this. An', well, an' she says Ah ain't th' only one what's got feelin's like this. Lotsa women do, way she says it. An', an' it ain't somethin' Ah kin jes' ignore, or run away from." She leaned against him, arms around him. "Gotta face up ta it, an' learn different ways ta think 'bout meself."

Giggling a little, she pulled Erik down and kissed him quickly. "Ah like that sheld maiden story, Erik. Cause Ah carry a shield already. But yer gonna have to tell me that a lot, afore Ah really believe it." She stared at him, affection dancing in her eyes as she placed a finger on his lips to silence his protests. "Ain't that Ah don't believe that y'all believe it. But Ah don't believe it myself. Not yet."

She smiled at him, then turned and looked at the dress. "Ah reckon' Ah best get dressed, now," she sighed. "Long as y'all think Ah'm purdy in it, Ah kin do it." Then she grabbed his tie, pulling him close. "But y'all best be ready to get me outta it, soon's we finish with' the party, y'hear?" It wasn't obvious, even to her, which one of them kissed the other first. But the kiss was deep, and hot, and she was on her back with his body pressing her into the mattress by the time they broke for air. "An' Ah'll return th' favor," she added.


"Oh, the Germans are rather daring these days. What with the way they're trying to embrace their mythical Aryan pagan history and 'get back to nature' these days." Colin's hands slid down the hard muscled length of Kieran's back, gripping the man's hips and grinding into his thigh. "And if it tonight were a social occasion, I would be all for it." He pulled Kieran's face back up, thrusting his tongue deep into the Irishman's mouth as he kissed him back.

"Sadly, it isn't," he murmured as he broke the kiss. "And we'd be likely to be caught out. By Professor Swift, most likely. Who would skin the both of us. Not because he'd be scandalized," a small snort of amusement escaped him, "because I don't think that man cares about sex or sexuality. But because we'd be in dereliction of duty." He pitched his voice slightly, emulating the Professor's baritone. "I simply cannot believe the two of you! Dallying, in definitive dereliction of duty! Have you forgotten our purpose in attending? Why..."

There was another rap at the door. "Are you ready yet, Kieran?" questioned the Professor. The intrusion of the man's voice forced Colin to cover his mouth with both hands, stifling embarrassed laughter. "Madame LaMonte has already informed me that she notified you that it was time to depart. We must be about the duty of the Society, so it would behoove you to finish your preparations!"
 
Erik nodded in agreement when Sam said she was being foolish, then quickly shook his head when she changed her mind. He held her hand as he sat on the bed next to her, watching her lips form her words. God he loved this woman! But the words were just as important as the lips forming them and he listened carefully to what she said. He was glad she'd been speaking to Anne Marie, who was a therapist regardless of what sort though he did feel a stab of jealousy. On the one hand he was jealous of Anne Marie for being able to comfort Sam where he couldn't, though he understood perfectly why; on the other, he did know what sort of a therapist she was and that she'd had female clients before.

"I will help you then," he promised as she leaned against him, "to find as many different ways to think about yourself as you need. No matter how long it takes." Erik kissed her back but frowned when she told him she didn't really believe it. "But you are--" Sam put a finger on his lips, affection in her eyes as she explained. "Well then in that case I will tell you often. Every day, more than once, until you have no choice but to believe it." He smiled and kissed the finger against his lips before taking her small, strong, calloused hand in his and holding it against his cheek. "You are more than 'purdy', meine Geliebte. You are stunning. Radiant. That dress will only detract from your beauty, but it is unfortunately considered poor conduct to arrive naked to a social event."

Sam pulled him close and warned him to be ready to strip her out of the expensive gown. He couldn't recall who had closed the gap between them, but he lowered her onto her back on the bed, leaning over her to kiss her deeply. Erik had already dressed for the evening but that didn't keep him from settling himself between her legs and allowing his hand to stray indecent places. Sam promised to return the favor but he didn't care; he could have taken her here, now, and though his resolve hadn't quite stiffened yet other parts of him had and pressed insistently against the inside of her thigh as he unbuttoned her shirt. She would have to take her clothes off anyway...it was multitasking, really...

"So this...jawing with Madame LaMonte," he murmured against her skin, moving his lips down her throat as he pushed off her shirt. "It was just talking?" Erik's lips traced a hot line down the center of her body, between her perfect, small breasts, over her taught abs, and down as he undid her belt and pulled her pants and underwear off together in one go. "Because I'm madly in love with you, I hope you realize," he said from between her thighs, smirking mischievously up at her though he was secretly a little terrified; he'd told her he loved her before of course, but he'd never told her he was in love with her, which was very different and terrifyingly true. "And Madame has much more experience than I, considering her line of work. I would hate to have to compete..." He drew his tongue up Sam's slit, groaning at the tangy taste before sucking gently on her clit. He licked her again and grinned. "You must get dressed, liebchen, what are you doing here on your back, hm?" he teased, sliding one finger inside of her.

There was a sharp knock at the door. "Samantha? Are you ready for me to do your hair? We only have ten minutes, cherie!"

"Wird der Teufel genannt, und kommt sie gerannt," Erik muttered, rolling his eyes. "You had better let her know you're almost ready," he added sotto voce with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He adjusted his pince nez and waited for Sam to open her mouth to answer Anne Marie before sucking on her clit again, adding a second finger and curling them inside her while she tried to speak normally.

~*~

"Well it is a social occasion for them," the pirate pointed out before Colin pulled him in for another kiss. His dick twitched against his thigh, aching to just bend him over right there. When Colin broke the kiss his lips found his jaw then his throat. He stifled a giggle in his skin when the officer started imitating the Professor's voice. It was him to a tee!

Then there was another rap at the door. Kieran opened his mouth to tell off Anne Marie but stuffed his face into Colin's shoulder to stave off more giggle fits when it turned out to be the Professor himself. He cleared his throat once he trusted himself not to laugh anymore and raised his face.

"Uh...aye it's just...these damn clothes...Not my usual attire. She said I had twenty minutes. I'll be right out, professor." He leaned is temple against Colin's, still shaking in silent laughter before putting his lips to his ear. "I'll have you by the night's out," he promised in a whisper, his breath hot against the officer's ear. His tongue darted out and curled around it only for a moment. "Sucking my cock in some hallway...bent over the desk in the library...Right there in the chancellor's own home, and I know you'll love every minute of it." He grinned and suddenly all of the weight against Colin's body disappeared. Kieran strode over to the mirror to check his hair and adjust his tie before adjusting himself so that his arousal weren't quite so obvious. And if Colin were entirely set against it...well, they were German; there had to be at least one pouf in the room. "Ready love?"
 
Sam's cheeks flamed pink at Erik's question, and at the way he was stripping her down as he asked. I truth she'd thought about that one day they'd been together, but... well, she was with Erik, now. And although she'd thoroughly enjoyed Anne Marie's attentions, it wouldn't be right in her mind. "Y'all got nuthin' ta worry about," she gasped, lifting her hips as he pulled her pants down over her rump. "'Cause Ah'm in love sit' y'aaaaAHH!"

He'd said he was in love with her! The thought had sent her pulse racing even before he'd put his clever tongue to work. And she really wanted ti make sure he knew she was too, but his mouth was on her clit and her hips were in the air offering herself to him, and the only sound she coukd make was a sort of gasping whine as his finger explored within her.

Then Anne Marie was knocking at the door, asking if she was ready. "Yep, jes'AH!" Her eyes went wide as a second finger penetrated her, stroking deeply while Erik sucjed at her sensitive flesh once more. "Ah... Ah... OH! Ah'm... Ah'm AHlmost fi...fi...finished... Anne M-AH! Marie?"

She tried to glare down at her lover, but the building pleasure reduced her withering glare to a lust-filled, pleading gaze. "Ah... almost... almost finished…" she managed, staring into his eyes. Then she threw her head back, biting her hand so she wouldn't scream as she shattered beneath his attentions. Her sex clenched and sucked at his fingers as her hips ground against his mouth, and her free hand clutched at the blankets as she shook with the force of her orgasm.

Finally, gasping, she shakily pushed herself up. "Y'all are [i[so[/i] gonna pay fer that tonight, Erik..." she promised.



"Oh, I'll love every minute of it," Colin promised. "But you're making an awful lot of assumptions about who'll be bent over and fucked. I am, after all, an officer in Her Majesty's Royal Aeronavy." He held a serious expression, then waggled his eyebrows. "I have access to manackes and leg irons..."

His attentiin turned back to the door, adjusting his trousers as he did. "But I suppose I am as ready as I'll ever be. Shall we?"

The Professor was awaiting them in the sitting room, nursing a scotch and sida while smoking a cigar. "Ah, there you are," he grumbled. "Just once, I'd like to keep to a schedule. And where the devil are Samantha and Erik?"

Colin crossed to the sidebar and poured himself a scotch before glancing to see if Kieran wanted one as well. "He's probably helping her relax," he commented. "She's remarkably tense about the role she's playing."
 
"Are you sure? You sound like there might be some difficulties with the dress." Anne Marie smirked while she stood on the other side of the door. A poor professional she would be indeed if she couldn't recognize the sound of a pending orgasm.

"Ah...almost...almost finished..." Sam gasped, staring down at Erik while he stared back up at her.

He redoubled his attentions to her, sliding his free hand up her body as he did so. Gently he pushed aside the fist she was biting on and covered her mouth, clamping his hand firmly over her lips to muffle any sounds she might make. His own groan was muffled in her sex as her walls clenched and pulsed around his fingers and his tongue worked her clit more furiously. Her orgasm was silent but no less powerful and his own arousal throbbed as she came. Sam pushed herself to her feet and promised that he would pay for that, but he grinned.

"Doubtful, Schatze, if you cannot remember all of that hard work we spent on your diction." He grinned and looked into her eyes as he licked his fingers clean. "If you cannot enunciate, we'll just have to continue your language lessons for which I can be much better prepared here in my own home." Erik held up her dress and helped her into it before adjusting his throbbing erection. "And now if you'll excuse me, I have something to take care of while Anne Marie helps you with your hair."

~*~

Kieran raised an eyebrow at his lover in the mirror. "My dear, you can claim that all you want, but we both know you're the 'woman' in this...whatever it is." He spun on his heel and grabbed Colin by the hip, tilting his chin up to kiss him one last time. "You look good tonight love."

With a smack on the rear he walked past him and downstairs into the sitting room. Women liked compliments like that, so why not Colin? He took a drink from him before sitting, taking care to sit on opposite ends of the sofa. It made him uncomfortable enough that Anne Marie knew; he didn't want Professor Swift figuring it out as well.

"She's quite concerned," Erik confirmed, coming down the stairs and joining them. It had been a few minutes since he'd left Sam's room and he'd of course needed to make sure his tuxedo was straight. "But Anne Marie is doing her hair and I'm sure being of much more comfort than I was."
 
Sam bit her lip, small breasts heaving as she gasped for breath and watched Erik lick his fingers clean. "Ah reckon..." She smiled. "I mean, I suppose I shall endeavor to recall the lessons you gave me." Shaky, she rose and let Erik help her into her dress, skin still tingling at his touch and then watched as he adjusted his trousers.

"And now if you'll excuse me," he said, "I have something to take care of while Anne Marie helps you with your hair."

"I fear you are incorrect, Herr Schmidt," she said, shoving him against the wall and tugging frantically at his pants. "I have matters to attend to." She went to her knees as his cock emerged from his pants, wrapping her mouth around his length. Kneeling there in her formal gown, she stared up at him as her hands gripped his ass and she swallowed his cock. God but he was hard, and she sucked him like a woman possessed - or, perhaps, like a woman possessing. Her moans tingled along his length as his blunt head bumped against the back of her throat. Aroused as he was, he didn't last long - which was fine with her. The feel of his pulsing cock and the taste of his seed sent lighting through her veins.

Sighing a contented sigh, she rose and licked her lips clean of the last traces of his cum and then dabbed at them with a silk handkerchief. "Go," she whispered, kissing him, "and don't forget that you owe me another language lesson tonight."

She watched Erik leave, smug and proud at the way he wobbled just a little as he walked. "Anne Marie!" she beamed as the older woman entered, holding her hands out. "You simply must forgive me for keeping you waiting! Erik was giving me a few final pointers on the proper use of the German tongue, and I needed to ensure that I had mastered the lesson." There was a merry glint in her eyes that turned to admiration as she examined her friend. "But look at you! My dear, you are simply gorgeous tonight! And that dress! I wish I had the figure to wear a dress like that!"

Humor flashed in her eyes, and her expression turned conspiratorial. "Whady'all reckon? Kin Ah pass fer a debutante?"
 
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