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

Erik gasped and whimpered in his need as she begged him to cum and dug her nails into his flesh. "Cum with me," he begged breathlessly, pulling her thigh further up and around his ribs. He slid his fingers faster over her clit as his hips began moving jerkily, moving deep inside her.

"Cum with me Samantha," he whispered. "I...love you...so...damn...much...!"

He couldn't hold back anymore. Erik plunged himself as deep inside Sam as he could, cumming hard with a gasp and a long, low moan. Her name formed on his lips but came out half-formed and whimpered. For the first time in his life Erik Heinz-Schmidt was in love, and it was more incredible than he could have ever imagined.
 
"Cum with me," Erik begged her, hips moving faster as his fingers worked sweet torture on her clit and his cock's sweet friction made her inner walls clench and threatened to ignite her whole body. "Cum with me Samantha," he whispered. "I...love you...so...damn...much...!"

"Erik..." she whimpered, so close she was afraid she'd go mad. "Love... love you... Erik..." She clung to him tight, desperate to feel his body against hers, in hers, hands sliding over his back and neck and in his hair as she kissed him again and again. "Gaaawwd.... Erik... so... close..."

He plunged deep into her, and he heard his drawn out moan of pleasure as he throbbed in her once more and his seed flooded her womb. The sound of her name on his lips, whimpered and half-formed as he came in her, sent her over the edge at last. She clung to him, his name a sobbing cry of pure pleasure on her lips as her walls clenched around the pulsing hardness filling her core. All that mattered at that moment was him. Erik. Her Erik. Her man. "Mine," she whispered and whimpered, clinging to him as their shared orgasm shook her body. "Mine. Mine."
 
"Yours," Erik panted as Sam clung to him as though her life depended on it. "All yours, Samantha. Entirely yours."

He sank to his knees with her to keep from any sort of unexpected falls. He knelt over her as he rested her on the back of the tub as the water washed over him. Slowly Erik pulled out and groaned, kissing her neck.

"And now," Erik said gently, licking droplets of water off of Sam's throat, "I think perhaps a real shower and some breakfast?" He smiled as he gazed over her face. "We have to eat to keep our energy up, after all. And the Society will probably be expecting us this afternoon." He nuzzled her neck gently, groaning quietly.
 
"Yours," Erik panted. "All yours, Samantha. Entirely yours."

"Mmmmmm..." Sam purred, still clinging to him as he sank to his knees and laid her back against the tub. She sighed contentedly as he groaned against her neck. Even the feeling of his softening length slipping from inside her couldn't wreck her mood. "Good," she murmured, making lazy circles on his back as lapped water drops from her skin. "An' Ah'm yers, Erik..." Then she opened her eyes just a little, looking at him through heavy lids. "An' Ah did say Ah wanted th' shower ta be hotter 'n Hell..." she grinned. "Ah'd say y'all managed."

"And now," Erik said gently, licking droplets of water off of Sam's throat, "I think perhaps a real shower and some breakfast?"

Sam shivered a little against him. "If y'all wanna get a real shower," she whispered, voice half-teasing, "y'best stop doin' that wit' yer tongue. Cause we ain't gonna make it as fer as th' bed, if'n y'all keep that up." Then her stomach rumbled. "But," she added, starting to sound more serious, "Ah am gettin' a mite peaked..."

He smiled as he gazed over her face. "We have to eat to keep our energy up, after all."

"Oh, definitely," she agreed. "Gonna need some stamina, Ah suspect."

"And the Society will probably be expecting us this afternoon." He nuzzled her neck gently, groaning quietly.

"Then y'all best stop that," she said, kissing him lingeringly. "Cause Ah promise yeh Erik, if'n y'all keep that up, Ah will ride y'long an' hard, an' we will not make that meetin'."
 
The week passed in a whirl of passion for Erik and Sam. Amongst the Society one could hardly tell they might be an item, and wouldn't be able to at all were it not for the occasional loving caresses and secretive, tender looks passed between them. Nobody said anything but everyone knew, and that was how Erik wanted to keep it for now. He was, after all, an immensely private man. Though he wasn't embarrassed of Sam or their relationship, he simply saw it as no one else's business for now. The others weren't asking and he wasn't volunteering the information.

Anne Marie spent her spare time amongst the remaining men of the Society, going shopping with one or having dinner with the other. A few times she joined Professor Swift at the opera or the theatre. Kieran chose to spend most of his time with the widow when he wasn't in his room, his ship being wandering about international waters. It would have been foolish to just park an aeroship above London. It was to his great dismay, however, that he found Anne Marie spending a good amount of time with Captain Drake as well. They made plans for Paris and investigating the Wings of Silence as well as went shopping together on occasion, during which times the good Captains said very little to each other and indeed usually pretended the other wasn't there.

Finally the Society went their separate ways: Professor Swift, Sam, and Herr Schmidt to Spain and Madame LaMonte and Captains Drake and Shane to Paris. Kieran had never seen Anne Marie's home before and was actually quite curious. He'd passed over Paris a few times but had never actually stopped to take in the sights. He therefore let out a low whistle when the limousine which Anne Marie had sent for let them out in the courtyard of an enormous mansion. Anne Marie looked at him sideways and smiled.

"I told you, Monsieur, that my husband was very wealthy," she said slyly. She led the way into the brightly lit foyer where they were met by at least fifteen servants, all greeting her in an enthusiastic babble of French. She smiled back and handed an older woman her coat before the woman took Kieran and Colin's jackets as well. "Bernard nos sacs sont encore dans la voiture. Pouvez-vous se il vous plaît veiller à ce qu'ils soient traduits dans nos chambres respectives? Capitaines Drake et Shane seront logés dans l'aile Est."

A distinguished-looking older gentleman bowed. "Oui, Madame. Aussitôt." He motioned to two other, younger men who followed him out to the car.

"Caroline will show you to your rooms," Anne Marie informed her guests, a pretty girl stepping forward and curtseying. "I imagine you will both want to freshen up and maybe rest. Shall we meet in the parlour at shall we say...one o'clock for a late lunch?" She consulted a large grandfather clock to the side, which read the time now as 10:30 in the morning.
 
Colin Drake, Captain in His Majesty's Royal Aeronavy, watched the Parisian streets roll past as they rode in Madame LaMonte's limousine. "It seems... quiet," he observed. "But, I'm afraid that the last time I was in Paris was last year. The Saint Gabriel was carrying four tripods to the river Somme, and we stopped over for a day for a briefing from Field Marshal Haig before joining that offensive." He stared out the window. "Do you know, he was something of a prophet that day? He looked at us and said: 'Gentlemen, our offensive at the Somme will mark the beginning of the end of the war'."

Silence.

"Six months later, we signed the Treaty of Arras. And the war was over. Three million dead, between England and France and Germany, and the war... just ended." He stared out the window. "Sometimes, I wonder if we might not have been better off under the Martians."

Then he forced a laugh. "I'm sorry. I just... that is, Paris holds memories for me. Forgive me."

When the unlikely threesome - a British officer, an Irish pirate, and a French heiress - reached Madame LaMonte's home, Kieran let out a low whistle. Colin tried to be unimpressed - he was the fourth son of a landed noble, after all - but even he lifted an eyebrow at the mansion. "The Hôtel de Carnavalet?"

"I told you, Monsieur, that my husband was very wealthy," she said slyly.

"Indeed," Colin agreed. "Are you then the marquise de Sévigné, Madame? Or did your late husband simply acquire the property?"

He managed not to stare about as he followed Madame into the foyer, and he allowed one of the valets to take his coat. The rush of French about him was difficult to follow - he spoke French with a textbook precision that he had never been able to fully put to the test - but he clearly understood that he and Kieran were both to be lodged in the east wing of the house.

"Caroline will show you to your rooms," Anne Marie informed her guests, a pretty girl stepping forward and curtseying.

Colin bowed. "Mes remerciements, bonne madamoiselle," he said, flashing a smile as she giggled just a little.

"I imagine you will both want to freshen up and maybe rest. Shall we meet in the parlour at shall we say...one o'clock for a late lunch?"

"As you wish, Madame LaMonte. And afterwards, we should discuss our plans."
 
"To the great chagrin of my estranged in-laws, I am the Marquise," Anne Marie confirmed, her smile betraying that she was not at all upset they had chosen to estrange themselves. She watched Colin bow and the way Caroline giggled as he flashed her a smile. Handing her stole to a servant she said to them both, "I would like to remind you that my staff are off-limits to your dalliances, gentlemen. You are free to go anywhere you like unaccompanied with the exception of the basement. This is where I keep dangerous compounds and chemicals and do not want either of you accidentally killing yourselves."

"That would put a damper on the day," Kieran agreed, flashing his own charming smile at Caroline when Anne Marie's back was turned.

"I will see you at one o'clock, then. Welcome to my home." Anne Marie disappeared up the left-hand stairwell while the Captains were led off to the right.

"Well...I knew she was loaded but I didn't think it was anything like this," Kieran muttered half to Colin as they followed Caroline up the right-hand stairs. "What's she do with all this space?"
 
"What does she do with all this space?" Colin echoed, following Caroline up the stairs. "Why, man, I expect she lives in it."

He paused at the top of the stairs, gesturing down and back. "I grew up in a house like this. Perhaps a little larger, although not so elegantly furnished. So I am no stranger to this sort of home." He stretched his legs a little, boot heels clickimg softly on the marble floor. "The whole point is to overawe guests. To make them understand your wealth and position."

He walked in silence for a moment, then laughed. "Sadly, 'massive and impressive' generally also means 'cold and drafty'."
 
"Massive and impressive doesn't always mean cold," Kieran pointed out with a suggestive smirk and a raised eyebrow. "I just don't see how she can live in all this. While you were eating with silver spoons and walking through your palaces it was hard to imagine anyone with so much space growing up in a two-room hovel you had to share with six other children and your parents. Oh wait, that's right; the English killed my father, so it was just Mum and us kids."

Kieran walked in a stony silence as Caroline led them down the hall. That was the most he'd ever told anyone about his upbringing and it had slipped out entirely on accident. Despite all that pirating had gotten him, he still found it difficult to imagine living in such a lavish place as this. It truly did seem a palace to him and he couldn't imagine that places like Buckingham Palace were even bigger.

Caroline stopped in front of a large door and indicated that this was Kieran's room. "Erm...Mercie," he mumbled with an awful accent before bidding Colin goodbye and closing the door with a sharp snap.
 
Colin fell silent as Kieran lashed out verbally, distilling a lifetime of anger into a few short words. He considered saying something. But, really, what could he say? 'Sorry' was worse than useless, a trite sympathetic gesture that meant nothng. But those few words explained so very much about the pirate. The silence yawned and stretched until they arrived at the suite that had been marked for Kieran's use. He murmured an ill-pronounced word of thanks in French and then closed the door.

Oh wait, that's right; the English killed my father, so it was just Mum and us kids.

Once, he'd thought that the Irish occupation was justified. Ireland was English, after all. Surely, the rebellions had to be crushed. But... something had changed. Maybe it was the terrible cost in blood paid for the Great War. Maybe it was simply that he'd grown up.

Or, maybe, it was the fact that the Irish were human. And in the face of the continued Martian threat, differences like nationalities paled.

"I'm woolgathering," he grinned to himself. "I should at least have brandy."

"Pardonnez-moi, monsieur?" Caroline asked.

"Rien, Caroline," he answered, waving his hand. "Je suis juste ... pense à haute voix. Il n'a pas d'importance."

"Bien sûr, monsieur. Et voici votre chambre."

"Merci, Caroline," Colin said, walking into the sitting room. "Ce sera tout pour le moment."

She curtsied prettily, and left. Brooding, Colin went to stare out the window.
 
The few hours passed rather quickly for Kieran. He washed his face in the basin and slept for an hour or so before changing into fresh clothes. It felt good to get the grime of travel off of him. Refreshed and ready to face the others he stepped lightly out of his room. Taking a deep breath he wandered the halls to try to find the parlor. Finally he gave up and stopped a servant and between his terrible French, the butler's broken English, and many frantic hand signals on both of their parts he managed to get the point across and was led to the parlor where a refreshed and cheerful-looking Madame LaMonte.

"Bonjour Capitan Shane," she greeted him with a small smile, stirring a cup of tea before laying the spoon on the saucer.

"'Lo Madame," Kieran nodded, joining her and pulling a flask from his pocket and setting it beside his cup.

"Oh, really Monsieur," Anne Marie protested, shifting in her seat.

He shrugged. "Hair o' the dog," he smirked.
 
"'Hair o' the dog' is, at least in my opinion, a terrible addition to tea."

Rather than wear his uniform, which might not prove so popular this close to the end of the last war, Colin Drake had elected to wear a simple grey houndstooth suit and black tie. It didn't quite let him pass for a civilian - his carriage was too erect for that, and he still had a tendency to walk at a marching pace - but he could have been taken for someone recently demobilized. "Good afternoon, Captain Shane." A slight smile flickered across his face. "Madame Marquise de Sévigné."

Taking a seat, he accepted a cup of tea from the butler. Scooping a single spoonful of sugar in, he looked from Anne-Marie to Kieran and back. "And here we are." Silver tinked on china as he stirred. "I must confess," he continued, "I have little enough idea how to proceed. My experience with finding pirates is... well, less grounded."

He sipped the tea. "What do you think, Kieran? Are these wings of silence the dregs of society, the sort of people that haunt low dives and houses of ill repute?" Another sip. "or are the sort of dregs of society that float at the top?"
 
"Yeah well, that's your opinion, mate," Kieran answered coolly, pouring some of the mystery liquor into his tea and stirring. He sipped it and winced slightly as he swallowed before taking another sip.

"Please, Capitan Drake, I am still the same person," Anne Marie said with a hand held up in protest. She took a sip of her tea--plain with lemon--as Colin admitted he didn't really know what to do from here.

"...My experience with finding pirates is...well, less grounded."

"That much is clear mate," Kieran sniggered, smirking into his tea. It caught him offguard when the other officer asked for his opinion. "Don't quite know," he admitted with a shrug. "Had a run-in with them once and they nearly knocked me out of the sky. That's all I know of them. Their captain looked a dandy though. I'd look for him rubbing elbows with the upper crust but I dunno about the rest of the crew."

"Well then I think I have an idea of where to start," Anne Marie rejoined with a small smile. "I have contacts in the city. If you can give a good description of this captain then it is possible we can find out their whereabouts. Tell me, Captains, do either of you like jazz?"
 
"Good afternoon, Captain Shane."

"Yeah well, that's your opinion, mate," Kieran answered coolly.

"Indeed it is," Colin answered. "And why shouldn't it be? It is early fall, and we are in Paris! Sadly we are on business, but still..." A slight smile flickered across his face, and he sketched a little bow. "Madame Marquise de Sévigné."

"Please, Capitan Drake, I am still the same person," Anne Marie said with a hand held up in protest.

"Oh, of course," he answered, taking a seat. His smile grew broader and somewhat mischievous. "I shall breathe not a single word more of your title." A pause. "Madame Anne-Marie LaMonte, Marquise de Sévigné."

He accepted a cup of tea from the butler. Scooping a single spoonful of sugar in, he looked from Anne-Marie to Kieran and back. "And here we are." Silver tinked on china as he stirred. "I must confess," he continued, "I have little enough idea how to proceed. My experience with finding pirates is... well, less grounded."

"That much is clear mate," Kieran sniggered, smirking into his tea.

"So I've always had to locate them by hunting them through the skies, and then putting the broadside to them." He sipped the tea. "What do you think, Kieran? Are these wings of silence the dregs of society, the sort of people that haunt low dives and houses of ill repute?" Another sip. "or are the sort of dregs of society that float at the top?"

"Don't quite know," Kieran answered, looking slightly surprised. "Had a run-in with them once and they nearly knocked me out of the sky. That's all I know of them. Their captain looked a dandy though. I'd look for him rubbing elbows with the upper crust but I dunno about the rest of the crew."

"The upper crust?" Colin considered that. "Unless they mingle with the naval brass in Paris, then, I'll be no help locating them."

"Well then I think I have an idea of where to start," Anne Marie rejoined with a small smile. "I have contacts in the city. If you can give a good description of this captain then it is possible we can find out their whereabouts. Tell me, Captains, do either of you like jazz?"

"More than is probably good for me," Colin admitted. Then he smiled. "But not as much as Sam does."
 
"Bit old fashioned meself," Kieran admitted, "but jazz is alright. Good for dancing, y'know? That new kind of dance, anyway."

Anne Marie, who had quite ignored Colin's second use of her title, helped herself to a scone. She had avoided telling them for this exact reason; she was certain Colin and Erik would insist on referring to her as the Marquise. "Well then after dinner we shall go out to a place I know. It is a club called Le Boeuf sur le Toit and it is the most excellent place I have found in the city both for dancing and informants."

After dinner as they were on their way to this club, Madame LaMonte was outwardly fashionable but deceptively modest. After all, it was a bit chilly outside. Once in the club, however, her coat and hat came off and she watched the men's faces for a reaction as she made her way to the floor in a much less modest outfit. Kieran didn't bother hiding his raised eyebrows and wandering eyes.

"Hell of a woman, Anne Marie," he muttered to Colin as he watched her immediately get an offer to dance. "Damn..."
 
The afternoon waxed into evening. Dinner was served and eaten, and the unlikely threesome made their way to the club Anne-Marie had named. Colin, for his part, had to fight down the urge to dress for an evening out. Finally, he settled on a plain white suit and a dove grey fedora, rather than the tuxedo he had tried to talk himself into. Madame LaMonte's gown, fashionable but not formal, made him glad he had done so. It simply wouldn't do to be the odd man out at the club, after all.

Still, the only reason his jaw didn't drop when she shed her coat was breeding. But he still found himself joining Kieran in watching her make her way to the floor and take her pick of offers to dance. "Hell of a woman, Anne Marie," Kieran muttered. "Damn..."

Mutely, Colin shook his head. "Well said, Kieran. Well said, indeed." Then he slapped the pirate on the back. "Well, come on then. There are beautiful women aplenty in this club. And we owe it to the Society to ensure that we give all of them the opportunity to tell us about the Wings of Silence!" With that, he picked out a likely-looking young lady and headed in her direction.


"Madame," the man said in Russian-accented French, bowing. He had set an intercept course for Madame LaMonte as soon as she had entered the club, even before she had removed her coat, and the only impact her dramatic revelation had was to make him quicken his pace. He was a smallish man, perhaps five and a half feet tall, but he moved with a confidence that many men a foot taller lacked. "May I have the pleasure of offering you your first dance of the evening?"
 
Pirate though Kieran was, he knew how to dress himself. He hadn't had nearly the trouble Colin had getting himself dressed. After all, there was only so much he had to wear. He threw a look over at Captain Drake when he went out to dance but he wasn't certain the good captain had seen.

"Yes, I'm certain they will," he murmured before going out to the dance floor.

He looked over the pretty girls and for a few moments his eyes landed on Madame LaMonte. She was dancing with a tiny man, shorter than her even. There was something...funny about him. Kieran got a queer vibe from him and made a mental note to keep an eye on him and on her throughout the night. Trying to shake the feeling but unable to, he looked over the girls and in awkward sort-of-French-mostly-English-and-hand-signals he managed to ask a very pretty girl to dane.

~*~

Madame LaMonte had seen the little man almost as soon as he had started her way. His quickened pace once she had shed her coat made him even more conspicuous. She pretended not to notice until he was right in front of her. He had an undeniable air of confidence and charisma about him, even Anne Marie had to admit that. When he asked her to dance she smiled warmly.

"I would be delighted," she purred. Of course Anne Marie knew who he was. Poor excuse of a spy and assassin she would be if she didn't. And honestly, she was surprised she hadn't been approached with an offer on his head before; but she never minded foreign politics.

"You have a most...unusual accent, Monsieur," she mentioned lightly as she took his hand and he led her out onto the floor. "Russian, if I'm not mistaken? What brings you to Paris?" Anne Marie would have been taller than him by three or four inches in flat feet; with her shoes she was nearly half a foot taller than her partner, bu it didn't seem to bother him in the least.
 
Accepting her hand, the man led her out onto the floor. "Georgian, actually," he laughed. "But you are so very close, that I am inclined to give you full credit for your conclusion. And I should very much like to claim that it is your beauty alone that brings me to this magnificent city." Slipping one arm around her waist, he led her into the steps of the Fox Trot. Despite their difference in heights, he managed not to appear ridiculous as he took the lead. He also managed not to appear uncomfortable with the fact that his face was level with her cleavage. Instead, he merely looked up and met her gaze.

"Sadly," he continued, "that is not the reason - although, had I known that Madame resided in Paris, I assure you that I would have hastened here without delay. But, as to my sadly prosaic reason?" A shrug, and then a smile. "Well, before that, I fear I my manners escape me. I am Monsieur Ioseb Jugashvili. And may I ask your name?"



Colin stepped onto the floor arm in arm with one Mademoiselle Yasmine Ameriane, a pretty, dusky-skinned Algerian whom he'd approached on the grounds that "perhaps, as we are both strangers to this fair city, we should not be strangers to one another?" She'd laughed at that, and accepted his invitation to dance. And so they drifted through the other dancers, making small talk as he occasionally glanced at Anne-Marie and at Kieran.

"Are you hear for business?" Yasmine asked.

He sighed. "Politics, I'm afraid. Far more dreary than business."

She giggled at that. "I understand completely. My brother brought me here for similar reasons."

"Your brother..?"

She glanced around. "Sail Mohammad," she murmured. "He became... politically active. During the last war. And he sees Paris as the perfect place to begin making a change in society."
 
Well, since we're lying anyway... Anne Marie thought, hiding her suspicion behind a smooth facade.

"Antoinette Giry," she replied with a smile. Secretly she was a little impressed "Ioseb" had managed not to stare at what was so easily in his line of view. Even Kieran hadn't managed that...but then again, Kieran had seen so much more. But that was a line of thinking for another time. "Whatever has happened cannot be so sad if it brings you to Paris, Batoni Jugashvili. Or if it is, then Paris is the very place to cheer you. Either way, Georgia has lost an its best dancer." Anne Marie smiled charmingly despite being quite bored with the Fox Trot already; it was her partner who kept her interested. What did he want?

"Forget your woes, Monsieur. Tell me of what you have seen since you have been in my beautiful city and perhaps I can tell you where to find more places to scare away the ghosts of your past.

~*~

"Quel est votre nom, Monsieur?" the pretty girl who had accepted his invitation asked as Kieran led her across the floor in a surprisingly graceful manner.

"Erm...?" His eyes jerked away from Captain Drake and the dark beauty he had chosen as he looked down at his own partner. Her eyes were kind and understanding as she repeated herself more slowly. He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Sorry, mate. No clue."

The girl crinkled her prettily freckled nose and giggled a little before briefly putting her hand to her own chest. "Elise," she explained. "Vous?"

"Oh!" Understanding dawned across Kieran's face and they both chuckled for a few moments. "Kieran."

"Kieran..." Elise let the strange name roll across her tongue for a few moments. "Kieran. Alors, où êtes-...?" Her question died on her lips as she looked up and saw Kieran looking over at his friend and the pretty dark girl. "Est-elle votre partenaire ou suis-je?" she asked, somewhat testily. She didn't expect him to understand, but her tone was enough to attract his gaze back to her.

"Oh er, sorry." Kieran was not at all feeling his usual charming self this evening, and he didn't like the girl who was dancing with Colin. Not that it was about anything so superficial as skin, of course, but there was just something about her he didn't like. He didn't want Colin dancing with her anymore.
 
"Perhaps Geogia has," Ioseb agreed, cheerfully. "But would not the entire world come to Paris, in hopes of witnessing Madame Giry dance? For Georgia's finest is but a pale shadow of your own grace and skill."

Laughing, he spun Anne-Marie out with one hand before catching and dipping her. "I fear," he said, that I have had little enough time for sightseeing - a crime, yes, but unavoidable. I have experienced certain... setbacks, and have come to Paris to rebuild my resources and try again."

Another spin, only this time he spun outwards as well. The two dancers orbited a central point for a moment, before he drew her back in. "And you? You have the air of one who has traveled extensively - what draws you back to Paris?"



Colin watched first Anne-Marie and then Kieran as he swept around the floor with Yasmine. "A change in society?" he echoed. "One of those socialist types, like the ones that flared up in Moscow a few years ago?"

She laughed. "Not to hear him tell it, but yes. Although he had a falling out with the Russians, right before their attempted coup."

"Oh really? What about?"

She gave him a mischevious smile. "Why, about whether it was appropriate to discuss the brother of one's dance partner..."

Colin glanced quickly at Kieran, and then laughed as well. "A hit!" he cried. "A most palpable hit, and I beg your pardon"
 
"You overestimate my skill I am afraid, Batoni," Anne Marie said with a fetching flush which was not at all sincere. "You have not seen the sort of dancers my country has to offer. I should be considered intermediate at best."

Despite their size difference Ioseb led her into a graceful dip. Now she knew why his followers had gotten as far as they had; he was charisma and charm personified. Were she a more naive woman, Madame LaMonte might have fallen for him. Fortunately for her, she was as shrewd as he was charming.

"Oui, I have traveled," she confirmed, "but Paris is my first and only home. I could not imagine living anywhere else, and I welcome you to my city Batoni Jugashvili. Perhaps I could show you the sights some time, hm? You will tell me about these setbacks and I will tell you about Paris in all her glory."

~*~

Oh dear God their eyes met. Kieran looked quickly away as Colin glanced up at him, but their eyes had most definitely met. It wasn't like he'd been watching him or anything, and he didn't want the captain on the other side of the law to get any funny ideas. As he looked away he heard the darker girl make Colin laugh. Well...that was a very odd mixture of...feelings.

"I'm sorry," Kieran apologized with that self-deprecating-yet-charming smile Anne Marie liked to call his apologetic smoulder. According to her, he had several different types of smoulder and this one was reserved for those rare moments he actually felt like an ass. Few women could resist, even Anne Marie. "I must be a terrible dance partner. Not your first pick, I'm sure." The look on Elise's face made it fairly clear that if she'd understood him, she would have agreed without hesitation.

Clearing his throat, he tried to push away whatever was going on in his head and started again. "I'm from Ireland. Uh...Eer-londe, I think?" He smiled at the look of recognition on her face, in turn making her smile and blush a bit. "Yeah, so, Eer-londe. Et...uh...et vous?"

"Et vous," Elise corrected gently with a smile. Kieran had been pronouncing the t. He repeated it and waited for an answer. "Je suis de Wallonie." Noting the confusion on his face, Elise tried to think of a more common name, one he might recognize. "Er...Belgique?"

"Oh, Belgium? You're from Belgium?" She was pretty, but Kieran feared they probably both felt like they were speaking to a child. He glanced up briefly at Colin--laughing with his partner--as Elise nodded.

"Oui! Belgium. Eh, sud de la Belgium." The word felt strange to her. Why did English speakers have to call her home so differently from its real name? "Comprenez vous 'sud'?" She pointed down with a finger, toward the floor. It took him a minute to cotton on.

"Sud like south?" Kieran racked his brains for the smattering of German he'd learned from an engineer on a ship on which he'd sailed long ago. "Like uh...oh what is it? Süden?" They sounded similar enough. Now please understand German...

"Oui! Süden de la Belgium." Oh God what a painfully awful mash of languages that was! Still, at least he was handsome and trying.

"Great! So you're from southern Belgium and you think I'm an idiot. Got it." He didn't know what, but it was probably something in his tone that made her giggle.
 
"Oui, I have traveled," she confirmed, "but Paris is my first and only home. I could not imagine living anywhere else, and I welcome you to my city Batoni Jugashvili. Perhaps I could show you the sights some time, hm? You will tell me about these setbacks and I will tell you about Paris in all her glory."

Ioseb beamed at that. "I would like that very much, Madame Giry. Very much indeed. In Russia, we say that if you go from Moscow to Budapest you think you are in Paris. I would prefer, I think, to know Paris well enough that when I go to Budapest again I shall think I am in Moscow." The music changed, picking up tempo, and he pulled her closer. "I assume you know the Balboa?"


The first song wound down, and Colin felt himself breathing hard. "You dance delightfully," he said.

"You aren't so bad yourself," Yasmine smiled. "A trifle distracted, though."

"Ah... yes..." Colin looked a little shamefaced. "It's just that I, well, I dragged a colleague of mine here..."

"That pretty man over there with the mustache?" she teased.

"Yes, him," Colin agreed, finding it odd that he agreed with the assessment. "And he doesn't speak French. It's making me feel a little guilty, just abandoning him..."

Yasmine peered at him. "Looks like he's doing all right. But, let's go help him out."

He blinked in surprise. "Really?"

She gave him a playful little push on the chest. "Really. I am fully prepared to make the great sacrifice of having to split my time between two beautiful men. Come on."

Still reeling a little form that statement, Colin allowed Yasmine to grab his hand and tug him towards Kieran and his partner. They made their way through the crowded floor, where Yasmine tapped the pirate's pretty brunette partner on the shoulder. "Pardonnez-moi. Je aimerais couper."

"Excusez-moi?" asked the Belgian, surprised.

Yasmine smiled. "Je te échange..."

Elise looked at Colin, then shrugged and slipped into Colin's arms. Yasmine pressed up against Kieran. "Hi, handsome," she murmured, running a finger down his chest. "Let's see if you're a better dancer than your... partner."
 
Anne Marie laughed lightly at Ioseb's joke. "Well then, I shall see what I can do about that," she purred.

"I assume you know the Balboa?" he asked, pulling her closer.

"But of course," she answered, switching dances with ease. "And this is much more my tempo anyway. Much more modern and upbeat. Considering all the darkness of recent times, I think the world could use more uptempo dance. Don't you?" Anne Marie waited a few moments for his answer before continuing. "So have you not seen anything of Paris? Surely you have at least seen the Eiffel Tower and the Arch de Triumph? Anyone who has been in Paris for a day has seen those wonderful monuments."

~*~

As the song wound down Kieran brought his partner to a stop and bowed slightly, kissing her hand. "Merci." Well, at least he knew one word of French. He was just grateful the damned song was over.

Elise opened her mouth to respond in kind, but felt a tap on her shoulder. The dusky beauty her partner had been staring at was smiling behind her, wanting to cut in. "Excusez-moi?" She meant to swap partners. Elise looked the other man up and down. They were both incredibly handsome, and it seemed this one actually knew French, so she didn't mind so much. With a shrug and a smile she slipped into his arms and let him lead the way.

"Oh thank God you speak English," Kieran breathed, regaining his charming smile. "Good evening beautiful," he replied in kind to her greeting. "Oh he may know more languages than I, but I'm a much better dancer than him. And much better looking." The pirate swept her away into the Balboa, his confidence renewed by the fact that this woman spoke English and so he could be more easily charming. Still, he couldn't help but glance over at Colin and Elise every now and then.

"But where are my manners?" he said after a few moments, tearing his eyes away hopefully before he was noticed. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name? Mine is Kieran."
 
"Madame Giry!" Ioseb laughed. "I do not know this word 'upbeat'! I am Russian!" He grinned, concentrating on his steps for a moment. "But no, you are right. I had dreamed that this industrial slaughter would be the fertilizer of something better. But my hopes, it seems, were vain."

Dancing along, he listened to her question. "I have, yes. Monseiur Eiffel's tower is... interesting. And the Arch magnificent." A smile. "And, just this evening, I have seen that which is most beautiful among a city filled with beauty."


Colin swept Elise across the floor, smiling at her questions. "English, actually. An aeroship captain."

"Oh, my," she replied, a trifle breathless. "But, where is your uniform?"

"I'm on holiday. Much as I love the service, it's nice to get out of uniform once in a while."

"Is it?" she asked, pressing close for a moment. "Mmmmm... that would be nice..."


"Yasmine," she said. "And you, Kieran, have the most wonderful accent. Is it Welsh?"

She let him take the lead, noting the pleasant feel of callused hands and hard muscle. There was a similarity between her two dance partners, she decided. Like that between a wolfhound and a wolf. "So... what brings the two of you to Paris?"



Ioseb spun Madame Giry, then half-stepped out and back. As he did, he spotted two men in dark brown suits entering the club. Turning and stepping forward, he caught her hands again. Without trying to display any undue haste, he began dancing towards the opposite side of the floor.
 
"I thought you were Georgian, Batoni," Anne Marie replied with a pleasant if somewhat smirkish smile. "Unlike many foreigners, I make sure to tell the difference. My father was a man of the world and he taught me well to respect the differences of others."

Ioseb went on about the Tower and the Arch, as well as the war--and, she presumed, his own failed uprising--before paying her another compliment. This man was good. It was a very good thing that she was better. She smiled and blushed demurely again.

"Clearly you have not seen enough of Paris, Monsieur," she insisted. "Once I show you the beauties of the streets of my city you would look on me as you would a dirty rag." She laughed as he spun her and stepped forward, but quietly noticed as he began dancing her toward the opposite side of the room. "Do you see friends of yours, Monsieur?" Madame LaMonte asked lightly, as though she thought he was leading her towards someone.

~*~

"Close enough," Kieran smiled as Yasmine guessed at his accent. "Irish, actually. But anyone of the continent who would not confuse me as an Englishman is a friend of mine, Mademoiselle. And I would not even dream of insulting you by trying to guess where it is you call home. I do not know your accent, but the closest I might place your complexion is southern Italy or Greece." There was the smoulder again.

The air pirate spun his partner several times before drawing her back in against his chest. He felt her pulse against his chest, though there wasn't that familiar thrill which usually came with the wooing of women. Kieran felt her muscles tense and release beneath his fingers as though in anticipation.

"The two of us? Oh, Captain Drake and I? I'm sure he wasted no time in telling you he was a captain," Kieran added as an afterthought. "Can you keep a secret?" He leaned in conspiratorially as they danced and half-whispered, "Top secret missions, matter of state." He nodded with a mock seriousness before laughing and shaking his head. "We are here on business, but that's a dull thing to talk about. What about you, Mademoiselle? What brings you to the city of lights?"
 
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