A flogging? Oh my! Will this be a public flogging? Is it a formal affair?
Oh dear, a flogging tonight and I haven’t a thing to wear. Well, I suppose I could have Lavinia, my maid servant throw something together quickly while I’m attending the ball. I can’t imagine she would have any trouble finding a dozen yards of dark blue Parisian silk and French lace…
wanders off, sloshing brandy on the antique Persian rug
Oh, Sir Jontwick, what a positively beautiful codpiece you are wearing! It’s stunning!
My dear Lady Greywolf, how nice of you to notice! And indeed, it’s jolly spiffing of you to brandy the carpet! The house staff can wring it out later for a festive imbibement of their own!
Helloo, everyone! Come spill some brandy over here! We mustn’t forget the staff!
I simply must join this club! Jestar, Dahhhling, do create a lovely name for me, please. If no one objects, I would also very much like to bring along my dear little dog, the Princessa Mia. She has been raised with the utmost consideration of the position of her ancestors as companions to the royalty of Madagascar. Oh, we shall all have a smashing good time!
Oh my stars and garters, the nerve of that iampunha ruffian! Are you fine gentlemen to allow this baseborn yokel to treat me thusly? Will not one of you challenge him to a duel to defend my honor?
Really! The nerve of the lower classes never ceases to amaze and disgust me! Why, I might enjoy a bit of good-natured ribbing from some of the younger and more dashing members of the Society, but that someone of this iampunha’s class and moral fibre should speak to me in such a manner is most unthinkable!
[sub]Totters into the room with masque and curls askew; tipsily ogles Sir Jontwick’s codpiece and slides (with grace, of course) onto the chaise lounge reserved for her by the fire.[/sub]
I must say, simply a crush at that masqued ball. [sub]Wrinkles her nose at the scent of pickled herring and eyes askance at Kilt-wearin’ Man[/sub]
Now, loves, I’m not quite sure what transpired [sub](it really was quite a crush you see[/sub] but I now find myself the wife of the ArchDuke of Kaspar, heir to the kingdom of Netherworld. You may all now refer to me as the Duchess of Kaspar. In spite of the fact that he died suddenly [sub]glares at the gossipmongers to quell their scurrilous rumors of speculation about how that ‘unfortunate incident’ happened[/sub] I am assured by Their Majesties that the title and the estate [sub] and any and all fortunes contained or attached therein [/sub] are rightfully mine. Ah, the tediums of our station, wouldn’t you agree?
minces delicately in, fanning herself and slightly out of breath
Oh, my, it seems I’ve arrived a bit less punctually than one might have wished! I do apologize, only I was accosted by a number of most coarse and vulgar young sailors, on the way here. I have only now escaped their crude quips and sallies. I must say, I was most scandalized, and it is such a relief to have found this haven of propriety at last…
‘Tis only a bit o’ th’ common rabble that has fownd his way in froom th’ street…
Now, then, can someone find me a pickled herring? Preferrably on a stick, better t’ beat th’ rabble about th’ head an’ neck with? No? Ach, weill, just a stick’ll worrk as weill…
Oh, my dear! What a dreadful experience that must have been! You should sit down. Have some brandy. A group of our most esteemed male companions should be dispatched forthwith to find those savage brutes and defend your honor!
whispers * Now about those sailors…were they all tall, muscular and tanned? Did any of them follow you here? *
I’ve plenty of these spent caviar jars that you’re welcome to; it won’t be the same, but they’ll cause a nasty bump on the head if thrown correctly…hic
Thank you so much, I’ll just have a thimbleful of brandy, please - to steady my wits, you know… No, a bigger thimbleful than that, if you would. Lovely.
As for the sailors, indeed, they were all tall and brawny - rippling muscles all over; broad, tanned chests; taught, firm buttocks tightly clad in fitted trousers… At least, that was how it appeared out of the corner of my eye, as I hurried away! I assure you, I gave them no more than a moment’s glance!
But I do confess that I had the most unusual feeling of being watched as I came in just now, so I cannot entirely discount the possibility that they may have followed me…
My, it’s warm in here! Perhaps we should open a window!
My dear Lady Kn*ckers…please allow me to lend you my fan. On second thought, maybe I should keep it… it can’t have escaped your notice that Jontwick Latherford Alpengorf is leaning out yon window to check out the possibility that those naves actually FOLLOWED you here…and verily, he doth have FINE…er, pantaloons…
Lady ScottiDeNoodge, you should see me in a kilt! Unfortunately, my Highland attire is currently residing in a box within a box within a structure in the fair city of Bellingham – a city in the north-western part of the Colonies.
Would that I had my fine broadsword, which is also residing in the Great Green North, with which to teach those salty seamen some manners! I shall have to intimidate them with my enormous codpiece, and challenge them to some fisticuffs!
What ho, you scallawags! I shouldn’t doubt that you are hiding, you curs!
Fisticuffs! Fisticuffs! Ladies, do let’s gather in a gasping, giggling gaggle to take in the festivities! Perhaps later we can fawn over the victors while they fetch us refreshments! It will be the most thrilling evening on record!
Now, Lady Kn*ckers, you must tell us more about the outrage you suffered at the hands of those sailors. My maid has the most darling idea that the expression of fears and emotions heals the troubled soul! Isn’t it simply ludicrous? We must try this proletarian “self-expression”, if only for its value as a parlour game! Did you find their hands rough and callused but surprisingly gentle? And what of their liquid, spellbinding eyes? Did they bespeak burning passion as they hid a dark secret?
