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inky-duchess · 1 year ago

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Fantasy Guide to Interiors

As a followup to the very popular post on architecture, I decided to add onto it by exploring the interior of each movement and the different design techniques and tastes of each era. This post at be helpful for historical fiction, fantasy or just a long read when you're bored.

Interior Design Terms

Reeding and fluting: Fluting is a technique that consists a continuous pattern of concave grooves in a flat surface across a surface. Reeding is it's opposite.

Embossing: stamping, carving or moulding a symbol to make it stand out on a surface.

Paneling: Panels of carved wood or fabric a fixed to a wall in a continuous pattern.

Gilding: the use of gold to highlight features.

Glazed Tile: Ceramic or porcelain tiles coated with liquid coloured glass or enamel.

Column: A column is a pillar of stone or wood built to support a ceiling. We will see more of columns later on.

Bay Window: The Bay Window is a window projecting outward from a building.

Frescos: A design element of painting images upon wet plaster.

Mosaic: Mosaics are a design element that involves using pieces of coloured glass and fitted them together upon the floor or wall to form images.

Mouldings: ornate strips of carved wood along the top of a wall.

Wainscoting: paneling along the lower portion of a wall.

Chinoiserie: A European take on East Asian art. Usually seen in wallpaper.

Clerestory: A series of eye-level windows.

Sconces: A light fixture supported on a wall.

Niche: A sunken area within a wall.

Monochromatic: Focusing on a single colour within a scheme.

Ceiling rose: A moulding fashioned on the ceiling in the shape of a rose usually supporting a light fixture.

Baluster: the vertical bars of a railing.

Façade: front portion of a building

Lintel: Top of a door or window.

Portico: a covered structure over a door supported by columns

Eaves: the part of the roof overhanging from the building

Skirting: border around lower length of a wall

Ancient Greece

Houses were made of either sun-dried clay bricks or stone which were painted when they dried. Ground floors were decorated with coloured stones and tiles called Mosaics. Upper level floors were made from wood. Homes were furnished with tapestries and furniture, and in grand homes statues and grand altars would be found. Furniture was very skillfully crafted in Ancient Greece, much attention was paid to the carving and decoration of such things. Of course, Ancient Greece is ancient so I won't be going through all the movements but I will talk a little about columns.

Doric: Doric is the oldest of the orders and some argue it is the simplest. The columns of this style are set close together, without bases and carved with concave curves called flutes. The capitals (the top of the column) are plain often built with a curve at the base called an echinus and are topped by a square at the apex called an abacus. The entablature is marked by frieze of vertical channels/triglyphs. In between the channels would be detail of carved marble. The Parthenon in Athens is your best example of Doric architecture.

Ionic: The Ionic style was used for smaller buildings and the interiors. The columns had twin volutes, scroll-like designs on its capital. Between these scrolls, there was a carved curve known as an egg and in this style the entablature is much narrower and the frieze is thick with carvings. The example of Ionic Architecture is the Temple to Athena Nike at the Athens Acropolis.

Corinthian: The Corinthian style has some similarities with the Ionic order, the bases, entablature and columns almost the same but the capital is more ornate its base, column, and entablature, but its capital is far more ornate, commonly carved with depictions of acanthus leaves. The style was more slender than the others on this list, used less for bearing weight but more for decoration. Corinthian style can be found along the top levels of the Colosseum in Rome.

Tuscan: The Tuscan order shares much with the Doric order, but the columns are un-fluted and smooth. The entablature is far simpler, formed without triglyphs or guttae. The columns are capped with round capitals.

Composite: This style is mixed. It features the volutes of the Ionic order and the capitals of the Corinthian order. The volutes are larger in these columns and often more ornate. The column's capital is rather plain. for the capital, with no consistent differences to that above or below the capital.

Ancient Rome

Rome is well known for its outward architectural styles. However the Romans did know how to add that rizz to the interior. Ceilings were either vaulted or made from exploded beams that could be painted. The Romans were big into design. Moasics were a common interior sight, the use of little pieces of coloured glass or stone to create a larger image. Frescoes were used to add colour to the home, depicting mythical figures and beasts and also different textures such as stonework or brick. The Romans loved their furniture. Dining tables were low and the Romans ate on couches. Weaving was a popular pastime so there would be tapestries and wall hangings in the house. Rich households could even afford to import fine rugs from across the Empire. Glass was also a feature in Roman interior but windows were usually not paned as large panes were hard to make. Doors were usually treated with panels that were carved or in lain with bronze.

Ancient Egypt

Egypt was one of the first great civilisations, known for its immense and grand structures. Wealthy Egyptians had grand homes. The walls were painted or plastered usually with bright colours and hues. The Egyptians are cool because they mapped out their buildings in such a way to adhere to astrological movements meaning on special days if the calendar the temple or monuments were in the right place always. The columns of Egyptian where thicker, more bulbous and often had capitals shaped like bundles of papyrus reeds. Woven mats and tapestries were popular decor. Motifs from the river such as palms, papyrus and reeds were popular symbols used.

Ancient Africa

African Architecture is a very mixed bag and more structurally different and impressive than Hollywood would have you believe. Far beyond the common depictions of primitive buildings, the African nations were among the giants of their time in architecture, no style quite the same as the last but just as breathtaking.

Rwandan Architecture: The Rwandans commonly built of hardened clay with thatched roofs of dried grass or reeds. Mats of woven reeds carpeted the floors of royal abodes. These residences folded about a large public area known as a karubanda and were often so large that they became almost like a maze, connecting different chambers/huts of all kinds of uses be they residential or for other purposes.

Ashanti Architecture: The Ashanti style can be found in present day Ghana. The style incorporates walls of plaster formed of mud and designed with bright paint and buildings with a courtyard at the heart, not unlike another examples on this post. The Ashanti also formed their buildings of the favourite method of wattle and daub.

Nubian Architecture: Nubia, in modern day Ethiopia, was home to the Nubians who were one of the world's most impressive architects at the beginning of the architecture world and probably would be more talked about if it weren't for the Egyptians building monuments only up the road. The Nubians were famous for building the speos, tall tower-like spires carved of stone. The Nubians used a variety of materials and skills to build, for example wattle and daub and mudbrick. The Kingdom of Kush, the people who took over the Nubian Empire was a fan of Egyptian works even if they didn't like them very much. The Kushites began building pyramid-like structures such at the sight of Gebel Barkal

Japanese Interiors

Japenese interior design rests upon 7 principles. Kanso (簡素)- Simplicity, Fukinsei (不均整)- Asymmetry, Shizen (自然)- Natural, Shibumi (渋味) – Simple beauty, Yugen (幽玄)- subtle grace, Datsuzoku (脱俗) – freedom from habitual behaviour, Seijaku (静寂)- tranquillity.

Common features of Japanese Interior Design:

Shoji walls: these are the screens you think of when you think of the traditional Japanese homes. They are made of wooden frames, rice paper and used to partition

Tatami: Tatami mats are used within Japanese households to blanket the floors. They were made of rice straw and rush straw, laid down to cushion the floor.

Genkan: The Genkan was a sunken space between the front door and the rest of the house. This area is meant to separate the home from the outside and is where shoes are discarded before entering.

Japanese furniture: often lowest, close to the ground. These include tables and chairs but often tanked are replaced by zabuton, large cushions. Furniture is usually carved of wood in a minimalist design.

Nature: As both the Shinto and Buddhist beliefs are great influences upon architecture, there is a strong presence of nature with the architecture. Wood is used for this reason and natural light is prevalent with in the home. The orientation is meant to reflect the best view of the world.

Islamic World Interior

The Islamic world has one of the most beautiful and impressive interior design styles across the world. Colour and detail are absolute staples in the movement. Windows are usually not paned with glass but covered in ornate lattices known as jali. The jali give ventilation, light and privacy to the home. Islamic Interiors are ornate and colourful, using coloured ceramic tiles. The upper parts of walls and ceilings are usually flat decorated with arabesques (foliate ornamentation), while the lower wall areas were usually tiled. Features such as honeycombed ceilings, horseshoe arches, stalactite-fringed arches and stalactite vaults (Muqarnas) are prevalent among many famous Islamic buildings such as the Alhambra and the Blue Mosque.

Byzantine (330/395–1453 A. D)

The Byzantine Empire or Eastern Roman Empire was where eat met west, leading to a melting pot of different interior designs based on early Christian styles and Persian influences. Mosaics are probably what you think of when you think of the Byzantine Empire. Ivory was also a popular feature in the Interiors, with carved ivory or the use of it in inlay. The use of gold as a decorative feature usually by way of repoussé (decorating metals by hammering in the design from the backside of the metal). Fabrics from Persia, heavily embroidered and intricately woven along with silks from afar a field as China, would also be used to upholster furniture or be used as wall hangings. The Byzantines favoured natural light, usually from the use of copolas.

Indian Interiors

India is of course, the font of all intricate designs. India's history is sectioned into many eras but we will focus on a few to give you an idea of prevalent techniques and tastes.

The Gupta Empire (320 – 650 CE): The Gupta era was a time of stone carving. As impressive as the outside of these buildings are, the Interiors are just as amazing. Gupta era buildings featured many details such as ogee (circular or horseshoe arch), gavaksha/chandrashala (the motif centred these arches), ashlar masonry (built of squared stone blocks) with ceilings of plain, flat slabs of stone.

Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526): Another period of beautifully carved stone. The Delhi sultanate had influence from the Islamic world, with heavy uses of mosaics, brackets, intricate mouldings, columns and and hypostyle halls.

Mughal Empire (1526–1857): Stonework was also important on the Mughal Empire. Intricately carved stonework was seen in the pillars, low relief panels depicting nature images and jalis (marble screens). Stonework was also decorated in a stye known as pietra dura/parchin kari with inscriptions and geometric designs using colored stones to create images. Tilework was also popular during this period. Moasic tiles were cut and fitted together to create larger patters while cuerda seca tiles were coloured tiles outlined with black.

Chinese Interiors

Common features of Chinese Interiors

Use of Colours: Colour in Chinese Interior is usually vibrant and bold. Red and Black are are traditional colours, meant to bring luck, happiness, power, knowledge and stability to the household.

Latticework: Lattices are a staple in Chinese interiors most often seen on shutters, screens, doors of cabinets snf even traditional beds.

Lacquer: Multiple coats of lacquer are applied to furniture or cabinets (now walls) and then carved. The skill is called Diaoqi (雕漆).

Decorative Screens: Screens are used to partition off part of a room. They are usually of carved wood, pained with very intricate murals.

Shrines: Spaces were reserved on the home to honour ancestors, usually consisting of an altar where offerings could be made.

Of course, Chinese Interiors are not all the same through the different eras. While some details and techniques were interchangeable through different dynasties, usually a dynasty had a notable style or deviation. These aren't all the dynasties of course but a few interesting examples.

Song Dynasty (960–1279): The Song Dynasty is known for its stonework. Sculpture was an important part of Song Dynasty interior. It was in this period than brick and stone work became the most used material. The Song Dynasty was also known for its very intricate attention to detail, paintings, and used tiles.

Ming Dynasty(1368–1644): Ceilings were adorned with cloisons usually featuring yellow reed work. The floors would be of flagstones usually of deep tones, mostly black. The Ming Dynasty favoured richly coloured silk hangings, tapestries and furnishings. Furniture was usually carved of darker woods, arrayed in a certain way to bring peace to the dwelling.

Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD): Interior walls were plastered and painted to show important figures and scenes. Lacquer, though it was discovered earlier, came into greater prominence with better skill in this era.

Tang Dynasty (618–907) : The colour palette is restrained, reserved. But the Tang dynasty is not without it's beauty. Earthenware reached it's peak in this era, many homes would display fine examples as well. The Tang dynasty is famous for its upturned eaves, the ceilings supported by timber columns mounted with metal or stone bases. Glazed tiles were popular in this era, either a fixed to the roof or decorating a screen wall.

Romanesque (6th -11th century/12th)

Romanesque Architecture is a span between the end of Roman Empire to the Gothic style. Taking inspiration from the Roman and Byzantine Empires, the Romanesque period incorporates many of the styles. The most common details are carved floral and foliage symbols with the stonework of the Romanesque buildings. Cable mouldings or twisted rope-like carvings would have framed doorways. As per the name, Romansque Interiors relied heavily on its love and admiration for Rome. The Romanesque style uses geometric shapes as statements using curves, circles snf arches. The colours would be clean and warm, focusing on minimal ornamentation.

Gothic Architecture (12th Century - 16th Century)

The Gothic style is what you think of when you think of old European cathedrals and probably one of the beautiful of the styles on this list and one of most recognisable. The Gothic style is a dramatic, opposing sight and one of the easiest to describe. Decoration in this era became more ornate, stonework began to sport carving and modelling in a way it did not before. The ceilings moved away from barreled vaults to quadripartite and sexpartite vaulting. Columns slimmed as other supportive structures were invented. Intricate stained glass windows began their popularity here. In Gothic structures, everything is very symmetrical and even.

Mediaeval (500 AD to 1500)

Interiors of mediaeval homes are not quite as drab as Hollywood likes to make out. Building materials may be hidden by plaster in rich homes, sometimes even painted. Floors were either dirt strewn with rushes or flagstones in larger homes. Stonework was popular, especially around fireplaces. Grand homes would be decorated with intricate woodwork, carved heraldic beasts and wall hangings of fine fabrics.

Renaissance (late 1300s-1600s)

The Renaissance was a period of great artistry and splendor. The revival of old styles injected symmetry and colour into the homes. Frescoes were back. Painted mouldings adorned the ceilings and walls. Furniture became more ornate, fixed with luxurious upholstery and fine carvings. Caryatids (pillars in the shape of women), grotesques, Roman and Greek images were used to spruce up the place. Floors began to become more intricate, with coloured stone and marble. Modelled stucco, sgraffiti arabesques (made by cutting lines through a layer of plaster or stucco to reveal an underlayer), and fine wall painting were used in brilliant combinations in the early part of the 16th century.

Tudor Interior (1485-1603)

The Tudor period is a starkly unique style within England and very recognisable. Windows were fixed with lattice work, usually casement. Stained glass was also in in this period, usually depicting figures and heraldic beasts. Rooms would be panelled with wood or plastered. Walls would be adorned with tapestries or embroidered hangings. Windows and furniture would be furnished with fine fabrics such as brocade. Floors would typically be of wood, sometimes strewn with rush matting mixed with fresh herbs and flowers to freshen the room.

Baroque (1600 to 1750)

The Baroque period was a time for splendor and for splashing the cash. The interior of a baroque room was usually intricate, usually of a light palette, featuring a very high ceiling heavy with detail. Furniture would choke the room, ornately carved and stitched with very high quality fabrics. The rooms would be full of art not limited to just paintings but also sculptures of marble or bronze, large intricate mirrors, moldings along the walls which may be heavily gilded, chandeliers and detailed paneling.

Victorian (1837-1901)

We think of the interiors of Victorian homes as dowdy and dark but that isn't true. The Victorians favoured tapestries, intricate rugs, decorated wallpaper, exquisitely furniture, and surprisingly, bright colour. Dyes were more widely available to people of all stations and the Victorians did not want for colour. Patterns and details were usually nature inspired, usually floral or vines. Walls could also be painted to mimic a building material such as wood or marble and most likely painted in rich tones. The Victorians were suckers for furniture, preferring them grandly carved with fine fabric usually embroidered or buttoned. And they did not believe in minimalism. If you could fit another piece of furniture in a room, it was going in there. Floors were almost eclusively wood laid with the previously mentioned rugs. But the Victorians did enjoy tiled floors but restricted them to entrances. The Victorians were quite in touch with their green thumbs so expect a lot of flowers and greenery inside. with various elaborately decorated patterned rugs. And remember, the Victorians loved to display as much wealth as they could. Every shelf, cabinet, case and ledge would be chocked full of ornaments and antiques.

Edwardian/The Gilded Age/Belle Epoque (1880s-1914)

This period (I've lumped them together for simplicity) began to move away from the deep tones and ornate patterns of the Victorian period. Colour became more neutral. Nature still had a place in design. Stained glass began to become popular, especially on lampshades and light fixtures. Embossing started to gain popularity and tile work began to expand from the entrance halls to other parts of the house. Furniture began to move away from dark wood, some families favouring breathable woods like wicker. The rooms would be less cluttered.

Art Deco (1920s-1930s)

The 1920s was a time of buzz and change. Gone were the refined tastes of the pre-war era and now the wow factor was in. Walls were smoother, buildings were sharper and more jagged, doorways and windows were decorated with reeding and fluting. Pastels were in, as was the heavy use of black and white, along with gold. Mirrors and glass were in, injecting light into rooms. Gold, silver, steel and chrome were used in furnishings and decor. Geometric shapes were a favourite design choice. Again, high quality and bold fabrics were used such as animal skins or colourful velvet. It was all a rejection of the Art Noveau movement, away from nature focusing on the man made.

Modernism (1930 - 1965)

Modernism came after the Art Deco movement. Fuss and feathers were out the door and now, practicality was in. Materials used are shown as they are, wood is not painted, metal is not coated. Bright colours were acceptable but neutral palettes were favoured. Interiors were open and favoured large windows. Furniture was practical, for use rather than the ornamentation, featuring plain details of any and geometric shapes. Away from Art Deco, everything is straight, linear and streamlined.

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taintandviolent · 2 years ago

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deflowering ; James March x virgin!Reader

{requested by anonymous} summary: 7k words! after a little dancing, more than a little champagne, you decide to take James March up on his offer of going up to one of the new rooms of the Hotel Cortez, to break them in, as it were. Little does he know, he's about to break you in, too. w a r n i n g s: virgin!reader (adult), mentions of alcohol, rough sex, explicit descriptions, canon divergence, rough sex, thigh riding, cunnilingus, blowjobs, aggression, use of 'daddy', dom themes.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny

It was the twenty-third of August, 1926, and you had just finished your second glass of champagne in the Hotel Cortez. Usually, you never drank this much, but it was a celebration after all. Some fellow named James Patrick March had finally completed the arduous construction of his new hotel and tonight was the opening night. Crowds had flocked to the entrance, dressed to the nines and all eagerly craning their necks for a peek at the glamorous inside. Those who weren’t explicitly invited were turned away by the doorman in his starched uniform.

You, of course — you’d been invited by your friend’s friend’s friend and when you showed up in a beaded, green dress and the mink stole your mother had given you four birthdays ago, you waltzed right through those doors without a single question. You looked like you belonged here as much as the group of actresses that walked in before you. The moment you entered, the hotel stole a gasp from your lips, dazzling you with its prestige and innovation.

It had been toted as “an overly ambitious project” and you could certainly attest to that. Mr. March, whomever he was, had written a particular aesthetic into the design of his hotel and from the hexagonal patterned carpets to the ornately panelled gold walls, everything fit the opulent theme. The Blue Parrot Lounge was a name you’d heard whispered several times, waiters coming down the curved staircases with trays full of delicate champagne flutes. You learned shortly after that the bar was on the second floor and overlooked the entire hotel lobby.

But downstairs in that lobby, a band was set up, their instruments exhaling the liveliest melody you’d heard in ages. Easily, they persuaded the masses to kick their heels up. The grand chandelier above your head twinkled like your own personal galaxy, shimmering every time you moved. In fact, everything twinkled. You felt ebullient, as light as a cloud, and didn’t have a care in the world.

There had been a brief pause where Mr. March welcomed everyone to his Hotel in his dangerously cordial way, making a show of popping champagne. Everyone applauded, congratulated and then quickly dispersed, eager to return to the complementary libations. You’d eagerly taken to the dance floor and quickly found a partner in a jazzy white suit. He had blonde hair, sharp, chiseled features and deep green eyes - handsome enough. You two paired alright, enjoying each other’s lively moves.

He’d clearly been drinking more than you, judging by the way he slurred his compliments to you, dabbing nervously at the sheen of sweat that decorated his forehead. After an hour or so of dancing, your feet were sore and your curious nature had wrapped its tendrils around your throat, ordering you to investigate the rest of the hotel.

A server held another glittering tray of champagne high above everyone’s heads, and you snatched one as he passed you, hurriedly bringing it to your mouth. The effervescent liquid tickled the bow of your lips, the tiny bubbles popping as you sucked in a delicate mouthful. You dabbed at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger, trying not to gulp too loud.

As the song changed, the band racing into another upbeat melody, you swung your shoulder around, prepared to sink deeper into the hallways. Instead, you nearly collided with a broad shoulder. “Oooh! ‘Pardon me!”

“Mm.”

You recognised him right away. In the wicked and honest parts of your brain, you were thrilled that, of all people, you’d bumped into him. During his speech, all the women were staring with illicit gazes and hungry tongues. You’d mapped the direction of their eyes as they scanned along his face, and down his body as they openly and dissolutely lusted after him. The audible whispers that scattered the room when he cracked open the champagne, allowing the fizzy stream to spray into his mouth would’ve been laughable if you hadn’t been one of the whisperers.

He seemed slightly less personable now, almost curt in nature. Something about the dismissive way he’d flashed his brows at you as if he was annoyed sparked a fire in your curiosity. He was too handsome to let slip through your fingers, and surely, there must be a reason for his clipped response. You gulped down a mouthful and cleared your throat.

“Say, aren’t you Mr. March?” You asked coyly, knowing full well who he was.

He stopped then, like he’d been challenged to a duel, and with a slight bow, turned gracefully on his toes. To him, it was a challenge. You hadn’t run off with your tail between your legs, offended by his sternness, and that was a challenge for conversation, for flirtations and perhaps… indulging himself.

“Indeed I am. Enjoying yourself?” He eyed the half-empty glass in your tiny little hand, taking note that it clearly wasn’t your first.

“Oh, very much so. This is a ssswell party, Mr. March.”

“Splendid! And please,” He took your hand in his, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Call me James.”

You cooed in acknowledgment, watching him from the rim of your glass. He lingered for a little too long and you would’ve bet your last penny that you saw his nostrils flare slightly as he inhaled a deep breath of your scent. After a moment, James straightened up, keeping a firm grip on your hand.

He had indeed; you were sweet, like a delicate pastry with the slightest hint of fruitiness underneath. There were notes of a perfume, floral, something moderately expensive — surely, something you’d saved up all your pocket change for. The way your eyes glimmered awoke a deep hunger within his core. He’d play with this.

“Tell me, my dear. Can you dance?” He asked.

The moment you said you could, he’d wrapped your slender arm around his forearm, holding onto it tightly as he towed you back towards the dance floor. Thank god your mother had insisted you learn how to dance properly. And thank heavens your friend, whom Mother detested, taught you how to dance improperly. Mother had always said these new trend dances were for immoral and loose women, but when James March insisted you dance the Charleston with him, you’d never been gladder for immorality in your life.

Keeping a tight hold on your hand, he swung you out into the clearing. With his fee hand, he made a quick gesture to the band. They responded by starting up the familiar melody, and James stepped to your side, lifting his brows in a silent confirmation that you were as ready as you looked. You gave him a short nod, and you both took one step backwards, beginning the shuffling motions.

His feet moved quick to the rhythm; behind and in front of each other, his heels kicking out to the side. All things considered, you made a worthy partner, keeping up with his lively, bobbing movements. Your hands were at your waist, fingers splayed out, swishing from side to side. You both leaned forward in unison and sent your right heels up into the air. The moment you straightened up again was when you realised that a small crowd had gathered in the lobby of the Hotel Cortez and all of their eyes were on the two of you. Everyone was watching as you two masterfully stepped the Charleston and you felt like a celebrity, a performer with the most handsome partner.

There was one woman in particular, a gorgeous brunette gal, who looked on with narrowed eyes. James stepped in front of your line of sight, flashing a villainously personable smile, and spun you back to his side. Though he wouldn’t dare voice it, the beginning twitches of an erection had his cock stirring in his pants. You were delectable and lively, something he’d take great pleasure in snatching away from you. All the more arousing that she hasn’t the slightest clue….

As the song ended, you couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giddy laughter, falling backwards into his chest. You couldn’t be sure, but as his arms enclosed around you, you thought you heard a syrupy laugh deep in his throat. Both of you were tuckered out, chests heaving, a misting of sweat covering your décolleté and his forehead. After a moment in his strong arms — ooooh, his arms — he brought a handkerchief from a pocket, dabbing his forehead gently. Modest applause peppered the crowd, along with a few glad compliments.

“I don’t mean offence by this, but…” You swallowed, wetting your throat. “I didn’t think you could dance like that!”

“I’m full of surprises.” He answered.

James swooped around you, circling you predatorily. His fingers ghosted over the back of your neck, sending a convulsive shiver down your spine.

You two locked eyes then, staring wordlessly. Both of you unable to ignore the need, the pulling draw, the hunger to touch each other. It was the sort of gaze that started rumours. His tongue scraped along the roof of his mouth, longing to taste the churning arousal between your legs. He knew it was there, told plainly by the way you fiddled with the hem of your neckline, nervously, trying to placate your own licentious thoughts.

“Beautiful hotel, really.” You finally whispered.

“Allow me to show you the best room in the house.” His eyes flashed to yours, sensing the apprehension. You rolled your shoulders inward, prepped to decline as politely as you could.

“Oh now, now… no need to be shy. I’m a gentleman first and foremost.”

“I don’t know if your lady friend will enjoy that…” You retorted.

“You are the only lady in my company.” He assured.

You gazed behind him one more time and met eyes with her — an action you’d immediately regretted. Her gaze was as comforting as a jail cell, and her full lips were pulled into a tight, frustrated line that held back a myriad of hatred. You opened your mouth to speak, but a forefinger was pressed hurriedly into your cupids bow, shushing you quickly. He looked down at you, brows furrowed in disapproval.

“Now, now. Shh. I’d hate to have to cut out your tongue, my dear. I had plans for it later.”

Your brows pulled together, eyes displaying nothing but sheer confusion. What on Earth did he mean by that? Either of those things? You were too afraid to broach the question, partly in fear that the answer would’ve frightened you, or worse, aroused you.

As though he read your mind, heard your innermost thoughts, he added quickly: “If you want to find out what… well, you’ll have to follow me first, my dear. Shall you?”

He extended his hand to you, palm up.

Against your better judgement and without thinking a second more about the repercussions, you took it and managed to squeak: “To the moon, James.”

When you glanced over his shoulder a final time, that woman watched you as he led you away, that tumultuous anger burning in her eyes. Something about her piercing gaze sent a shiver down your spine. She looked innocent enough, but underneath the done-up exterior, there was a cruelness, a hostility that you wanted nothing to do with. You hurried your steps, pinning yourself closer to James.

The journey took longer than you expected as every few moments, he was stopped by a hotel guest and congratulated. Everyone from stuffy elderly couples to actors you recognised from pictures all wanted to shake hands with the man that had created “the hotel of the century”. You hung on his arm, politely silent, offering agreeing nods and kind smiles when they’d look at you. They must’ve assumed, of course, that you two were an item, and for that brief, fleeting moment, you were thrilled by the idea.

Once he’d pushed open the door, allowing room for you to walk in, you realised that the room he’d led you into was the room he’d cracked the champagne in — except it had been expertly cleaned within a few hours. There were no crowds, no remnants, no sounds aside from a pair of breaths; yours and his. Although, if you listened hard enough, you thought you heard the dull, muted music from below. It sounded hazy and slower up here in this room.

The lock clicked into place and James had you in his arms, his face buried in your neck, his pencil-thin moustache tickling the sensitive flesh under your jaw. He whispered seductive words of veneration into the nape of your neck, praising your appearance between breaths and tastes of your salty flesh.

“Forgive my eagerness,” he whispered into your ear, before nipping at your skin. “I find you… irresistible.”

Delighted by the sensations, your lids fluttered. You extended your neck to him, allowing more. He kissed your neck over and over again and began sucking too hard in certain spots. You let out the tiniest little hums of discomfort, trying to stretch away from him then. However, somewhere deep in your core, you craved that pain, the burn of his suckling kisses.

“I want you to kiss me.” He declared, finally pulling away to gaze upon your face, like he was studying it. “Kiss me, but don’t hold back. I want to feel your passion.”

You nodded quickly, feigning all the courage in the world. Nervous? Who, me? Never! Your lips clashed together as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you could. His mouth parted, allowing his tongue out to swirl around yours, and you could taste the champagne that lingered on it like a fading memory. He deepened the kiss, moving further into your mouth and all you could do was moan into his. Silly girl, he must’ve thought.

His hand left your side, trailing further down. With a cruel tug, James yanked your stocking from its front clip, tearing a generous hole in the nylon, then repeated the process with the other. You broke the kiss to watch this fiery display of arousal in awe, feeling a new, unfamiliar fire in your stomach. You’d been aroused before — hell, even pleasured yourself shyly under the sheets… but the hunger. The hunger that clawed at your insides with reckless abandon was speaking in a foreign tongue… but it was one that you wanted to translate into physicality.

“Oooh, easy tiger…”

His fingers splayed out over your now bare thighs, exploring the smooth skin ravenously. As he neared your centre slit, he snarled in response — whether intentionally responding to the animalistic nickname you’d given him, or because he’d felt the slippery nectar dripping from between your legs, you couldn’t know. You thought it might be the latter. You hoped it was.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you to wobble forward with want. He made a beeline to the nearby alcohol cart that had been arranged near the door and poured amber liquid into one of the glasses and golden champagne into another. He brought the darker coloured one to his lips.

“Mmm…” He growled as he swallowed, locking eyes with you, walking confidently towards the nearby chair. Though his head was turned away from his destination, he didn’t stumble, just gracefully sunk down into the chaise lounge without spilling a drop of his precious liquor.

You were in awe of this man’s finesse, of his charm, and the adoration for him displayed all over your cheeks. You didn’t need to bring out your compact to know that the flush had travelled down your neck, and your pretty little doe-eyes were as wide as saucers. He set the glass of champagne down on a nearby end table, presumably where it would stay until you reached for it.

“What’s underneath that ravishing dress, hm?” He asked. You gathered your lips to one side in a coy expression.

“Let’s see,” you tittered. "My bra and my knickers. And…. A pair of torn stockings and shoes, if you’re a specifics kinda’ guy…” You knew he was.

He waited.

You raised your brows, cocking your head to the side in affirmation — that was all. You were a woman of style after all. In this outfit? You wouldn’t be caught dead in a corset or a slip. Besides, corsets were for stuffy old broads nowadays. Everyone was wearing bras.

“Take it all off. Everything but the dress.”

Surely, the dress would be the first thing to go? It was an odd request, even for your virgin experience. You’d heard stories of men and their covetous desires. The idea of keeping the biggest article of clothing on seemed unorthodox, but you weren’t about to question his demands.

Obediently, you bent down and undid the buckles of your shoes, stepping out of them carefully. With a shy bat of your lashes, you turned away from him, shimmying and shrugging out of the straps of your dress until they fell into the crooks of your arms. Reaching around behind your back, you unlatched the satin bra, letting your supple breasts spring free of the compression.

Your heart pounded as you bent down again to slide the satin underwear over the curve of your ass and down your equally satiny thighs, giving the man behind you the tiniest previews of what was to come. Facing him again, you held your dress at your chest, carefully sliding the straps back up your arms one by one.

With a drink in one hand, the other stretched over the back of the loveseat and a delightedly smug expression, James watched your undergarments fall to the floor piece by piece. His cock throbbed in his pants, the thick fabric doing a damned good job at keeping the beast at bay. Free of everything, your dress hung a little different now, and his black eyes were aflame with the realisation. You swayed back and forth, the strands of sequins brushing lightly against your thighs.

As you bent down one final time, reaching for the nylons, came his voice. “Leave those.”

After a small sip, he pat his thigh twice with his free hand; the sound of his palm snapping against the taut fabric atop his thigh echoed in the room. For a brief, insecure second, you were frozen. A deer in the headlights. Except the headlights weren’t headlights, they were the eyes of the hungriest tiger you’d ever seen and you’d already succumbed to your fate the moment he locked the door.

“Come to daddy.”

You shuddered in response, your tummy doing backflips like an acrobat in a circus act. His words held such command and purpose, you had no choice but to saunter over to him, swaying your hips a little more than you usually did. He seemed to enjoy that; a tiny smirk played out over his mouth.You pressed your knees against his, struggling to not come undone at the contact. With a deep breath, you manoeuvred yourself in between his parted legs.

“Good…” He replied. “Atop my thigh, my pet.”

With your flesh turning a deep shade of red, you walked over his thigh, resting one knee on the edge of the cushion. You felt the air on your cunt, the chill of the room touching the wetness and making it tingle. You looked down at his groin. The fabric was pulled taut. You could make out the faintest outline of a swelling cock underneath —

You snapped your attention back to him, embarrassed. He downed the rest of his drink, set it carelessly on the table next to your still-full champagne and lifted his hand to your legs. The pad of his middle finger caressed the back of your knee, sending a shockwave through your entire body. No man had ever touched you like that, the sensation was erotic and overwhelming to your core. Inch by inch, his fingers trailed higher.

You reached for the champagne, and despite the sting in your nose, you downed the entire glass, setting it back on the small table.

“Lower.” He commanded, amused.

You obeyed, bending your knees.

“Lower.” He repeated.

He’d lined it up perfectly; James pressed that same finger into your slit as you lowered, wiggling it further in, then flicking it up to your clit. You let out a shrill mewl. Your knees nearly buckled as he circled the bundle of nerves, bringing the sensitivity higher. You squeezed your eyes shut as hot, salty tears bit at the corners. Your muscles had begun to quiver, overwhelmed by the strain of hovering over his thigh. His skilful fingers manipulated your cunt, simply playing with your wetness.

James abruptly yanked you all the way down, forcing you into a straddle. Your cunt was spread, pressed tight against his thigh and you needed no instruction on what to do next.

“Ooooh,” he growled, watching your hips as they ground your weeping cunt against the expensive fabric of his suit pants. “Good girl. Your desire is intoxicating… show me how much you want me…. yes.”

James chuckled, knowingly. Despite your best effort in trying to suppress your moans, he saw through the act. The skin of your neck had flushed red. Your soft jaw hung slack, tiny little moans floating out every time he touched you. Your sweet little eyes rolled back into your head every time he so much as flexed his thigh muscle. He knew the effect he had on you. Every slight movement from him ground against your cunt, sending shuddering waves of heat into your core.

“I said,” he started, gripping your jaw hard between his thumb and pointer finger. “Show me how much you want it, my dear.”

You winced, but allowed instinct to kick in. You began bobbing up and down on his thigh, whimpering as the wet spot on the fabric spread. The slick glistened on the fibres as you ground back and forth. Eventually, the friction of dry against wet lessened, and you found a rhythm, bouncing. His leg bumped into your sensitive, aching clit over and over again.

As you rode his thigh, James gripped your dress at the shoulders, kissing up along the curves of your arm. There was a warmth on your skin, a tugging, though you were too deep in the sensations to pull away. A cacophony of ticking began; tiny beads scattered across the floor, bouncing and dancing into crevices where they’d never be found again.

When you finally glanced down, a look of shock painted across your features. Your dress had been ripped at the seams, the delicately beaded fabric now hanging limply at your hips in a mass. James looked on, adoringly, his hungry, inky eyes dancing over your exposed breasts, and the way your nipples had hardened in the slightly colder air.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Are you frightened?” He asked. The lilt in his question was too revealing, but alas, who was he to deny the delicious aroma of fear?

“Who me?” You laughed breathily, like a fool. Sweat pooled in the hollows of your collarbone. No time like the present, you thought. You’d reached the point of no return, and surely if you didn’t say something now, he’d find out when he took you. “Oh, no, it’s just that… I’ve never been with a man is all.”

The realisation swept across his face, the expression telling all the tales of how he felt about being the first man to have a woman. “Aaahhh…. And do you…. wish to be…?”

“With you?” You swatted the air dismissively. “More than anything.”

“Brave. Brave girl.” With that, he scooped you up in his strong arms, and got up from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you effortlessly to the table. The journey was short, and before you knew it, your bare back was laid on cool wood. Your legs hung off the edge, and with one strong yank, James pulled the tattered dress from your hips, tossing it heedlessly behind him.

“Knees up — heels on the table.” He then ordered, sternly. Pulling your knees towards your chest, you adjusted yourself on the table and swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable. Short of hearing the snap of latex gloves, you were left feeling like you were about to be examined by a doctor.

James disappeared from your view then, sinking down below the edge of the table. With nothing to look at, you gazed up at the ceiling with wide eyes, anticipating the next move. When it came, you let out a yelp, your legs closing on either side of his head. James had pressed his lips against her, peppering little kisses against your centre, and after a moment or two of that, opened his mouth to slip his tongue deliberately along the folds. The sensation of his tongue darting out to taste you was enough to send you to the moon, but he continued, delving further into you. Your legs opened again, exposing more of your aching cunt to him.

You felt his nose press into the mound of flesh as he flattened his tongue on your clit, lapping at it hungrily. Your body responded by squirming, a desperate whimper pouring from your throat. His hands were suddenly on your pillowy thighs, holding you tight where you were. With a vibrating groan, his tongue abruptly changed techniques; he began flicking the tip of his tongue into the underside of your clit. Your moans - though they were teetering on the edge of screams — bounced off the walls of the empty room.

In a delirium of ecstasy, you’d gripped the hair at the crown of his head, pulling it hard. He grunted into your pussy, sending vibrations deep into your core. His hand came down on the side of your ass with a resounding slap. You shuddered violently, your sopping cunt clenching tight against his chin, wetting it as your first orgasm came in sudden waves. James slipped his tongue deep inside of your entrance, feeling the pulses as they gradually subsided. Before pulling away to look at the flower in front of him, and what he’d done to it, he let out a throaty, pleased growl. A small puddle had formed on the table, your slick arousal leaking from the hole like sweet nectar dripped from the centre of a fruit.

“Ahhh…” he exhaled. “Divine.”

His eyes darting to the side, James made a mental note to have Miss Evers re-polish the table. After this, it would certainly need it.

The way he gazed upon you, seemingly satisfied with just how wet you were drove your head into the table with a thunk. You arched your back with a whimper, somehow still unsatisfied. From the side, came his voice. “Use your words, my darling.”

Your eyes snapped open, startled that you hadn’t heard him move around. You swallowed, looking up at him piteously. For a moment you dug deep into your own mind, battling with coherency to find the correct words. And, disappointingly, all you could muster was: “I… want more.”

“Yes….. yes, you do.”

Gently, with two fingers, James pulled your jaw towards him, moving your head so that your cheek laid against the table. There was a certain predatory nature in his gaze as he looked at you. “Open up,” he demanded, his thumb prodding your lips. “That’s my girl…”

He smeared his thumb along your warm, strong tongue, depressing it and feeling around the rest of your mouth. He glided over your smooth teeth, digging the fleshy pad into the decently sharp points of your incisors.

“Don’t bite me… too hard.”

With that, he began unbuckling his trousers with one hand, sliding the belt from its loop. You watched intently as this handsome, charming stranger handled himself; taking himself out his undergarments and his trousers, roughly adjusting his cock so that it was free for your devouring. He closed his hand along the length, pumping it several times. A generous droplet of precum leaked from the red, sweating tip and before it had time to string away, he guided his cock to your mouth.

He smeared your lips over the head, coating it in his own dripping seed. His hips then bucked the length into your mouth, bringing a whimpering gag from deep within your throat. Gentle, he thought. With the way your mouth eagerly worked him, doing your best to suck and lap at his aching cock, that thought was whisked away seconds later.

Wet sounds filled the room as James fucked your pretty little mouth, your lipstick smearing waxy, blood-coloured streaks on the shaft of his cock. In your peripheral, it was quite a gruesome sight, but he seemed to enjoy it, tilting his head to watch.

You closed your lips around the tip as it slid out, letting your tongue flatten on the underside of it. You felt every throbbing vein, but every time your tongue or lips grazed that one, the protruding one, James making sounds that you’d only ever dreamed of hearing a man make. It was a breathy, higher pitched moan, or a choking gasp, and each time he did, the corners of your lips curled up into a smile, delighted with eroticism. You pressed your tongue hard into it, sliding it up and down. From this angle, you realised, you couldn’t do much else… but perhaps that’s how he’d wanted it.

You remembered his previous mention of biting, so thinking that it was something he favoured, you began toying with his sensitivity by grading your teeth along his shaft. He hissed, ceasing his thrusts to crane his neck back, revelling in the amalgam of pain and pleasure.

“Harder,” he demanded.

You furrowed your brows in concern, daunted by the new territory that lay ahead. You closed your mouth a little more, the ridges of your teeth gently clamping down on his swollen cock. Suddenly, James gripped your face hard, squeezing your cheeks together like a fish. You winced as he leaned forward to hiss in your open mouth, his demeanour suddenly callous and dreadful. “I said not too hard.”

He released it sharply as you did, and punishingly bucked his hips into your wanting mouth. His thrusts were quick, and marvelled at the tiny, pathetic gags that broke from your throat every time he hit the back of it. You were so delicate, but so… willing.

Suddenly, he pulled his cock from your lips with a sick, filthy slurping sound, and holding it in his right hand, moved back to the head of the table. His breaths were ragged, hungry. You blinked away the tears that had accumulated.

“You nearly ruined my makeup…” You whispered, wiping the slimy collection of drool and precum from your chin.

“I’ll do more than that.” Gripping you at the knees, James yanked you down the table’s length, your ass slipping easily against the polished wood.

Briefly, you felt the velvety hot tip of his cock teasing your cunt. He slid it between your wet folds, exhaling loudly at the slickness that greeted him. He teased you with a thrust of his hips, the tip of his head slipping slightly. You whined as he pulled away.

“What did I say about words?”

Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you moaned shakily, gritting your teeth. “Don’t do that…”

“Do what?”

“Tease me…”

“Oh, but it’s fun. I’ll do so until you beg for it.”

“PLEASE!” You howled a moment later, taking fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him closer. You wiggled your hips at his groin, your cunt trying to find his cock desperately. You writhed around like a cat in heat, whimpering and leaking more cum onto his expensive mahogany table. In one of your hip sways, the hot tip brushed past your entrance, leaving a springy line of pre-cum in its path. In response, you rocked your hips against his, trying to pull him in further. The sensation had you gasping, rolling your head from side to side. “Please, please, please, I simply mu—

Your screams faded away into the back of his mind, dull and muted like they came from behind a brick wall. James watched your lewd, begging performance with a bemused smirk, chuckling through closed lips. Every anguished whimper, every desperate plea that his lack of action brought forward from your lips seemed to send you closer to the edge of madness. He enjoyed that. Too much, perhaps.

He reached up, running a single finger down the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse throbbing away beneath the skin. Such liveliness, such… James swallowed, suppressing the dark sludgy desire that clawed at his insides. His urges had been worse and worse lately, and now with the hotel open… Not now… not with her.

“What do I need to say?”

“Nothing more.” James took hold of his cock, stroking his fingers over the tip, dragging the slickness along his shaft. He exhaled, lining himself up. At first, James popped only the tip in and out, playing with his food. Each thrust, he slipped a little farther in. Out of the kindness of his heart, James was gradually getting you used to the feeling of fullness, but once he felt your slick walls, he grit his teeth. He had told you that he was a gentleman first and foremost, but… such is life. He swiftly sank his hard length into you with little friction. You were soaked and all it took was one determined thrust.

For a moment, you felt nothing but a searing pain as the thickness of his cock stretched your cunt wide open. Tears welled in your eyes, a cry bouncing against your rolled lips. The stinging was replaced with a dull ache, and finally, a warmth.

“My, my…” He admired. “Taking it so well already.”

You nodded feebly, doing your best to muster a smile amidst your punishing euphoria. Had you not been as wet as you were, it would’ve been excruciating. And when he started pounding, it almost was.

James must’ve sensed your discomfort because he brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb circling your clit. Mercilessly. You cried out like a wounded animal and that seemed to only drive him to continue, stroking his finger down length of your pussy before returning his attention back to the bundle of nerves. Your hips swayed back and forth on the table, desperately trying to get away from the pressure that was blossoming deep within your cunt, just above your bladder. It felt like a tangled mess of fire, and your whole centre was aflame.

You shakily lifted your head, watching as his pelvis smashed into yours, over and over again, his cock slipping easily from your aching, drenched cunt. Your hands climbed his torso. You fiddled with the buttons until his shirt hung open lifelessly, like two ghosts on either side of his body. He moaned as your fingertips explored his stomach, his ribcage, and then curled around the small of his back, forcing their way up underneath the restraint of his clothes. You felt uneven skin, the way that flesh raised once it had healed over deep lacerations.

James suddenly picked up speed, drilling into you harder and that released something in you. You felt devious, immoral, and wanted to howl like a banshee. In fact, you did. You let out a shrill, dirty moan, the kind you heard coming from those brothels as you passed them by. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes before streaming down your temples, disappearing into the hair that laid on the table. Your fingers flexed, nails digging into his back and leaving crescent-moon shaped indentations amongst his scars. Feeling your clenching, he growled and lolled his head back in ecstasy.

You pulled your leg up, pressing your nylon-covered toe against his jawline and gave it a little push.

You heard his breath hitch.

You pushed harder, craning his neck off to the side. His moan said more than any words could’ve. With a devious smirk, you drug your toe down the length of his throat, pressing hard into his windpipe.

James jerked his hips harder and harder until you felt his cock twitch inside you, hot and angry, the first spurt of his orgasm planted deep inside you. He then backed his hips out slightly, just enough for the thick ropes of cum to cover your cunt. His cock bumped into your clit with tiny thrusts, forcing every last milky drop onto you. James straightened up, clenching his fists tightly.

“Ravished. Deflowered. Desecrated!” His words echoed loudly off the walls.

His arms came down with a loud thud on either side of your head, his shirt acting as blinders. There was nothing else in that moment; just you and him and the way he’d claimed you, taken every ounce of innocence you had left.

His hands traced along your collarbone, up the sides of your neck. The black thoughts wormed into his brain, screaming for sating attention. Which weapon would he use? Where he'd cut first - an artery? Arterial blood was always so… satisfying. Would her screams be as such? The final moment, the look in her eye? Perhaps, he could hear those desperate, soprano shrieks if he just…

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

Your lids peeled open, one by one. The blazing light that filtered in through the crack in the deep red curtains burned. You hardly remembered being in a hotel room… alone, and the hotel room you remembered wasn’t the one you were in now. This one looked more or less like any new hotel room that you could’t afford. Moving yourself into an upright position, you let out a depressed bleat… the headache. How much champagne did you have last night? You couldn’t remember.

Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you stumbled towards the door. “Just a minute!”

You were completely nude. That wouldn’t do to answer the door in. Panicked, you looked around the empty hotel room, considering the bed sheets for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a Praising the gods for the robe that had been hung on a hook by the door as you slipped your arms into it and hurriedly tied it round your waist. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the framed photo near the door; your hair was a wreck, makeup smeared, and there were the faintest whispers of new bruises along your collarbone and neck.

The doorway was empty, as was the hallway.

Except for the box at the floor.

Despite giving a complete stranger your virginity last night, you had more sense than to bend down and open a foreign box. Clutching the robe at your chest, you began gingerly prying open the edge of it with your foot, wiggling your big toe underneath the fine cardboard until the lid popped off.

Inside, carefully arranged and wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper, laid a dress; a dress that was terribly similar to your own, but considerably more expensive. Atop it, a package of fine silk nylons. And atop those, in exquisitely elegant penmanship, a handwritten note lay. It read:

Thank you for a splendid evening, my dear. My deepest apologies about your dress — please accept this as a replacement. As for the flowers, it only seemed fair, considering the circumstances.

xoxo James P. March

You picked the box up, again checking the hallway to see if the deliverer was there. Still, empty. With a sigh, you shut the door, leaning against it. As you leaned there, holding the box in your arms, the corner of it digging into the middle of your neck, you winced at a sudden pang of soreness.

Your eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. “Nearly noon!? Oh, RATS!”

You pushed yourself off the door and changed hurriedly, throwing the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor. Mother! Mother would be furious and nothing was more terrifying than her rage. You’d rather be chopped up and filleted than have to deal with Mother’s anger, even as an adult. You pulled the nylons up as far as they could go without clips, and snatched the mink stole off the bed.

You threw open the heavy door and turned to your left, hoping for the best. You began running as quickly as you could down the lengthy hallway, barefoot. The straps of your shoes were hooked around your middle finger. With no markers, and no indication of where you were going, anxiety climbed your throat. Somehow though, after winding back and forth and up and down for what felt like hours, you managed to find the lobby.

As you emerged from the hallway, it was considerably less busy than last night. Where the band had been, waiting chairs and tables had been placed, a courtesy for guests waiting to check in. The cleaning team of the Hotel Cortez was marvellous, you had to admit. As you ducked your hips away from the edge of a chair, you spotted him. James March was leaned against the bar, chatting gayly with the bartender. The bartender nodded, swiping a rag over the spot directly in front of him. A glass of bourbon sat in front of James, perspiring. Much like you were. So it hadn’t all been a dream. He looked the same as he had last night, no hint of a hangover or fatigue. Just… charming. You inhaled and headed for the door.

“A perfect fit!” He called out from the balcony, his glass raised in a cheers. A few guests turned, searching for the voice. You jumped. The man had a talent for startling you — you’d give him that. You turned, your brows upturned in the middle, asking silently for clarification.

“The dress!”

“Oh! Yes! It does…. Thank you! It’s beautiful, Mr. March!”

“How’s your neck!?” He asked, lowering his head slightly.

The question threw you off. “….fine, but I really must be going, Mr. March! Bye!”

“Come back to the Hotel Cortez any time, my darling! As my guest.”

James watched you hurry out the door, knowing that if you did come back for a second time… it would be the last time.

#James Patrick March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #AHS Hotel #james march x reader #myfics

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