Read Online The Dollhouse Society: Margo by Eden Myles - Free Book Online
Authors: Eden Myles
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help me from the backseat. I was his lady tonight, but he had insisted that I let him act like the gentleman that he was. I tucked his hand into the crook of my arm as we climbed the wide stone steps to the front entrance, nodded a greeting to the bouncer on duty, and then stepped inside the receiving hall where all the other gentleman lingered, drinking bourbon or champagne and chatting about their workweek.
I nodded greetings. Most looked surprised to see I had a companion tonight. Normally, I visited the Dollhouse alone to enjoy the plays in relative exile. It wasn’t that the men here weren’t progressive or being deliberately rude—Malcolm had many fiercer supporters—but all the “bachelors,” as the unattached were referred to, had a habit of hovering on the fringes for the first few years, or however long it took for them to find a courtier or courtesan.
Malcolm immediately spotted me and he and his best friend Ian Sterling made a beeline for me. I had long ago made Robert aware of the rules of conduct inside the Dollhouse, and he knew the gentleman headed my way could not speak to him, the first time for him in a social situation, I realized. By remaining with me, it was going to be a very lonely situation for him, so I turned to him and said, “Would you like to meet the girls? Well, there are some delightful men among them now, as well, thanks to Malcolm’s progressive campaigning.” The men would be a nice bonus, but I knew that, above all, Robert loved women of all kind.
“I would be delighted, milady,” he said, bowing in a courtly way over my hand before taking his leave for the next room where the courtesans and courtiers waited for tonight’s play to begin.
For the next hour, Malcolm, Ian and I made small talk and shared in bourbon and the bounty of Malcolm’s wonderful Cuban cigars. Malcolm expressed great interest in my play tonight, and asked whether I and my courtier might be available for a shoot sometime next week. Ian expressed interest in hiring Burkett Associates for a particularly sticky legal issue he had overseas with a distributor. I knew that would delight Robert; Sterling of New York, a cosmetic company giant, would be a hugely profitable account for us.
Not long after, Malcolm checked his pocket watch and said to me, “Shall we begin, then, Margo?”
I felt a thrill of nervous anticipation. This was definitely a red-letter day—or night, rather: The night the Dollhouse Society officially welcomed a lady into their midst. In some ways, it was like the Society gliding out of the old century and into a new one.
The gentleman turned to me and raised their drinks, encouraging me to begin. I led the way into the Main Hall with its vast checked floor and three hundred years’ worth of erotica hanging on the walls. There the courtesans and courtiers were enjoying their gossip and their bubbly drinks. The girls were of course fawning over Robert, who looked tall and so very handsome. Even the other courtiers seemed taken with him.
Since it was our debutante ball, our fantasy, I had been allowed to request that the hall be decorated to my taste. I had chosen a simple kline, or a backless Grecian reclining sofa, surrounded on both sides by two kebeti—two giant incense burners draped in veils.
I crooked my finger to Robert and he immediately tore himself away from the courtesans who had been oohing and aahing over him and came to me. I wasted no time cupping the back of his head and kissing him, slowly and unhurriedly. I breathed into him until he relaxed against me. I loved the hard, familiar feel of his body pressed against mine, the thrill of the others watching us together. “Trust me?” I whispered against his lips, and Robert’s eyes fluttered in response.
“I’ll always trust you, Margo.”
The kebeti were filling the hall with the delightfully exotic scents of sandalwood and spicy, lemony frankincense. I led him to the kline and told him to kneel down before me. A
I nodded greetings. Most looked surprised to see I had a companion tonight. Normally, I visited the Dollhouse alone to enjoy the plays in relative exile. It wasn’t that the men here weren’t progressive or being deliberately rude—Malcolm had many fiercer supporters—but all the “bachelors,” as the unattached were referred to, had a habit of hovering on the fringes for the first few years, or however long it took for them to find a courtier or courtesan.
Malcolm immediately spotted me and he and his best friend Ian Sterling made a beeline for me. I had long ago made Robert aware of the rules of conduct inside the Dollhouse, and he knew the gentleman headed my way could not speak to him, the first time for him in a social situation, I realized. By remaining with me, it was going to be a very lonely situation for him, so I turned to him and said, “Would you like to meet the girls? Well, there are some delightful men among them now, as well, thanks to Malcolm’s progressive campaigning.” The men would be a nice bonus, but I knew that, above all, Robert loved women of all kind.
“I would be delighted, milady,” he said, bowing in a courtly way over my hand before taking his leave for the next room where the courtesans and courtiers waited for tonight’s play to begin.
For the next hour, Malcolm, Ian and I made small talk and shared in bourbon and the bounty of Malcolm’s wonderful Cuban cigars. Malcolm expressed great interest in my play tonight, and asked whether I and my courtier might be available for a shoot sometime next week. Ian expressed interest in hiring Burkett Associates for a particularly sticky legal issue he had overseas with a distributor. I knew that would delight Robert; Sterling of New York, a cosmetic company giant, would be a hugely profitable account for us.
Not long after, Malcolm checked his pocket watch and said to me, “Shall we begin, then, Margo?”
I felt a thrill of nervous anticipation. This was definitely a red-letter day—or night, rather: The night the Dollhouse Society officially welcomed a lady into their midst. In some ways, it was like the Society gliding out of the old century and into a new one.
The gentleman turned to me and raised their drinks, encouraging me to begin. I led the way into the Main Hall with its vast checked floor and three hundred years’ worth of erotica hanging on the walls. There the courtesans and courtiers were enjoying their gossip and their bubbly drinks. The girls were of course fawning over Robert, who looked tall and so very handsome. Even the other courtiers seemed taken with him.
Since it was our debutante ball, our fantasy, I had been allowed to request that the hall be decorated to my taste. I had chosen a simple kline, or a backless Grecian reclining sofa, surrounded on both sides by two kebeti—two giant incense burners draped in veils.
I crooked my finger to Robert and he immediately tore himself away from the courtesans who had been oohing and aahing over him and came to me. I wasted no time cupping the back of his head and kissing him, slowly and unhurriedly. I breathed into him until he relaxed against me. I loved the hard, familiar feel of his body pressed against mine, the thrill of the others watching us together. “Trust me?” I whispered against his lips, and Robert’s eyes fluttered in response.
“I’ll always trust you, Margo.”
The kebeti were filling the hall with the delightfully exotic scents of sandalwood and spicy, lemony frankincense. I led him to the kline and told him to kneel down before me. A
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