Tea for two

Feigning female ailments secured a day to myself. My keeper would believe I was with the physician, the physician would believe I was with my keeper.

It is not difficulty to acquire things in the district. For all the locks, bars and assortments of barriers to prevent loss people are quite lax with their belongings. A robe of yellow and white was snatched from the line it was left to dry on. Some little wisp would carry the marks of her oversight as I drew it on. Layers of veils easily shielded my face as I found Wessick's house. Lady Olivieta met me at the door, so pleased to see me. Her mate was in the library. It had become his fortress to escape the shrieking of his shrew companion. I was more than glad to close the door leaving the barrage of her insessant demands on the other side.

It is not sex that a lonely man truly wishes for. Wessick's hunger was simply for quiet conversation, understanding, genteel entertainment. The day was spent offering him a banquet. We shared kalana instead of bazi tea, discussing whatever came to mind and laughter often filled the little study. He was delighted to rise and join me in a dance. One that was dear to his heart, one that was practiced by his people but never allowed in his own home at his mate's fierce request. Today, he stood strong. He ushered her away, silencing her protests firmly. He would have what he wanted and she would be silent about it. He stood taller, the staueque epitome of a man's virility. When I wrapped him in my arms, his eyes widened with surprise. The stiletto blade had slid easily between two ribs to pierce the balloon sac of a lung and the withering organ of his heart. He thought he had found his miseries saviour only to feel it slipping through the fissure in a slickened ooze. It was a delicate smile that met him, reassuring that all would be alright. My lips surrounding his in an affectioned kiss drank in the hiss of expelled air. I helped him down to one of the thick carpets and brushed my fingers along his brow. I think he even smiled as I took his own fingertip, dipping it in the magenta stain and began to write on the hard wood flooring ... Liv

The lady of the house in her impatience burst through the door and immediately began to shriek. This was nothing that she had planned. How could I? How dare I? The demise ... yes, the method ... no. I rose to meet her. Soothing dulcet tones quieted her leaving the length of the blade extended from her stomach. She did what most do. She grasped the hilt between her hands.

It was not satisfaction. It was not remorse. It was not even insanity that brought the proud inhale and deepening smile just as I reached the door.

Once out on the street, I screamed and pointed back to the house, 'She's gone mad'

It was easy to slide into the gathering crowd of curiosity seekers.

The robe was left in a refuge heap long before I returned to the apartment. The purse of coins the woman no longer needed would be added to the collection.