Verboten

10.

You decide that the most inconspicuous way to return to town is by staggering your departure, with you leaving an hour or so before Harry does. You sang together for what felt like ages, passing him your copies of Crime and Punishment, Moby Dick and Uncle Tom's Cabin as he had requested days earlier and climbing into his lap to kiss him soundly.

He held the back of your head and twisted your hair around his fingers, gaining confidence in expressing his pleasure to you as he licks and bites your neck, throwing you down into the blanket once more for a quick shag before you whisper against his lips that you must leave for work.

His eyes were drenched in regret and sorrow, nodding in compassion but not necessarily agreement as he cupped both of his hands on either side of your neck to rest his forehead against yours. He inhaled and exhaled heavily before watching you dress and sending you off into the desert heat.

You walk into town slowly, kicking a single stone along with you for most of your journey and checking your pocket watch every few minutes to make sure you aren't running late. Your core clenches each time you remember a soft moan that passed Harry's lips or the nickname that seemed to seep from his chest when he heard you sing. The look of anguish that he left you with has been branded into your skull, surprised at his indignation at parting ways.

Your arrival back to the saloon goes unnoticed as you slip backstage and squeeze into one of your favorite burlesque dresses; champagne pink, the color of dusted desert rose, frilly and flouncy like something Marie Antoinette would have chosen if she had been a call girl. Layers upon layers of ruffles and underskirts, capped sleeves, intricate beading.

A loud and startling hoot pulls your thoughts away from the mirror before you as you spin on your heel, a waitress strolling towards you with her fingernail extended to your collarbone, "some chap had his way with your neck. What a chaw - you'll have to cover that up or you'll never get purchased tonight."

You turn back to study your reflection in the mirror, the floret of red and purple blossoming on the skin at the base of your throat appears angry and territorial. Your feet inch forward for a closer look as you swipe your fingers over it and wince, a deep mulberry color speckled throughout the wound where his teeth had been.

You can feel his fingers ghosting over your skin, the way his hands swallow your breasts in their entirety and devour your rear when he hitches you up and carries you. The way his plump lips press against yours softly when he embraces you after you've crested and the way he kisses you when he's hungry, as if the sensation of your mouth isn't enough to satiate him and the arch in your back doesn't quite draw you close enough.

An apparition of his smile appears as filtered rays of sunshine stretching past the surface of water, his perfectly refreshing grin and how his tongue lays flat like a mattress in a bed frame when he opens his mouth wide to laugh into the clear air. The honeyed scent of the breath that leaves his mouth when he pants against your lips, the essence of rose that pulses away from his neck when his heart pounds. His trim fingernails and exquisite jewelry. His talent and his raw, throaty voice.

A pearl necklace begins wrapping around your neck as you straighten your back and watch the waitress fuss behind you in the mirror, "here, darling. You must hide it until it fades." She glances at your face in the mirror and smiles at your appearance, "it matches. You look like a queen."

You're hesitant to cover up memories left on you by Harry but she's right; you obviously don't have a desire for purchase but if your father sees the mark, he will become angry and the less involved he is in your life, the more content you are. You pray he has forgotten about the irrational decision to bring Harry to your room when you were attacked and that he ceases his search for your mystery romance all together, assuming instead that you had made a foolish decision one night and wouldn't dare to repeat it.