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hey guys. ok so ive been writing this in class for a while and ive finally finished the first chapter. (i couldnt upload it tho as i didnt hav time before i had to go to grafton for rowing) but yeah. i dont hav a title. so i was wondering if you guys could read it and see if you come up with one. that would be great
thanks guys
tragically loved. xoxo
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Chapter 1
People were rushing through the crowded cobblestone streets. The streets were busy with mothers’ rushing home to their children, or workmen buying tools for their land. There were the servants who were obvious by their tattered clothing. All of these people were trying to avoid temptation to buy something from the illicit dealers trying to sell off their faulty goods. The markets in the street were taking up half of the street and there was the occasional horse and carriage carrying some upper class man who couldn’t be bothered taking the main streets to avoid the people, mainly to annoy the lower class. All of these people ignored them. Not one took notice of the merchants who were selling the goods that were not going to work within 5 minutes of a purchase, not that many people in the street had enough money to buy any one item.
All of them ignored the merchants shouting and the bustling of horse and carriages. They ignored everything, even the mysterious blonde that was pushing her way through the crowd and along the pebbled streets, wearing a black cloak that was pulled over her head shadowing her face. She raced up a few stairs into a sandstone house with a black door and a brass knocker. The number was 61. The cream sandstone colour stood out against the black door. Her cloak blew with wind and a glimpse of a red dress was seen flying out. The door slammed shut behind her.
She leaned against the door in relief; a sly smile crept across her face. She raced up the flight of stairs to the second story, ignoring the peculiar and familiar smiles of the servants of the household. She found the door that she knew her different, better life lay behind. She knocked slowly and opened the door to her lover, and the life she loved. She saw her lover lying on the bed seductively. She slowly shut the door behind her. She felt the rush of happiness that came from seeing him, the butterflies in her stomach. She saw his face light up, and could feel a smile spread across her face. She wanted to rush over there and kiss him straight away, but she wanted to restrain herself. After all, he had only just gotten back from Paris.
“Good morning, mademoiselle Barton,” Her lover said,
“Good morning, sir,” The blonde whispered to her lover.
She walked slowly over to the bed untying her cloak. Her cloak fell to the ground. She started to crawl onto the bed, closing the distance between her lover and herself. Her lover leant up and pressed his lips against hers. He moved his arms around her and laid her on the bed. He climbed on top of her and pulled his lips away from hers. He moved his lips down to her neck. His arms found the buttons of her dress. He unbuttoned them, slowly, and sat up. She sat up with him so the dress would fall off. As the dress fell off she found the buttons of his shirt as his lips found her neck again. She took her corset off, after she had unbuttoned his shirt so it was open and hanging off his shoulders, revealing his bare skin. He pulled his lips away from her and admired her with a look he never gave anyone else, and then pushed his own shirt off his shoulders. He leaned down and started passionately kissing her again.
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He woke up, several hours later, and rolled over slowly opening his eyes. He went to pull his lover in to him so he could kiss her and pleasure her, again, but she wasn’t there. He thought that because it was the first time they had been together since he had gotten back from Paris, that she might have stayed, but he should have known better. A note was left on her pillow.
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Affairs of the Heart
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