I’ve been watching you, milord. I’ve seen you galloping through the fields on that charger, your powerful thighs clenching its sweaty sides. You and your animal seem as one. You sit a fine horse, so tall in the saddle, so proud, arrogant and…masterful. See, he snorts and prances and flicks his black mane, just like you. Tell me, is he called Sir Guy too?
Do I amuse you? I’m glad, I aim to entertain.
I like the way you dismount and stretch out the knots, muscles ripping under that tight black leather.
Just like that.
My, you are tall.
I like tall men. And broad shoulders. And slim hips. I think I like black leather now. It looks quite… supple on you.
No, we don’t know each other milord.
But I know you.
I know what you do for the Sheriff and I’ve seen you prowling the castle at night like a big sleek black panther, lurking in the shadows, always watchful. It’s dark but I know it’s you. The torchlight dances along the smooth brow, across those sharp cheekbones and down that regal nose to those lips, rather like a bow, aren’t they?
And when you lean into the light, I can see your eyes. Do you know they change color? It’s curious, they’ve the shape of almonds but are the shade of anything from a crystal clear pond to a summer’s day to – well like now – a deep stormy blue.
Yes, the color of …passion.
I hope I’ve not offended by likening you to animals. But you see, I notice that animals like stallions and panthers have very majestic qualities akin to people. They preen and dominate and command. And you are quite a magnificent animal.
Do you think me forward? Well, I’ve a confession. Lean closer, yes that’s it.
I. Have. No. Shame.
Oh yes, I peeped in your window one night in the village. I watched you half bare in the firelight while your manservant tried to mold cold hard metal to the peaks and dips and angles of your lean hard body. I suspect the smithy doesn’t understand the elegance of your form. Perhaps I could be of assistance? Ah, I knew I could.
I’ve another confession. I dreamed about you in your bedchamber, oh yes. I wasn’t in it – yet. You lie bare-chested and asleep with your hair fanned around the pillow, and you were dreaming. Such a dream, thrashing and moaning – oh, you seem startled milord. Does that strike a chord with you? Oh really? You should tell me about it so we may compare.
It’s okay, whisper in my ear.
[Caveat- the video creator (our own Avalon) stated Isabel represents any woman and not Guy’s sister. Also the devil made me do this post.]
Be sure to stop by the other partipating blogs. CDoart’s handy index is here.
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