The Job: Body

The Job: Body
Chapter 2

This was a quiet space on the 4th floor in a penthouse suite. I laid in a breathable space appointed in black marble and ornamented with Victorian brass fixtures. Large enough it was, to support an audience. The lounge furniture was elegantly arranged to bath, to dress, to swoon.

Rain pelted against the bay window behind the tub. There are two things I’d rather do during a storm, sleep or make love.

I smoothed shimmer lotion of lavender green tea after toweling off. I put on a black thong that matched my hair. Then I buckled on high heels and decided finish dressing after I was cooled.

Next to my red satin dress on the chase lounge was my copy of the Daily Prophet news paper. There I was waving kisses while holding a bouquet of black dahlias. It read: “Novelist finishes tour as opera sensation.” Po-tay-toe, po-tot-toe, soccer is football, heavy metal concerto is… opera. “Midnight Serenade returns to London.”

“Come to me my dark angle. I don’t want to sleep alone.” I sang out loud appreciating the echoing support.

The Baroque melody rose in my head. “I’m loosing me soul, but I don’t mind. My blood turns to wine. I can’t refuse you.” Base guitars, in my mind, awaken to B natural; alto-soprano choir chants Mozart’s Lacrymosa from Requiem. “Atone me again, before I come undone.”

Before reaching the second verse, I leaned over the vanity to apply cherry gloss- Lucius’ favorite flavor.

The twenty-four year old woman in the mirror was smirking. I always thought my looks were deceptively girlish, considering the centuries behind my forget-me-not eyes.

Someone was watching me.

I saw Lucius Malfoy standing in the lounge doorway. I was startled and thrilled all at once.

Lucius was fully dressed in a black traveling cloak. Twin serpentine broaches clung at his collar. A simple ribbon tied behind his neck. His cane in hand bares the silver striking serpent on the pummel; dueling wand inside.

We looked each other over. Up and down. His formal business appearance and the bent-over near nakedness of me.

“Welcome home.” Lucius broke the silence with his velvet voice just as soft thunder rolled.

We came together in the center of the lounge. But Lucius held off from me only caressing my upper arm, watching my breasts brush against his traveling cloak. He brought the scent of rain.

My lips touched the left temple of his brow. I felt his warmth. I sampled the salt on his skin.

Lucius stepped back.

Before he sat on it, I took up my dress from the chase lounge. “Did you sign up with Greyback?”

Lucius dismissed my question with a bored wave of his hand. He was holding the Daily Prophet. I could see the proud expression he wore while reading my article.

It’s been three months since we’ve been together. I’d dream of him, created songs about him, missed him terribly. And now I can touch him. A cool pang of adrenaline renewed. A female errection was aching in my thong.

There he was, reading the news paper!

Lightening cast a silver strobe. Thunder ebbed from the west.

I dressed as Lucius informed me rather conversationally. “The Leaky Caldron was promoting your latest album this week. Such a powerfully renegade sound and yet so melancholy.” Lucius lowered his gaze as inward thoughts exposed themselves. “There’s an old soul involved…I didn’t know a woman could sing like that… with such rapture and defiance…and melody.”

Lucius straitened, casually dismissing his loss of resolution. “I heard you singing just now and then through the speakers at the ‘Caldron. It hasn’t captured me how my lark and ‘Serenade’s diva could be one in the same.”

“Sex, potions, and rock ’n roll: If my life imitates art, does that make you a fan?” In tone, I shamed him sweetly.

His colorless eyes aimed neatly into me. I sensed the conflict of joy and old Malfoy pride fighting to surface. But I interceded before my opportunity was lost.

“Undress for me.”

Lucius dropped his shoulders; relived like I should have suggested it sooner.

I sat on my knees by the French Empirial vanity. Lucius Malfoy unclasped his serpentine broaches and tossed his traveling cloak aside. He slowly undressed. He fixated on me as I began to suffer.
Thunder rolled combining the whisper of clothes.

I appraised his rolling physique- lean though it was; almost hairless chest, deep colored pecks perfectly pert to nibble.

His sapphire trousers were close tailored, showcasing an athletic shape. He unclasped his belt with a charming click that echoed. He slid his left handed thumb down his rippling stomach.

I held my breath.

I was physically hungry for him.

Lucius Malfoy pulled the ban of his front trousers out. He glanced down for a second. “But first, little lark, I have questions.”

I collapsed. “FINE.”

When I recovered, I saw Lucius leafing through The Daily Prophet.

He handed it to me.

I bit in sarcasm, “Copper lined caldrons on sale- where’s my credit card!”

The top article, Yankee git. Read it to me.” That bit of bloke tossing jargon would’ve emitted from this vintage stock unless Lucius was talking dirty-he’s used it before. But a stricken expression sharpened his handsome face.

Back to business, I suppose.

“Latest murder has ministry officials declare a serial case. Five victims each resembling a black bird feather, pin quill out in their right hands. Significant or total blood loss will rule out Unforgivable Curse.”

“Davalen.”

I looked back at the soft introduction of my name.

“Are you an animagus?” His voice growing more gruff. He was no armature coulemense- I’ve never underestimated that. He was already accusing me.

“Nope.” I looked away at the rain streaked bay window behind the tub.

“Don’t lie to me.” His velvet tone reminded me of wind blowing through a haunted house. “The Longbottoms, Lockheart, Umbridge. Tell me these are not the mutinous trifles just to amuse yourself.”

“I get bored when they don’t fight back-you’ve seen it.”

Lucius looked away with a scoff. But I saw agreement play at his mouth, even though I didn’t answer him.

My assignments grasp a crow’s tail feather. I had my orders, but it meant so much to me. Crows carry a human’s soul. Screw Lucius the privilege of knowing that.

Seems to me I had this conversation in the Renaissance. To Hell with anyone who sticks they’re nose in my… well it was still work.

Apparently I said nothing to remedy him. “Bartholomew Crouch… Junior.” He spoke through his teeth. “One of yours?” He watched me carefully. All he had to do was mesmerize it out of me.

He was daring me.
“Barty,” I said, remembering him. I felt a heat wave wash over me. I fanned myself with the newspaper. Maybe it was the combination of the thunderstorm, Lucius cruel strip tease, and what I did with Barty, but I was willing to take this conversation to a more expeditious level.

“You needn’t worry your hot ass for my sake, so listen. I have a confession.”