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Eleanor began rummaging around amongst the innumerable archive boxes of manuscript which littered the music room. Apparently searching for something in particular. Her student waiting as patiently as she might despite her state of nervous agitation and romantic exhilaration. Wishing the woman would say something. Anything at all. Sophie’s eyes fixed solely upon the subject of her obsession, unheeding of anything else but Eleanor.

Sweet and severe, terrifying and glorious, wondrous and mystifying Eleanor. So beautiful and so elegant, so graceful and so unutterably desirable. So agile and focussed of mind and so enigmatic and labyrinthine of intellect.

She wore a beautiful black velvet skirt which highlighted the profile of her hips, the shape of her thighs and the narrowness of her waist. And a plain formfitting black top which to Sophie’s distraction, accentuated the swell of her bust in the most diverting fashion. The neckline displaying her gorgeous throat, her perfect collar bones and the cleft of her sumptuous breasts.

Eleanor also wore dark vine patterned stockings which emphasized the shape of her perfectly portioned shapely legs. And oddly enough she wore black suede crepe soled creepers. And her hair she wore in two tightly bound space buns with a pencil thrust through one. But most oddly of all she wore a studded leather wrist band.

Eleanor Krieger was like that, a puzzle of apparent contradictions. A strange blend of classical elegance and ethereal beauty, combined with a taste for the alternative. A consolidation of timeless sophistication juxtaposed against a predilection for modernistic urbanity.

Eleanor had the most inspiring and fascinating taste for revivalist fashion of diverse fancy. Indeed one might never guess what era or tradition she might choose to draw from, but somehow she always looked perfect. And Sophie mused distractedly that the woman could probably make an old potato sack look like haute couture.

Indeed Sophie couldn’t remove her eyes from the glorious woman. For the graceful movement of her limbs and the seductive serpentine motion of her body was hypnotic. How profoundly Sophie desired Eleanor, how ardently she wanted for her.

How Sophie ached to rush to her in that very moment. To throw her arms around the divine woman and shower her in a thousand adoring kisses. But by sheer effort of will she quelled her yearning and waited. Though wiggling her hips from side to side as she did so. Desperate to relieve the excruciating thrilling of her sex in even the smallest measure. And ease somewhat the discomfiture of her damp underwear.

And rapturous bliss began to permeate Sophie’s entire being and enliven her arousal all the more, as she realized what she had done. She had kissed Eleanor. She had actually done it and Eleanor had not rejected her advance.

But gradually Sophie’s sense of victory began to fade before Mrs Krieger’s tacit inscrutability. Giving way to a pervasive sense of the most gorgeous powerlessness. She had done all she could to express her affection for the woman. And she was now entirely at Eleanor’s mercy.

The woman held her very heart in her hands. To crush and obliterate her dreams or grant the fulfilment of her fondest hopes as she so pleased. But the sensation was far from one of hopelessness or peril. It was in fact a sensation of the most gorgeous domination.

It thrilled Sophie to her very core that she belonged entirely now to Eleanor. It was so very sweet and so very terrifying to be completely at her mercy. And indeed Sophie’s erotic agitation grew even more acute at this thought. And she squirmed and wriggled her legs and bottom together even more distractedly. Her sexuality now acutely incited.

But Eleanor’s mercy might well yet prove to be unkind indeed. For Sophie had been playing fast and loose in Eleanor’s house. Today was far from the first time she had crossed a line of propriety. And it was very far from her most bold and challenging action.

Indeed a blade Damoclean had been hanging over Sophie for some time now. For long had she been tempting fate and daring Mrs Krieger to a reckoning.

Sophie knew full well that Eleanor was Mrs Krieger, a promised soul bound by oath and by the wedding ring upon her finger. And that she had every right to throw her out after her romantically charged advance.

But what prompted Sophie finally to take the risk, was that the exact details of Eleanor’s family life were obscure to say the least.

There were no male members of Mrs Krieger’s household whatsoever, only her three female companions. Nor were there any men or boys featured in any of the portraiture she displayed. And from this Sophie had surmised that there was no Mr Krieger, but rather most probably another Mrs.

Eleanor shared her beautiful home with Isabella, Charlotte and Zoe. Although Sophie could not say to who Mrs Krieger was in fact wed. Or even if she were in fact wed to any of the three, although Sophie had surmised that it must be one of them.

What confused the issue was that Sophie had witnessed Eleanor exchange intimacies passionate in character with all three. Such as to suggest that any one of them might be the other Mrs Krieger. Or even that there possibly existed an open union between all four. Although if such were so, polyamory certainly would not be the most curious aspect of this singular household.

And indeed Sophie wished with all her being that she was right in this. For she had come to feel the greatest affection for the entire company. Each of Eleanor’s three companions had captured her heart in their own uniquely wonderful way.

Indeed Sophie had made love with Isabella, Charlotte and Zoe too. Every member of the household except for Eleanor. Although the matter of secrecy or infidelity was still unclear.

And Sophie sometimes wondered if her actions were not some subconscious machination. Designed and orchestrated to incite Mrs Krieger. To challenge her to a confrontation in the passion of which Sophie might declare her love.

And in this Sophie was inclined to believe her supposition, were it not for the sincerity of her affairs with the others. And also the patent ridiculousness of the entire notion. Except that common sense of logic did not reign in Sophie’s heart or mind when she was under Eleanor’s roof.

Was Mrs Krieger aware of her affairs? For all she knew Eleanor was fully appraised and either she didn’t care, or she approved of the dalliances her companions conducted. But regardless of whoever the other Mrs Krieger might be, Sophie had never found it appropriate to discuss the matter of discretion. And none of the others had raised the matter with her.

But then again perhaps Mrs Krieger was widowed or divorced, perhaps Sophie was needlessly concerned. And indeed it astonished Sophie that for a full year she had been coming to this house at least twice weekly for violin lessons and informal friendly visits. And knew so very little about these curious women.

They had taken her in and embraced her without reservation. Although Isabella, Charlotte and Zoe in a far more affectionate fashion than Eleanor. She had spent entire days as invited guest and eventually as fond friend, and even casual lover to all but Eleanor. But she understood almost nothing of this curious household, much less the queer workings of its familial bonds.

Indeed, entering this house was like entering some other reality. And Sophie felt that questions too probing or examinations too curious, would somehow break the spell. And it was this profoundly held conviction more than anything else, which accounted for Sophie’s near complete ignorance.

This was a house of dreams and of fantasies, somehow removed or separate from the mundane world without.

And as mad as the thought sounded to her, Sophie had experienced the more eerie and curious realities of it firsthand. This was a house of bewitching seduction and beguiling fantasy. A house of sweetest dreams come true, of mysteries and magic and of dark and enigmatic romance.

A house of wonders supernatural in flavor, the precise nature of which Sophie could not clearly define. Although one name derived from lurid legend and vivid tales of ebon fantasia had emerged in her thoughts from time to time.

All she knew for sure was that she did not dare ask. That she ought not temp fate and inquire too deeply into the hushed secrets and whispered enigmas of this magical place.

And Sophie knew full well that there was no such thing as vampires.

 

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