The Clever Fox: Part One (The Pleasure Hound Series) (10 page)

This morning, a spot of color in the fields caught Alyss’ eyes. At the edge of the greenery a purple flower, perhaps a violet, struggled to reach the surface and the sun’s rays. But no sooner than Alyss spied the fledging bloom did a shadow overtake it and the ground’s keeper yanked it up by its roots.

Alyss jerked back from the window as though she felt the life-ending effects of having her essence pulled from her own depths. She’d learned at a young age that this household suffered nothing and no one coloring outside of the practical lines set up by its’ matriarchs.

The sound of thunder called from the distance. The bright day and the far reaching rays of the sun would soon be overtaken by a storm. Alyss grabbed a gray wrap to protect herself from the elements outside her doors.

Before leaving her bedroom, she took quick steps to her closet. She shut the door to her wardrobe, enclosing her garments, the pencils, paints and canvases into the darkness. She hesitated before finally going out of her bedroom to face the sterile walls and monochrome carpeting of her home. Her skin itched again.
 

In the dining room, her Mother and Grand Mother sat at the table spooning jam onto their bread.

“Good morning, Mother, Grand Mother.”

“You’re awful chipper today,” said her Mother. “You must be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” Alyss reached for a bowl of strawberries. When she looked up there was silence.

“Prepared for the debate tomorrow.”

A grumble of thunder sounded outside the window. It sounded closer than it looked a moment ago.

Alyss plastered on a smile. “Of course.”

“I’ve prepared the reports you’ll need for the debate tomorrow. I sent them to your handheld, but I’ve printed the updates."

Alyss hadn’t even looked over the initial reports. Would she have time to look them over before meeting Jaspir later? She could go into the office for a couple of hours before heading over to his studio.

Her Mother dropped the papers before her. “The male you’re up against is a former hound, of all things.”

A hound? Alyss pulled up a picture of the male in her memory. Dark skin like her own, dark hair, dark eyes. A completely unremarkable male. What was his name?

She’d thought hounds were supposed to be desirable. She didn’t find that male desirable. But then again she didn’t find Jaspir or Jian desirable either. They just looked like men. Large bodies, clunky appendages, hair in odd places.

She found Adom easy on the eyes. Likely because in his eyes Alyss saw the search for and the appreciation of beauty.

“It's no wonder he wants an end to this bill,” said her Mother. “It will put his nefarious brothers out of business once and for all.”

Brothers? Something niggled at the back of Alyss mind.

“It's shameful that they allow people who have ulterior motives to argue for bills,” said her Grand Mother.

“Our family has an ulterior motive,” said Alyss. She was met with stoney silence. “I’m arguing the bill for my family’s interest.”

“No,” said her Mother. “Not just for our interests. For yours as well. If you fail at this, your future in the Sisterhood will be over. No novice has ever moved up the ranks to apprentice by losing a debate against a male advocate. If you fail to make this a public matter, we’ll privatize the trials and your next career can be as a human lab rat.”

Rain pelted the windows. Thunder sounded in the distance. Alyss lost her appetite. She wanted more than to leave the room; she wanted to leave her own skin. She ran her nails down the inside of her arms. They stopped at the indentations on her wrists, and her skin cooled.

With barely a farewell to her Mother and Grand Mother, Alyss rose, left the house and got into her conveyance. The clouds overhead moved quickly. She headed into the heart of the city with the storm chasing behind her car.

When Alyss entered the Sisterhood compound, she set a course straight to the Chamber of Science and Health. But her steps faltered at the door. An itch crawled up the base of her spine and settled between her shoulder blades. She tried to shake it off. She had to go into her chamber. If she could just win this argument and pass the bill, she could rise in the ranks. If she rose in the ranks she could get out from under the thumb of her Mother and Grand Mother. She could have an easel that sat in the prime light of her own living room and not in the closet of her bedroom. She could leave her creations out in the open without fear of them being mowed down. There would be no more threats of becoming a human guinea pig, or worse, impregnated. She just had to go in, read her Mother’s report, and find a way to beat her opponent.

From the corner of her eye, Alyss caught a flash of color. Lady Eryka struggled down the hall with a large canvas. The canvas was covered with a bright yellow tarp.

Alyss turned and headed towards the girl. The large canvas was awkward in Lady Eryka’s small arms. Women and males walked by her without so much as a glance. Alyss was nearly to the girl when a pair of strong, brown arms relieved Eryka of the painting.

“Allow me, my lady.”

Eryka startled. She immediately ducked her head, turning her body so that her good side appeared to the male. They stood there for a moment, Eryka and her rescuer. Alyss assumed the male needed direction on where to take the painting, but Eryka was too shy to say a word.

“Look at that, Eryka,” Alyss said. “Chivalry isn’t a twentieth century myth. She’s going in here.” Alyss pointed at the door to the Chamber of Arts and Culture. Honestly if the male knew he carried a canvas in his hands he would’ve guessed as much. But she guessed that level of thinking was too much to ask for a common male.

The male looked up at Alyss. His kind face morphed into distaste.
 

Alyss frowned. No man had ever looked at her with distaste. Not even the man servant who cleaned her bathroom that time she ate too many wild berries and spent the evening giving them back to the Goddess. Had she stepped into street excrement? Had her hair bow come undone? And then she realized.

“Oh, it's you.”

“Lady Alyss.” Her male adversary inclined his head.

“You realize that you are helping the enemy?”

“Women-kind aren’t the enemy, my lady. It's only those who abuse the power of their station I take issue with.”

His eyes narrowed as though accusing her of standing beside that issue. Alyss had never abused any male. She’d never abused anyone. She opened her mouth to say so, unsure why she felt the need to defend herself before this male. But Eryka beat her to it.

“You’re very kind to offer your assistance, sir.” Eryka’s voice was barely higher than a whisper, her eyes cast down. “Follow me, but please be careful not to let the tarp slip. The artwork…is not meant for public consumption.”

This peaked Alyss’ attention even further. It was only a few steps to the Chamber of Arts and Culture. Eryka’s hands sought the knob and turned. She cast the door wide, wide enough for the male, the painting, and Alyss to come inside.
 

Alyss cast a glance over her shoulder at the Chamber of Health and Sciences, but her feet carried her forward into the Chamber of Arts and Culture. Once inside, she tried keeping her eyes down, but even the carpeting was a burst of color. Finally, Alyss looked up and exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. They had new canvases and sculptures all over.

Out the window, the rain stopped. The skies cleared, but Alyss’ eyes fogged as she surveyed the work in the room. There were sculptures of a material she couldn’t identify, likely rare stones and metals no longer found in this part of the world. What she could make out were body parts. She saw a man grasp a woman’s full breasts with both hands. She saw a woman with her thighs wrapped around a man’s torso. She saw the face of man buried between a woman’s thighs, the woman’s head thrown back in a look of rapture.

Alyss’ pulse raced at her wrist where her rope marks were fading. She felt a heaviness settle between her thighs, and she pressed them together to ease the ache.

“I beg your pardon my lady.”

Alyss’ hands jerked behind her back as though to hide something though there was nothing in her hands. She blinked rapidly and turned at the deep male voice. She stood inside the doorway blocking the entrance of the male, the painting in his hands, and Eryka who still held the door wide.

Alyss stepped aside to allow them in. The male allowed Eryka to proceed him and then he shut the door behind him. Alyss stared at the closed door, knowing she should leave and get to work.

She turned into the Chamber. The curtains of the Chamber windows were cast wide open and Alyss felt the sun’s rays dance over her body. The itch in her back, in her hands, was gone.

“You can just set it down over there,” came Eryka’s soft voice.

The male did as instructed.

“Hello, Lady Alyss.”
 

Alyss looked up to see Sister Mychelle. Today, instead of her purple robes marking her station, she wore the same, orange, black and white colors as Alyss; only in a different pattern.
 

“We’re twins,” Sister Mychelle grinned looking over Alyss’ dress with approval. “I’ve been working on a series with butterflies. The orange, black, and white pattern belongs to the Monarch butterfly.”

Sister Mychelle extended a canvas she carried in her hands. Alyss could only nod as she looked at Sister Mychelle’s sketches of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

“Are you finally ready to cross the hall to the side where you belong?”

Alyss ducked her head as Eryka always did. “I was just holding the door open.” Alyss indicated the closed door behind her.

“Your welcome any time. Though today might not be the best day. We’ve come into possession of several erotic artworks. The work is banned outside of these walls.”
 

Alyss didn’t answer. Her gaze fixed on a canvas depicting a man kneeling before a woman. The woman’s breasts and thighs were bare. A dark triangle of hair was exposed between her thighs. The man’s pink tongue extended towards that dark area. Alyss knew she should look away, but her eyes held fast to the lines of the brushwork, all drawing attention to that focal point between the woman’s open thighs.

“In ancient times, Neanderthals drew the human form on the walls of caves to communicate with one another and relate their history. But today, in a civilized society we can’t show any of these historical artifacts because the women depicted are naked.” Sister Mychelle shook her head, her eyes bright and open as she regarded the painting. Not half closed in shameful curiosity, like Alyss’.

“We can show the pottery of ancient Greeks upon which the sex acts of male love is depicted. We can show the phallic sculptures of art from the Africas. But this society deems obscene anything that depicts the female form nude or in a sexual situation.” Sister Mychelle turned back to Alyss. “Its a crime, isn’t it?”

Alyss didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to answer. She shouldn’t even be in this room right now.

“Art is the expression of someone’s soul. You can’t just silence someone’s soul.” Sister Mychelle looked to Alyss for confirmation, but Alyss kept her mouth closed. She’d never considered erotic art. She’d never seen any. Her fingers itched to hold a brush and paint out loud.

Sister Mychelle’s eyes peered into Alyss as though she saw her personal confinement, but the older woman said nothing. She gave Alyss one last smile that rang somewhere between sympathy and pity. Then she flitted away with her drawings pressed to her chest. Sister Mychelle aimed her artwork outward so that every one would see. In fact, she stopped to talk with another lady whose eyes were riveted to the canvass. Sister Mychelle presented the canvas for the lady’s closer inspection with pride and excitement.

Alyss scratched at her chest. She took one more glance around the room. Then she turned away from the sun, turned her back on all the art, and reached for the door.

“Allow me, my lady.” A dark, masculine hand reached in front of her. “You can’t open the door with your fingers in knots.”

Alyss started at his words. Why would he use that particular word? Knots?

He nodded his head downward.

Alyss looked down at her clasped fingers. She wrenched them apart, then stepped aside.
 

“There’s paint under your finger nails.” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that some new feminine fashion I’m not aware of?”

Alyss held her nails up. There was the tiniest speck of purple beneath her right index finger. She looked up into the face of her adversary and felt naked under his gaze. His eyes moved from her nails to her wrists. She felt like he knew. Like he knew where each marking, not just the rope impressions but the paint, came from. She felt like he knew how desperate she was to keep each.

But that was impossible, her wild imagination at play. She tried to wrangle it in, yank the idea out before it could root. Her Mother had always warned her of the dangers of an active imagination. Methodical, peer-reviewed contemplations was the only lane to allow the mind to travel.

Alyss ducked out of the door. She heard the door click closed behind her.

“Lady Alyss?” His voice was soft, but it carried to her. “Let’s keep the fighting inside the chambers, shall we?”

Alyss turned. He was right there in front of her.

“My husband is off limits,” his soft voice was firm.

“Your husband?”

“Adom.”

Alyss blinked. Adom? Her Adom? She didn’t even know that Adom was bonded.

“Use whatever tactics you want against me,” he continued. “Bat your eyelashes, flip your hair, show off your breasts. But don’t use him.”

“Tactics? You think I’m using Adom-“

“Stay away from him or I’ll tell everyone you’ve been posing for his artwork.”

The threat didn’t have the bite Alyss expected it to. She merely blinked. She saw the dawning on his face when he realized her lack of fear at the prospect. He changed his tactic.

“I’ll tell them how you’ve been posing. That you were…roped into it.”

Alyss ran her fingers protectively over her wrists. “What Adom does…”