By Sophia Fox-Sowell
She sleeps. Tenderly she dreams,
snoring softly as nightmares creep…
….the fog rolled in slowly, white clouds of damp mist covering the salty sea. All around the ship a pale ghost gently rested on the water. It made Kaori’s skin tingle to think what might be lurking beneath its depths. She tore her eyes away before her curiosity threw her overboard.
Besides the blinding fog, it was a warm evening, only the ocean breeze chilled the air on deck. The wind was blowing Kaori east, towards Phoenicia and her next target. Prince Satori Damasku, heir to the Phoenician Empire and the cruelest man west of Persia. They say he worked his slaves to death, simply because he had the money to replace them. But under his armor, it was whispered that the prince had a weakness for beautiful women. Like all men with power, it made him feel strong to submit droves of women in his bedchambers. But Kaori, not so easily.
She was not nearly the youngest siren. But her reputation as the Temptress of Titus earned her prestige and invitations around the world from high born nobles, even royal families. She rarely accepted, making her so mysterious to those who only heard the rumors of her beauty. There were few who did behold but most men who gazed upon her face did not live to kiss and tell.
Master Troisi found her during the siege of Troy.
It was well after dusk before Kaori was awoken by the shattering of pottery, and the clatter of swords in the streets…
Mikala awoke suddenly, disoriented from the vividness of her dream, which seemed more like a glimpse into her past life. What was my name? Kaori? No, that’s impossible. My name’s Mikala. Mikala, from Mikonos.
Lingerie littered his palace sized bedroom—not in piles, more like clues. Luckily, she wasn’t wearing much to begin with…Mikala came in on the train late last night, wearing only a trench coat, high heels, and Agent Provocateur. She thought she’d surprise Stefan with a little kink.
You see, Victoria’s secret isn’t so difficult to decipher. She’s insecure, and needs extra padding to make her look and feel like she believes a woman is supposed to. Fredrick’s of Hollywood is just that, a concept that rules the cultural world. Agent Provocateur is strictly stealth, a sex appeal so obvious, you’d never notice that it wasn’t custom made. And Tiffany’s will always be the elite because of its classically seductive silhouette.
Crafting excellence is like sex, confidence is key.
There are no cameras allowed in the bedroom. Her bodyguard does a sweep for all recording devices, weapons and drugs before she enters the apartment. The last two she brings with her upon her clients’ request (with an extra fee and built in security deposit carefully concealed in the contract.) If the coast is clear, she stays for the agreed upon time, no less than 12 hours and no more than 24.
Like the lingerie she wears, Mikala is an agent of sorts. Functioning Wall Street drones mechanically programmed for monotony, but glitch every now and again from precipitous damage (crying while viciously masturbating in the privacy of their office). You know the type, the ones, suave on the surface but with the mental tip of their financial empire just barely afloat. Mikala prevents their short circuits by rewiring their hardware. She knows the password to unlock their inhibitions .
She doesn’t have regulars. That would ruin her mystery. But Stefan hasn’t been her client for a few months now…well, she’s stopped charging him, anyways.