Highest ranking
#1 in utopia
-•-
"It's about how your hips move," the hand that sits on my waist finds my hip, his fingertips trailing lightly along the fabric of my skirt. "When you arch your spine," he continues on, letting that same hand migrate...
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It has been two days, and I am no less appalled by my wanton behaviour. What's more, the fact that even after I left the bath and the steamy atmosphere it encouraged, every time my eyes set on Kian, I still felt my loins alight and oxygen escape me. It reached a point where I had to sit with my legs crossed – thighs clenched – to alleviate the incessant throbbing of my womanhood. It did nothing remotely helpful, only made me squirm more.
I do not know what has overtaken me. I have kissed Kian many times now, found myself in situations where his hands wander, and his tongue writes love notes on my bare flesh. I have seen him in little clothing and heavens, even felt the stiffness of his genitals against my thigh. Yet this, reaction, it has never come of me before. Where I find myself desperately desiring Zaveri had never interrupted us, because I feel it is that intimacy, the height of romantic relationships, which it would have led to. And I feel I would have allowed such culmination.
Today, I cannot dwell much on the matter, considering it has been made apparent to me that with the company of my mother and Lady Esha, I am to choose my wedding dress. Something that under different circumstances, would no doubt me one of the greatest days of my life. Except I have to wear mine at the alter in only a months' time, to marry a man who I detest almost as much as my father. Perhaps my face conveys such, because as Margot carefully styles my hair, and Leevy and Zaveri search for my outfit, not one of them breathes a word.
"Speak," I command, "this silence is suffocating." It takes a moment of mouths opening and closes before my requests are met.
"Your father has said we are relieved of duty for your wedding. We will help you ready, then we are free to watch the ceremony." Leevy tells me. I manage to force a smile. It is not a topic I desire to discuss, but I am thankful for the conversation.
"And you plan to attend?" I ask.
"Of course," Margot answers from behind me. "We would not miss it. I would feign illness just to watch you walk to isle." She jokes, and I breathe a laugh. The girls continue to chatter while I just listen, soon ready and waiting in the foyer for Lady Esha's presence. She smiles kindly at me, telling of her excitement and honor of how she is joining my mother and I today, then the three of us leave, my mood steadily deteriorating.
The drive to the upper level market is far longer than to the lower level market. It is situated far out, in what I'm sure is the middle of nowhere, capable for all those of a higher level to access. There are wide streets with quaint brick shops that bustle with life, or further on, a dome like building which stacks four stories, filled with boutiques and restaurants and retailers.
Lady Esha and my mother lead, heading to the first street, on which there seems to be at least half a dozen shops, all of which display elaborate wedding dresses in their bay windows. I am ushered into the first, and the staff, recognizing us to be a trio from the highest of levels, hurry to accommodate to us. My mother and Esha sit, catered with tea and cakes, while I am encouraged to browse the tablet, on which displays hundreds of dresses.
