A Most Charming Prince

Twelve: Beds, Baths, and Beyond

The morning bloomed bright and crisp, with a pale blue sky, birds twittering melodically and the brook that led to the nearby river babbling mindlessly like that blind-date who has zero filter.

Madame rose at dawn, throwing herself from the bed, a stab of worry jabbing her heart for the loss of customers. Then she remembered.

Today. Was. The. Day.

She had so many dreams, and at least one of them was going to come true. What would it be? Grapes hand fed to her in a frilly love-bower? Toe massages on a river barge? A ride across the countryside, ending in a torrid picnic for two? All her debts paid from when her husband ran off with his business partner's bank account contents and wife?

Hah. Let's not get carried away, shall we?

If only she'd glanced out the window at the exact moment she was fiddling with her shoe laces....

Our prince needed a bath.

Up before the crack of dawn to do his calisthenics (this was way back in the day when calisthenics was a thing instead of yoga) and now, a fine layer of shining sweat covered his primed muscular body, he headed off to cleanse himself. Towel, soap, scrub brush, and an aura of accomplishment were the only possessions he took. It was a short walk to the cold river, and he jumped right in, not being one to wade in slowly while he adjusted to the temperature.

Not suspecting a thing, Nina strolled down to the water's edge to wash some bed linens. There, near the bank, a water god emerged, dark hair streaming, golden brow glistening, and as he swam closer and could stand, his head, neck, shoulders, chest—she didn't see anymore, but fell on her derrière in the mud, mumbling to herself and dazed. But not before her panties took flight.

The prince, not noticing her, otherwise he would have rushed to her side, walked carefully onto the sandy bank, not a grain of sand or bit of mud sticking to his sculpted feet. He gathered his towel about his waist and turned onto the path through the woods up to the brothel's courtyard. Droplets of water decorated his regal chest, majestic shoulders, rippled abs, slim waist, bulging biceps, criminy I could go on and on here...*fans self* *coughs* Droplets of water decorated him like diamonds strewn on pale satin skin and flashed in the early sunlight.

Vivi and Belle were feeding the chickens and noticed him coming through the courtyard gate. They keeled over with low thumps in the chicken coop, two pairs of knickers alighted in the air and headed east.

Maggie came out from the barn and immediately stumbled backwards into the dim interior while her undies took off on cotton wings, then passed out cold next to the horses.

Delilah was pouring over the finances book on the inner, upper balcony where she was accustomed to have her morning tea. Luckily, when she fell over, she didn't go over the rail since the prince was too far to catch her, but she did get a big ink stain of the last three traveling expenses claimed by Madame from a trip to the capital on her cheek. And yes, her underclothes jumped free and flew away.

The prince strode firmly into the brothel through the dining room and straight into the kitchen where he intended to take a few slices of dark bread and aged cheese for his breakfast.

Sitting in the corner of the dining room, both Aurora and Ruby blinked a few times as if blinded by the sun which came and went, then with twin sighs, melted from the benches onto the floor. They weren't wearing any underwear. They had it figured out by then and didn't want to lose any more.

Madame finished dressing and set about fixing her hair, oblivious to the eye-candy who had walked through her establishment.

But someone in the brothel had looked out the window earlier and noticed the prince going down for his bath. This was the day for Nigel's dreams to come true, too. Tired of waiting for a salary that didn't appear to be coming, he crept into the prince's room and in two shakes of a salt shaker, he found the golden spheres.

He was holed up in a spare closet that served as his room, admiring them when he heard the door to the dining room open and masculine steps reverbing across the wooden floor. Yes, even the prince's bare feet reverbed elegantly. Nigel tucked the heirlooms in a satchel and slung the bag over a shoulder. Destiny was what you made of it and he intended to make it a half a dozen fawning ladies at his feet on a luxury boat in the middle of the ocean.

***

Rebec was also feeding the chickens, as it was a medievalish, fantasy story sort of thing for oppressed, underprivileged, female characters to do.

A cotton bird fell dead at her feet. Panties? She turned slowly to the west. Something red was snagged in the rose-bush and fluttering in the breeze. Lacy undies. The wind was from the west, and the only place west of Master Répoute's house was the Enchanted Bushes Brothel. Follow the dirty laundry...

She frowned. Beyond the rose bush was another pair of knickers and a dozen feet further was another one. So, there had been a wild, girls only party and everyone was too snockered to get their clothes sorted properly afterwards?

Follow... She realized she was twenty feet closer to the west, and possibly her destiny. Which appeared to be washing basketfuls of knickers until she croaked. Unfortunate, but highly likely.

She pocketed the multitude of abandoned underthings. And set off to discover her destiny.

*** Snockered ladies losing their intimates? We know better, do we not? Rebec is soon to come face to face with the real reason behind the flying panties! ***