Thistle : jjk

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In which, the reader works as a courtesan in Paris at the turn of the century and a handsome man starts showing up for her shows night after night. When she finally meets him, he charms her and then he keeps coming back. The man seems to have some sort of respiratory disease and only every pays in strange but beautiful flowers - but she doesn't mind.

 The man seems to have some sort of respiratory disease and only every pays in strange but beautiful flowers - but she doesn't mind

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*contains implied, but not explicit sexual scenes

"Angel, there is a man here to see you."

You felt a shiver run through your body in anticipation. A new man had started coming to your show every night, sitting in the front row and watching you perform in awe. He was deeply handsome with hair dark and long, curling around his youthful face to frame his enormous sparkling eyes, wide and shining as he looked up at you on the stage with fascination. You were hoping it was him.

"Really? A man that has been to see me before?" You asked breathlessly. One of your ladies stood behind you, tugging on the strings to tighten your corset in advance of your next performance. You felt the stiff fabric cinching your waist and squeezing your torso

"No - it's that new man," the owner said as she stepped in front of you, straightening your hair and pinching your cheeks to make them rosy - always helping you look perfect. "And he seems to be very rich and probably important so do your best."

"Yes! I will," you replied, breathlessly. The corset arranged and tied off, they draped you in a black silk dressing robe and arranged your hair to fall neatly around your face, your chest rising and falling in anticipation. Then they left you alone and there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," you called in a soft voice, schooling your features and sitting down to face the entrance, your legs crossed at the ankles.

The door opened slowly and in he stepped. The man. He was even more handsome close up - his skin glowed and his big eyes sparkled and his hair was shiny and beautiful. He was bigger in person than he had seemed in the audience, several inches taller than you and built beneath his clothing. He was dressed impeccably and you tried to stay professional and not to let your mouth fall open when those big eyes flicked to yours.

"Hello," you greeted softly. From behind his back he produced a beautiful bouquet of flowers and held it out toward you.

"Hello Angel," he replied, your stage name sounding lovely on his tongue. A foreigner - you should have guessed from the interesting shape of his eyes. Beautiful. "For you," he murmured, stepping forward and extending the flowers. His voice was soft and deep and everything about him was enchanting. He immediately swept you off your feet.

"Thank you," you said, standing and to accept the gift. You had never seen a bouquet quite like this - the flowers were beautiful and interesting - some of them you were familiar with and some you weren't. Dotted throughout the soft blooms were the contrastingly sharp heads of thistles, the purple blooms atop the green bulbs looking almost dangerous among the rest. "They're beautiful," you murmured, reaching to touch the sharp ball of one of the flowers.

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