Wicked Desires (Wicked Affairs, Book One) by Eliza Lloyd

revulsion she’d felt a week ago. How could she do that?
    “You ask too much.”
    “It is not I that ask. You want your husband. Your husband demands certain entertainment. And here we are at an impasse.”
    “Another man will violate me? I will be naked to the gaze of another man while my husband looks on. Even my adventurous husband cannot be so accepting.”
    “What part of my suggestion is most unacceptable to you?”
    “Why… I… I will not have another man’s penis inside my body.”
    “So you could live with everything else you witnessed?
    “I didn’t say that.”
    Madame DuPuis sat quietly for several long minutes and then stood, slapping at her bulky skirts. “Well then, I’ll tell my other couple to proceed without you.”
    Her hand was on the door.
    “Wait.” Clarissa clenched her teeth. “What is it you’re suggesting? Exactly?”
    Madame DuPuis approached her from behind. “You have lovely hair.” She plucked at the few pins Clarissa had tucked into the mass of black tangles. Dark strands fell across her shoulders. “Why don’t we get you dressed and I’ll explain.”
    Stiff and impassive, Clarissa stood. Madame DuPuis pulled at the ribbon wrapped under Clarissa’s bosom and then began unbuttoning her dress. The sleeves were pushed aside and the dress slithered to the floor. The laces of her shift loosened. The soft material pooled at her feet, followed by the last of her undergarments.
    Clarissa labored for breath, knowing but not knowing to what she’d tacitly agreed.
    “I can write the script, but it is the players on stage who interpret what I write,” Madame said. “I promise you will not be touched in that way. You saw the stage, you saw what and how the players performed. If it does not progress as planned, you say no.”
    Naked and feeling alone, Clarissa heard the clink of a canister as Madame DuPuis rubbed along her shoulder. “This will cover your mark. I knew you’d be lovely. You can be assured that your husband had other reasons for leaving you besides what your body could offer him.”
    Clarissa bit at her lip and stared down at her feet. She crossed one arm over her breasts. She still wore her black stockings made of the finest French silk. Michael had always purchased the best of everything for her. He’d even sent to Italy for a pair of shoes she’d once seen. She’d laughed at his extravagance when they’d arrived four months later. He’d always been concerned for her happiness.
    Mechanically, she lifted her arms as the madam commanded.
    A black corset with red eyelet and ribbon was placed at her waist. Cinching the corset, the madam forced Clarissa to take in a lungful of air. Her breasts were fully displayed and pushed upward in vulgar prominence, the lacy material below showcasing them. Perfect, firm round globes with hard-tipped nipples surrounded by light chocolate-brown areolas. Michael had always enjoyed her breasts.
    Her derrière and mons remained on display. Two ribbons dangled against her legs, lightly teasing her skin.
    The first hint of her indecent excitement trickled down her leg.
    “There. Would you like to see?”
    “No.” When she swallowed, she only felt a dry, scratchy sensation. “May I have another drink?”
    Madame DuPuis poured and then handed over the glass. Clarissa gulped it down.
    “I think perfume, yes?” A light mist cooled her skin. Madame then sprayed it near the V of Clarissa’s thighs. “And lastly, your robe.” The silky smoothness slid over Clarissa’s arms and floated around her. It was entirely red and transparent.
    Madame smoothed rouge over Clarissa’s cheeks, reddened her lips, placed a single black patch near her mouth and then slipped a sequined mask over her eyes.
    “ Chérie , you are perfect. Better than any of my girls he’s seen. Remember who you do this for.”
    In a complete daze, Clarissa was led from the room and up the same darkened, carpeted stairwell.
    “We must hurry. Your man will be getting