Page 42 of Lessons with the Mothman

Elias grinned. "The nervousness is good. I want to be your first tonight."

My heartbeat stuttered at the words. It'd been a long time since I'd lost my virginity, and the idea of pretending otherwise was unsettling.

Unsettling and somehow exciting?

"My first," I repeated in a murmur.

Elias nodded and tipped his head thoughtfully. "I imagine I won the privilege at auction. What do you think?"

I didn't have a clue. My head had started spinning at his demanding text messages, then simply careened right off my shoulders and out the door at the sight of the frankly atrociously decorated room.

Elias stepped in front of me, wings spreading as much as they were able in the stiflingly crowded space. His hands settled on my hips, and his dark gaze caught mine.

"I don't want to give too much away, but I really think you're going to enjoy this idea."

I swallowed and wet my lips, nodding slowly.

"Myfirstfirst time, or just first time umm…paid?" I asked.

"First first," Elias said, voice lowering and growing thick. "A lovely, untouched, untrainedflower for me to pluck."

Tell me what you like, though.

It's all good, baby. I like you touching me.

But I want to know.

Vicky, it's fine. I like it.

"Okay," I rasped, looking around once more, anywhere but at that potent black stare above me.

Soft claws stroked up my throat, guiding my chin higher. A slight furrow creased between Elias's eyes. "Is this all right, Victoria?"

I nodded, but he remained watchful until I answered, "Your ideas overwhelm me. I like it."

Satisfied, Elias smiled slightly and stepped away toward the door. "It's going to be a long night," he warned.

My breath was ragged as the door clicked shut behind him, and I swung in a circle, taking in every overwrought detail. The ruffled curtains draped to the floor, the bed topped with an outrageous number of ruched and fringed pillows. The red scarf over a tall lamp bathing the room in lusty shades. I reached for the doors of the armoire, and there was just enough space for me to open it while standing at the foot of the bed. My costume waited for me—delicate white undergarments, black silk stockings, and ruffled garters in white lace and pink ribbons. A burnt velvet robe hung from a hook on the inside of one of the doors, but Elias hadn't mentioned it in his instructions, so I left it there and pulled the rest out, laying it over the bed.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the buttons of my shirt, and I could almost imagine Elias at my back, watching me undress for him. Maybe he was watching. Maybe I should have offered. I stripped myself bare and shivered, my toes curling into the thick wool rug as I carefully folded and tucked my clothing into the wardrobe.

The bedding was soft underneath me as I sat on the edge, lifting one stocking and running it through my hands. There were creases and a little discoloration, as if Elias had found a pair of vintage stockings, still in the package, and purchased them for this occasion. Had he been thinking of me at the time, or was it just a product of his habit as a collector?

I dressed slowly, carefully, terrified of snagging the silk, failing to tie the garters tightly enough twice before finally getting them right. I blushed as I found the loose split at the crotch of the white silk drawers, open for a lady's ease but also convenient for a man's use, in this case. I pulled them up over my hips, and my skin pebbled at the gentle flow of air that licked between my legs. The chemise slid on over my head, leavingthe tiny pearl buttons fastened down the front. Aside from the opening on the drawers, it was a surprisingly modest outfit, but the cool drape of the silk over my skin left me feeling decidedly naked.

I crossed to the vanity and found a small tin with a single shade of rosy red pigment, a bowl of black bobby pins, and an even smaller pot of black kohl. It'd been too long since I'd attempted makeup of my own, but I sat down on the stool, squeaking at the cold surface against a sliver of my bare sex, and fiddled with the delicate brushes laid out over the vanity like a set of surgeon's tools. I wasn't brave enough to attempt anything interesting with the kohl, aside from a few small brushes of it against my lashes, but I rubbed my fingers over the rouge, pinching my own cheeks until I looked flushed and then dabbing it into a small pout at the very bow of my lips. The effect, though small, was enough. I looked younger somehow, girlish and innocent and dressed up like a doll.

My hair twisted around my fists, and I stuffed it full of pins into a slightly lopsided bun at the top of my head. It would come undone easily, but that seemed to be Elias's aim.

Finally, I paused, staring at the girl in the mirror, a creature from another time in more ways than one. I looked closer to the version of myself I'd been a decade ago, and also like a stranger, a woman from another era. Slowly, I inched up the chemise, staring at my own bare breasts. I was more liberal here with the rouge than I had been on my face, finger painting them into bright little puckered cherries, my breath catching as I stroked circles around them and they tightened with arousal.

A knock tapped lightly on the door, an impatient throat clearing on the other side.

"Just a minute," I called, my voice too high and breathless.

I wiped my fingers clean on a cloth that waited on the vanity, then dropped the chemise. The fabric was thin enough that the rosy marks shone through, sharp tips beading in welcome.

I spun the stool to face the door. "Come in."

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