TM Topic: The Moral of the Story Is...
She was the fairest maiden I'd laid my eyes upon since we'd departed Le Havre en route to Paris, assigned to escort a shipment of arms for the Cardinal's elite well-trained militia from the port at Le Havre. It was an overnight stop in Rouen that a.. borderline sinful binge of wine and merriment at the expense of Porthos was assembled. I remember the story well...
The Taverne de Bijoux Cachée was the name of the bedraggled inn which was to serve as the setting for the unexpected admonition to come. The wooden tables were long and unpolished; well aged and warped in some boards which made for an uneven platform on which to relax ones' tankard. Athos, Porthos, and I expressed impressively little solicitude for the barbaric environment. Being in the company of France's finest blades and boasting such honorary accolade plainly with the unmistakable blue tunic insured that we were to have an unbothered evening save by those from whom we sought company: the mistresses! Certainly with the exception of Athos whom preferred less of the coterie and assumed a sequestered table to liven the company of a single admirer: a hefty bottle of cabernet sauvignon.
Porthos' boisterous personality had a suspicious way of attracting women as a feline curiously investigating a ball of yarn only to find it appeasing and enjoyable to play with. I often observed this phenomenon with an aire of both awe and pity for here was a man whom preferred to betray the path of righteousness simply for a wine and a wench, and for his lack of effort he was rewarded with not one, not three, but often times four or more beautiful creations of God. Though I'm often accused of testing the sinful waters temptation often ripples, I've vaguely but seldom times committed to a greater act than adoring from afar. It was while contemplating that very thought that she entered my realm of sight.
"You shouldn't let your tankard empty like this, monsieur," came an almost coyly friendly voice which more than complimented the transcendent glamour that her raven black hair, draped in a transparent veil over her viridian eyes, served as the starting point for my amorous gaze to explore the artistic sculpture of her vixenish frame. It took me an unconsious moment to realize that there was a response required from me; even if perhaps a bit flirtacious.
"A habit I'm known to repeat," I responded, allowing the corners of my lips to retreat, etching a modest grin to my friendly exhibition as she poured the deep, richly red drink from its pitcher into my tankard. "With your regular assistance perhaps I'll depart here tomorrow with one less bad mark on my otherwise untainted registry, madam...?"
"Madalene," she answered once my refreshment was topped off, her cheeks unblushed while a smile quaintly more than professional was matched with that poised upon my own expression. "And, with all due respect, monsieur, it will take much more than a simple invitation for me to fill your cup this evening." I raised my eyebrows with surprise and turned to look at Porthos who had been supervising this encounter with obvious amusement. His own brows raised to meet mine in response to Madalene's retort.
"Ooh! Looks like you found yourself a feisty one, Aramis," my inebriated companion elected to indicate. "Careful, friend! You may not be adept at sporting against a firecracker such as she!"
"Au contraire, Porthos," I said, tilting my head briefly only to revert my eyes upon the maiden at my side who still held her coy grin steady upon my visage. "A contest is not what I seek this evening. In contrast, a partner would be far more beneficial than a prosecutor."
"Partners are more easily made than one might think, monsieur Aramis," Madalene answered, kissing my name with a purring tone making even a man with as much forbearance as I wither from amative fantasy. I was no stranger to the more assertive wenches that occasionally sought the laps of many patrons frequenting each of the tables in a particular establishment, but none had I seen her contact the way she had come to me. It naturally inflamed my intrigue. I raised my tankard and held it up in acknowlegement to Porthos, then tossed back a few large gulps only to firmly place the metal container back on the table.
"Forgive my premature departure, Porthos," I said with my eyes upon the woman while raising myself from my seat to approach her. Obviously she had been anticipating this for the coy grin she'd passed me over her shoulder while toward the wooden stairs leading to the clandestine rooms above she walked in lead of me.
What happened after that was a discovery that I dare not recall without a great deal of discomposure. What I will admit is that the experience did not evolve into an antic evening of sin and I departed that inn with a new resolve toward my vow of chastity to the echoing chortles and chuckles of my Musketeer companions. The moral of my story? Trust not always in your eyes for not all books' stories are as beautiful as their covers make them appear. Sometimes you'll discover.. secret.. unpleasant things while turning the pages. It wasn't until returning to Paris that, upon counsel with those more experienced in the taverns northwest of Paris, I learned the Taverne de Bijoux Cachée, meaning "Tavern of Hidden Jewels"... doesn't refer to shiny riches. *shudders*
The Taverne de Bijoux Cachée was the name of the bedraggled inn which was to serve as the setting for the unexpected admonition to come. The wooden tables were long and unpolished; well aged and warped in some boards which made for an uneven platform on which to relax ones' tankard. Athos, Porthos, and I expressed impressively little solicitude for the barbaric environment. Being in the company of France's finest blades and boasting such honorary accolade plainly with the unmistakable blue tunic insured that we were to have an unbothered evening save by those from whom we sought company: the mistresses! Certainly with the exception of Athos whom preferred less of the coterie and assumed a sequestered table to liven the company of a single admirer: a hefty bottle of cabernet sauvignon.
Porthos' boisterous personality had a suspicious way of attracting women as a feline curiously investigating a ball of yarn only to find it appeasing and enjoyable to play with. I often observed this phenomenon with an aire of both awe and pity for here was a man whom preferred to betray the path of righteousness simply for a wine and a wench, and for his lack of effort he was rewarded with not one, not three, but often times four or more beautiful creations of God. Though I'm often accused of testing the sinful waters temptation often ripples, I've vaguely but seldom times committed to a greater act than adoring from afar. It was while contemplating that very thought that she entered my realm of sight.
"You shouldn't let your tankard empty like this, monsieur," came an almost coyly friendly voice which more than complimented the transcendent glamour that her raven black hair, draped in a transparent veil over her viridian eyes, served as the starting point for my amorous gaze to explore the artistic sculpture of her vixenish frame. It took me an unconsious moment to realize that there was a response required from me; even if perhaps a bit flirtacious.
"A habit I'm known to repeat," I responded, allowing the corners of my lips to retreat, etching a modest grin to my friendly exhibition as she poured the deep, richly red drink from its pitcher into my tankard. "With your regular assistance perhaps I'll depart here tomorrow with one less bad mark on my otherwise untainted registry, madam...?"
"Madalene," she answered once my refreshment was topped off, her cheeks unblushed while a smile quaintly more than professional was matched with that poised upon my own expression. "And, with all due respect, monsieur, it will take much more than a simple invitation for me to fill your cup this evening." I raised my eyebrows with surprise and turned to look at Porthos who had been supervising this encounter with obvious amusement. His own brows raised to meet mine in response to Madalene's retort.
"Ooh! Looks like you found yourself a feisty one, Aramis," my inebriated companion elected to indicate. "Careful, friend! You may not be adept at sporting against a firecracker such as she!"
"Au contraire, Porthos," I said, tilting my head briefly only to revert my eyes upon the maiden at my side who still held her coy grin steady upon my visage. "A contest is not what I seek this evening. In contrast, a partner would be far more beneficial than a prosecutor."
"Partners are more easily made than one might think, monsieur Aramis," Madalene answered, kissing my name with a purring tone making even a man with as much forbearance as I wither from amative fantasy. I was no stranger to the more assertive wenches that occasionally sought the laps of many patrons frequenting each of the tables in a particular establishment, but none had I seen her contact the way she had come to me. It naturally inflamed my intrigue. I raised my tankard and held it up in acknowlegement to Porthos, then tossed back a few large gulps only to firmly place the metal container back on the table.
"Forgive my premature departure, Porthos," I said with my eyes upon the woman while raising myself from my seat to approach her. Obviously she had been anticipating this for the coy grin she'd passed me over her shoulder while toward the wooden stairs leading to the clandestine rooms above she walked in lead of me.
What happened after that was a discovery that I dare not recall without a great deal of discomposure. What I will admit is that the experience did not evolve into an antic evening of sin and I departed that inn with a new resolve toward my vow of chastity to the echoing chortles and chuckles of my Musketeer companions. The moral of my story? Trust not always in your eyes for not all books' stories are as beautiful as their covers make them appear. Sometimes you'll discover.. secret.. unpleasant things while turning the pages. It wasn't until returning to Paris that, upon counsel with those more experienced in the taverns northwest of Paris, I learned the Taverne de Bijoux Cachée, meaning "Tavern of Hidden Jewels"... doesn't refer to shiny riches. *shudders*