-1A Baroness Story
Her smooth, milky, white skin lolled beneath the warm, soapy water of the marble Jacuzzi. She filled a void of loneliness with her over-active imagination. Naked, she sanctioned herself to enjoy a relaxing bath.
She had beauty and power, something that most women of her judicious age would never have. It was something that all women desired. Yet it was the basic of needs that all women pined for that she also possessed. She had fallen in love with a man who had captured her heart and to whom she married, a man who showered her with everything she ever wanted.
"Oh James, you're to good to me," she spoke softly, referring to her husband and lover.
She closed her eyes for just a moment and dreamt of a perfect world where her husband was ruler of the world and she was his queen. The leaders of the world bowing at their feet. And at their coronation her former husband's head, a man who seduced and then tossed her away for another woman, would be presented to her on a silver platter. But the dream was trite filled with conjecture.
Her two maidservants caught the her signals, and they advanced to the Jacuzzi with towels in hand.
Anastasia covered her slender, striking body with a white towel. Glistening in the morning sun through stained glass windows, her skin reflected the beauty that was her life.
She wrapped the towel around her voluptuous breasts and it clung to her like skin-tight vinyl. Her black hair fell limp upon her slender shoulders. Soap caressed her body and enveloped her silky, white skin with lovely persuasion.
"You may go," she told her two maidservants. And they left her private chambers, which was situated in the North Wing of a Trans-Carpathian Castle, in Scotland. She was left alone with her thoughts, whims, desires and pleasurable ideologies.
Dropping the towel to the floor she walked out of her spacious bathroom and into her regal bedroom, and over to her walk-in closet, where she ruffled through her collection of designer clothes, clothes that only super-models and movie stars appropriately wore to dinner parties, prominent gatherings and premier movie showings or award shows.
But with her notorious criminal background once buoyant dreams of striding down the red carpet were no longer achievable. There was only one piece of clothing that she wore these days, one that showed her loyalty to her husband, branded with the symbol of his organization. It was a black, sleek number body suit that proportionately clung to her hourglass figure with attractiveness and authority.
There was a new world with endless possibilities to explore, with new and bright horizons beaming around every corner. After choosing her clothes, she reached to a nightstand and picked up a pair of glasses. She wore an elegant style: small, rectangular frames with tinted reflective glass. They also gave her a younger, more generational look for the times and in this day and age, beauty was everything. It was more precious than gold.
Neglecting her nakedness, she laid out her uniform on her bed, and then crossed the room to an elongated dresser with oval mirror, sat down on a silk lined padded chair cushion, picked up a hair brush, and began to comb her hair.
She was fastidious about her hair. One hundred strokes was her desired regime, then she finished by blowing drying with pressurized air suited to a regulated temperature. The blow dryer feed her naked neck with the warm air of a man's breathe, and for a split second, felt husband was with her. But he was off on a mission of vital importance. He was a military commander.
She wished he was here so they could make love. His soft, gentle hands pressed against the curvaceous of her naked flesh, his hot breath against the nape of her neck. His strong, muscular arms wrapped around her desirable body.
A droplet of cold water fell from her hair and cascaded between her breasts, pushed its way through their firm fix and streamlined down her smooth, sensual stomach, tickling the tiny hairs and down between her legs, startling her, sending her into sexual elation.
But she relented, stopping herself, allowing her passion to burn deeply for when her husband returned.
Yet even when her husband wasn't with her, she never felt alone.
She opened a velvet line box, and inside was a Tanzanite blue-purple opal pendant surrounded by shimmering diamonds in floral design. James had given it to her on Christmas two years ago. Gently picking it up in her hand, she slipped it around her neck, and laid the pendant just above the cavity of her breasts. She looked in the mirror.
"Return to me soon, James. I yearn for your gentle touch," she said softly, gazing at the pendant, with a passion for her husband that she continuously cherished.