The City in Glass

"So how did you spend your day - wait, no, let me guess. I am a magician after all." He looks you up and down.

"Hmmm, clearly an adventurous woman, otherwise you wouldn't be here at the circus. You sat near the back so not trying to steal the show and... is that Svette's shirt?" He asks, mildly scandalized.

"Maaaybe." You answer. He laughs. "Well that is too bad."

"Why's that?" You ask.

"Because I thought I might have a chance of enjoying your company. No no," he puts up his hands in protest. "I would never presume of a guest, merely sharing my disappointment. Hmmm, well in that case, I would guess you spent last night leaping over rooftops with Mary."

You shake your head. "Nope, I visited the Underground." He snaps his fingers.

"Oh of course! The birthday party! That is quite something isn't it?" You grin.

"It was incredible. The music, the scene!" He chuckles,

"Quite the rum crowd, that one. You know, I was the one that suggested the old train cars, they make such marvelous set pieces." He stands and plucks a book out of his library. "A little Dickins, a little Thackery, it really came together." He sounds so proud of his work.

You take a long sip of your tea, considering your next step.

You set your cup down and stand up.

"I'm so sorry, I've taken up too much of your time already," he begins to apologize. "Breaking the immersion and all that. Here let me grab your coat..."

"Oh no no! I just was curious about the rest of your house." He cracks a wide smile.

"Really? No one else has ever... yes, I would love to show you! Right this way." He gestures towards the far door and leads you into the kitchen.

"Unfortunately, the layout needed to be a little unusual to accommodate the building footprint." The kitchen is a simple affair, a cast iron victorian stove, cabinets full of cookware, a sink with pots and pans hanging on hooks above it, all polished until they are gleaming. He leads you through a small dining room which connects to a staircase.

"I don't entertain guests very often but you must see the conservatory. It is my favorite room in the house. In fact, sometimes, I take all my meals in the observatory." He leads you up the rickety steps to a carpeted landing with a few doors. He opens on the right and a wave of heat pours out.

Inside, tropical plants hang from pots on the ceiling and sprout from racks on the floor. The ceiling is a geodesic glass dome, looking out on the snowy night sky. He moves along the racks of plants, taking an old spray bottle, well, I guess they would be new in this place, and lovely misting a few orchids.

"This is beautiful, Danny." You gaze in awe at the flowers, brilliant purples and yellows and blues. Sweeping vines and broad leafed plants. It reminds you of hiking through the valley in Maui where you and Ryan got devoured by mosquitos.

He beams with joy, gently caressing the slightly drooping leaves of a bird of paradise.

"Do you enjoy all this?" You ask. He gives a sad smile. "I do." He says simply. "Helping Dr. Quilp is my job, and I take pride in my work. Doing magic for the crowd is my hobby, it allows me to see people and interact with others. These plants..." he gives a sigh, setting the bottle down.

"They are my children and helping them grow makes this world feel a little less lonely."

You draw close, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turns startled at the sudden touch.

"I can help you feel a little less lonely too." You lean in and capture his lips in a firm kiss. He is stiff at first but quickly melts into your arms.

"But I thought... Svette and you..." You grin.

"Don't worry, I like boys too." He gives a delighted smile which you quickly smother with a kiss. He wraps his arms around you, the buttons of his vest rubbing against the thick cotton of your shirt. You press yourself against him, relishing in his playful lips, your hands roaming his slender build.

"Is there a bedroom somewhere in this house?" You inquire, a twinkle in your eye.

"Oh! Yes, of course, right this way." Ever the polite gentleman, he leads you from the conservatory, through the landing and through an adjoining door to the bedroom. He lights a lantern illuminating a four poster bed with gauzy drapes and a soft golden comforter.

You lead him by the hand over to the bed as he fumbles with his buttons, shedding his vest and unlacing his boots, kicking them off. You pull him in for another kiss, thirsty for the feel of his lips on yours. He reaches up underneath your shirt and squeezes your breast. You shudder, still tingly and excited from your encounter with Svette.

You pull the shirt over your head, freeing your breasts. He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth. You cradle his head and moan. You reach for his pants, stroking him through the thin fabric, feeling his growing erection, long and thick.

He comes up, pressing fierce kisses along your neck and chest. You impatiently pull his shirt off and slide his pants to the ground, his cock springing free before you.

He fumbles with your pants, you bat his hands away and easily undo the buttons, pushing them and your panties down to the ground and crawling onto the bed. He crawls between your legs, rubbing his skillful long fingers up and down your slit. You are so wet, your breath already coming in ragged gasps.

"Please, don't tease," you moan. "I'm ready." He pulls himself up to be level with you, his sensitive eyes connecting with yours as he presses himself inside you.

"oh OH!" he blurts out. "Oh that is heavenly." as he slides back out and then all the way inside, bottoming out deep inside your wet sex. You reach up, your hands finding purchase on his slender frame as he moves above you, steady thrusts, building that heat inside you. You raise your knees up allowing him deep inside you, never once letting his eyes slip from yours.

He squeezes your breast, pulling at the nipple lightly as his thrusts grow more and more frantic. You reach down, strumming your clit as you clamp down on his hard cock.

"OH OH OH! OH GOD!" He cries out and you feel him spurting inside you in a wet gush, his butt clenching as he unloads inside you. You frantically finger yourself and crest just in time, a small orgasm sweeping through your body, giving you that blessed relief.

Danny gently untangles himself from you and stretches out by your side. You throw a leg over his body, his excitement still dripping out of you, curling up as you slowly catch your breath.

###

"So are you an alien?" Danny freezes, still pulling his shirt over his head.

"What do you mean?" he asks, resuming his dressing.

"Last time I entered a world like this, there were hundreds of alien creatures trapped in human form - are you one of them?" He gives a wry laugh.

"I don't believe I am alien." He said. "I think I am just a man."

"But, would you know if you were?" He pauses, looking thoughtful.

"I don't know, to be honest. I remember growing up in a small town in Chesture County, outside of Burford. I remember moving to the States when I was a teenager. I remember going to university and opening the shop and all that. Although I know that none of those memories are actually mine." He shakes his head.

"But they are mine. They live right here." He taps his temple. "Now I live here, in this beautiful city." He almost dressed before you realize that you can't just stay sprawled out on his bed naked all evening and you should probably get dressed as well.

"Don't pity me, Brenna. We do not get to choose our lot in life, and I have many joys here. I live in comfort, and while I miss the convenience of television or the taste of potato chips, I do enjoy the simplicity of this life, the wonder of it all." He gives you a warm smile.

"Plus, I get to create marvelous experiences for others, and what greater joy could that be?"

He leans in and kisses you, soft and caring.

"Thank you for sharing your time with me, this has been truly wonderful. However, I'm afraid my other duties call. Is there anything else you require before I must go?"

"Wait, tell me of how you came to be here?" He looks at you blankly.

"There is not much to say. I had begun my experiments with the Gossamer Alloy," you are taken aback by the sudden translation, his mouth out of synch with the words. "And I knew to refine and craft my world, I needed to have a little more of a hands on approach. Next thing I recall, I am standing before myself in an empty warehouse, the soul scalpel in Dr. Quilp's hands and he is telling me, the new me, of my role. Since then, I have been here."

He leads you back down the stairs, and through the kitchen to his study, throwing another log on the coals to get them back to life.

"Is there anything I can do for you? I worry about you.. if there is something I can do..." His eyes flick to the armoire and then back to yours. Just a moment but deliberate.

"No no, nothing at all. Thank you ever so much for taking an interest in my orchids, it is rare that I get someone with a taste for botany on these grimy streets." You nod, not wanting to press the issue.

"It was a delight and hopefully one I can repeat some time soon." You say with a coy smile. His cheeks blush as he hands you your coat.

"Good evening, Brenna." He gives you a curt little bob of the head.

"Good evening, Danny." You give him a warm smile and step through the door into his dark tent and back into the circus.

You check your key. 41 hours. 11pm at night. The crowd at the circus is dwindling to drunks and those simply trying to stay warm during the wee hours of the night. Best to head out and see what else there is to offer tonight?

You set off through the streets, turning your collar up to the cold as the snow lands on your hair and coat. You wander through the city, watching the ornate carriages trot pass, the hurried gentleman in their tall hats moving from one late night appointment to another, the flickering candles in the windows.

Your encounter with Danny was lovely but the last conversation was disquieting. Doxie was right, it does appear to be a gilded cage but Danny wasn't frantically trying to escape. Is it so different from working at a resort? He can't leave the city but you know lots of people who never leave their hometowns. Still, unsettling.

Someone bumps into you and you feel something brush against your neck.

"Sorry miss." A woman mutters, hurring past you down the street. You put your hand to your chest - the iron key! It's gone.

"Hey!" You shout. She looks back. It's the slender woman in dark clothes from the docks! She is shockingly beautiful, her high cheekbones set off her hazel eyes. She gives you a sly smile and then bursts into a run down the street.

You race after her, your feet pounding on the slushy road. She pushes her way passed an old drunk,

"Wattchit!" He slurs as he stumbles. You leap passed him and round the corner as she races down an alley. She scampers up a fire escape, hauling herself onto the stairs and racing up, up, up towards the roof tops.

"God damn it." You wheeze, pulling yourself up the ladder. You can't let her get away! That's your ticket out of here. You make your way up the metal stairs to the rooftop.

There, she's on the far side of the building's roof, looking back at you, waiting.

"Come on, slowcoach!" She shouts, her lilting irish accent carrying in the night air. She grins and leaps, vanishing over the edge of the roof. You bolt after her, your feet hitting heavy on the stone rooftop. You reach the edge and see her sliding down a sloped metal roof and landing on the far side, leaping to the next apartment building roof.

Leaping over rooftops with Mary. Danny's voice comes back to you. Oh, so this is definitely an adventure. She's watching you as you gingerly step down onto the sloped roof.

"Woah woah!" You shout as you slide down the metal roof and jump to the top of the apartment building. In a burst of speed you race after her. She scrambles up a brick chimney. You grab the lip and haul yourself up, suddenly finding yourself sitting next to her.

"Not bad." She says, grinning. You are momentarily baffled.

"Uhh... my necklace?" She gives you a mock confused look.

"What?" You glare. "Fine." She pulls her hand out of her coat pocket, the key dangling from her fingerless gloves. You clasp it back in place.

"I... need your help." She says, after a moment of awkward silence. "There's a fellow I know, real fancy poof, name's Lord Douglas. Holds these big fancy parties up at his mansion there." She points to a part of the skyline on the other side of the Thames.

"He has a few things of mine, items of purely sentimental value to only myself, that I need returned. I believe he is keeping them in a cabinet in his private study."

She shifts awkwardly on the brick of the chimney.

"Now I can get into the house, and reach the study, but I cannot get close enough to get the key. He keeps it on his person at all times."

"Why not? You seem pretty capable with your hands?" You ask.

"He knows my face, I don't think I could get close enough to him to get it. But you? You are a brand new face. A visitor." The word distorts in her mouth. Perhaps this world has more self-awareness than you thought.

"I have an invitation, I lifted it off another stuffed shirt. All you have to do is go to the party and swipe the key." She bites her lip, nervously waiting for your response.

That does sound like fun. You aren't sure if you are dressed appropriately but that could probably be fixed too.

"Tell me about these items of yours. What is so important?" She blushes and kicks her feet.

"It was a few letters I wrote when I was younger to someone I like."

"To Lord Douglas?" You ask. She shakes her head.

"To his sister." Her voice barely a whisper. She leaps down off the chimney.

"Look. You want to help me or not?" She kicks at some snow, suddenly indignant.

"Yes, I am happy to help a fellow sapphist," you exclaim.

She blushes, caught off-guard by your admission, but quickly turns away to hide her face.

"Thank you. My name is Mary, by the way."

What follows is relatively boring. She breaks into a nearby tailor shop and borrows you a dress while you keep a lookout for the night watchman. Then she hails a rather fancy looking carriage and within twenty minutes, you find yourself at the doors of an elaborate mansion.

The coachman helps you down out of the carriage - you decided to go with some rather stylish lace up calf high boots rather than the traditional heels, Mary said you can justify them by saying you had to walk in the snow but you are secretly hoping that the blue folds of the dress will keep them mostly hidden. The neckline feels rather low by your estimation but it certainly didn't give Mary any pause as she helped lace you in. Rather amusingly she tried both to avoid staring and couldn't help but sneaking peeks while you changed.

She said she would arrive separately and meet you on the second story but you haven't seen her since she pushed you into the carriage back by the Thames. Distantly, the big ben echoed out twelve long peels into the night sky. Midnight. What better time for a witch to work her magic?

You knock on the front door. A balding man in a rather elaborate coat opens the door a crack. You hold up the invitation and he lets you into the lobby, a dizzying array of red carpets, large paintings, and flickering candles.

"Ms. Evie Marquette?" He raises his eyebrows at you.

"Yes, that's me." He looks skeptical.

"I thought your family was spending the season down at the French Riviera."

"Oh please, I need to practice my English. Yes, my family is down there but I couldn't miss Lord Douglas' party now could I?" The words come easy and you say a mental prayer for the strange rules of the alien translation. He gives a slight nod of the head.

"Very well, right this way Ms. Marquette."

Despite the late hour, the party seems in full swing. Women with elaborate hairpieces twirl about the dance floor while a quartet plays a sprightly waltz. Men with long tails and white gloves make conversation between appetizers and everywhere there is the sense of carelessness and glamour.

The dance floor is a kaleidoscope of colors and you are unsure if you would be able to follow along fast enough not to embarrass yourself. Instead, you circle around the outside, trying to drop in on a conversation. You join a circle of men and women about your age.

"... but that wasn't the first time either!" a man with a bristly dark mustache finishes his story and the crowd dissolves into peals of laughter.

"But tell me, Ms. Lauderdale, where is your husband tonight?" The broad-chested redhead next to you flashes a coy smile.

"Now Mr. Cunningham, you know that I come and go here as I please. Especially as a friend of Lord Douglas."

"More than a friend, I'll bet." The slender man across the circle quips.

"Aren't we all now?" She retorts. More laughter. You chuckle trying to keep up.

"Do we know when Lord Douglas will be making an appearance?" You ask, praying he isn't standing next to you. The redhead rolls her eyes.

"He popped in for a bit but he's probably... you know...down there." She whispers the last two words and points towards the ground. You look confused. "In the basement?" She finishes. The crowd shuffles slightly, exchanging glances. The redhead purses her lips and extends a hand.

"Hello, I'm Elizabeth Cunningham."

"Hi! I'm... Evie Marquette. Just here on a little visit from France. Heard all about Lord Douglas but haven't had a chance to meet him." The words come in a rush.

"Pleased to meet you Evie. Come, let's see if I can get you introduced around." She extends an arm, which you take gratefully as the circle of guests disperses behind you.

The two of you glide around the room, Elizabeth pointing out and naming various dukes and lords and ladies, all while keeping you at arm's length. Finally, she sweeps around the corner into a small alcove with drapes.

"Now tell the truth, Ms. Evie, how did you come to be at this party?" Her tone is serious but not threatening. She's concerned.

"I.. uh... borrowed an invitation from a friend." You try your best to look contrite. Elizabeth looks over her shoulder.

"Look, I don't know what you've heard about Lord Douglas but he can be... a bit intense sometimes. And people come here looking... for what they can't find elsewhere. And honestly, you stick out a bit, you look more like a lamplight understudy than an honest blueblood."

"Lamplight understudy?" You ask, Doxie's words rushing back.

"You know, in the theater? The leads do the show with the electric lights and then the understudies do the matinee or the late night show for the common folk? They use the lamps because it is cheaper and well, the understudies usually aren't much to look at anyway."

"Hello there." A warm voice, like heated brandy, cuts through the conversation. Elizabeth jumps slightly, turning to face the extravagantly dressed man that appeared next to your alcove.

His slender frame is set off by a blue brocade vest with a soft orange undershirt and a long flashy coat of deep navy blue chevrons. He has a matching cravat spilling out of the vest and his slightly curly mess of hair comes just below his ears, standing a sharp odds with his exquisitely maintained goatee. He holds a silver topped walking stick with engravings up and down. But all of that is lost the moment you see his eyes - the most piercing blue you have ever seen - wild and captivating.

"Lord...Lord Douglas." Elizabeth stutters, folding her hands in front of her dress. "Good evening."

"Morning, technically speaking." His gaze never leaves you. "Who the devil is this?" His voice is light and musical.

"Lord Douglas, may I introduce Ms. Evie Marquette?" You give an awkward courtesy as he extends his hand to take yours. He taps his walking stick on the ground and with a theatrical flourish, gives a deep bow, the keys on his wrist jangling. The keys!