The Clever Fox: Part One (The Pleasure Hound Series) (4 page)

She'd never lobbied a bill on her own before. She usually created the graphics for the other apprentices in the chamber. Alyss knew the basics of lobbying. It was arguing, and she was great at swaying people to her way of thinking. Where she got distracted was in the facts. All those numbers and boring findings. Alyss had no patience for it. But then she remembered that she was up against a man, not a woman. Men had no mind for facts or logic. They were creatures of desire and instinct, not systems and principles. She'd just smile, string together words, perhaps add an inflated compliment at the end, and viola.

She'd been desired by every male she'd ever encountered. No man's base instinct could resist her smile. She could smile at the Male Voice and get him wrapped around her finger. He’d drop his opposition and the bill would pass. It would be easy.

Alyss had been so wrapped up in her new plan that she'd taken a wrong turn down the street. She wasn't sure where she was. She was about to turn around when something beautiful caught her eye. It was a dress in a shop window. The dress was a simple, unremarkable color: beige. But the detail was stunning, and the fabric was...what exactly was the fabric?

Alyss pulled up to the shop and got out of her conveyance.
 

Adom's Leaf, the sign above the shop read. Alyss smirked at the reference to the mythological tale of a male god crafting man first, then pulling woman from the man's ribs. The two were left naked on Earth with only tree leaves to cover themselves. It appeared this proprietress had a sense of humor. Alyss couldn't wait to met her.
 

She went inside. A bell rang over top the door, but the shop appeared deserted. Alyss stepped up to the dress. Upon closer examination she saw that the intricate detail work was a mass of woven pieces of cloth.
 

No. Not cloth. Rope.

From the bodice to the skirts, the garment was made of knotted rope. It was an odd choice for material. At the same time, it was a brilliant choice for material. Alyss had to have it. But first she needed to find the genius woman who made it.
 

The sound of footsteps came from behind her. Alyss turned from the dress in the window and nearly screamed. Standing before her, looking as shocked as she was certain she looked, was her mystery artist; the male she'd seen at her cousin Chanyn's home. The male who'd gifted Chanyn with the painting Alyss couldn't get out of her mind.

"You," she whispered.

"You," he said simultaneously. His voice a soft cushion that beckoned Alyss closer.

They stared at each other a moment longer. His skin showed a healthy tan. His features were dark; dark eyes, dark curly hair. Even his curls, with thick swoops that fell around his face, had an artful sway about them.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Did you do this?" she said.

He followed the line of her finger to the dress. If she'd blinked, she would've missed the flare that caught at the edge of his dark eyes as they roamed over the fabric of the garment. Then his eyes came back to hers. "Its my work, yes."

The way he said 'my work', as though it were a possession, made Alyss want the dress even more.

"Is it for sale?" she asked.

"For sale?"

"Yes, I want to purchase it."

His eyes drew in confusion. "Because...you want to wear it?"

Alyss wondered about his mental acuity. Many geniuses were actually impaired souls. Their skewed visions and understanding of the world attracted sane eyes only because of the different interpretations of reality.

His eyes roamed over her. Men did this to her constantly. But the way he did it, his assessment, it felt...different. He appeared to be taking the measure of her, not trying to unclothe her with his eyes.
 

Of their own accord, Alyss unfolded her arms and allowed him his perusal. "Do you need to take my measurements?"

His eyes flashed to hers, wide open, allowing her to see into him. There was no mental impairment in those dark eyes. Alyss saw intelligence, passion and something else. Something she didn't know but struck a curious ember inside her. He turned his back on her, shutting her out of the windows into his soul, and walked away.

Alyss reached out to the counter to steady herself. She scanned the shop's walls. They were filled with art work. "These are all yours too, aren't they?"

He came back to her, tape measure in hand. A slight tremor overtook his fingers as he stretched the tape out towards her. "Raise your arms," he said.

His voice was a silky command. Of their own accord, Alyss' arms floated up. She caught herself before they reached her breast, and she frowned. How dare this male give her -a high born lady- an order.

"Please."

Alyss obeyed him without another thought.

He swallowed, surveying her proffered figure before he approached her. She'd been measured many times for clothing, most of her wardrobe was tailored. Some of the best seamstresses were men, but she didn't know of any male clothing designers who designed from scratch for women's bodies.

He wrapped the thin strip around her, making care not to touch her skin. He was close enough that she smelled his sweet cologne. Beneath the sweet smell was another, more tart, more pungent, the smell of oil-based paints.
 

Alyss inhaled.

Slowly he tightened the tape at her waist.

"You didn't answer my question," she said. Her voice didn't sound like her own. It was throaty, breathless, even after the deep breath she'd taken. She let lose the shaky breath.

"Hold still...please." He pulled the measure tighter.
 

The tape couldn't have been more than an inch in width, but Alyss felt the impact of the tiny strip spread the expanse of her torso. She inhaled again, under the pretense of sucking in her waist line. She welcomed more of his scent as it traveled down her throat.

The tape slipped lower, to her hips. "The dress is my design,” he said.

Alyss felt the tape on her rear. He moved it back and forth. The swish of the dress from the sawing action, coupled with her shallow breathing, were the only sounds in the shop. Her voice left her throat on a heavy whisper. "I've never seen anything like it."
 

"No," his voice was a quiet whisper too, as though they were in a school library and didn't want to be found out. "It's one of a kind."
 

Having never glanced down at the measurements of her waist or hips, he pulled the tape around her breasts. Again, careful not to let his fingers touch any part of her skin, only the fabric of her dress. The tape tightened at her nipples.

Alyss swallowed.

He watched the undulation of her throat as though cataloging every movement.

It felt improper, like he was taking liberties. But he stood a respectable distance. Only the tape touched her. His dark eyes continued to trace the contours of her face instead of minding the tape measurements. Alyss felt trapped under the intense gaze, ensnared in the heady smell of the remnant of oils on his fingertips.

She wondered if he smelled the same scent on her? But it was unlikely. It had been so long for her.

She dipped her head, looking straight down at his long fingers. There was paint under his nails. She wanted to ask what brand of oils he preferred: latex, acrylic, a blend? She opened her mouth to speak, but he was gone.

He walked away to the counter and made notations on a piece of parchment. Alyss wobbled on her legs for a moment before following him.

"I don't have to make many alterations," he said.
 

Alyss blinked in response.

A small smile played at his lips. "For the dress," he clarified. "I can have the dress ready for you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. Will you come back to me?"

Alyss watched his lips move. They were plump and full, like a cherry hanging from a tree. She watched them move and make sound, but her brain fogged because the sounds and the words and their meanings didn't seem to match.

He stared at her. Too late, she realized it was because he'd asked her a question and she hadn't yet answered.

Alyss shook the fog from her head and then straightened her back. She took a deep breath of clean air. "Yes. I can come back to you. Tomorrow."

Chapter Four

"I am humbled you have chosen me to advocate for mankind on the Insemination Bill."
Emet stood before the Male Voice, a formidable man with broad shoulders and olive-toned skin. His name was actually Lord Willym, but everyone called him by his title, a title he'd held for over a decade fighting the good fight. Making sure men had a voice in this oppressive matriarchal society. Specks of gray hair dotted his temples. Weariness tinted his intelligent, light brown eyes.

"Humble is exactly what I need you to be when you speak," the Voice said. "One of the reasons I agreed to train you as an advocate was due to your spiritual training. Besides your understanding of women and their natures, I expected you would know how to maintain your calm."

Emet's outburst earlier had been unacceptable. But he was passionate about the case. For hundreds of years women systematically stripped away the rights of men until they were second class citizens. This Insemination Bill would take away man-kind's last stronghold, the last place a male's presence was mandatory: the bedroom.

"Arguing with women will never get us ahead," said the Voice. "A woman needs a gentle touch. Isn't that what you monks believe?"

Emet grit his teeth at the reference to his pleasure training. He'd spent so many years of his life learning how to please women, believing their lives and pleasure were more important than his. "I renounced my vows. But I understand your meaning. I will use a more moderate tone."

"We never attack women."

"Of course not.” Emet bristled at the very thought. He would never physically assault a woman. Verbal sparing with entitled matriarchs and untried misses was a different matter. "I doubt I'll have much of an opposition. Lady Alyss has never advocated or lobbied before. She seems more concerned that her hair barrettes match her shoes than any issues of society."

"Do not underestimate her, or her family. Lady Regyn and Lady Anglya have been pushing for such a bill for decades. Now they have victory within their grasp. They will move heaven and earth to turn the bill into law. This battle will be an uphill climb for us.”

"Popular opinion rests with the male view on this. Men cannot be stripped of their basic rights to procreate."

As a former pleasure monk, Emet had had access to women's bedrooms, an access few male's in their society ever gained. Though he'd willingly given up access to the pleasure of a woman's body, he felt strongly that women did not have the right to deny a man access to the creation of his own child.

The Voice shook his head. "Society, men and women alike, wants more girls. We have to find a way through."

"I can handle this." Emet felt confident on that.

The Voice gave Emet a hard, assessing look. For a moment, Emet was afraid the Voice would change his mind and give the case to one of the more seasoned advocates.

There were five advocates who worked for the Male Voice. Only five males in a city of thousands who could advocate for the majority of men in their society. Each male advocate was overworked and underpaid. Still they all showed up each and every day, ready to fight for the rights of all man-kind. Emet had been doing the work for three years. A year as a novice, two as an apprentice, and the last few months as a fully seated advocate.
 

Born a second son in a wealthy family, Emet knew service was his life's calling. His Mother was a former novice for the Chamber of Justice. She’d declined an apprenticeship in favor of having a family. Emet had spent the first part of his life listening to her discussing legalities and moralities. She was both devoted to the law as well as the Goddess. At the age of twelve, the legal age of manhood,
 
she'd given Emet over to the Pleasure Hound Temple to serve the Goddess.

The monks aimed to teach him to be of service to the Goddess when they taught him the Sutras of Pleasure. Emet read more in the texts than what the class called for. He came to see that the basic rights given by the Goddess were meant for all of humanity, and not just women. He realized that he wasn't called to serve women, nor to be a slave to their whims and pleasure.

Though Emet no longer wore the robes, he still held fast to many of the promises he'd made to the Goddess. Those of obedience, interconnectedness, truth and no-harm. Over the last three years, Emet advocated that these basic human rights should be extended to the everyday man. Now, he had a chance to advocate for all men.

"I will not let you down," he said to the Male Voice whose eyes came to rest on Emet's face.

Finally, the Voice nodded.

Emet let out his breath. It wasn't a gamble the Voice took by putting him in charge of this bill. Emet had proven himself time and again, and he was prepared for this fight, welcomed it even. A chance to set the world balanced on its gender axis.

He left the office and made it home ten minutes after his normal time. The lights were off in the dress shop. The door was unlocked. Emet cursed Adom's forgetfulness. One day, street thieves would come in and relieve them of their worldly possessions. But then he glanced around the shop. What thief would want avant-garde dresses that were more artistic than functional?

The shop didn't do much business. In fact the shop didn't do any business these days. There was a dress set out with scissors, needle, and thread at its base. It looked as though Adom had made a sale. Emet shuffled back a few steps to bring the dress into full view. When he did, he realized his mistake. This must be a new creation. No woman would buy a dress made of ropes.

Emet locked the shop door and went to the back into the living quarters. They'd rented the storefront and home for two years now. The rent payments came solely from Emet's legal work for settling disputes between second class males. He knew it sometimes chaffed Adom that he couldn’t pull his own financial weight, but Emet didn't need him to, didn't expect him. He'd never minded the responsibility of taking care of the man he loved. Aside from their lovemaking, it was the only way he knew to show Adom how much he cared for him.