The Wolf of Dorian Gray - A Werewolf Spawned by the Evil of Man

Chapter 6 - Sibyl Vane Part 1

The next night, as had become his custom, Dorian visited Sibyl at the theatre. He was seen as a regular and was well known by the staff. The coarse doorman greeted him with a nod and he was immediately escorted to his usual box by a bawdy steward that reeked of cheap wine. The steward promised to return shortly with the finest wine that the house had to offer—likely a third-rate vintage.

The private box was small and threadbare, with thinly padded cushions and a ratty rug on the floor that boasted a wide spectrum of mysterious stains. Still, it was the finest that the theatre had to offer and Dorian hardly ever noticed the décor these days. His eyes were only for Sibyl as she flowed onto the stage in a wispy light-blue dress that complemented her sculpted figure.

This night the play was Much Ado About Nothing. Sibyl portrayed an exuberant Beatrice with great zeal, delivering her lines with a subtle sensuality and playful wit that gave the audience no choice but to instantly adore her. The marvelous insight she showed while depicting the girl's vulnerability and weakness behind a jeweled mask of hardened sarcasm, was truly transformative. The audience showed their devotion to her and cried out again and again for an encore. Sibyl was happy to oblige them and was in her element, as she smiled gracefully and curtsied for the vigorously applauding crowd.

After the final curtain fell, Dorian slipped backstage and entered her modest dressing room silently, careful not to be seen by the actress. She was seated in an oval-backed chair that had seen better days. Her eyes were fixed on the cracked, but functional, wood-framed mirror as she slowly removed her colorful stage makeup. She barely caught sight of him from the corner of her eye, as he trailed his fingertips deftly from her delicate wrist and upwards, towards her collar bone which ended with a gentle caress of her porcelain cheek.

The contact warmed her to her core, and she was aghast at the tingling sensation it invoked between her thighs. She was unable to conceal the smile that his touch brought to her lips, or prevent herself from leaning back into his strong arms. Her head rested upon the firm chest muscles which were concealed beneath his plush waistcoat.

Ever the actress, a surprised look came over her face as she teased him. "A proper prince would announce his arrival and await an invitation before imposing himself so brazenly upon a lady in such a manner."

Dorian responded with a sly grin that hinted at future delights. "Your speech declares your annoyance, but your body begs for the second act to begin."

He tightened his biceps around her and squeezed firmly as his bold lips slowly brushed the pale curve of her slender neck with a feather-touch.

After a moment spent in silent enjoyment, she turned her head slightly to whisper seductively in his ear. "The second act is only the beginning. I have yet to bring you through many more delectable acts, each more pleasurable than the next—until at last, you reach the most satisfying climax of this play."

At that, he became immediately hard, his trousers growing taut, and Sibyl smiled wickedly as she felt the swelling against her thigh.

Dorian stepped back, suddenly at a loss for words, as his imagination danced across the various pleasures that her lithe form offered. A lustful haze fell over his eyes, and several seconds passed before his thoughts refocused and he regained his composure. He reached into his pocket and removed a delicately laced box. It was wrapped in an ornate, brightly-colored silk ribbon.

With a gallant bow, he offered her the treasure he cradled in his hands and heralded the gift with a husky voice. "A small trifle of my affection, my lady. It would honor me if you would wear it and accompany me to a gala to be held this evening by the Duke of Berwick."