"This place is beautiful," Aveline whispered in amazement, her eyes roving. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The mansion resembled a church with its vast space and opulent designs, large and almost intimidating at every turn. The floors were polished concrete, and the furniture, fit for royalty, boasted rare qualities. The carpet on the floor was so clean, it was hard to believe anyone had ever stepped on it. Aveline moved away from the rug, worried about leaving her footprints.
Her footsteps echoed on the marble floor as she noticed a large painting on the wall, depicting a beautiful woman with a sad expression.
"That's Helen of Troy," a soft voice trailed behind her.
Aveline stiffened, then quickly turned towards the voice. "Oh, it's you, Miss Veron," she greeted shyly.
"I'm sorry; I startled you," Ophelia smiled, wearing a red silk robe, her hair tied back. Her tall and slender physique made her resemble a Venus de Milo. She moved beside Aveline, and they stood in front of the large painting. "My great-grandfather was a noble lord in Spain. During the Spanish colonization, he built this villa, and our family has used it as part of our home since. That painting was created by him," Ophelia looked at the painting as she began to tell the story. "At first, I never liked this place," she sighed. "I spent all my life in Europe, graduated from boarding schools, and became famous due to my family's aristocratic lineage. Then I got bored and decided to move here. My father wants me to manage his business here. Staying here wasn't a bad idea, after all." She glanced at Aveline and smiled. Her blonde hair shimmered in the light as she looked at her. Aveline's cheeks blushed under her gaze; there was something about Ophelia's eyes that was hard to resist.
"Why did you invite me here?" Aveline asked curiously.
Ophelia chuckled. "Do you know about Helen of Troy?" She diverted from the question, her gaze returning to the painting before shifting to Aveline.
Aveline shook her head in response.
"You see that woman standing there? In Greek myths, she was considered the most beautiful woman in the world. Helen was married to Menelaus. Then a shepherd boy named Paris fell in love with her, and they eloped in the name of love. Menelaus was a king; a man whose wife was taken would definitely be enraged. He gathered all his army. Paris was the son of a king, and then the war ensued. Cities were burned, thousands of lives were lost, all because of one woman. The beautiful, Helen." Ophelia's black eyes sparkled as she admired the simplicity in Aveline.
"Her life seemed complicated," Aveline remarked, focusing her attention on the painting to avoid Ophelia's gaze.
"Do you think, fighting for her love, was it worth it?" Ophelia asked with a half-smile.
"I don't know. It's hard to decide," Aveline said, continuing to stare at the painting.
"I think it's the most selfish love story ever told. A thousand ships were destroyed. Great cities fell. Lives were lost. All because of her." Ophelia pursed her lips as she observed the painting.
Ophelia invited her to the living room; together, they sat at a round table. A small fountain was displayed inside the spacious room, with servants standing outside the door, waiting to be called.
A set of tea and a delicious meal were served on the table, unfamiliar to Aveline's eyes, but she had no appetite to taste it. They were both seated, staring at each other. Aveline swallowed dryly and chewed the bottom of her lip in nervousness.
Ophelia lit a cigarette and smirked at Aveline's demeanor. "Please... don't be scared. Am I a monster?" she asked sweetly, holding the cigarette elegantly. Her persona filled the air, her aristocratic look and beautiful face hinting at a dangerous personality, yet seductively appealing. "S-sorry if my uneasiness bothers you," Aveline apologized, wiping her clammy hand on her skirt.
Ophelia elegantly puffed on her cigarette. "You know... I have to be honest with you. I'm not really nice. I have to act like a lady 24/7 in front of the media, but in truth, I'm sociopathic... a sadistic bitch," she said, letting out a menacing grin between puffs of smoke.
"Why am I here? Why do you want to talk?" Aveline asked, grasping the end of her blouse, anticipating an answer she was afraid to hear.
Ophelia puffed a cloud of smoke, resting her elbow on the table, her eyes boring into Aveline. "How long have you known Margo Sinclair?"
"I've only known her for months? Five... six? I have no idea," Aveline stammered, confused by the question.
"Do you want to know about her?" A mysterious smile crept onto Ophelia's face.
"No, it's enough for me not to know her well," Aveline responded uneasily, gently wiping the sweat from her forehead.
Ophelia chuckled. "I admire your blind faith; your intentions are noble, but living in denial isn't wise. You should learn the truth, Aveline. Your ignorance will tear you apart," she remarked thoughtfully, flicking ashes onto the coaster. Ophelia poured some tea and gently pushed it toward her. "Margo Sinclair... she's not just rich. She's at the top of every pyramid. You see, my great ancestors were born rich, but compared to Margo, I'm a slave. A peasant. A commoner. Her family history is vague, yet everyone within the elite society admires her. We don't know where she came from, but we've felt her power," she continued, smoking her cigarette.
"Why are you telling me this?" Aveline frowned in confusion.
"You should know a part of the book. Read some of the pages," Ophelia responded meaningfully, blowing smoke upwards then smirking. "You see, we have a common interest, Aveline. We both like Margo." A surprise lingered on Aveline's face, but she slowly regained composure, acting emotionless. Her throat went dry, as if her words were unwilling to take flight. Sadness glazed her brown eyes.
"Do you know how powerful she is? If she compliments a company, stock market prices rise. Margo owns large companies. She feeds thousands of families. You might think we are two of a kind, but she only welcomes my presence in between her legs," Ophelia said, toying with her golden curls with one hand while letting the cigarette burn down in the other.
"I am an aristocrat... but I have no power over her," Ophelia's grin turned devilish as she crushed the cigarette on the expensive plate.
Cold sweat glistened on Aveline's brow. She clasped her hands tightly. "Why are you telling me this? I-I don't understand," her voice faltered with tension, yet she managed to meet Ophelia's gaze.
"You are a walking time bomb, Aveline. I know about your past. You have an interesting... job," Ophelia emphasized the last word with a meaningful smirk.
"I'm a sex worker if that's what you mean. I can't deny that," Aveline tried to sound confident. Her past might make her crumble, but she had to be firm, even if it would tear her apart.
"Yes, you are what you say," Ophelia uttered unaffectedly, "a whore deserves a billion respects. It's a tragedy, you know. Jesus defended a whore, but his followers made a whore the standard of sins and a gateway to hell. Such irony." She sipped her tea and bored her eyes into Aveline. "You will die to see heaven. You will die to be punished in hell. Why can't we believe in blessings and karma? Why wait to die to get your reward?" Ophelia poured another tea and sighed deeply. She swirled the spoon in the cup without taking her eyes off Aveline. "That's how our society works... oh well."
The fear seeped into Aveline's veins but never reached her face. She remained calm, her complexion pale, her eyes as steady as if she were reading a book. She let out a grieving sigh and turned to Ophelia, showing she wasn't afraid to face her.
Ophelia stopped spinning the spoon in her tea and gently laid it on the table. "Who am I kidding, anyway? Let's forget about my philosophical nonsense, Aveline. The question is, why are you here?" She gave a disarming smile that intensified the tension.
"I know your secrets... I have to show mine." A sly grin formed on Ophelia's face, her power ensnaring Aveline.
Ophelia rang a small bell.
Shortly after, the door opened, revealing two women walking in their direction, dressed in black lacy underwear, their attire complemented with collars and leather straps. They stood behind Ophelia's seat and smiled at her. Aveline's face flushed; she was uncertain where to direct her gaze—toward Ophelia, who was smiling at her, or the two women who had just entered. Aveline momentarily dropped her gaze and shyly acknowledged them with a "Hi."
"I would like you to meet Sasha and Violet, my companions," Ophelia announced, raising her hands as she proudly introduced them. "Ladies, this is Aveline."
"Hello there," Sasha greeted her warmly.
"Hi, Aveline," Violet added with a playful wink.
"H-hello," Aveline responded, her awkwardness palpable, her cheeks flushed, struggling to meet their gaze directly.
Miss Veron's lips curled slightly with amusement. "Would you like some more tea, Aveline?"
"T-thank you, but I'm good." She hesitantly shook her head, indicating she was full.
"An oral, perhaps?" The blonde beauty arched her brow.
"W-what?" Aveline suddenly raised her head in a puzzled reaction. It took a second for her to realize what it meant.
"Violet can write the alphabet with her tongue. Do you like it?" Ophelia offered in a matter of fact tone. Violet smiled sweetly.
"N-no," Aveline refused nervously. Her hands turned cold from the brewing atmosphere she could not define.
"Get back to playroom Violet," Ophelia commanded, she pulled the leash on Violet's neck and kissed her.
"Y-yes, Domina." Violet giggled from the playful kiss.
"Sasha, get down under the table." The powerful Domina snapped her fingers to Sasha. She opened her legs to allow her slave to work her magic. "I like it while I'm drinking my tea. You don't mind, do you?" Ophelia asked while drinking her tea.
"It's fine," Aveline sounded unsure and averted her gaze by staring at the teacup.
"So...as I was saying; we have a mutual interest. We both like Margo." Ophelia casually replied while someone gets busy between her legs.
"What do you want me to do?" Aveline's face turned ashen. She could not decide where to focus her attention.
"Do you think I will destroy you?" Ophelia smirked. A challenging question. A kind of remark that made Aveline even more confused.
"I don't know, "Aveline uttered innocently.
Suddenly Ophelia moaned, a slurping sound resonated under the table. She rubbed Sasha's hair and extended her index finger to Aveline, a gesture to wait for a moment. She moaned louder; her breaths quickened then chewed her bottom lip from unnerving sensation. The blonde was completely engulfed from Sasha's moving tongue. The table moved like there was a small earthquake as the surface vibrated. Ophelia gripped the table cloth while she gazed at the ceiling. Her knees trembled from ecstasy; her pupils flared, gasped for air until Sasha finished the job. Ophelia peered under the table and breathing hard. "Get back to the playroom."
Sasha wiped her mouth and smiled at her. "I won't stay long. I have a dinner date with my family..." She mused while resting her hands on Ophelia's lap.
The blonde rolled her eyes in discontent. "I always tell you to let me finish my tea," she scolded her.
"Whatever, I'm going back to the playroom." Sasha simpered under the table.
"Suit yourself," Ophelia did not bother to scold her; after all, she enjoyed the performance.
Sasha stood on her feet, and she received a kiss from the blonde as a reward.
Aveline's throat went dry. The burning sensation in her throat grew more intense as she pressed the cold glass rim against her lips. A drop of water traced its way inside her mouth as she savored it. Despite the shock plastered on Aveline's face, Ophelia remained unaffected as she sipped her tea. "What makes you think I will destroy you?" she asked casually, adjusting her robe and pulling the chair closer to the table.
"Is that why I'm here?" Aveline finally regained her composure. Ophelia scoffed. "Oh, my... Have you been watching too many soap operas? Where the third party is always the babbling psycho, bent on destroying the other person?" She sneered in disgust. "I'm Ophelia Veron. I don't stoop to that level."
"I don't get it," Aveline retorted. Ophelia's face became serious. "Can you love Helen of Troy?" she offered as a metaphor to ponder. This was not a question but a nail of truth that pierced right through the heart, making Aveline's fears, insecurities, and sorrows scream in her mind.
"I will show you a glimpse of reality, Aveline. If you will fight for your love, you must know the consequences... you will destroy the people around Margo Sinclair," Ophelia implied, holding Aveline's hand. The words sliced through the truth to her. It was like living inside a bubble; with every word conveyed, the balloon would soon burst.
Ophelia moved her finger and brushed Aveline's hand. "You are seen as a whore...if you are destitute, the world might acknowledge you. We live in a world where whores are not glorified. That is how you are perceived. They will take advantage of your misery...yet they still see you as a sinner. You see, Margo Sinclair is among the elite."
With a slight huskiness in her voice, Ophelia revealed her fate, "You will ruin her reputation, Aveline. And that's a fact. It's your reality," she explained, slowly breaking down Aveline's defenses.
Ophelia caressed the hair on Aveline's forehead and whispered, "Ruining her reputation means she will lose her properties. Many jobs will be lost. But knowing Margo, she doesn't care. Lives are ruined, yet she remains wealthy. She is the Helen of Troy. Loving her will cost you dearly," offering a glimpse into the future.
Ophelia stood from her seat and positioned herself behind Aveline. "I don't need to destroy you...the media are like vultures. They will tear you apart, delve into your past, and blow your life to pieces. I'll simply watch you burn." She whispered, gently pressing on Aveline's shoulder.
Ophelia's words were like a knife that pierced into the heart. Her chocolate eyes began to turn glassy, earnestly blinking back tears. A single drop welled up from the corner of her eye. Deep emotions stirred quietly in her chest, struggling to break free. "I-I think I should go now," her voice trembled. The world seemed to crumble around her; she felt herself being torn from her comfort zone.
Aveline stood and faced Ophelia. "I'm going home," she said, her voice laced with an effort to remain courteous despite the turmoil inside.
Ophelia lifted her brow and shrugged casually. "If you ever become famous, I could be your client. Let me hire your service," she offered, too oblivious to the pain she had inflicted.
"I'll pay for your...fee. Name your price," Ophelia said, pushing Aveline to her limits without realizing the impact of her words.
"My driver will drop you off... I may be a bitch, but I'm still nice," Ophelia's mood shifted suddenly, as if nothing significant had happened, leaving Aveline to wallow in her misery.
As Aveline cried, her bottom lip quivered. Her eyes turned glacial under the sheen of constant tears that flowed without pause. In that moment, she understood the depth of pain that had been simmering beneath her skin. The truth finally settled within her.
++++