May I Have This Dance?

The champagne is flowing, bucks and does are dancing, and Ophio is left alone near the foodbar. Hmpf. 

Brooke went off to take more ‘post-worthy’ pictures of the masquerade, fattening up her social media with trendy and rich galleries. It’s very good publicity for their business together. 

Originally, Ophio was considering pitching collaboration ideas with her fellow wealthy elite amidst the celebration, but such concerns began to seem small when everyone she had asked to dance awkwardly mumbled something at her and politely declined. Is she not desirable to dance with? Surely that can’t be true…

He looked at his spoils thus far from the night, and smirked at the golden glimmer from each of the items. Amongst them were also colours of silver and diamonds reflecting the chandelier lights. Philippe closed the bag and tucked it safely back inside his trousers. It was time to head back out.

Picking up a few glasses of champagne and placing them on his tray, he got ready to do so. The grand room was full of guests at this hour. Some could be seen dancing. Philippe already danced with a few buns for the night and it did not seem like Angora or the staff had noticed, or maybe they just didn't care. He adjusted his mask and walked up to a tall lady who had beautiful shimmering grand horns.

“Drink, miss?”

Ophio raises her head and adjusts her drink in her hand, only now noticing it’s nearly empty, “...I'd liketh a refill, aye. Thanketh thee, gentleman.” She clears her throat, ugh what is this? Insecurity? Horrible. She should ask this buck if he’s available to dance. Perhaps take a break from his job.

She shifts some more, wary of her elegant gown, and faces Philippe. She put on her sweetest smile as the sparkles in her mist twinkle with interest, “Has't thee been w'rking all night, love?” 

The pride Succubun's way of speech had piqued Philippe's interest more. Her attire looked like it may have been a custom dress, probably for this very event. Folks like these generall have the best goods. As she reached for the glass, Philippe took the chance to take note of her jewelry.

“Lady Angora has been very kind to let us rest every so often,” he chuckled. Possibly white gold, he thought silently. “As Angora only entertains the best of the best, may I have the pleasure of knowing what is it that you do?”

The horns of this Succubun are stunning, Ophio having to take second glances to admire how the lantern light catches on the tampered, iridescent glass. Maybe she can ask if he’s into modeling…

“Ah, I runneth Au'roma P'rfumes and co-own a wellness cent'r with a friend,” She notices him eye her bracelet, raising her gloved hand closer for him to see, “White gold with pearls, stunning aren’t they?” She shares. 

“They are. Absolutely magnificent,” he wanted to stretch out his hand and snatch the bracelet but refrained. To openly touch a guest, a high-ranking one at that, would probably raise some alarms, especially at his current position.

“You sound like a well established young lass.” His smile widened, she had to be the real deal, and the confidence in her voice at her bracelet seemed genuine. Parties like these either brought out the cocky or the desperate, you could smell desperation. 

Philippe would need a way to grab what he wanted. The current song played by the impressive quartet was just starting to fade. “I say we just caught the perfect moment for a dance. May I have the pleasure?” He got ready to place his tray down, but before that, he made sure to do a little bow before the lady.

“ ‘Young lass,’ “ Ophio scoffs lightly, amused, “Thee flatt'r me.  May I knoweth mine own gentleman's name…?" She reaches out and takes Philippe’s hand, her glove is silky and smooth. 

Ophio’s soft cheeks blush a faint pink, subtle glitter glisten against her skin. Perhaps tonight won’t be as lonely as previously thought. Though there is something mischievous in this buck’s eyes. It makes her wonder. 

“I'd loveth to shareth this dance with thee, I has't anguish'd all night of finding a partn'r…” He seems to be following what she is saying. Most strangers overreact about her dialect. 

Philippe put down the tray as soon as the lady had grabbed his hand. Silk. He smiled politely at her, “I reckon it is because your beauty scares all others out of their wits. I, on the other hand, could not resist,” he chuckled.

“Please call me Philippe. May I know your name?” He never hid his real name, even in his profession, if he could call it that. Philippe started to guide her over to the dance floor where other buns were just dancing, careful to hold her hand up high, like one would see in those dramatic regal shows.

“Ophiocordi, but prithee just ref'r to me as Ophio… “ Ophio smiles all pleased at the flattery. She laughs quietly at Philippe’s eagerness, raising her hand only a smidge too high. She corrects their posture, only a little guidance, “Thee flatt'r me, Philippe.”

Ophio’s fingers slip between his as she puts a hand on his shoulder, “Handeth on mine own waist, lief,” They easily merge into the dancing crowd.

Philippe made sure to remember her name, and how she looked, although he doubt anyone could miss her. Ophio was taller than most other Succubuns in the room, and Philippe was tall himself. The two of them stuck out, but he did not mind the attention they brought.

He followed her cue on the floor, even if he was used to being the one leading in certain dances. “Ah, forgive me if I am not familiar with the current dance.” He only knew waltz and foxtrot.

Ophio also finds it amusing that they’re probably the tallest coupling here on the dance floor. It’s nice to be able to have some eye contact with her dance partner. Ahhh… She was so worried tonight would be underwhelming.

“Nay needeth to beest embarrassed, the dance is simple.  T's all about the ebb and flowe,” Ophio giggles, “How longeth has't thee work'd for Angora?” She starts up some banter, keeping eye contact.  Ophio’s eyes are a soft, soft lime green. She doesn’t appear to have pupils. 

“I've nev'r worked for somebody bef're, only with someone.” 

“Well, look at you go,” he followed her movements while trying to keep focus on the conversation and the jewelry. “Only with someone, huh, well I suppose you are more blessed than most. Would you agree?” He winked at her, stalling so that he could come up with an answer. He had snuck into the venue by snatching a uniform, he was not working for Angora, only himself, but Ophio does not need to know that.

“I’m not sure Angora even knows I exist. Not high enough on the food chain I’m afraid.” The bracelet might be too obvious since she so brazenly showed it to him.

Ophio hums in thought, her tail sways before she gently eases the two of them into a spin. “Rather depress'd way to view the relationship between superior and base’r. Don’t thee bethink?”  She’s thought about this before. Her place is society, the power she has over people. What exactly that all entails.

“A castle is madeth of bricks of dirt. Only diff'rence between a heapeth of bricks and a castle is order and a singular identity.” She spins them faster this time as the music gets more energetic.

“Yond is the relationship between the w'rking class and the upp'r echelon… Essentially art.” 

Philippe tipped his head in acknowledgement of Ophio’s perspective. “You have quite the positive outlook, my lady,” a polite smile on his face. It was an honorable one, much more than Philippe’s own moral compass, but Philippe also had a jaded view of society. No matter how one spins it, there will always be a material difference between the rich and the poor, a topic he did not want to get into, especially with his current circumstance.

“I am just hired help. Work this event, might not be in the next,” a half-truth. Her necklace sparkled in the light, Philippe tried to reach his arm up his partner’s back but she turned them as per the music, making it difficult for him to move without being obvious.

Ah yes, there was something she was going to ask… His hand movements up and down her back are a little odd, though she’s too distracted by his face.

“Doth thee modeleth, lief? thou art stunning, such fine glass h'rns, and stunning eyes. I'd loveth to has't thee on some photoshoots…” Ophio giggles quietly as she gets them to spin again, “Thee'd beest compensat'd well, I assure thee.” She’s always looking for more models to have on her perfume ads. He’s distinguished enough. 

Another spin made him lose his hand placement again. Fuck. Philippe was trying his best to not lose his cool, keeping the smile on his face.

Her compliments and mention of compensation caught him off-guard. “Photoshoots? Do I keep my clothes on?” Philippe teased while trying to shift his hand upwards towards Ophio’s neck again. He suddenly felt her ears touch his hand, he quickly relaxed it so as to not raise any suspicions. “Ah, this dance is quite popular I see,” he tried to divert her attention by nodding towards the other dancers.

Ophio throws her head back to cackle at his modeling comment, “Aye, thee shall keepeth thy robes on,” Then she feels a hand gently brush against her ear, blushing a little. “Hopefully the song shall changeth lief, haply I can findeth m're dance partn'rs if 't be true i'm lucky,” She gives them another twirl as the song begins to come to end. 

They turned and turned, Philippe barely keeping up. When the quartet finished with a resounding final note, all the instruments in unison, Philippe had to make sure his mask had not fallen off from the amount of movement. The climax of orchestral music made it difficult for him to make any more moves for the desirable necklace.

All couples stepped apart to give a bow or curtsy, classy etiquette fit for the occasion, Philippe did so as well, cursing the situation silently. “I sure hope the other dancers are no longer afraid to approach one as beautiful as you, my lady.” He had to keep up his act, though inside he was unsettled. It could not be helped, sometimes it just did not work out. Philippe was already eyeing someone behind Ophio, they wore some attractive dangly diamond earrings.

"Again thee flatt'r me, loveth.  Prithee enjoyeth the rest of thy night," Ophio takes his head hand from her hip and kisses the top of it, “Thank you for this dance.”