(Lucy) Self-made bait

The young man's eyes lit up again brightly: the shimmer of pure, unlooked-for hope. He seemed almost to have forgotten what he'd come here for. Almost…

"Petty! I'm… Mr Petty. But you can always call me Tom, Marie… if you want to. As long as Father's not around… and to be honest this looks a lot more like his bedroom… than mine…"

It would seem Lucy had hit the nail on the head. Not needing to put on the slightly nervous tremble in her voice much at all… No wonder her magic cleaning-staff camouflage hadn't worked on the boy. He was clearly rich enough to have actual servants… and she guessed until recently 'Marie' had been one of them. Even as the habitual liar and thief took on this new role she began to wonder what had happened to get the real girl 'sent away'. She began making up a backstory just out of habit. As she had a thousand times before whenever it had become advantageous to win a little sympathy out of a stranger. Someone who might have offered charity or shelter… or happened to be wearing a particularly nice watch… 'Tom Petty' really was just the same as any number of those other poor fools she'd taken some quick advantage of, over the years… in fact she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't robbed him blind, back in some former lifetime.

He was still eyeing up the facets of the room, nervously. Perhaps only now noticing the various little additions probably not common to all such abodes. Or perhaps just intimidated by how genuinely it resembled the chambers of his own father… depending on the tastes of said parent. Either way it was clear that 'Marie' was going to have to take the lead here…

"Yes, I'm sorry… Mr… Tom… Sir. I know I'm not supposed to be in here! But I noticed the door was open and then I spilled something and I was just trying to clean it all up… Oh, please, oh please don't tell your father on me! I'll do anything!"

Not quite managing to call him the name he asked her to was a good touch, Lucy thought… Though perhaps 'I'll do anything!' was a bit clichéd and obvious. Still, the client seemed to be drawn into it as she'd hoped… Now to find out just what sort of a monster she'd unleashed upon herself… What dark fantasies did Tom Petty harbor for little Marie the serving girl?

"Oh, no, no. I would never! Just let me help…"

…That was not what she had been expecting.

The young man rushed over to start helping her clean up the non-existent spillage. Causing some slight confusion as Lucy had to quickly decide where it was… In a spark of inspiration she indicated the low, leather footstool poking out half hidden from below a grand desk. To get at it both of them had to lean down quite close, scrubbing side by side at some imagined pool of evaporating scotch.

The fact that Lucy was still naked as the day she fell into this world had remained present in her mind, now mixing in with the nervous excitement of this character she was fashioning. It was strange how wearing only her own skin, but the cloak of a lie, made her feel oh so intoxicatingly confident in control of this situation. She could use that awareness she had over every inch of her form. Lightly press a foot against his. Lean over just enough to ensure his eyes had little choice but to settle on the curve of her breasts. By the end she was practically tangled up in him like a human knot. A not-so-subtle implication of this faux maid's willingness to be bent forward over this stool and claimed… All to avoid the displeasure of her kind employer, of course…

Yet the young Mr Petty seemed almost incapable of making any sort of move in that direction. The impulse was there, sure enough. She could see the blush in his cheeks and tremble in his hands whenever she brushed against him. Could practically feel the sparks he clearly could, leaping from the prickling hairs on the arms of his 'Marie' across to his own goosepimpling skin. But still, all he could seem to manage was a constant stream of inane small talk. Lucy was flabbergasted. At wit's end over what more she could do. She had made the decision to be a whore of Babylon for this strange boy, yet could not get him to take what was offered…

Eventually she just couldn't just take the tension any more herself. The uncontrollable urges her manifestation of 'Marie' felt spilling over into the host who thought she was far beyond any such weaknesses. She simply had to lean in and kiss the daft idiot, before he spouted another second of bullshit niceties. She shoved her tongue into his mouth without warning, earning a minute or two of warm, wet tangling before he, equally suddenly, broke away.

The young man's face was glowing bright red and he was breathing so heavily Lucy was half-convinced he was actually going to faint. He stared at her for what seemed like an age of mankind, before tentatively reaching out a hand to cup the softness of one of her breasts. At last she thought, pushing out her chest a little to let him enjoy the squeeze. Yet… almost as soon as he'd taken the weight of it… He was letting it go… Turning without a word, and sprinting full pelt out of the room and down the corridor.

Fearing she had done something really wrong; proven herself utterly unworthy in playing at the games her angels had so perfected; Lucy chased the boy's echoing heels out through the door. There she stopped, watching the figure disappear up the great spiral of her labyrinthine new home...

A little way ahead an amused-looking Mother Renais had gracefully stepped aside to let the boy past. Lucy's heart sunk to see the old woman. Now there was no hope in hiding her shameful transgression. She had overstepped her bounds… and done so so tragically badly that one of the church's guests had fled the place entirely. Somehow she didn't think things could have gone much worse.