Her exiled Gamma

The fair and spare

*Kiona*

He has brought along a flashlight from the car, and directed the driver to take the vehicle around to the back. "What is this place ?" I ask.

“Presently abandoned”. I hold up a key. “We'll go in, shall we ?”

“Is it yours ?”

“Not yet, as I'm still short on funds, but the agent handling the sale of this property knows I have an interest in it and obliged me by lending me the key for the night”. His lips twist into an ironic smile. “Sometimes it pays to be the son of an Alpha. People make allowances and trust you with things they might not otherwise”.

I look at him curiously. "What sort of interest have you in it ?”

“I have it in mind for a business”.

As he escorts me up the steps, I can sense the eagerness fairly thrumming through him and reverberating toward me. Holding the lantern aloft to guide his way, he inserts the key, turns it, and swings open the door. The hinges squeak slightly in protest, which makes me think that maybe entering isn’t such a good idea.

But when he indicates I should go in, I am not about to admit cowardice to him, so I step over the threshold and watch spellbound as the light from the lantern dance eerily through the cavernous entryway revealing an open doorway on either side and wide stairs that sweeps up in an elaborate curve befitting any grand residence.

“Come”. His voice echoes around us as he directs me into a large room that I would label a parlor if it were in a home. Huge chandeliers drape down from the ceiling. A massive fireplace takes up the far wall.

“This would be the receiving room”. He says.

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Receiving what exactly ? Your clients ? Your customers ?”

“My members. Are you familiar with a c**k and hen clubs !?”

“Why in the goddess' name would you think I was familiar with any sort of club that would

reference a part of the male ...oh, wait. You mean, like a rooster and a hen ?”

He grins broadly, and even knowing he is going to tease me unmercifully, I think it the most devilishly appealing smile I have ever been fortunate enough to have bestowed upon me. “Why, Miss Kiona, did your mind just travel to naughty places ?”

“You blackguard, you knew it would. I daresay it's the reason you gave it such a ridiculous name. c**k and hen club, indeed”.

“It exists, although I think you're probably correct .. it was named such as a double meaning”.

I bites her lip. “What is its purpose ?”

“To provide a place for men and women to meet someone with similar interests. The clubs are, or were, to be found among the less affluent areas of society. They are a bit rare these days”.

“Have you been to one ?” I asks.

“About ten years ago, when I was younger and searching for some sort of entertaining sport because I had squandered my allowance. I ran across it quite by accident but was intrigued. The ladies had no chaperones".

Her eyebrows shoot up again. “Then, they weren't ladies, were they ?”

“We can discuss what makes a she-wolf a lady at another time. What they were was

uninhibited, fun, and free to dance with whomever they wanted ... even if the music played on a piano lent itself to a jig more than a waltz. They imbibed. I saw a couple of them smoke. As the evening wore on, each woman paired up with a bloke and went off to enjoy more intimate entertainment. The club's relaxed atmosphere lent itself to creating a place where people could more easily become familiar with one another”.

“It lends itself to sin more easily”. I know precisely what activity those couples were

going to engage in when they wandered away. My mother has warned me often enough of how a man will attempt to seduce a woman alone, how easy it is to fall into temptation when no chaperone is about to guard against the falling. Which begs the question: What am I doing here alone with Castor Softpaw ?

But I am not going to succumb to his charms. I am a lady, know my own mind, and

will stand firm in my conviction to remain above reproach. As long as no one discovers I am here. I fight against sighing because it is becoming harder not to glide my fingers through his hair and see if it is as silky as it looks, to run my hands over his shoulders, to wonder what he might look like with a little less clothing.

“Is that such a bad thing ?” He walks over to the fireplace and sets the lantern on the

mantelpiece, so it throws light about to illuminate the room more clearly. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans against the wall. “You have friends who have married. How well did they know their husbands before their wedding night ? How well do you think Isadora truly knows Chad ?”

“Is something wrong with him ?”

“No”. He shakes his head. “Not as far as I know anyway, but whenever I see them, no matter how closely they are standing together, they seem as near to one another as the moon to the sun. I doubt she had even kissed him”.

I know Isadora hasn’t, but I am not about to betray that confidence. I do find myself

wondering if my mother would have even married my father if she had known him well. They have so little in common. Perhaps Castor has a point, although I am not yet ready to admit it.

Instead, I wander around the outskirts of the barren room and envision it furnished and displaying art, statuettes, and greenery. “So you want to turn this into a c**k and hen club ?”

“My vision is based on that sort of club, but I want it to be more. The club I visited was one room where people danced, drank, talked, and went off. I want to have a room where couples can dance, one where they can lounge about and talk. It will be more of a social club, a place for the unattached to explore possibilities”. He explains.

I sense an underlying current of excitement in him and decide he is trying to appear

casual with one foot crossed over the other, but his hands look tense gripping his arms. We both live in a world where every action, word, and nuance is judged. That he has brought me here to share his plans, dreams, and aspirations makes me feel a great responsibility to be worthy of his trust. “Tell me everything”.

He shoves himself away from the wall and is at my side in four long strides. “None of my members would be heir to a title. Those who are to inherit get enough attention at balls and dinners. The men here would be the other sons who are often overlooked, Gamma, Deltas and Omegas, as well as the sons of merchants and tradesmen who have accumulated wealth but aren't invited into ballrooms. The members will also be men who have made their fortunes but aren't accepted by Society for one reason or another. Take the Tempest’s, for example. The circumstances of their births keeps them from receiving invitations and yet they are wealthy beyond measure”.

“They've been marrying into the high packs”.

“Exactly. They should have been welcomed without marriage. There are others like them. Some are legitimate, some are not. The White Alpha won't give them a membership, but I will. Then, there are the she-wolves. The wallflowers, the spinsters, and those who have been overlooked. The daughters of those same wealthy tradesmen and merchants. All these women, knowing they can't have the first son of an Alpha, might be content with a second”.

I wonder if he is hoping one might be content with him. I don’t much like the notion of him flirting with some lovely she-wolf. Which isn’t at all fair on my part when I had asked him to help me determine how best to appeal to the Alpha via a letter. I am seeking to make an acceptable match. Why shouldn't he ? “So you're setting up some sort of matchmaking club”.

“Marriage and being mated isn't the ultimate goal. Having fun is. This room will serve as a reception area where one can come if questions need answering and where memberships are confirmed before one is allowed to explore the other offerings. He grabs the flashlight from the mantel, and when he returns to me, he threads his fingers through mine in a casual manner as though he is giving no real thought to it, as though it is the most natural thing in the world.

The quivering in my stomach, the fluttering in my chest, tells me that for me it is more than that. It is a gladness, an exhilaration I probably shouldn't be feeling.

Becoming involved with Castor would be ruinous to my chances with the Alpha, and would certainly result in me never gaining ownership of the cottage. Therefore, as he leads me into the hallway, I fight against harboring a deeper feeling toward him. I only want to have an interest in his venture.

“On this level, are other rooms very similar to the first”. He says. “They will be for wandering through, greeting people, and conversing”.

He starts up the stairs. With the length of his legs, he could take the steps two at a time, but instead he keeps pace with me. I should have been paying greater attention to the elaborate scrollwork on the spindles and the balustrade they support but am finding it difficult to focus on anything other than him. He is tall and slender, in fine form. His motions are smooth and elegant. Why have I never noticed how he moves like poetry ? Every word in my vocabulary seems insufficient for describing him.

I have never spent as much time with him as I have the past couple of days. He has always simply darted into view, delivered a retort, sparred with me a bit, then departed. We have never explored what the other liked, what dreams the other held.

I had dared to share mine with him, and now he is sharing his with me.

My world is suddenly discombobulated. It is as though nothing that had come before

Is real or of any importance, but these minutes, this hour, are terribly significant.

When we reach the landing, he brings me around to an area where we can look down on the floor below and up to the one above.

“I was thinking the rooms on this level, which very much mirror the ones below, would be for entertainment. A room for dancing, one for card playing. Darts, perhaps. Reading”.

While all has been said as a statement, I detect a measure of doubt, a possible inquiry as though he seeks my opinion. “That all sounds marvelous. Have you considered the merits of having a room with a piano ? Sometimes a woman who is shy when it comes to talking is freer with her fingers”.

As his tightens around mine, I realize he still holds my hand. He releases his hold, but his gaze heats. "Is she ?”

His voice comes out as a low rasp, and I suspect he is envisioning a shy woman, perhaps even myself... doing something else with her fingers. I don’t mind that his thoughts travel along a wicked path. This place seems to call for it. He is correct. Our soirees require so much damned formality and proper behavior, how do someone ever discover another's true self ? “What about chaperones ?"

“What of them ?"

“Will they follow their charge around, or will you have a special room where they will

wait ?”

He shakes his head. “They won't be allowed through the door. The whole point of this place would be the freedom to do as you pleased, with no one to judge”.

"Oh, people will judge. Some will come here merely to judge”.

“You have a valid point”. His eyes lighten as he begins thinking it through, and while I regret that I have broken whatever spell had held his attention on me, I also like knowing that he is giving such careful consideration to what I had said, that I had offered a viewpoint that is of value to him.

I can’t recall a gentleman ever asking my opinion on an important matter. Well, a man once sought my guidance regarding the weather and whether he should carry an umbrella or not about on the following day, but that hardly compares with offering advice on a business venture.

“To be considered for membership one must be recommended by another member". He murmurs. “Or I could post names and other members could strike off those not fitting”.

“You could have some who would strike off a name just to be petty or get even for some slight that had nothing at all to do with them being judgmental”.

He looks at me. “Who would do such a thing ?"

“Women, most certainly. Probably men as well. Some people are awful and vindictive for the silliest of reasons. I once received a cut from a woman simply because my gown very much mirrored hers. Should I win the Alpha’s favor ... I will lose friends or receive cuts from others who have sought his attention”.

“Why would they not celebrate and take joy in your success ?”

I look at him. “Because they wanted it for themselves”.

“Will you be jealous if someone else wins ?”

“I like to think not. Oh, I will suffer the sting of rejection, certainly, but I hope I have it

within me to be glad for her”.

“The fact that you hope it is an indication you will”.

I would never have thought he holds such faith in me. “I suppose we shall see".

Watching me steadily, he lifts a hand. I think he might graze his fingers over my cheek or stroke my chin as he seems to be headed in that direction but quickly changes course and begins rubbing the back of his neck. “You think I should go with referrals, then ?”

Is there anything as reaffirming ... as sensual … as a man asking for my judgment on such an important matter ? I feel as though I have grown two inches taller, although the fact that I barely reach his shoulder confirms that I have not. “I believe it would be your wisest course”.

His smile is as warm as a summer day, as bright as the sun at noon. “That's what I will do then”.

Again he is studying me in a way that causes my nerve endings to tingle with an anticipation I don’t quite understand, that makes me want his hands gliding over me to calm and settle them back into place. “What about the floor above ?”

My breathlessness astounds me.

"Smaller rooms that would be reserved for couples who want a more intimate … dialogue”.

A private place where one communicates with touches more than words. "You will be encouraging carnality".

"Not necessarily".

“Will there be beds in these rooms ?”

“In some of them. Pleasure is brought in all sorts of ways. Take tonight, for example. We have done nothing untoward, and yet I can say, in all honesty, that it has been a good long while since I have enjoyed the company of a she-wolf as much as I have yours this evening. No chaperone. No one to interrupt. No one to overhear. No one to judge. How often, in our world, do we have the opportunity to explore the possibilities without the sense of being constantly on display ?"

His voice has gone lower, softer with each word spoken. Once in the market, I had seen a man sitting on the ground, swaying, playing a flute. A cobra in a woven basket had followed his motions, weaving back and forth. At this moment, I feel very much like that cobra, entranced, willing to travel in whichever direction Castor goes. Up those stairs with the more private rooms, even though there is no need because we are alone here. He is as dangerous as that viper, perhaps more so, because he makes me question the value of things I have clung to for so long: my purity, my reputation, my respectability.

None of them has ever brought me as much joy as these few hours of doing what I ought not with a man I shouldn't .. sneaking out, traveling alone, wandering through rooms, hallways, and up the stairs, speaking about scandalous behavior as though it wasn't so scandalous. "What will you call it ?”

Perhaps I am the flute player and he is the cobra, mesmerized by me, because it seems to take him a moment to realize I have asked a question, to understand what the question is. He blinks, as though he had been lost in my eyes or my hair or my mere existence. He releases a long, slow exhalation. “The Fair She-wolves and Spare men’s Club. The Fair and Spare for short”.

"I like it”.

“Do you ?”

I nod. “And the purpose of it. I'm looking forward to visiting it once you have it opened”. I put force behind my words, belief, because I want ... need him to

understand that I have complete faith in his ability to make a go of this place.

His smile seems somewhat melancholy. “By the time I have the means to purchase this building and everything required for all the rooms, you'll be married. Only the unmarried can have a membership here since the purpose of the club is to provide a safe atmosphere in which to arrange assignations".

“You don't know that he'll choose me”.

“Did you write him what I told you to ?"

“Not yet. I've been working on it".

His hand comes very close to touching my cheek before he returns it to his side. “You made an impression on him today. Identify yourself in the letter, as he told you to, and describe yourself as I suggested … and he's yours".

He makes it sound so easy. Unfortunately, I am no longer certain I want Brinsley, a man who believes a wife should take her opinions from her husband.

A short time later, Castor and I are traveling back to the residence, a comfortable silence resting easily between us, each lost in thought. In the morning I will return home. It is doubtful that I will see Castor again until the Alpha’s ball. But I know I will

never forget this remarkable night or the man with whom I had shared it.