Gilded Obsession

CLARICE

Clarice watched Albert from the library on the first floor, not sure exactly what was going through her mind, but she leaned into its undertones while she collected her thoughts. Her fingertips still smelt of his cologne from when she had taken as much liberty as she could with that hug. She smiled as she mused, and wondered briefly if she might run mad from desire. Black suits him, she thought, then let her mind wander lasciviously.

She had come up to the library to add his present to where she stashed the more special gifts, leaving Lucilla’s with the rest of the pile downstairs, of course. On a whim, she decided she would open his present. She unfurled the thick wrapping paper. Just as she had suspected when he handed it to her, it was a book-- ‘’The Last Thing He Wanted,’’ Joan Didions final work of fiction. Was it a subtle message? She wondered with excitement. The thought of Albert engaging her in a game made her loins throb. She raised her fingertips to her nose and was nearly inundated with lust. It was all she could do not to storm downstairs and make a candid fool of herself.

‘’ Clare’’ a low voice in a dulcet tone called out.

‘’Mom, I’m in here’’ she responded.

‘’Oh,’’ her mother said, casting a glance at the neatly stacked pile of presents in front of her daughter.‘’I see you’ve singled out your favorites. I’d have dragged you straight back to Vermont with me if I hadn’t spotted mine among these’’

Clarice laughed. ‘’You can’t do that Mom. I start college in the fall.’’

‘’Oh, I know sweetie. My beautiful Yale law undergrad. Have I told you how proud I am of you?’’

‘’Yes, Mom, only a million times,’’ she said, looking at her mother with admiration. She had also attended Yale law.

‘’Oh, uhm, I just got a call from your Aunt Catherine. She says she’s been trying to get ahold of you’’

‘’Ohh, I put my phone away. You know, you and grandma are always telling me to be more present, no better day to start, right?’’

‘’mm-hmm. The cheek of this one,’’ her mother said, pinching her cheek in response to the hint of poorly concealed sarcasm. ‘’Take the time to call your aunt back, okay?’’ she said as she gently kissed Clarice’s forehead.

‘’Yeah’’

‘’and come on back down soon, some of your guests are about to leave’’ her mother called out as she left the library.

Clarice strolled onto the patio, her dress swaying just above her knees as she approached the round glass table where Albert and her father sat, each nursing a glass of deep amber cognac, each puffing on a cigar. She smiled at the sight. She would never consider indulging in cigars herself, but she enjoyed languishing in the vicinity where they were smoked. She liked watching the thick smoke swirl and disappear and enjoyed secondarily inhaling the rich scent they produced.

The evening air was warm, carrying the distant hum of laughter from the garden, where the rest of the party was still in full swing.

She slid into an empty chair, tucking her legs beneath her, and without hesitation, cheekily reached for the bottle between them.

Albert and her father spoke at the same time.

"Nice try."

"Put it down, Clarice," Albert added.

She froze for a second, then laughed hard, fingers still curled around the neck of the bottle. "Oh, c'mon. It’s my birthday," she protested, c*****g her head slightly, letting her dark hair cascade over one shoulder.

"Yeah, and you’re still eighteen," Albert reminded her, "Barely legal in any sense of the word."

Her father, Bruce, a broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair, exhaled white fumes through his nostrils, unimpressed. "If you want a drink, go grab a soda from the kitchen."

Clarice sighed dramatically, but there was amusement in her eyes as she leaned back, tapping her nails against the table. "Wow, thanks, Dad. That’s exactly what I wanted to celebrate my milestone birthday. A nice, cold Coke."

Albert smirked but said nothing, taking a slow sip of his drink.

Clarice turned her attention to him. "You could at least back me up here," she said, nudging his knee with hers under the table.

"No" he said, arching a brow. "Not a chance."

She rolled her eyes, letting out an exaggerated groan. "So much for you being the cool one."

Albert chuckled. "I’m the reasonable one."

Bruce leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Honey, you’ll just have to wait till you’re old enough."

Clarice exhaled, shaking her head as she finally relented, but not before letting her fingertips ghost over the bottle teasingly before pulling away. "You two know that I’ve already had alcohol, right?"

Albert lifted his glass. "What was that?" he said, pretending not to hear.

She looked at her dad, who also pretended not to hear, intently glaring at some nondescript thing in the nearby distance.

She rolled her eyes, giggling.

She watched Albert as he drank, her gaze lingering a second too long. Then, she flashed a smile—slow, knowing, layered with something beneath it. "I love my book," she said ‘’Thank you’’

‘’Oh, I almost forgot’’ Albert said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small ornate bronze case. ‘’Open it’’ he added, sliding it toward her.

Clarice paused, giving him a quick glance, her eyes flickering with curiosity as she picked up the box, smiling. Inside, the ring gleamed under the patio lights—an oval-cut emerald, deep and rich, the color of untouched forest canopies after a heavy rain. It was set in a slim, vintage-style band of polished platinum, its metal cool and dazzling, accentuating the hypnotic green of the stone. The emerald itself was unembellished, raw in its beauty, held in place by four slender prongs that let the light filter through, catching different shades of green with every subtle movement.

‘’It's lovely,’’ she said smiling, slipping it into her pinky, her lips curling in satisfaction.

‘’Look Dad’’ she said, extending her arm in Bruce’s direction.

Bruce adjusted his glasses, running a finger over the stone and the band, studying it.

‘’ Hmm, quite a stone,’’ he murmured. ‘’Haven’t heard a thank you his way though. Where are your manners, Lari’’

She turned to Albert and gave him a tight hug ‘’ Thank you. I really like it.’’

"Well, I think I’ll go have that Coke now," she said, her voice playful before she disappeared into a small group of friends, brandishing her ring like a trophy.

With every guest now gone, except for her father and one of her uncles. Clarice settled deeper into her thoughts. One aspect was prevalent-- her deep desire for Albert. She could admit to herself that the very raw nature and voracity of the feeling used to unsettle her. They were second cousins, Albert and herself. But there were rules—unspoken, unofficial, yet enforced by entrenched conventions about how one ought to feel about close family. But she had done her research, delved into history, into the traditions of their culture, and found comfort in the knowledge that marriages between cousins were not as taboo as modern sensibilities made them out to be. Their own lineage held examples, discreet but there.

The thought of marriage, however, did not interest her. What she wanted was something far less complicated. Passion. Fire. To claim him in a way no one else had.

She stroked her ring with mild intensity, her mind replaying the way she had caught him looking at Marcia earlier. It was fleeting, but she had seen it—that sharp glint in his eye, the way his body subtly responded to her presence. It was the way he had once looked at Lucilla when they first started dating seven months ago. Lucilla--the woman in his life. It was the way she wanted him to look at her.

She exhaled, schooling her features, ensuring nothing betrayed the turmoil inside her. Wanting Albert was not a new feeling, but acknowledging that someone else might stir something in him—that was new. But she didn’t mind it, all she wanted was her portion.

A breeze rustled through the garden, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the lingering smoke from a distant cigar. Her thoughts wandered to his hands-- the shape of them, the strength in his grip, the softness of his palm. She imagined them roaming her body, pressing into her skin.

She imagined lots of things--his c**k far down her throat, her eyes watery and red as she gagged, his tongue flicking against her c**t before sensuously slurping, gently biting, making her writhe. She wanted her juices on his face, oh his beard, on his lips. She wanted his hard c**k as deep as it would go within her wet p***y, filling her, claiming her in the way she ached to be claimed.

A slow heat curled in her stomach. She reached down, she was wet.

She sighed.

He would refuse her at first. She was sure of that. She was very sure he had no interest in her that way. Albert had always been the responsible one, the one with the rigid moral code, the one who carefully thought things through. So annoying. But fire had a way of wearing down even the strongest steel. It was only a matter of time. She would chip away at his resolve, insert herself into his thoughts, weave herself into the fabric of his desires until he could no longer push her away.

And she would enjoy every second of it.

She didn’t see a downside. She knew Albert. He would never tell anyone. He would think himself fully capable of handling whatever she threw at him. He would believe he could resist. She smirked. Nothing would stop her. Nothing—except Yale in the fall.

She lifted the glass of bourbon to her lips, taking a slow sip, savoring the moment. She would not rush this.

The age difference? She doubted that would be a dealbreaker. After all, he had been looking at Marcia with something close to hunger, and she had only just turned twenty a few months ago.

Maybe she was reaching, but twenty wasn’t far from eighteen. Close enough. And just because he had looked at Marcia with intrigue didn’t mean he would f**k her on the first invitation. Still, Clarice would take all the encouragement she could get.

If she was right—if her stretched-taut interpretation of the evidence proved actionable—she would still have an uphill task of seducing him so completely that he ignored the family ties. But she loved a challenge. The best things in life require patient planning and an even greater supply of patience.

She was resolved. Albert would be hers. Even if just for one night.

And it had to happen before she left for college.

She burned for him. And she was determined to have him.