The Joker; His foreign she-wolf

*Joker* I pull the brim of my beaver hat down lower to shade my face as the sentinel standing watch outside the Moon Goddess club, a private club for she-wolves, shoves open the heavy door and allows me to enter the foyer without any bother. A few years ago, the club had been a secret, its existence whispered about as one did the existence of elves and fairies with a great deal of skepticism. But secrets have a tendency to eventually come into the light. Most certainly my father’s had. As a result, I know a great deal more about the club than most of the men of my acquaintance. I have been given a private tour of the establishment. After all, my brother, one of my sire’s bastards, owns it. Seeing no she-wolves wandering about in the entryway, I relax somewhat and remove my hat. While the club itself is no longer clandestine, the identity of its members is protected, and I hadn’t wanted to recognize anyone I might know or cause any she-wolf of my acquaintance embarrassment. What goes on within these walls is considered wicked and could ruin a good she-wolf’s reputation if it became known that she frequented this domain of sin, debauchery, and the forbidden. Obviously recognizing me from other visits I have made recently, the young she-wolf standing behind a counter gives a small bob of a curtsy. “My beta.” “I need to have a word with Mr. Tempest. Where might I find him?” The guard outside had confirmed that he was in this evening. “He is making the rounds. I will send someone to fetch him, shall I, if you would like to go on up?” She asks I nod, “That would be most appreciated. Thank you.” A short distance from the counter, between the two walls encasing a narrow set of stairs, dangles a red braided rope with a sign hanging from it announcing, Private. Enter at your own risk. After slipping one end of the barrier off its corresponding peg, I walk through and then secure the flimsy barricade that I know no one would dare violate. Aaron Tempest has a reputation for protecting everything he considers his. His dangerous repute more than any bit of woven cord keeps people from overstepping the mark. The stairs are dark but a light at the top serves as a beacon. Most of my childhood had been like climbing this stairwell, gloomy and solitary, light and knowledge just beyond reach. While attending the Alpha academy, I had begun to hear about my father’s exploits, the Alpha of Elverton’s ravenous lust, his countless mistresses, and his numerous bastards, the latter two groups spread far and wide over Blackrock city, and beyond to the farthest corners of the country. But the most vicious rumor of all, the most hurtful, the one I had furiously hated and bloodied several noses over, and had my own bloodied a time or two was that my mother, the present Luna of Elverton, had been the naughtiest, most lascivious, and most favored paramour of my father before he had taken her to mate. Eventually the truth had won out, and I now know that she had given birth to three of the Alpha’s illegitimate sons. My father had delivered each to a baby farmer, with the hope that they would die as a result of the she-wolf’s lack of attention. Many foundlings did. However, Aaron had been given to Mae Tempest, a widow who had raised him as though she had given birth to him herself. A few years ago, I met Aaron when he saved our mother from being murdered... by her very own husband. I had never been particularly fond of my sire, but I certainly hadn’t envisioned that the fellow responsible for my existence was capable of such a vile act. The Alpha’s brutal encounter with Aaron had resulted in our father barely surviving an apoplectic fit that had left him incapacitated and bedridden. I reach the top of the stairs and step onto the landing. Farther down, the corridor has a half wall that allows one to look out over the main gaming floor, but here draperies provide a hidden alcove. To my right is another set of carpeted stairs that lead up to the rooms Aaron had inhabited before he married. I know he sometimes still uses them when responsibilities keep him working late, but he has purchased a small residence where he lives with his mate and son. However, he has his heart set on acquiring a larger estate. Rather than go up those stairs, I lean against the wall, awaiting Aaron’s arrival. I suppose I should be tempted to peer between the part in the draperies to possibly discover who might be visiting this evening, but I believe people are entitled to their secrets. Certainly, I have mine. I hear the echo of footsteps as someone dashes up the stairs. In short order, Aaron emerges from the darkness into the light. Even after all this time, I am still taken aback by our similarities in appearance: sandy hair, blue eyes, strong sharp jaw. Our father’s jaw. Aaron is slightly taller and a bit broader, his body having adjusted to the physical labors demanded of him when he was younger. He grins. “How are you, brother?” That address also always takes me a little off guard. I have no legitimate siblings. Before this man came into my life, I had known none of my father’s leavings. Now I also know Dion, another of my father’s by-blows, given to Mae Tempest six weeks after Aaron. Apparently, the Alpha had possessed an insatiable appetite for bedding she-wolves, never content with enjoying one at a time. He had been unfaithful not only to his Luna but to his lovers. “I’m well, but bring upsetting news.” Aaron takes a step forward, his brow creasing deeply. “About Mother?” “No, Father.” I tell him. “I don’t give a bloody damn about that degenerate. He can go straight to the devil as far as I’m concerned.” Aaron huffs. I nod, “It appears he will be making that journey soon enough. He has taken a turn for the worse.” “Glad to hear it. At least Mother won’t be hovering over him and caring for him any longer.” My brother says. I know it sticks in my brother's craw that our mother has spent the past three years seemingly devoted to tending to her mate, although I suspect she is also tormenting him in subtle ways. I have overheard her telling the Alpha tales about her paramour, even though she has no lover. She no doubt wants him to suffer as she had during all the years they had been together when he hadn't been faithful or discreet regarding his numerous affairs. Not that I hold it against her for wanting a bit of revenge. After all, the Alpha had set about poisoning her when a younger she-wolf had caught his attention. "Speaking of Mother, she has mentioned that on occasion she has enjoyed some time at your club." Aaron shrugs. "One of my gents has spoiled her. A foot rub in the Goddess Parlor. A waltz in the ballroom." "I don't require details." I quickly say. A small smirk from Aaron follows that comment. No doubt he considers me something of a prude because I always direct the conversation away from exactly what pleasures she-wolves have the opportunity to experience within these walls. Then, tipping his head to the side, Aaron levels an assessing stare at me. "Since you're here, perhaps you could do me a favor." "Depends on the favor." I say. "I'm short a couple of gents tonight. One sent word he was ill. The other, who the deuce knows. However, I have a she-wolf in want of a kiss. She has been waiting for going on half an hour now, but all my other fellows are occupied. Perhaps you would be kind enough to oblige her." I had learned early on to hide my thoughts or feelings. Still, it takes every ounce of control I possess not to gape at the ludicrous request. "You mean kiss her?" "You sound horrified, like I have just asked you to murder her. Yes, kiss her." Aaron says. I shake my head, "You kiss her." "I'm married, madly in love with Senya. I no longer give the she-wolves anything other than a smile or a wink." He juts out a chin that very much resembles my own. "You are not a novice to kissing, surely." "Of course not, but I don't give them out willy-nilly. Besides, the majority of your members are from the high packs. She is likely to be someone I know, which could prove rather awkward." I'm not in the habit of secreting she-wolves of the high packs into hidden corners for stolen kisses. Aaron shakes his head, "Actually, she is a foreigner, only recently arrived in the country. What are the odds you have met?" "Probably none." The couple of foreign she-wolves I know are either married to peers or being courted by those with ranks above my own. It's highly unlikely the she-wolves would risk censure by visiting this establishment where the mothers or sisters of their suitors might catch a glimpse of them engaged in questionable behavior. "Still, it doesn't sit right with me, old chum." "Look, Johnny..." Our mother refers to me with my given name. It's more personal, creates a stronger bond. I suspect Aaron understands it's better suited to cajoling. "She is a spinster, never been kissed. She is waiting in a private room, her nerves no doubt beginning to fray as the minutes tick by. All you have to do is go in, take her in your arms, lean her back a bit, press your lips to hers, and sigh as though you have never been so entranced. Would that truly be such a hardship?" It's been a considerable length of time since I have been with a she-wolf, so while it might not be a hardship, it could remind me of what I'm missing and send me in search of pleasure… which I never do hastily because I have certain requirements I insist be met. On the other hand, delivering only a kiss seems innocent enough. "What's her name?" "Haven't a clue. I don't recall ever seeing her here before. Possibly it's her first time to visit. You are dressed finely enough that she is bound to assume you're an employee. You can make up a name for yourself. Be whoever you like. Embrace the fantasy." He grins. “What fantasy?” I ask. He winks, “Of being a she-wolf’s dream.” “What makes you think I’m not already?” I tease back. “If you are, she is a secret. Your exploits certainly don’t make the gossip rags.” He points out. I blink in surprise, “You read gossip?” “It’s the best way to know how to keep the elite satisfied. So, will you do it?” He asks. Unlike my father, I don’t give anything of myself… not even my kisses… to a she-wolf lightly. I possess a sterling reputation for treating she-wolves with the utmost respect. I never exhibit any untoward behavior. Never wanting to be likened to my sire, I am above reproach. I never engage in shenanigans. This request seems very much like something I ought not to do. Yet, in the farthest darkest regions of my mind, a seductive voice is temptingly whispering, Where is the harm in being a bit wicked for a few minutes? It is only a kiss. “No one will know of this?” I ask. “Absolutely not. Everything that happens within these walls stays within these walls.” He promises. I nod, “All right then. This once. But don’t make a habit of asking me for favors such as this.” “Who knows? With any luck, it could very well turn out to be a favor to you.”