Underletters #9 – September 2013 – Note from Jasper Baelian Black to Dorian Bond

Dorian.


If you’d asked me two weeks ago perhaps I would have made some snide remark about all this being more what you want…which I imagine would have prompted some kind of childish back and forth between us for a rather large period of time to follow. Amusing, perhaps, but I am in no mood to be overly amused these days with immature and obtuse word games.


I was first in a mind to claim you for my Family – you are very pretty, let us be honest…and that defiant spark in your eyes is endearing enough to make me want to slap it out of you – if only to see you cry and perhaps kiss it better. When you gave me your Valentine’s Day card I set myself a challenge of 8 weeks to see you masked, collared and mine to play with.


But watching you last night changed the nature of my interest, if not my desire for the ultimate outcome.

Truth be told, I am starved for intelligent male company – my brother and I do not do conversation well, Jack Lad is a cad and while I may gorge myself on the attentions of the women within my ‘pack,’ their tender adoration and delicate needy sensibilities (or their incessant desire to ‘mother’ me) can be as repellent as it is endearing. I find myself seeking the company of someone I might be able to share some kind of meaningful discourse with that does not revolve around my latest exploits, my children, or what I’ve done lately to mar the Black Family reputation.


I see many of my own vices in you, but also a quieter and more, dare I say it, refined nature that I find quite calming and might even serve to teach me a thing or two about civil human interaction, should I ever be of a mind to learn.


In short – this Neverland I have created possesses far too many fairies, mermaids and Indian Princesses…I find myself lacking the Lost Boys I require to keep me sane.


But I am getting ahead of myself – I find you interesting, and I find the company you keep to be at times charming but more often than not vacuous. So I shall veil my interest in you with a false offer to ‘rescue’ you from the petty machinations of the games we’ve all been playing thus far…with the promise of richer experiences and more fruitful a Funday in the times to come.


I will not lie – my desire to see you in one of my collars, dressed immaculately in a silvered mask as a beautifully clad confidante at my side is not likely to wane any time soon. But even I am aware of the limits of my own wants when balanced with those of others. And failing the fulfilment of such desires, worthwhile discourse and a friendship that does not come back to haunt me in glittered caps and feathers is an agreeable second option.


So the question becomes, Mr Bond. What do YOU want?


If it’s poetry and kisses in cars, I can accommodate – everything else is negotiable.


Respectfully,

J. Black.


All characters and story lines remain the property of N.Ristovski and the Underground. All character writings within the Underground are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013. Natalie Ristovski.

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TALES FROM THE BURLESQUE UNDERGROUND