Scarlet Seduction by MissTeak

Chapter 1

I do not own Inuyasha or any of its characters.

A/N: My response to R0o’s ‘Moulin Rouge” challenge! I’ve always wanted to do this, but somehow the muse has not been quite cooperative. But here it is, and I hope you guys enjoy this one! Special thanks to R0o for coming up with such an interesting idea!! This is also dedicated to my dear friend and not-so-secret love Madison (LOL!!) for her encouragement in writing this piece!

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Scarlet Seduction

 

 

1899, Spring.

 

Just like many other men who had been drawn straight into the vortex of garishly loud colors, vulgarly painted faces and heavily adorned bodies, he had bought a ticket. Out of curiosity, his morally upright conscience had insisted, in a last ditch attempt to preserve some scraps of dignity. His lips were pursed into a straight line as he nodded ever so slightly, as if trying to convince himself while his traitorous eyes stared transfixed at the spectacle in front of him.

Now, he found himself hopelessly lost, despite how collected he had always prided himself on being, in a world where what unfolds before his eyes used to be a figment of his wildest imagination.

Music - a loud, upbeat medley of various instruments without a hint of cultural refinement, as he snobbishly noted, was all around. It was enough to draw one into a trance-like dream, as if the visuals were not already more than capable of doing so. He saw flashes of colors and skin from almost everywhere around him, all scented with the smoky pungent fragrance of tobacco and copious amounts of alcohol. He took a sip of the drink placed in front of him. Then he was surprised by how parched his mouth actually was.

Seduction was a powerful tool used almost exclusively by the females, he noted silently. Skirts flew up like billowing clouds of colored seduction, drawing him closer and closer into the pits of lust and fascination with every flash of glorious skin. Diamonds glinted back at him like playful winks as the girls danced away. It was quite interesting to note how the beautiful females on the stage all looked alike, until one made the effort to pay more attention to their painted faces and the alluring way in which those crimson lips smiled.

The feathered frenzy on the stage known as the can-can continued under the glare of the bright lights, while his prime position near the stage granted him a few sneak views of what were unmistakably genitals. He froze, stiffening involuntary like the gentleman he was raised to be, but those eyes were nonetheless glued to the magnificent display of music, movement and lustful energy. The music grew to reach crescendo.

Then his eyes met a pair of chocolate ones. As if lust could act as binding glue, he held her enchanting gaze for a good five seconds as she continued to seduce the audience with her brazen displays. Powerful kicks accentuated by seductiveness revealed what she had underneath the skirt, while her lithe body moved to the rhythm ever so invitingly. Her moves were so blatantly brazen as if she could not care less, yet it was executed so professionally with such grace that he could not tear his eyes away. She was a gifted dancer; she did not dance to the music, no, she danced fluidly with the music. There was nothing shameful or morally wrong; it was an art on its own.

She turned and took a few provocative steps forward, while those eyes continued boring into his. A few powerful kicks and turns granted him a sneak preview of what he would definitely not leave this place without sampling for the night. He realized he had found the actual purpose for coming to this place, something he thought he did not have. It was initially nothing more than an attempt to quench the curiosity he felt over the hype that was Moulin Rouge.

Then she broke the magical connection, and he suddenly regained the ability to draw in breaths of the tobacco-flavored air again. To his horror, he realized he had been gripping the side of the table the entire time, and what was now left on the side of the table was a slightly clammy palm print. As if guilty, his hand was clenched in his lap.

The women of this place are dangerous; he recalled the words of those in his upper society circle, men who actually spent more time on thinking rather than feeling. They suck your soul out of your physical shell and break your heart into pieces.

The gaudy music stopped abruptly, just like how the clock struck twelve for Cinderella, before thunderous applause rang out. She smiled alluringly at no one in particular as the performance item came to a successful end, waving at the crowd as her body worked to cope with the physical exertion. His eyes could catch the rise and fall of her chest as she drew deep breaths of air into her lungs, while the side of her cheeks and neck glistened with beads of perspiration. The lights above shone down upon her, illuminating the flawlessness of her complexion by casting a light fuzzy glow all over her.

Oh, this woman must be a living sin!

She waved at the crowd with her right hand, and he noticed the way the swell of her right breast strained against the confines of the bodice she was wearing. The thought of the beautiful creature wearing nothing underneath that seductive garb was even more seductive than he thought it could ever be. His tuxedo was growing to be uncomfortable against his skin, and just as he thought things could get no worse and humiliating, she turned to catch his gaze again.

His breath hitched. Then she smiled a full sincere smile which stretched her deep red lips, while those eyes of sparkling chocolate seemed to be beckoning him into the depths of voracious lust. This woman, he thought to himself, was devilish temptation in a physical form. He was soon losing the battle with his inner angels.

The only things that prevented him from approaching her to satisfy the primal urges were the distance between the stage and his seat, the setting and the years of upbringing that had taught him to draw lines between social classes. After all, he was an aristocrat and she, a mere courtesan.

Her eyes lingered on his as she followed the rest of the gaudy procession backstage, while the occasional feather boas and headgears floated in and out of sight as the other girls hurried by. Gone was the beauty, as transient as the song they had just performed to. But he knew he had to seek her out, before this magnificent hellhole named Moulin Rouge stole his sanity.

Music came on again, but he was too lost in his trance to listen or see. There was a myriad of colors on the stage again, moving rapidly to the tempo in a flurry of seductive acts and provocative, near-orgasmic smiles.

The next item was beginning; a striptease, something the men of his social circle had spoken about with dark glints in their usually aloof gazes. It was supposed to be the highlight of the show at Moulin Rouge, but he could wait no longer. He had to meet her, and at the very least, know her name.

So he straightened his tuxedo, not knowing his golden eyes had taken on the dark glint he was so accustomed to seeing men with whenever the topic of Moulin Rouge came up. Tilting his top hat so as to minimize recognition by any acquaintances, he made a move towards the backstage directly. Yet he was turned away, when he came to a long flight of steps which would lead right to the dancers’ rooms, for it was forbidden to men. For obvious reasons really, he reasoned despite his disappointment.

“Ya can wait fer ‘em in the back alley.” A male voice snickered from the shadows of the darkened curtains. He instantly felt self-conscious and embarrassed at being caught in the act of waiting for a courtesan, but still, muttered his thanks and stepped out from the enchanted grove of psychedelic colors, feathers, diamonds, rubies and skin. Suddenly, he was transported back into reality, standing on the drab black and gray streets of Paris with the flashing red windmill standing proud and seductive behind him.

He cast a cautious glance around, hoping not to run into any familiar figures so as to avoid the awkwardness of explaining his presence in this district. Then he strode to the alley where the male in the shadows had mentioned, and sure enough, he was greeted with the sight of a feminine form leaning against the wall. Everything else about the feminine silhouette was shrouded in darkness, save for the glow at the end of the cigarette held between two slender fingers.

The glow was lifted, presumably close to the lips of the lady, before it became brighter with the draw of breath at the other end. Then the faint orange glow descended as her hand was once again brought to her side, and a cloud of sensuous haze was blown almost flirtatiously into the chilly spring air.

He cleared his throat, and the female form turned to regard him, before slowly stepping out of the shadows.

Brown eyes met gold ones again, and as if they were the North and the South poles of a magnet, the two individuals were drawn to each other in a powerful physical attraction neither could deny.

Closing the distance between them, she smiled almost aloofly, concealing her surprise at seeing such a beautiful specimen of a man up close. He was almost too refined for a place like Moulin Rouge, sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Were you looking for me?” Lips of scarlet spelled out seduction, and he felt as if someone had squeezed his gut tight. It might have been the lingering traces of Moulin Rouge’s mysterious magic, but her voice sounded as lovely and as dangerous as the siren’s cry to him.

His face remained an impassive mask as he struggled inwardly to conceal his elation at seeing her right in front of him and hearing her beautiful voice. Remember your social status, he reminded himself. He belonged to the upper class; what was he doing in an alley with a courtesan?

Her eyes narrowed with a teasing hint he did not catch, and she waved her hand dismissively with the cigarette still held between her digits. Turning, she proceeded to return to the backstage of the Moulin Rouge, drawing her coat tighter around herself as a gust of night wind blew by.

She heard footsteps, and smiled to herself.

“Wait.”

A warm masculine hand wrapped itself around her wrist, but while it was firm, it was in no way uncomfortable or painful.

Then she dropped the cigarette to the ground and turned around abruptly to pull the devastatingly handsome man behind her down to meet her lips. Like the dry leaves of autumn, the ignited fire of passion soon spread rapidly to consume the two beings, and she soon found herself pushed up against the wall against which she had been leaning. His lips were like the purest petals of the spring roses; soft, delicious and warm, proving to be the perfect treat on chilly nights like this.

The raw, unflavored taste of him, as alive and powerful as it was, drew her into a frenzy of passionate worshipping of his mouth. Her tongue ran over his while a shiver of erotic sensation shot down her spine, before dragging itself over his lower lip, only to be suddenly drawn into his parted lips. A cry of surprise was elicited from her as he sucked hard and sensually on her tongue, while his hands, gosh, those curious and eager hands, roamed her soft curves. They ran up and down the length of her back, drawing crooked circles as they seduced her.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her eyes widened, before placing her palm against his chest to push him back. The kiss was broken, and in the darkness of the alley, brown stared into gold intensely as they both panted for the much needed breath.

Scarlet lips, resembling a shade of maroon in the darkness, parted again. “We are not making love.”

He appeared to be shocked, obviously having been brought up with barely any opposition to anything he did in life, and she laughed sensuously at his hesitance. Her ebony tresses were a magnificent display as she tilted her head back, giving him a clear open view of black waves against porcelain skin, resting against the natural ridges of collar bone and swells of breasts.

Then just as she assumed he was stumped by her aloofness, his lips assaulted the creamy expanse of her neck, while the slightest of growing stubble brushed against her skin erotically. He was so masculine, from the physical attributes to the chauvinistic male pride so characteristic of the upper class.

“Seduce me.” He demanded in a broken whisper against the satin skin of her neck, before she pushed him away such that he was once again looking into enchanting brown orbs.

“Give me a reason.” She leaned in and whispered against his lips, and he smelled the light hints of tobacco on her breath. It did not help that her breasts, creamy, full and firm, were pressed tightly against his chest, confined almost too tightly by her diamante-encrusted bodice. The way the minimal beams of light highlighted the curves of her breasts was almost his undoing, and he had not even removed a single article of clothing.

His patience was wearing thin; he would be damned if he resigned himself to a night of erotic dreams. “I will pay you. Service, woman.”

An amused half smile grew on her lips. “What about respect, man?”

“That would have to be damned.” He was overbearing, but well, he was the one standing on a higher pedestal in society.

She smiled again, more to herself than to him. Who was she to refuse business? “I do not come cheap...” She whispered in his ear, mindful to insert her tongue playfully and lick along the shell of it. “…name?”

“Sesshoumaru.” He stiffened under her deliberate ministrations, feeling another part of him stiffen even more than he thought it possible. “You?”

Her tongue withdrew from his ear, but she whispered huskily with a release of warm breath against the appendage. “Kagome.”

“Well, Kagome.” Her name left his lips riding on baritone notes, and her arms around his neck involuntarily tightened with how sinfully sexy he sounded. “You underestimate me.”

Her lips curved into a sensual smile as she leaned backwards to bestow upon his face countless of butterfly kisses. Then a hand roamed southwards to caress his hard prisoner in the confines of his garments, and a whisper which promised a night of unforgettable memories came.

“It’s a deal.”

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To be continued…

A/N: Please read and review! This chapter was great fun and challenge at the same time for me to write, and I sure hope it proved to be a good read for you as well!

 

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