Her Nocturnal Lover (Chapter One, page 1 of 3)


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It had been long since her last time at a club. So long. But tonight, Linda decided to head there. She'd spent the last three years at home. Home sweet home. She was Linda Hemsway. Five feet seven. Slim. Pink lips. Long brunette hair. Brown eyes, slim curves. She looked at herself in the side mirror of the cab. Yes, she was okay… She thought with a w ink as the cab pulled up towards the street to the club. 'Delavigne…' Linda mumbled. 'How long it's been!' Without saying anything more, she straightened her dress, blinked twice to hide the sadness in her eyes, and stifled the pain that sat inside her chest. She knew some people saw the pain in them despite her attempt to hide it. With some people, she would never, succeed at hiding this for since her parents' train crash, things for her had never been quite the same.

Never the same for her. At least things seemed better for her older sister who had left to Clymene after home had seemed more than misery for her. Windowmill had nothing more to provide to a person of her endearment. After the burial, her big sister had gone with her husband to run a Charity organization somewhere at a place called Clemene. That was the last that Linda had heard from her sister and it was three years ago.

A sudden opening at the door brought Linda back to her senses. She'd not even seen the chauffeur pack outside the club. Swallowed by her own thoughts about her parents and long gone sister, she'd somewhat managed to forget and become insensitive to her surroundings. The cab-driver nodded as she got out and handed him the change with a smile across her lips. With a nod, she walked off.

The music was loud. The mood pure sherry, and the atmosphere bathed in excitement. At the upper section of the club, Bill Mayan starred at the dancers down the lower section. He leaned against the thin metal bar that caged the upper section of the club. Somehow, he managed to afford a nod slowly as if to himself and partially as though to the troubles that had pushed him coming to the club. At least he could go about all the stress with a bottle of wine to the club Delavigne each and every evening. All most the entire town of Windowmill did, treating themselves to the club each and every single day. Some went as far as spending entire mornings at the club, retiring at 10:00 am and returning as early as 6 pm in the evenings as though with very little to do with their own lives. Maybe it was because Windowmill was such a tiny Island where people knew each other quite personally, lived in firm old castles and never stressed about working because they had inherited large sums.

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