Lennox smiled with every feature, and Alora found her own misgivings transforming to excitement upon seeing it. People from all over the region panted for even a drop of gossip over Opulence Mansion, and here she was, about to witness a private show! “I must do my work first, but it won’t be long.”
“Then it’s a date! See you soon, Alora.” Kissing her fingers, she waggled them at Alora before following William inside.
***
Alora’s satchel was much heavier than the previous day and it was because she’d brought along two lanterns. One of which she lit now, using it to guide her way down the deep darkness of the unused corridor.
Madam Feebledire, management, had let her in upon knocking, her demeanor just as unwelcoming as it’d been the first day. Alora hoped the woman would find other things to occupy her time other than patrolling the hall because now that she’d met Lennox and William, she couldn’t hardly contain her curiosity over what the Room of Fire might entail.
Door Twenty-five flared beneath the lantern, the gold etching reflecting the light. Alora turned the knob and entered. Theroom was cool and empty save for a lamp on the floor. “So, there wasn’t a window in here,” she said to no one, turning a slow circle.
She’d not written any measurements down for a window, but for some reason had begun to question her memories of this place in her time away from it. Now that she saw the lamp on the floor, she remembered lighting it prior. How peculiar she couldn’t recall it until now; she wouldn’t have brought the second lantern if she had.
Alora pursed her lips before prowling around the room. She paused to tack up a bit of wallpaper to the far wall and lay a sample of trim upon the floor. While at home, she’d already determined all of what she wanted to do to the room—and had even begun selecting her choices—when the strange sense of memories seeping from her head had her second-guessing her recollection.
She pulled out her notepad and wrote:
NOwindow.
Has lamp.
When she put it away, she allowed her imagination its freedom; it was always easier to do in the space she wished to transform anyway. She took the walls and papered them, trimmed every edge, and covered the floor. Once that was done, she added the finishings. The dim lamps and soft tapestries. The perfect chaise for one to lounge and dream of their most coveted desire.
She saw all this and smiled, taking care so as not to bring it all to life. She might try her best to explain how she finished such a project in only three days’ time, but she would never be able to explain a fully formed and lounging person, especially one half-thought, a virtual shell. Her singular limitation.
Alora could never hope to replicate a soul.
She continued to take notes, more detailed than she’d become accustomed to due to her unexplained bout of forgetfulness, and once satisfied with her collection of thoughts, reached for the lantern.
She’d no idea how this room would be managed, no idea if she would ever use the membership that was soon to be hers, but she would complete it as promised and leave it as she did every project: more beautiful than it began.
Her fist hovered unsure over the painted wood of Door Eighteen. Madam Feebledire was nowhere to be found, thankfully preoccupied with whatever duties were appointed to management, and Alora succeeded in sneaking up the staircase unseen. But that didn’t ease her nerves any. Her contract hadn’t explicitly mentioned the remainder of Opulence Mansion as being off-limits to her, but it was implied in some of the wording such as:
The signee shall be granted permission to enter Opulence Mansion grounds for the refurbishment of Door Twenty-five, only.It was rather more straightforward in Madam Feebledire’s warning three days ago:“Donottouch any of the other doors unless your wish is slow torture and permanent damage.”
But curiosity clawed at her, and Lennox’s genuine smile led her to wonder if she could make a friend by month's end. A close one, like shocked Mr. Whitters had questioned she’d not had. Likely she was putting the cart before the donkey, but if she didn’t go through the door, well, that was it then, wasn’t it?
She knocked once, turned the knob and stepped in.
It was like stepping into an inferno. Figuratively, thank heavens.
The walls were papered in crimson and orange, iridescent so as to shimmer against an indirect gaze. It left Alora certain flames were leaping at her from the corners of her eyes, which was untrue, but part of the experience, she supposed.Divans were pressed against them, black as charred wood and cushioned thickly with pillows to maximize comfort in watching the fireplace, which was central to the room and open in both front and behind.
Alora had to walk around its edge to see the flames dancing warmly in its base. She gasped when limbs unfolded from the coals.
Lennox beamed up at her from the fire. “You came! What timing too, since I’ve finished warming up.”
Alora thought they had much different views on warming up, and stammered, “You really are all right?”
“Hard to believe unless you see it yourself, isn’t it?” She rose in one graceful motion, lifting onto her toes and raising her hands until her fingertips brushed the highest curved bricks.
Alora’s lips parted at Lennox’s costume, or lack thereof. Thin straps on her shoulders dipped to a bustier that dangled red and orange beads with bottoms cut extraordinarily high across her pale, freckled thighs. It was more skin than Alora had ever seen on another person in the daytime. She wasn’t prudish, but still, she found herself blushing.
“You’ll overheat in that cloak; take it off before the fire grows much higher.”
“You’re going to feed the fire more?” asked Alora, her hands working the clasp at her throat.
Lennox laughed, lifting her leg until it aligned with her ear. “I am.”
