As i strolled leisurely through the gates of le temple de l'amour, the Queen's private retreat adjoining le Palais de Versailles, i checked my timepiece, 1785 precisely. I was punctual as usual and tonight, i had a liaison dangereuse with a lady that didn't wish to be kept waiting.
Full-figured, graceful, beautiful...and frustrated, the Queen of France, Marie Antoinette.
Her regal charms would, this evening, be mine alone, King Louis XVI was occupied elsewhere but even had he been present, his peu de problème would curtail any entertainment for his wife, just like it did on most nights.
Her usual suitors were busy flirting with young Countesses and Ladies in Waiting, the masked ball being by now in full swing while the Queen awaited my most honourable attendance.
By this time, her reputation for sexual scandal and wild living was common knowledge at Court, playing hostess to dubious characters such as myself had sullied her fine name but if such a well-bred lady as herself required a playmate for her vices then i would be too polite and genteel to refuse.
Upon catching her eye, my soul was bewildered by her divine accent and soft voice as she smiled briefly and whispered Bonsoir, vous affinez le spécimen du boeuf Anglais magnifique.
I bowed courteously and returned her flashing smile before taking her lace-gloved hand and gallantly bestowing the lightest kiss upon it.
Est-ce que c'est un pistolet dans votre poche ou êtes-vous heureux de me voir?
I was already entranced, her slave for the evening, come what may.
When the first light of dawn crept over the sleeping French countryside, i was already on my way, taking with me some of the finest memories of my life and leaving behind a much happier woman than i had initially met, who lay sleeping blissfully in a warm afterglow, a dreamy smile playing about her luscious ruby lips.
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Zut! Quel rêve! Je suis jaloux. Un Boeuf Anglais magnifique. Mmmm.