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“Do you mind if I lit one?”, she lights her cigarette, not waiting for an answer. “Oh, surely not. Not like I’d care if you did.”

“This is your house, Madam.”
“What a barbed young brat!” she giggles. “Do you smoke?”
“I will have one, Madam.” He reaches for his pocket nervously and revealed a thin packet of cigarettes.
“Of course! Make yourself comfortable or else I’d shame my profession.” She mutters inaudibly and smiles to herself. Ellenore offers to light his stick, brows way up her forehead with mild amusement. It’s been a slow week. This boy might very well be her first and last client for today. At the very least, she will make sure of it. “Oh, I’m sorry, you asked something a while back.”
“You go by the name Ellenore Givens. Is that correct?”
“Yes, well, that was my name. Why did you have to ask, shocker! Aren’t you supposed to have done your homework before coming to bother me? Heavens! Journalists these days!” she exclaims with a boisterous wave of the hand and coughs twice into a white lace napkin. “Don’t be shy now, surely you’re trained to endure difficult people! Oh, but I am not difficult. Certainly not.” She pauses and makes a gesture with her arms as if to welcome an embrace. She lifts a brow and tilts her head questioningly at the trembling teenager. “Well, go on then, speak!”
“Oh–uh-uhm.” The young man drops his cigarette on the carpet and picks it up with trembling fingers.
“Oh dear boy, your hands have gone all sweaty. That is disgraceful. Relax, relax, for god’s sake.”
“B-but the carpet, Ma’am.”
“You can’t afford it! Leave it alone, now, please!”
He sprang up from his seat and was ready to leave. “I think I should just be goi–”
“Sit down.” With difficult, calculated breathing, she patiently waited for the young man to ease back into his leather couch. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor but got momentarily distracted when her eyes inadvertently caught sight of the ghost of her stubby toes almost ready to poke out of the tip of her shoe and spit bile on both of them. She started nibbling on her lower lip and regarded the shaking mess of a person with groping concern. “My name is Ellenore Givens. Lady Ellenore Givens. That is my name. What of it?”
The young man was silent for a long while, avoiding the woman’s gaze which appeared significantly softer now. He dismissed the thought. It’s likely he’s just imagining it.
“I-ii-it doesn’t reflect your f-ff-fierceness, your ladyship…?” Was that a question? He shut his eyes in acknowledgment of his stupidity. He rolled his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He’s afraid he said the wrong thing. He swallowed.
“Yes! It is exceptionally dull, yes! Oh! Thank you!” She could hardly contain herself. Was that a compliment? Oh, Mighty Heavens. She had trouble breathing for a few moments. She placed her right palm on her generous chest and gave out a hearty burst of laughter once more. She caught a glimpse of herself on the tall and stout, black marble vase by the window. Curse that vase! She calmed herself and cleared her throat. Perhaps she shouldn’t have laughed so hard. It was unsightly. She is beautiful no longer and that image of her was ghastly. Oh, how shameful! She touched her lip with the napkin and resumed her previous pose; one of glacial authority.
“Ellenore Givens. Perhaps a middle name could have saved me, do you think? Or perhaps an alias!” she regretted how excessively cheerful she turns out to be when pleased by something. She can’t help it; she’s just such a pig! But she’d never admit it. It’s that tea from this morning–oh that terrible Tuula! I shall squeeze her face between the grills!—it had too much sugar.
“Some of your tutors lovingly call you the ‘Stinger’, Madam.”
“Oh, how delightful that you should know! Surely, news of my talents could not have reached very far.”
“You are too modest, Ellenore, Madam.”
“It is terribly childish!”
“What is, Madam?”
“To have..to have nicknames—and suitors!”
___
[to be continued, maybe.]

Description

“Do you mind if I lit one?”, she lights her cigarette, not waiting for an answer. “Oh, surely not. Not like I’d care if you did.”

“This is your house, Madam.”
“What a barbed young brat!” she giggles. “Do you smoke?”
“I will have one, Madam.” He reaches for his pocket nervously and revealed a thin packet of cigarettes.
“Of course! Make yourself comfortable or else I’d shame my profession.” She mutters inaudibly and smiles to herself. Ellenore offers to light his stick, brows way up her forehead with mild amusement. It’s been a slow week. This boy might very well be her first and last client for today. At the very least, she will make sure of it. “Oh, I’m sorry, you asked something a while back.”
“You go by the name Ellenore Givens. Is that correct?”
“Yes, well, that was my name. Why did you have to ask, shocker! Aren’t you supposed to have done your homework before coming to bother me? Heavens! Journalists these days!” she exclaims with a boisterous wave of the hand and coughs twice into a white lace napkin. “Don’t be shy now, surely you’re trained to endure difficult people! Oh, but I am not difficult. Certainly not.” She pauses and makes a gesture with her arms as if to welcome an embrace. She lifts a brow and tilts her head questioningly at the trembling teenager. “Well, go on then, speak!”
“Oh–uh-uhm.” The young man drops his cigarette on the carpet and picks it up with trembling fingers.
“Oh dear boy, your hands have gone all sweaty. That is disgraceful. Relax, relax, for god’s sake.”
“B-but the carpet, Ma’am.”
“You can’t afford it! Leave it alone, now, please!”
He sprang up from his seat and was ready to leave. “I think I should just be goi–”
“Sit down.” With difficult, calculated breathing, she patiently waited for the young man to ease back into his leather couch. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor but got momentarily distracted when her eyes inadvertently caught sight of the ghost of her stubby toes almost ready to poke out of the tip of her shoe and spit bile on both of them. She started nibbling on her lower lip and regarded the shaking mess of a person with groping concern. “My name is Ellenore Givens. Lady Ellenore Givens. That is my name. What of it?”
The young man was silent for a long while, avoiding the woman’s gaze which appeared significantly softer now. He dismissed the thought. It’s likely he’s just imagining it.
“I-ii-it doesn’t reflect your f-ff-fierceness, your ladyship…?” Was that a question? He shut his eyes in acknowledgment of his stupidity. He rolled his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He’s afraid he said the wrong thing. He swallowed.
“Yes! It is exceptionally dull, yes! Oh! Thank you!” She could hardly contain herself. Was that a compliment? Oh, Mighty Heavens. She had trouble breathing for a few moments. She placed her right palm on her generous chest and gave out a hearty burst of laughter once more. She caught a glimpse of herself on the tall and stout, black marble vase by the window. Curse that vase! She calmed herself and cleared her throat. Perhaps she shouldn’t have laughed so hard. It was unsightly. She is beautiful no longer and that image of her was ghastly. Oh, how shameful! She touched her lip with the napkin and resumed her previous pose; one of glacial authority.
“Ellenore Givens. Perhaps a middle name could have saved me, do you think? Or perhaps an alias!” she regretted how excessively cheerful she turns out to be when pleased by something. She can’t help it; she’s just such a pig! But she’d never admit it. It’s that tea from this morning–oh that terrible Tuula! I shall squeeze her face between the grills!—it had too much sugar.
“Some of your tutors lovingly call you the ‘Stinger’, Madam.”
“Oh, how delightful that you should know! Surely, news of my talents could not have reached very far.”
“You are too modest, Ellenore, Madam.”
“It is terribly childish!”
“What is, Madam?”
“To have..to have nicknames—and suitors!”
___
[to be continued, maybe.]