Kelly had wandered into the Labyrinth after wishing away some trifle child, a friend’s second cousin or something. Jareth didn’t care. Hoggle had the peach. The girl was meandering through the forest, just on the edge of the Bog. Something about her marveled him. On his throne, she was stunning. Her thick blonde hair bobbed at her shoulders when she ran. Muscular legs flexing with each pounding foot. Grey eyes like a smoky sky hypnotized him more than any crystal and then there were her lips. He could only imagine they were sweeter than any peach and softer than the finest silk, but hopefully he wouldn’t have to imagine long. She would take his invitation, she must.
Despite all she had to satisfy the eye, Kelly had something more, something not just any girl could achieve with a few cosmetic enhancements. Something that seemed to radiate from inside her like recessed lighting made her the first of his challengers to dance with the fire gang in the woods. Kelly neither ran nor fought them. Rather she adjusted the hem of her pencil skirt and taught the wiry little critters a few steps of her own. Being what the fieries were they attempted to tug on an appendage here or there. It was, after all, their nature. Kelly took it in stride, her hands falling to her hips as she fired back, “Yank on that again and I’ll make you wish the only thing I pulled off and tossed away was your head, comprende?”
But the forest didn’t phase her. The Bog didn’t phase her. Surely enough, she expressed her thoughts well enough with some obvious facial expressions, but as if someone had forewarned her of all she would encounter, Kelly marched up to the rebuilt bridge which little Didymus guarded faithfully and before he could even deliver his patented line, she spout, “Yes, well may I have your permission?” Flustered the regal fox just watched her as she passed.
It was then, as Ludo was catching up to them that she began to complain about the hunger pains in her stomach. Hoggle debated, as he always did. Give her the peach, don’t give her the peach. He’d do it. He always did. “Kelly,” the dwarf grumbled as he held out his tiny hand, a luscious fruit balanced on the undersides of his pudgy, short fingers.
Watching on from his perch in his bed chamber window, Jareth’s crystal showed him the quick jerk in her brow as she greedily scooped up the offering. Kelly’s full pink lips drew back from the white line of perfect teeth just beneath them. The king held his breath, listening intently for the snap of white enamel splitting the flesh. Juices dribbled from the corners of her mouth as she sunk through the peach, tearing out a huge portion before her teeth managed to meet. Jareth shuddered as he watched her vigorous enthusiasm, wishing secretly it carried over into all aspects of her personality.
In seconds, her world began to dance. Only Kelly didn’t stumble to a tree and wait to be swept away. Rather, she lie comfortably against a backboard of stone, a look of knowing curving her face into a grin of satisfaction. “But love,” Jareth sneered back, “I haven’t even touched you yet.” His curse echoed in her ear as the background began to change.
All of nature was swiftly replaced with mirrored walls and candelieres draped in strands of gold and gems. What she’d worn was redesigned as well. Her skirt was suddenly full, fine satin layered over crinoline, tapering at her slender waist before meeting with the whale bone ribs of a fine pink corset accentuated with French lace, a satin strap which bound it tight around her frame and very nicely swelled her breasts. Looking down, she admired herself. ‘Not bad,’ Kelly thought. Instinctively she began to seek the king out of the crowd. The mirrored walls showed her hair in a ruffled style that looked wild and provocative with her hungry grey eyes. A hint of the pink from her corset had managed to stain her cheeks and lips.
All about her the debauchery raged on. Men in long nosed masks openly fondled their prizes, most of whom donned masks with horns or eye masks and hair ornaments. The ladies carried fans or pocket mirrors, seductively batting them about in a lurid dance. It had a certain quality that heightened ones senses you might say. It was just then, as the heat of the room began to burn her from the inside out, she caught her first glimpse. The bejeweled blue formal wear, the streaks which broke the consistency of his platinum tufts, all dead giveaways. He tried to hide between the semicircles of two women’s fans. With almost seamless transition the hunted became the hunter. Kelly edged closer to each new spot she caught him in. All around them a haunting guitar rhythm seemed to fill the space between the sheets of mirrors.
Jareth quickly grew tired of hiding, enticed into the open by her prowess, her determination. His hands touched her simply, one at the small of her back, the other in the palm of her right hand. Having him this close weakened her some. She averted her eyes playfully, pausing on their way to his chest that they may memorize even a portion of his mouth. Cold rushed onto the bare spot on her back when his hand left to lift her chin. “Tsk, tsk,” air sucked between the cracks of his jagged teeth. “I hear rumors that in any sport one should keep their eye on the target if they are to fair well.” Without her permission he’d already begun to sweep her about the room.
“If that’s true, then watch me carefully your highness,” she whispered as she spun from his arms, only to return the next instant to his closeness. Jareth pulled her tighter and Kelly silently cursed the style of her dress for disabling her from feeling the full length of him against her torso.
“Watch you?” he asked inquisitively. She did not reply, only pursed her lips and shook her head. The tosseled ends of her wild mane shaking along with her. “And why must I watch you then?” His confidence permeating the air between them.
It was like an aphrodisiac for Kelly. As she did her best to stay standing, the girl answered his question with one of her own. “Do you want me?” It was brazen. It was to the point, and just as she had planned, it was using his own words against him. She didn’t need the Labyrinth’s words. It wasn’t the Labyrinth she meant to conquer, it was the maze’s king. Jareth cocked his head. The candles above them highlighted the difference in the circumference of his pupils. The blue pools that seemed to hold those onyx dots in place were like pieces of sky. Kelly wondered how long she would be able to keep control of this game and the sweetness that would come from surrendering that control to Jareth at just the right moment. “Fair is fair,” she told him. “You came to my window, you flaunted your crystal before me, offered me my dreams. ‘If you want it, then forget about the baby,’ you said. Now I’m asking you, Jareth,” and here she allowed her tongue to linger between her teeth as she stretched out the sound at the end of his name, “Do you want me?”
“And if I told you no?”
“You won’t.”
“And if I told you yes, what would you expect from me?” he asked.
Leaning her head in close to his ear, Kelly pressed her lips just short of the opening. His flesh was warm, soft, spicy. “Nothing,” she said as her tongue flicked against his lobe, “much.” Pulling back her head, she faced him once more. They spun across the floor as the music grew louder. Jareth drew her extended arm in toward his chest. Fearlessly, Kelly stroked at the open flesh between the ruffled lapels of his painter’s shirt. “Just make me the offer you made to her.”
“Made to whom, love?” the king inquired already beginning to coat her face in fleeting kisses. “What offer I made to whom?”
“Sarah Williams,” the name felt like poison on her tongue. “I’m not the child she was. I’m not the fool she was either. Make me that same offer and I won’t refuse you.”
The music was blocking almost everything now, deafening her to everything but its repeated guitar riffs. But the loss of one sense had heightened the others. His hands seemed to control her, even open, even barely touching her frame. The lump in his throat bobbed and behind his eyes Kelly saw him weigh her plea. When at last his mouth moved, it was poetry. Though she heard them more from memory, she heard them nonetheless. “Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.” His mouth covered hers fully, massaging her lips with his own. Without thinking, she gave into him, melted into his arms and returned the kiss. Air hitched in her throat when his tongued slid against hers and she felt him taste her.
Drawing back his face so that he might admire the blush which seemed to seep down to her bosom now, Jareth began to sing, “You, you can be mean and I, I’ll drink all the time. ‘Cause we’re lovers and that is a fact. Yes, we’re lovers and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together, we could still time, just for one day.”
Gently her hand enveloped the back of his neck, “No, not for one day,” she told him. “I could never love you for only one day and then turn away from you. You are my king and I will be yours forever.” This time when he arched her back by pulling her closer, Kelly’s head tipped back leaving her neck exposed to him. With a passionate force, his jagged teeth raked her tender flesh. The force made the blood pump fast in her veins, forcing them close to the surface of the skin, where his tongue would bathe them back into a state of relaxation. A groan whispered passed Kelly’s lips.
A handful of her untamed locks brought them rather abruptly eye to eye. He sang to her once more, these words she did not question, “I, I will be king and you, you will be my queen.” The room was spinning again, twisting at all sorts of unnatural angles as he continued his melody, his lips pressed firmly to her ear.
‘No, no,’ she prayed. ‘Please don’t let this dream end.’
From inside her head, a soft voice answered back. “Nothings ending Kelly my love, things are only about to begin.”
The tossing scenery seemed to settle. She felt soft, billowy comfort support her back. All the satin and crinoline was now streamlined silk, highlighting the hills and valleys along the length of her. A canopy covered the ceiling of the bed chamber she found herself in and slowly from the side, the king’s face monopolized her view. He swept over her like a late night breeze in the summertime. “Trust me when I tell you, we are only about to begin.”
Written May 25, 2005 for Kelly Healan
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