The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Nancy Madore

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      PRINCESS CONSCIA

      PRINCESS CONSCIA WATCHED HER HUSBAND FROM ACROSS THE KITCHEN table. He was so handsome that it took her breath away when she looked at him. She loved the time they shared together, and this time over breakfast was her favorite. With no pressure, she could simply enjoy his company without feeling she had to participate in things that were awkward or embarrassing in order to please him.

      “I wonder what the wizardess will have to say,” she mused as she sipped her morning coffee.

      “I can’t imagine,” said the prince. “Perhaps she will wrap your sexy feet in gossamer to keep them from flying off each night in your dreams.”

      She smiled stiffly over this, wondering why the undercurrent of “it” had to enter into so many other parts of their life. Why was it so important to him? In the evening, when the lights were out, she could permit and even sometimes enjoy the sensations of it, but didn’t he realize how discomfiting it was for her to talk about it outside their bedroom? It was so humiliating to think about it after the fact. She didn’t think it was appropriate to reference those private matters during the day, especially not in the context of her shoes or feet. But there didn’t seem to be any subject that failed toremind her husband of it, and he enjoyed making comments to that effect.

      She particularly disliked speaking of body parts in the context of “it.” What on earth was sexy about feet, for example? Even the parts used during the act, to her mind, were not especially sexy. She disliked the way they looked, in fact, which is why she insisted on doing it in the dark, if they must do it at all.

      It was all just so bewildering. She supposed it was the price she had to pay to keep her husband happy, but still, she wished he didn’t want it so often. There were, sometimes, little pleasurable sensations, but the awkwardness made it impossible for her to enjoy them. She felt the positions were degrading and most unflattering. The noises embarrassed her. She shuddered to think what she must look like in the midst of it. And some of the things he suggested she do left her so shocked she could not even respond.

      But they had loved each other enough to adjust and had settled into an arrangement where he, for the most part, fulfilled his needs in a timely and conscientious manner, with as little embarrassment to her sensibilities as he could manage and she, in turn, submitted willingly. She did enjoy pleasing him, provided he was considerate enough not to take advantage.

      If only he would not persist in these inappropriate comments outside their bedroom, insinuating things from every scenario; things that simply added to her discomfort over that particular subject.

      And now here he was again, trying to interject the topic of “it” into their discussion about the wizardess, where it could not be more out of place.

      “It is not my ‘sexy’ feet which are wearing out my shoes,” she replied, trying to keep the resentment out of her voice. She did notwant to appear frigid or distraught, but rather, preferred to draw him back to reality with dignity and common sense. “The wizardess has already explained that our shoes are being worn out by our thoughts, not our feet.”

      “Yes, but have you never considered what those thoughts might be?” he asked her.

      “Why, of course,” she replied. “The wizardess has as much as said that it is homesickness for my sisters and my father’s castle. We had such wonderful times there. I do miss it.”

      “I don’t think that is all there is to it,” the prince argued. “You didn’t forget that the wizardess also mentioned ‘discontent’ in your marriages.”

      She stared at the prince, shocked by his bluntness. “It does not seem so outrageous that our new lives should be a bit difficult to adjust to after such an enchanted childhood,” she countered.

      “Or perhaps it is something else,” he said, with meaning and emphasis.

      So here he was, referring to “it” yet again! She ground her teeth and asked, “What else could it be?”

      “I’m sure I don’t know,” he lied. “But I am very interested to hear what the wizardess has to say about it.”

      She forced another stiff smile. “More coffee?”

      Princess Conscia had been looking forward to the wizardess’s visit, but now she was suddenly feeling nervous. Would the wizardess think her a failure as a wife? Or worse, would she be expected to humiliate herself even further to her husband? Surely he would not be so debased as to bring “it” up while the wizardess was here!

      She struggled for the proper words to caution her husband while she poured his coffee. “I hope you won’t impose your own ideas aboutthis on the wizardess,” she began. “I think it would be best to listen to what advice she has to give.” A little blush crept up her cheeks as she said this.

      “What ideas are you speaking of that have you blushing so, my darling?” he asked her with a teasing smile.

      “I don’t have anything in mind,” she lied, wishing she had held her tongue. There was no stopping him anyway, so why had she bothered to ask?

      He took her warm, flushed face in his hands and held it until her eyes met his. “I, too, wait anxiously for the wizardess’s advice,” he admitted in a low voice. They were both silent a moment, until the front bell rang out shrilly, causing them both to jump.

      The prince went to the door to admit the wizardess while Princess Conscia regained her composure. A moment later the wizardess entered their kitchen, observing the princess carefully.

      “Do I smell coffee?” she asked casually, but she noticed everything as she spoke, from the blush on Princess Conscia’s face to the slightly gloomy yet determined expression of her husband.

      “I hope I did not interrupt anything,” she said with a sly smile.

      The prince and princess looked at the wizardess; he with surprise and her with horrified embarrassment.

      “Oh, heavens, no,” Princess Conscia insisted quickly. “We were simply finishing up our morning coffee.”

      “Actually,” her husband divulged, “we were trying to guess what you had concluded about the shoes.”

      “Indeed,” laughed the wizardess. “That is good.”

      “Really?” asked Princess Conscia. She had feared her husband’s bluntness might have offended the wizardess. She poured them all a cup of coffee and sat down, feeling a bit more relaxed. She did not,however, want the wizardess to inquire further about where their conjectures had led, so she attempted to divert this by saying, “Have you questions you wish to ask about my…um, shoe problem?”

      “My observations thus far have, in fact, been sufficient for me to identify the problem,” replied the wizardess.

      “But, you have only just arrived,” the prince objected. “Perhaps you have missed something important.”

      “Oh, I have missed nothing,” the wizardess told him with a smile. “Everything you will need is right here.” She shuffled through the contents of her bag and finally СКАЧАТЬ