Jonathan lay on the end of a high bed, bound by his wrists and wearing a blindfold around his eyes. The air of the room smelled slightly of perfume and lavender and was thick with elegance—a curious contrast to what he was. In front of him, in a maid's uniform, was a woman, sitting silently upon a velvet seat, her gaze fixed upon his.
Jonathan's awareness of her presence led him to ask gruffly in a low-tensioned tone, "What do you want from me?"
The maid's voice was serene, nearly practiced. "Madam will come to answer your questions."
He went silent once more, his ears attuned to every noise in the room. The door opened, a moment later, with a barely audible creak. The sound of heels clicking on the shining floor echoed through the silence.
A cultured voice trailed behind. "Oh, Jonathan…"
Jonathan's heart missed a beat. He knew that voice. "Madam Juliet?" he stuttered, amazed.
