Chapter Text
Colin was a confident lover. He knew he was attractive, sure, but his partners consistently gave him good feedback.
I don't think I've ever come so much in my life.
How do you manage to know exactly what I want before I can say it?
The way you take charge is so hot.
Even though the praise felt really good, he hadn't found anyone he wanted to keep fucking long-term. So, he kept having intermittent flings, knowing that when he wanted sex, it wouldn't take too long to find a willing partner.
That was the state he begrudgingly found himself in tonight, made worse by his promise to attend his brother's art studio open house. Each first Friday of the month, all the studios and galleries open up simultaneously throughout the sprawling old industrial building.
Having done his duty to Benedict and talked with three non-family members in his studio, he felt like he could at least wander to see what else there was in the artists’ community. One of the people he talked with mentioned a painter whose sister always makes ridiculously good snacks. Benedict had put out tea and biscuits, but nothing like the canapes promised by the stranger, so he waved to Benedict and ventured into the maze of studios.
Forty-five minutes later, having found the actually quite amazing basil-themed snacks, Colin sauntered down a wide hall on the far end of the complex from Benedict’s studio. Gathered around a worn sofa, a half dozen women – dressed in a variety of black sparkly outfits, most of which included fishnet stockings – were chatting and swapping what looked like prop canes to sign. Across from the sofa was a busy door with a sign above it that read Sea Soul Sun Studio & Gallery. Just inside the door was a little cashier stand. He asked the person behind the stand what event was going on, she informed him it was a burlesque showcase and that they were at intermission, but that they had a couple seats left for the second half if he was interested. His belly sated and his familial obligation fulfilled, he bought a ticket and looked for an empty seat.
Colin managed to get a seat near the back, but on the center aisle. Grateful for his height, he was able to see most of the performance area, despite the stage being on the same level as the floor. The first performance was a group number – clearly a beginner burlesque class – with an eclectic mix of body types, aesthetics, ages, and skill levels. The small, but long-limbed woman who looked young everywhere except her wrinkly butt cheeks. The wide-hipped, small-breasted young woman with a pixie cut who looked like she had purchased her outfit pieces specifically for this performance. The somewhat stiff-in-the-hips woman, looking to her fellow performers to make sure she had the choreography right, and wearing a much more conservative outfit, probably out of her closet, made racy by the lack of shirt between her blazer and rhinestone padded bra.
Colin found himself rather envious of the bravery he saw among them. He clapped heartily along with the whooping audience and slipped a tenner into the basket as the tip kitten returned to the back of the room.
The emcee told a few bad dirty jokes while a few people added a plush wingback chair to the center of the stage, with wooden chairs on either side closer to the audience and facing away from the center of the room.
Confirming with the back of the room that the next act was ready, she made her introduction, “Now we have a special treat for all of you. Believe me when I tell you that this performance is one of the absolute hottest things I've ever witnessed. Please welcome Lady Whistledown and her devotees!”
Two somewhat short, dark haired men with matching beards and demi masks walked up the aisle, both wearing short black satin robes. They almost looked like they could be twins. They knelt on either side of the plush chair. Once they faced the audience, Colin could see they were also both wearing collars and leashes.
A flush ran through Colin's body as music with a slow, deep beat rumbled through the studio. Transfixed as he was on the kneeling men in collars, now each holding their leash up toward the center of the stage, he was caught off guard when another figure moved up the aisle – all curves and softness. As the new figure slowly stepped into the pink light of the stage, the auburn color of her hair was revealed, the curls tumbling down to the top of her black corset, which generously flared at the hips, guiding Colin's eyes down to the black thong, slicing between perfectly round, soft ass cheeks. Colin couldn't decide whether he would prefer to gently caress them, grab them to feel his fingers sink into the softness, or smack them to see them undulate.
The softness continued as the woman’s arms raised out to the sides before the kneeling men placed their leashes in her upturned hands, both of their faces gazing up with looks of awe mixed with hunger. Her hands slowly curled around each leash, gently pulling them taut as she ran them down the sides of her body and winding her body side to side with serpentine motion. When she reached her hips, she brought her hands (and the leashes) together between her legs, bending forward away from the audience, highlighting the way her ass flowed down into her equally luscious thighs. The tips of the leash handles just peaked out between her thighs toward the audience, and she swayed her hips side to side briefly before she stood upright again. She wrapped the leash on her right around her hand several times, drawing the man attached to it closer to her. At her beckoning, he rose up on one knee, the other foot on the ground, making a platform for her heeled foot to rest. His eyes still on her face, he reverently ran his hands over her ankle, up her calf, and over her knee.
Turning her attention to the man on her left, she wound his leash around her hand as well. But instead of gently pulling him closer, she sharply tugged the leash downward, guiding him to land on all fours. He knelt deeper, bringing his mouth to the toe of her left shoe. She brought her right foot back to the ground and slowly drew him up to stand next to her, his mouth hovering a trail up the left side of her body.
Colin was utterly mesmerized, breath caught in his throat. The room fell away, the whoops and yells of the audience barely registering to his ears. He'd never wanted to trade lives with someone more in his life, his whole being aching to be either of the men on the other end of this woman's leashes. The only words his consciousness could summon: I want that.
Their bodies rolled in unison as she dropped both leashes. Stepping to face the audience, but mostly hidden behind the standing devotee, the satin sash at his waist shifted before it slid to one side, the woman drawing it free and dropping it to the ground. She extended her left hand, and the other devotee stood facing the audience and placed one end of his robe’s sash in her hand. As she pulled the second sash free, she moved the other man's face to his right, silently instructing him to turn to face the audience as well.
Having dropped the second sash, she brought a hand to the back collar of each man's robe. Just as she stepped into the space between them, she yanked both robes off, leaving both devotees in only small, thin, black shorts and their demi masks.
Colin's breath hitched at the sudden vulnerability of the men, and it took him a moment to register that the woman's face was finally visible to the whole audience, displaying a sultry confident smirk, as though these men's nakedness was hers to gift the audience – that they should be grateful to her for being allowed to see it.
It takes another hitched breath for Colin to realize he knows that smirk, even though he'd never seen it so bold. He sees that smirk in the corners of rooms, huddled next to his sister, and occasionally aimed at him after hearing the owner quietly say something particularly witty.
That smirk belongs to Penelope fucking Featherington.
—----
Colin fucking Bridgerton. Colin Bridgerton is sitting 5 metres in front of her. Penelope turned her back to the audience, trying to keep moving convincingly to the slow beat of the music. What the actual fuck is Colin doing sitting at the back of her audience?
Skylar and Dan moved in unison to her sides, noticing that she broke from the choreography, and each gently placed a hand on one of her shoulders. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she worked hard on this performance. Dan and Skylar trusted her vision, and she trusted them to follow her lead. She gave them a small nod and they moved to the next cue, sitting in their chairs, facing away from each other and the center of the stage.
Penelope moved her body more deeply to the music. She is Lady Whistledown, damnit. She owns this audience, and if Colin fucking Bridgerton is in the audience, then Lady Whistledown owns him too.
—---
Colin is feeling…a lot of things, actually. All of the heat and want that was building throughout this performance – Penelope's performance – then joined by the shock of recognizing her, pride at seeing such a confident look on her face before she turned away from the audience, more envy as the men on either side of her touched her smooth shoulders, a bit of shame for thinking of her shoulders as smooth, and a zing of excitement at that shame.
Before he could truly take stock of himself, the men parted from her and she began moving deeper to the music. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the arms of the plush chair, grinding her hips as she dipped, keeping her knees together. As she rose to stand, undulating all the way, she looked back over her shoulder at the audience, the smirk back on her face.
She twisted on the balls of her feet, lowering herself to sit on the edge of the plush velvet. Once perched, she slowly dragged her feet and knees apart, one hand sliding past her black halter bikini top and up her throat, the other venturing down the front of her corset. As soon as her knees were fully spread, she snapped them shut.
Colin barely registered his own disappointment before Penelope strutted toward the man seated on her left. She dragged her fingers across the back of his shoulders as she walked around him to stand in front of him. Bracing her hand on his shoulder, she swung a leg over toward the audience, straddling him. Threading her other hand into his hair and tugging his head back, she rocked her hips over his lap. As she pulled his head forward towards her chest, he slid his hands from her hips up to brace her shoulder blades as she arched back, sweeping her curls from side to side. Keeping her hand in the man's hair, she stood from his lap. Her hand slid out of his hair as she slinked toward the other devotee.
All thoughts have abandoned Colin and he is utterly captivated.
She reached down the other devotee’s chest from behind his chair, drawing her hand up in an elegant claw as she moved around to stand with her back facing his front. He placed his hands at her waist, guiding her to sit on his lap where she ground her hips side to side. She bent forward, touching the top of her foot as she lifted her hips from his lap. She swung her torso up, her auburn curls flying in an arc above her. She smiled over her left shoulder at the audience before moving again to stand in front of the plush throne at the center of the stage.
She held her arms out, palms up, summoning her devotees from their chairs. As they stood facing her, she turned to each one in turn, unclipping the leash from his collar and draping it over his shoulder, before turning him to face the audience again. Standing between them and facing the chair, she gently cradled their necks in her hands for a long moment. Slowly, she dragged her hands down both of their chests to the front of their shorts.
Colin’s body shivered, and his lungs gasped in a breath. A heat settled over his lap, as if her hand was hovering above his own cock.
Penelope dragged her hands back up their torsos, pushing the shoulders closest to her so they both turned to face her. After she swept her hair away from her neck over her left shoulder, they each reached up and pulled one of the strings of her halter top, untying it completely and each holding a strap away from her as she rolled her shoulders. She looked back at the audience over her right shoulder with a sly smile and a wink before swinging her hair so it tumbled down her back again.
Holy shit. A single coherent thought passed through Colin's brain. I'm going to see Penelope’s breasts.
Penelope guided the men so they stood on either side of the plush chair before turning on the balls of her feet to face the audience and rolling her shoulders again, causing her full breasts to sway and the tassels on her sparkly black pasties to swing. Her devotees each took one of her hands and guided her as she sat on her velvet throne. Once seated, she shimmied her shoulders more vigorously as the two men knelt on either side of her.
The music ended and she graced the audience with a full smile as they erupted into applause and cheers. As all three performers stood, one of the men picked up his robe off the floor, handing it to Penelope. She held it to her chest as the three of them filed quickly but confidently down the aisle and out of the room.
Colin suddenly realized he hadn't been breathing, despite his lungs feeling overly full. He exhaled slowly, trying to make sense of what he had just experienced. The only thing he really knew was that he shouldn't stand up for a while. He saw the tip kitten returning back down the aisle, so he reached for his wallet again. He pulled out all the cash he had and slipped it in the basket as she passed.