It was dark in the room. The only light was the red and blue of the neon lights of the hotel sign, shining through the slats of the blinds and reflecting from the large mirror above the ornate dresser on the opposite wall. Streaks of light played across the furnishings - a king-sized four-post bed and canopy, two wing-backed chairs and a small table, a wardrobe. Distantly, the sounds of the Parisian streets could be heard.
The door opened, granting a glimpse of the rooms beyond. A tall, slim man entered. His dark hair was somewhat longer than was fashionable, and his dark goatee gave his features a saturnine air, and his pale skin shone in the dim light. He wore a gray suit and white shirt, with a paisley silk tie, and walked with a swaying, rolling gait like that if a man too long at sea.
A woman followed him, laughing and hanging on to his hand. She was small, with a great mass of wavy chestnut hair and dancing blue eyes, and skin the color of coffee and cream. Her white dress clung to her proud, slim body and left her long, coltish legs bare below the knees. She drew herself into the man's arms, her lips rising to meet his as they stepped to one side. His hands cupped her firm behind as her arms twined around his neck, and tongues lazily dueled as they kissed deeply.
"So forward, Monseur Sparrow!" she laughed, her fingers stroking his neck and loosening his tie. The knot came undone and she undid the top two buttons, placing gentle kisses on the skin beneath. "Whatever would your wife say, if she saw us!"<|im_end|>
Their laughter echoed in the alleyway, the sound of their stumbling footsteps following them around the corner. Whispers, giggles, kisses, caresses complemented perfectly the blare of a trumpet and the occasional stare. She'd found a new obsession in the contrast of their skin and couldn't stop staring, watching her hand in his, their laced fingers. He was so different from anyone she'd ever been with before. They tumbled together through the dark rooms until they found the knob for the appropriate one.
"Jack!" She only ever called him Jack when he was in trouble. The petite redhead's eyes flicked over them both before she slapped him though not half as hard as she felt he deserved. "Why would you do that?" she demanded. "I told you to wait for us. You remember what happened in Singapore." The women's eyes met for a moment and they shared a knowing smirk before a pair of large, muscled arms wrapped around her waist.
"She can be very persuasive, chere," the second man mumbled into her neck, placing kisses along her throat and shoulder. "You are very much alike."
Dark hands slid down her black beaded dress, gathering the fabric in bunches, pulling the skirt up around her hips. Jack's wife met his eyes with a triumphant little smirk before she turned to face her companion. A black silk tie and waistcoat were the only interruptions of color in his white suit and it was on those she focused now, her fingers deftly managing both before she was once again distracted. Her pale hands seemed to glow in the dim neon light against coffee-dark skin as they slid over his shaved pate and down to his cheeks where she held him before pushing herself up onto her toes to crush a kiss to his lips.
Celine--for the woman in Jack's arms was named Celine--grinned over Jack's shoulder at the two before returning her attention to the man at hand. Slender fingers forced the surrender of two more buttons and her hands splayed across his chest, pushing the fabric partway off of his shoulders while she traced more kisses over his skin.
"Your wife is too hard on you, Monsieur Sparrow, and my husband too lenient." Her kisses strayed up his neck as she undid his last few buttons, untucking his shirt and pushing it and his suit coat to the floor. "Perhaps we can earn forgiveness if we show them just how persuasive I can be, non?"<|im_end|>