A White Night - Late evening, Friday 23rd September

[Douglas FitzJames]

Quote

THE WHITE

RESIDENCES OF LADIES OF THE NIGHT, Additionally with Select Inn Rooms

Next to the Bath House and Ironically across the street from DeCourtenay House (and the more affluent of Eton Students) sat a beautiful Tudor-style home with short iron fencing with large windows and ample sills. Catering to those with purse-strings and having entered many young gentlemen into the realm of manhood, was this house known only as The White for the color of home between the dark crossbeams that were the hallmark of the Tudor style. While it officially functioned as an inn for those visiting Windsor castle and traveling on to London, it was home to a selection of high-end whores who plied their wares with sophistication in the common rooms and dining of the main floor.

With well-appointed rooms available to let for the guest, it was hard to distinguish which were rented for persons and which were designated for each buxom young lady to take their gentlemen. 

After sating their pleasures, gentlemen could receive a feast-worthy meal in the dining room complimented with hearty dark ales and heftily spiked ciders.

Douglas had experienced some issues around ladies at court, specifically a combination of lust and admiration that led him to tread where some might feel he should not, and desire of women that which they were likely told they ought not to give. He still loved ladies and greatly enjoyed their company in all it's forms, but with a little age came a little hard-won wisdom, and he'd come to recognise his tendency to become rather enamoured of them as a weakness. Not that it was one he felt he could simply divest himself of, but one against which he could make certain preparations to armour himself. 

Specifically, in this case, he'd booked a 'room' and a meal at the White for late that evening, after the Yacht Race, thereby knowing however attracted he might become to any particular ladies with whom he might socialise during the event, he could bide his time and his manners in the sure knowledge that a sweet release awaited him later that night. 

He had stopped by the Hen's Toes to change his Life Guard's uniform for a a grey-blue ensemble with embroidery in black, grey and striking cobalt blue that matched his eyes, in an interlacing pattern reminiscent of Celtic knotwork, his dark hair loose about his shoulders as he wandered into the White, looking forward to a pleasurable encounter followed by an excellent meal. He tended to prefer red-heads at such times, and had ever since his ill-fated affair with Heather O'Roarke, who would always hold a special place in his heart, but after the Yacht Race and both the close company and that viewed from afar, he rather fancied a blonde.