The House of Lesslie

Made from steel and silver, it was roughly six inches long and had a dragon furled up around it, emerald eyes that stared down its lengths as its tailed ran around its shaft, ending at the tip that would fit between my red lips. All the women in my family had owned one of these most rare of trinkets, and each time one of them had prepared for the traditional travels around the world, that woman's mother had gifted it to her daughter, to remind her of her status, her place in the world.

It was also the reason they called me the Dragon in this part of the world. Clients and friends, at least.

I lifted my hand and presented it to Chan, not giving that Englishman an inch of my attention. Never did like them to begin with. Lawyers, I mean. My delightful girl had already inserted a small cigar into the holder's shaft, and her attention to the ritual had been carefully honed, handing me the holder and placing it between my index and ring finger without me needing to give any further order.

And when I lifted the holder to my lips, Chan was already next to me, flicking open a thin lighter with her tender fingers and igniting a warm, yellow flame that hissed against the dark, flavored tobacco, transforming it creamy, cum-like smoke flowing down the holder's shaft and entering my mouth.

I took a deep breath and snap inhaled.

The lawyer watched. The lawyer licked his lips.

I thanked Chan by blowing smoke into her face, holding her chin up and forcing her mouth open, streaming my breath and smoke into her. She accepted it with closed eyes, her voice a thankful whimper.

"Thank you, darling," I said.

"Thank you, mistress."

"You may leave us alone now."

Chan averted her eyes from my gaze and quietly existed the office.

I knew why the lawyer was here, of course. The fact that he had known my name, had dared to speak it out loud, had been more than a giveaway.

"It is time, then, is it?"

"I am afraid so, Lady Lesslie," the lawyer replied.