'—"Gigi, I really like your dress!" The Emperor praised, staring at her from head to toe.

"Do you, Sire?" Gigi smiled coquettishly as she posed for him. "Designed it myself, as I did these shoes. Aren't they pretty?" She popped her foot out for him to see.

"Those are the nicest pair of shoes that I've ever seen." Cal glided his eyes along her legs.

Gigi smirked. "I also have something of yours, that I like," Her palm found itself on his back, bringing him closer before sliding itself south, down toward his perfectly rounded ass—'

Gigi's breath quickened, shutting the book close. It was the dead of night, and she was under the blanket, indulging in yet another steamy reverie of her husband.

Ever since she'd set her eyes on the Emperor's perfect rear, she couldn't get it out of her mind. The temptation was too strong to just pounce on him whenever he turned his back, or brush her hand over it claiming it was an accident. Her conscience kept her from giving in, for those foul schemes were far below her. Not to mention the fact that Junior had always been around them.

Once she had to do a fitting for a new set of clothes he requested for his birthday. She had to keep her hands from slipping below his waist as she measured him from behind.

Interestingly enough, she'd been learning something from the steamy novellas; a technique in which she could turn her fantasies half-real while also keeping her satiated for the time being.

Burrowing herself into the sheets, the fragments in her mind started to play out; in which he was here, immersing her into a tight embrace, worshipping every inch of her being with his hot, wet mouth. Her hands touched herself all over, pretending they were his. She pictured him as he was during their wedding night; warm, tender and entirely hers.

And then he was behind her, diving into her senseless. As she bucked against her fingers or a pillow, imagining something much better, hard and stout. Amidst the ardour she would come, whispering his name into the pillows like a prayer.

In her dreams, he'd love her.

***

Mint chocolate chip gelato had become Junior's favourite delicacy as the temperature reached its peak. The Prince had gobbled his third bowl of the day as Gigi watched him with intrigue, wishing there was something that she could feast upon to withstand the heat of her desire.

Licking the remaining substance off his spoon, he looked up with droopy eyes. "Can I have some more?"

"You've had plenty," Gigi petted his head, earning an adorable pout. "Save it for dinner."

"But this is crucial, I need my daily dose of hydration and cooling system!"

"Drink more water then."

His dark sapphire eyes glittered dangerously. "Give me more ice cream, or else I'll tell Papa that you try to grab his bum-bum."

A forceful blast of thunder struck over Gigi, leaving her hammered and paraplegic. Did he see? "I... I didn't— I was just..." Blinking her eyes rapidly, she tried to conjure up some excuses, yet was unable to hold up against Junior's judgmental stare.

"So," nudging his empty bowl in her direction, Junior flashed his pristine smile, as if he didn't just blackmail her. "...ice cream?"

The following day, Junior used the same tactic to cheat his way out of class. In exchange for his silence, Gigi had to lie to the tutor saying that the Prince was feeling unwell. She had never been so infuriated by him.

"B-U-T-T!" Junior spelt each letter maliciously each time he's off to have his way. It persisted for about a week, till Gigi could no longer put up with his behaviour.

"You'd never believe what your son did today, Sire," she tried to tell her husband one night. "He asked me to skip—"

"Yes, what did he do?" Cal asked. Behind his father, Junior turned around, wiggling his own butt.

"...Nothing! He's been on his best behaviour, always," she lied, before gathering some courage. "No, Sire! He made me—"

"B-U-T..." Junior sang.

"Come again?" Cal repeated.

"Beauty! He means beauty! We were reading a retelling of Beauty and the Beast this afternoon," Gigi let out a painful chuckle as Junior giggled in triumph.

Cal narrowed his eyes, exchanging suspicious looks in between the two before he dismissed it with a shrug; Gigi was drenched in cold sweat. "Is that so?"

***

Tonight was the initial fitting for a new set of clothes that Cal requested for his birthday. The designer couldn't come in at night, and since Cal had a tight schedule during the day, Gigi was filling in for her. She was given a set of instructions on how to measure her husband.

"They brought in a lot of fabrics, but these are the ones I picked. They have earth tones that just reminded me of your eyes." Gigi showed him a compilation of sample materials. Since he didn't specify, she came up with a mixture of Anglese and Prajan made fabrics.

Cal ran his fingers over each sample, feeling the exquisite texture of each material. A bright smile came over his face. "I like them."

"Would you like to choose for yourself?"

"No," he grinned. "You choose, make it a surprise."

Gigi's heart gushed with warmth. Sometimes, her mother would have clothes made for her father as a gift. She took out a measuring tape. "I'll start measuring, then."

First, she began by measuring under his arms, across his chest, and over his shoulder blades. He was six-foot-two, and she had to stretch her arms wide to make it. Gigi wasn't sure if finding the thickest part of the chest was by pressing her hands all over it, but he let her, and she carried on.

Positioned behind him, she pressed the tape along the belt line to measure his trousers. Gigi struggled to keep her hands from slipping below his waist.

"Waist size, sleeve length... these are all done," Gigi checked out a few points off her notes. "Oh, there's one more question. Which side do you dress on, left or right?"

Cal paused before answering, "Left."

Gigi scribbled it down. "Alright, but I don't understand this question. What does it mean to dress left?"

Cal's adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, though his expression stayed flat. "To 'dress left' means that one keeps one's appendage shifted in the general direction of the left trouser leg. Likewise for the right."

Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of appendage?"

"It's, uh... that." Cal tilted his head downwards, at his trousers.

"I don't understand."

Cal sighed, making a hand gesture over his crotch.

"Oh!" Her hands rose to her mouth, embarrassed by the revelation, yet her eyes inevitably dropped down to the left side of his groin.

Did he really put it on the left side of his trousers...?

***

As soon as Gigi retired to her chambers, she dismissed her handmaidens and threw herself under the covers. She had to conduct an efficient plan to escape from under Junior's evil grasp.

There were some knockings at the door, which were later revealed to be none other than her husband.

"Sire, what brings you here? Did we miss something during the fitting?"

The Emperor looked unusually nervous as he marched further into her chambers, checking on his surroundings. "Where are your handmaidens?"

"They all went down for supper, is something the matter?"

"Perfect." He went to lock the doors, and Gigi felt that she was in trance. Was this really happening? Her time had come.

Finally, after so long—

"So, I've been under the impression that you tried to touch my... ass."

Gigi choked, suffocating on what tiny, battered crumbs of dignity that she's got left. "Did Junior put you up to this?"

"No, I figured it out myself. I was getting the idea that you would often sneak up on me, staring at my back quite a number of times. Whatever happened with Junior?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" she averted her gaze, face burning in a crimson flare. Did he know about it all this time?

"Good. Now that we have it settled, do it before I change my mind." Cal turned, facing his curvaceous bottom under her faithful gaze.

"S-Sire, what are you talking about?"

"You wish to touch them, and this is me giving my permission," he sounded just as embarrassed as she was. "Well...?"

Bending down, she reached toward the lovely tush that had reigned over her mind for a week. "A-Are you sure it's alright?"

"For goodness's sake, you are my wife. You have the rights to these things!" he blustered.

Gigi bit her lips, carefully running her fingers over the shapely curve, till her pining ached and grabbed him hard. Cal yelped, jolting forward. "Oh gosh! Sire, I am so terribly, terribly sorry! I shouldn't have—"

"Don't be discouraged." Peering over his shoulder, he showed a glimpse of his flustered cheeks. "Please go on."

With his blessing, she proceeded to knead and massage him, indulging herself in it. It felt nothing like her fantasies or the raunchy passages within her books. This was different. This was real.

A delicious moan slipped out of his mouth as she continued to grope him.

"Sire...?"

Cal sighed. "Carry on."

After what seemed like an absurdly long time, she finally let him go.

"B-Before I leave, may I have that newspaper?" He pointed at an old, crinkled newspaper on a table beside the nightstand. "I am so desperate to know about the news."

Gigi nodded. "It was very kind of you to allow me to do that." She handed him the newspaper, and he used it to cover his crotch.

"I suppose I—" His weak attempt at a smile was ruined as she gave another smack on his ass cheeks. "Mmm," he moaned.

"I'm sorry," she giggled. Not really. If he would allow her to give everything she had to relieve him now, it would be a fairy tale ending to such a fateful night. "Wo-would you stay for a— Will you allow me to repay your kindness?"

Cal closed his eyes shut, reluctantly shaking his head. "Uh... I need to get to a conference in the morning. Perhaps another time?"

"Another time, then." Gigi nodded, lips pressed together. She still didn't know why he kept holding back; but for now, he'd given enough. "I wish to thank you, still," she tip-toed to kiss his cheek.

This time, he wrapped a warm arm around her to ensure that she could reach him before hobbling limply toward the door. "Good night." She waved at him wistfully.

Perhaps one day, they'd be together again. But tonight, he'd given her something real to fuel her fantasies.

.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.

DO SR. GOT THE BOOTY? 
HE DOOOOOOOO