Читать книгу The Great and Calamitous Tale of Johan Thoms - Ian Thornton - Страница 19

Moreover, the Lord said, because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched-forth necks and wanton eyes, walking and mincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet.

—Isaiah 3:1

June 16, 1913

Johan lay horizontal on his favorite window ledge in his chambers, with a hefty Egyptian cushion behind his bulbous head, soaking in volume three of the Kama Sutra. The sun turned his face a soft brown.

Three slow, light, effeminate knocks landed on his door. It was not the day for the cleaner to mop his floors. Johan jumped down and glided gently to open the door. He was met by a vision of shocking-pink cuffs, pale skin, thinning reddish hair, and bulging green eyes.

The Count stood five foot eight in his stacked-heeled, perpetually new shoes. He was just months from his fortieth birthday, and his most time-consuming pastime, aside from learning Eastern religions, was attempting to maintain his youth. Sadly for him, his hedonistic lifestyle did not dovetail with his efforts. (“My ying is outweighing my yang again,” he said.) This did not stop his being pampered by an array of bemused stylists and fledgling pedicurists more suited to Cleopatra than a Teutonic twentieth-century count.

The visitor held out an elevated and angled hand.

“The Fifteenth Count of Kaunitz. I think it’s fifteen. To the rescue.”

Johan had hardly expected this when he had written to royalty for help.

Johan held out a hand to shake in the normal fashion. For a few seconds, neither moved, and an impasse looked inevitable. They met in the middle.

“Johan Thoms, but then I guess you know that.” Johan showed neither airs nor graces, allowing Kaunitz not an inch in his attempt to foist his lofty social position upon him. “A pleasure to meet you, and a bit of a surprise.”

“Ah yes, it sounded like you were in need, so why not do away with convention? I have made a living out of doing away with convention! Did you know that, young Johan?” The Count’s arms flailed and his eyes flirted.