Friday, June 14, 2013

Scene: Victoriana - Home coming

She sat in her chair knitting. The needles clicked along at a stately rhythm as she read from the prayer book on the table beside her. Cup of tea steaming and a cat curled up at her feet, she was the image of domestic bliss. Outside the rain fell from a leaden sky. She was doing her best to stay busy, to not think of how far away her lover was.

In the hall, there was a rustle. She thought nothing of it, presuming that it was the maid attending her duties. The sound of a heavy step in the wooden hall stood out from the familiar sounds of the late afternoon. A louder rustle sounded in the hall and a murmer of quiet voices blended together. It was known in her social circle that she was not receiving visitors. The tedium of their company had become unbearable as the length of his absence grew.

She felt as though the whole world had moved on with out her. Thus, she remained in her home and did her best to ignore them. Her husband was a faithful source of comfort, but her heart ached for the dark haired man who had caught her attention and then affections. So, she sat and knitted, wiling away the long hours until her husband came home and lifted that awful sense of loneliness that settled around her like a pall. The heavy foot steps moved towards the doorway into the sitting room.

She set her knitting down into her lap and looked over the tops of her spectacles. Her eyes went wide and she bolted to her feet. “You've come back,” she gasped. Dressed in his dark gray morning suit and his top hat in hand, he seemed to have stepped from a vision. Her ball of yarn and her knitting landed in a tangle at her feet as she clasped her hands at her breast, breathless with amazement. Her skirts rustled loudly as she darted forward. In her excitement, she stumbled and nearly fell when he stepped forward and caught her.

“So, I have,” he said, smiling down at her. Her dress was terribly demure and conservative. Even so, it couldn't fail to accentuate her lush curves. The dark blue silk strained to contain her breasts where they were upheld by the corset beneath. The severity of the color and cut of her gown told him that she had thought him lost while on his adventures. He held her tightly against himself for a moment, relishing in the softness of her and the faint lavender scent that lingered in her hair from her soap.

A part of him was tempted to throw her upon the settee nestled in the bow window over looking the garden and kiss her breathless while stripping her restrictive clothes off her. Instead, he gently but firmly put her back upon her feet. “I trust that you have been well,” he said, ignoring the look that he was getting from the maid. The woman was new in his beloved friends' employ and knew nothing of this man who gave her lady such bold looks.

“Only as well as my condition has allowed,” she confessed, motioning the maid to leave them. She walked to the settee and gracefully settled upon the edge closest to where she had sat knitting. He walked across the room, pausing to stoop and pick up her forgotten knitting. The waterfall of lace threatened to spill out of his hand as he set it upon the chair, noting with a small measure of amusement that her knitting remained as tight as ever, betraying her anxieties.

“I would be most willing to assist you with your condition,” he said, setting his hat beside the knitting before sitting beside her. He kept his expression solemn, despite the urge to smile at how she blushed and ducked her head. He took her hand in his own and put on a solicitous expression of concern. “I and your husband have both done our best in the past to ease your suffering,” he said, noting how the maid hovered at the door, “He has charged me especially with assisting in this matter. I would be remiss if I did not at the very least attempt the assay and determine if there is but one thing I could do to be of aid.”

The flush deepened and crept down her body and up to her hairline. Eyes lowered and focused upon his hand, she said nothing in reply, merely staring at where his thumb passed over her knuckles. “When I was away,” he said with that same tone of solemnity edged with suggestion, “I could not stop thinking about you and I was most concerned that your condition had become worse. Your letters did not mention the extent of your malaise, but it most clearly is something significant if it has kept you housebound.”

He moved his hands to her face. With care, he took the gold rimmed glasses off and set them aside. It was as he was putting a hand on her knee that the maid bustled into the room. “Madam,” she said, putting special emphasis upon the word husband, “Your husband will be home shortly. Shall I put the kettle on?” His expression was not fully visible to the maid who wrung her hands behind him. A wicked smirk twitched his lips as he raised his eyebrows with a meaningful look.

“I... I believe that would be quite excellent, Margaret,” she said, stammering despite her efforts not to. The smirk turned into a grin and the flush deepened. Margaret remained at the doorway, appointing herself guardian of her mistress's propriety. “Is there anything more, Margaret?” she asked pointedly, giving her maid a mild look. Margaret mouthed some bland response and left the room, giving a stern look at the gentleman caller when her mistress looked away.

As the help bustled off in a huff, he brought the lady of the house's hand up to his lips. Gently, he opened her lightly curled hand and placed it against his cheek. His eyes closed and he turned his face against her palm. He took in a deep breath, smelling the soft flowery perfume that was fading as the day passed and the clean smell of her skin. He gave a sigh of pleasure and opened his eyes.

Hunger lit in the green depths of his gaze and his quarry's eyes widened despite her efforts to remain calm. He paused only for a moment before reaching forward and pulling her into his arms. His mouth closed over hers with a desperate fury as he crushed the breath out of her with the force of his embrace. She shivered from head to toe when he broke the kiss.

She gazed deeply into his eyes, entranced by the witchfire that burned there in. As he passed a hand down her back, he said quietly, “Do we wait until he is here or not?” She swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. He put a gentle kiss on her bruised lips, ignoring the sound of someone walking into the room. He slowly deepened the kiss, inwardly laughing at the thought of the maid staring at them in scandalized horror.

A soft cough behind them was ignored as he leaned against her and pressed her back against the back of the settee. “I see that you are wasting no time getting reacquainted,” came the amused voice of her husband, “Though that really is not the most comfortable trysting place.” She gave a surprised squeak and attempted to pull back out her lover's arms, who gave a laugh and looked over at his friend. “Please, don't stop on my account,” he said, strolling over to the chair that the hat and the knitting sat on, “She has been pining away for you.”

The blush washed over her cheeks again as the two men looked over at her. “Go, I will wait here. I shall even deal with Margaret,” her husband said, leaning against the arm of the chair. The adventurer stood and held a hand out to the blushing woman. As he helped her to her feet, she looked over at her husband in sudden anxiety. The tall man walked up to her and wrapped an arm about her waist. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead with a fond expression. “Go, enjoy yourself,” he said, letting her go.

In silence, the pair left the room and climbed the stairs. As they reached the master bedroom, they could hear Margaret's voice raised in outrage. As the master of the house responded with a deadly quiet word, the maid's squawking of alarm silenced. She proceeded him into the room, reaching up to pull the pins out of her hair. As her hair fell down in waves, he walked up behind her, taking his jacket off as he crossed the space between them.

He set a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. He unbuttoned the neck of her gown and then started down the front even as she reached for his tie. He pushed her hands aside and continued his work, saying quietly, “Let me look at you.” Her hands fluttered to her sides as he patiently removed each layer of clothing. When she was dressed only in her corset, blouse, and stockings, he stopped and took a step back. His expression was solemn as he drank in each inch of her with his eyes.

He started to undress himself before pausing to shut the door. He turned around to see her in the midst of untying her garters and smiled. At his smile, she lit with her own delighted expression. Seeing her half nude and in utter disarray, he couldn't help the rush that warmed his veins. He carefully took off his own clothes, unlike how he had simply allowed hers to fall to the floor. Piling them upon the chair before her bureau, he watched her in the mirror as she returned to her efforts to disrobe with out the assistance of her maid.

He stepped behind her and looked at the lacing up the back of her corset. He hooked a finger into the top of it and gave a tug. She stumbled back against him and he grinned. Expecting him to simply unlace the restrictive garment, she held her hands before herself. He turned to the side and opened the drawer of the nightstand. Inside, there rested a wicked looking knife. It was there for the explicit purpose of getting her out of the corset. At least once a fortnight, she had to purchase new lacing. It was something of a minor scandal at the shop she frequented, but the shop's mistress said nothing of it.

He slipped the blade between the ribbon and the back of her blouse. The ribbon parted easily before the razor sharp edge as she trembled before him. The corset fell to the ground as she took a deep breath in, the cut bits of ribbon fluttering. He put the knife back into its drawer. As he took the fabric of her blouse in hand, she looked to the right, trying to look over her shoulder at him. His hands moved beneath the fabric and passed lightly over her sides. The pale, virtually sheer fabric was soft beneath his hands as he lifted it up over her head. He dropped it to the floor and pulled her tightly against him.

Her cheeks flamed, but he paid it no mind as he nuzzled her neck, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Less confined, she leaned down to finish removing her stockings when his hands settled on her hips. His erection pressed insistently against her as she looked to the mirror. He ground his hips against hers, his erection rubbing against the softness of her sex.

Her eyes rolled and fluttered shut as she made a small noise of pleasure. His hands wandered along her sides as he slowly guided her back to standing. One moved to cup her left breast as the other wrapped about her waist. Held against him, she shivered as he breathed against the nape of her neck. Lightly, he bit where her neck met her shoulder. “Oh, my,” she sighed and he chuckled. His thumb rubbed against her nipple, coaxing it to stand at full attention.

He turned with her pressed against himself until they were facing the bed. With a gentle shove, he pushed her on to the bed. He smiled at the way the light streaming in from the window played over her body as she rolled over. He had missed the way her breasts seemed to shiver as she breathed faster when he ran his finger tips up the inside of her legs. He had missed the rich smell of her arousal and the taste of her flesh. As he ran a tongue between her labia, she gasped.

He smiled and slowly explored her sex with his mouth, making a point to pay careful homage to her clit. Soon, she was squirming and whimpering beneath him. He put her legs against his chest and ever so slowly slipped into her. Continuing to move slowly, he stoked her rising lust mercilessly. Her whimpering gave way to soft sobs and quiet pleas for more. Steeling his will, he resisted the temptation to give himself over to his lust.

He watched the way she arched and writhed before him. Her hands gripped the feather down coverlet as she breathed hard. A low, pained groan escaped her as she shuddered hard with her orgasm. He smiled triumphantly and thrust harder. Small gasps and wordless noises of pleasure accompanied each body wracking spasm that rolled through her. Soon, he found it difficult to maintain his detachment from his own pleasure. Deciding that he had done enough, he began to ride her mercilessly.

She wept beneath him. Then, suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. She threw her head back, shuddering. He clapped a hand down hard over her mouth moments before a scream of pleasure was ripped from her with a powerful orgasm that almost painfully clenched around his erection. Thrusting hard and fast, her prolonged that orgasm until his own stormed over him. She shuddered and groaned as he withdrew himself. Squirming and shivering as the slightest touch of a draft ghosted over her skin, she curled up on her side.

He felt a touch weak kneed but he forced himself past it to carefully adjust her upon the bed. He then stretched out beside her, wrapping her up in his arms. Holding her as the force of pleasure subsided, he gradually dropped down into a light doze, smiling and truly happy for the first time in almost a year.

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