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Aidra Fox

“And last of all, raise your glasses! It is with greatest pleasure that I recognize the reason for our gathering tonight- the engagement of our young Henry!”

Chattering voices rose in cheers as champagne glasses chimed. The many glasses sent spiraling lights around the ballroom, illuminating the tapestried walls and momentarily blinding me. I blinked; throat dry.

Friends strode by one after another as the party resumed. Some came with heartfelt congratulations. Some with tired jokes — “enjoy your last days of freedom”. Another — “You seem off, dear chap. Thinking of the wedding-night already?”

I made polite excuses and strode off. Tonight, I was indeed thinking our wedding night–but with a knot of worry. A tangle of uncertainty and doubt.

Gerald from prep school had once said on the topic: “I know all about it, Henry. Just be a man, and she should be a woman.”

Victor, who’s scholarly opinion I usually trusted, had stated “From what I understand, to make a woman with child, it is necessary to…. Um. See her with bared ankles.”

And Father, in a very uncomfortable discussion: “Well you see boy, the woman is your wife, and it is your duty to make her your own.”

Across Queen Victoria’s England, I’d scant heard two opinions on that mysterious coupling that matched, much less that felt right for Allison and I. She meant so much to me, and certainly deserved more than some clumsy assault. Thankfully, Sandra had traveled far from England.

I found her at the room’s corner, drinking heavily from a glass. I’d known Sandra since our days roaming the manor grounds as children, I as the lord’s scion, her as the troublemaking daughter of a local merchant. But she much changed from that dirt-faced girl, ever since her travels to the Caribbean five years prior. Her normally hazel skin had tanned to a bronze as dark as her mother’s, and her intelligent eyes scanned the room with a predator’s insight. When they settled on me, they softened.

“Oh Henry me boy, what a gob dah delight to see the man of the hour.” She laughed, and I found myself chucking in spite of it all “Now, why the gloomy look?”

I leaned into her ear, and told her.

Sandra’s face was an unready mask? “You truly are concerned about this. About you and Melly?”

I was.

Then she was smiling. “Come with me. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Across the hall, a noblewoman was chatting with some of more prominent guests. To an observer, she would look like an image of English virtue– face poised in a meek guise as she listened to a Duke speak, her lace dress a simple white, and her body language kept elegant but unobtrusive.

To me, I recognized her immediately from Sandra’s letters. The wavy scarlet hair, the dark freckles against pale skin. This was Rebecca Alistair. This was Sandra’s friend, the one she spoke so highly off.

No, I couldn’t think like that. Not friends. Sandra had told me in confidence much more besides. And Sandra was someone I always trusted, no matter how unusual the circumstance.

Sandra seemed to ignite when she crossed to Rebecca. Cheeks filled with a smile and giggles spilled from her lips; she pulled Rebecca away from her noble crowd. Rebecca seemed surprised, but not angry.

“Oh, Miss Sandra. What a, er, surprise. Do you have something pressing?”

Sandra leaned into her ear, and told her.

Rebecca’s face was a caricature of horror. “What? I, I could never…” she quickly dropped her voice to a whisper. “Sandy, are you seriously suggesting… in front of him?”

My face burned, pink reaching the line of my dark curling hair. I tried to look respectable by straightening in the dress-coat.

Sandy shrugged. “Like I told you, he already knows. Besides he’s a good man, just trying to make things easier for our friend Mellie. Come on Reby. You and I have both experienced how horrid it can be. Wouldn’t you want to save someone from that?”

Dainty hands ran through heavy hair. Rebecca tittered from foot to foot. I caught her glancing over her shoulder — there were Lord and Lady Alistar. I knew them from reputation. And a very stern reputation it was.

Then she was looking back at Sandra… and very much not at him. “I… very well. I trust you, Sandy.”

Sandy caught our hands in a sudden grip. “Wonderful, my dear ones. Now… let us leave this droll party for some privacy.”

We slid the door shut behind us with a giggle. The sounds of the ball dinner; the conversation and chitter of the nobles became hushed. Inside the parlor we were quiet.

Reby’s laugh faltered. She looked from Sandra to me, a nervous frown creasing her eyes. Sandra tried rubbing her partner’s shoulder, but the stiffness remained.

I remembered what Sandra had written about Reby being a private person. How she had never had anything like what she had with Sandra. I decided to aid her comfort, and strode to the piano. The cover slide back with an echoing thud.

The escort london piano sat at a corner of the chamber, with a beam of moonlight falling directly on the antique instrument. The door to the hall was positioned behind my back, and the only thing in front was a simple sofa tucked into the shadowed corner, cushioned and soft.

I began to play. A delicate melody I’d learned to describe the beginning days of spring. I kept my attention on the keys, and barely noted the girls getting into either side of the chair — a foot apart. I continued the tune, letting my head bob and sway. Reby was swaying too, much more relaxed. I caught Sandra smiling at me, with that Chesire Grin. Dammit Sandy, she had no shame.

But Reby didn’t stir as Sandra’s hand casually darted across the couch. Didn’t move as delicate fingers slid into hers, just shifting to let their hands interlock. They were holding hands, and it looked natural. Like two grown women I might see sharing a walk through the garden. Sure, their fingers did seem a tightly collapsed. And it might have turned a few heads when Sandra brought pressed hands to her lips. Certainly, when her tongue filled Rebecca’s-

My hands faltered, momentarily striking the wrong note. My companions didn’t notice. Sandra was fully concentrating, carefully flitting her tongue over the contours of her partner’s smooth hand. The tongue tip briefly circled Reby’s knuckle, before plunging down into the crevasse between thumb and pointer.

Rebecca made a sound in her throat. For a second, I thought she might pull away, but then she leaned back into the sofa. Her mouth drifted open into a moan as Sandra brought her more fully between her lips, lavishing her smooth skin with kisses.

Despite knowing the sight before my eyes was not for me, I couldn’t prevent the heavy beat of my heart. The way the two looked at each other — lidded eyes, an intimate sense of trust, gazes full of expectation– alighted a tension I’d scarce experienced. When their lips met, I found myself looking away, shame rising like a stick in my throat.

“Mm–muh”

I shouldn’t be here. What these two had was obviously special, incredible.

“Ah-ah- oh please”

I was nothing but an onlooker, some brash invader on what was purely personal-

“Yes. Yes, ugh, ugh, UHH!”

Dammit these women needed to quiet down before the whole manor came crashing in on us.

I ramped up the strength of my playing. Piano turned into forte as the melody turned into an anthem. My hands summoning up rollicking chords to drown out the rising enthusiasm of my companions. I spared a quick glance. Sandra was buried in the crook of Reby’s neck, seemingly biting into her exposed shoulder. Reby responded with a loud cry- F sharp I believe, which I covered with a chord of my own.

Our combined efforts took on a form of rhythm. Regular, elevated groans from Reby, covered by musical surges of my own. Such was the volume I almost didn’t recognize the approaching staccato until it was at our door. At the last moment, I recognized the sound of footsteps, and the din of the party growing as the parlor door slid open. I deliberately missed a note. At the discordant chime, Sandra looking up in annoyance- then her face paling in the dim shadows.

“Master Williamson…? The butler peered at me from the doorway. His wizened gaze blinked at me, while a wedge of light poured out from the door. The illumination caught me sitting on the piano, and came within inches of couple on the sofa.

“Your parents sent me to ask after you, sir. It’s not good form, to abandon the party in such a way.” He opened the door slightly wider. I noticed Reby desperately trying to pull her dress back into shape. “Your playing is wonderful. Surely, you could attend the piano within the ballroom-“

“No cause for worry!” My voice was bright, but also taught with command. “I appreciate my parent’s concern.” I softened. “Once I have finished… warming up, I shall return to play something for the guests.”

A pause. The butler’s gaze seemed to search the room, though I was confident — surely–he couldn’t see within its darkened corners.

“As you intend, sir.” The door closed with a click.

Reby’s voice came out in a stream. “I, I, oh. Sandy, that was so terrifying.”

And then Sandra was on her. Her muscled form swung onto her partner’s lap, her palms tracing patterns into Reby’s cheeks. “Exhilarating, I think you mean.”

“Sandy, if we were found… My parents. I simply don’t know.”

Sandra delivered a kiss to each cheek, firm and wet. “I know it’s scary, my love. But don’t fret so. People… Well. Some women are just very close friends.” She drew back, and I noticed a dangerous glint in my friend’s eyes. “And my love… I would like to be very close to you.”

Their lips buried together. Tugging, pulling, pressing- their movement against each other felt like steps to some dance I’d never seen. Somehow noticing my gaze, Sandra’s dubai escorts eyes snapped to mine. They narrowed, that dangerous glint still filling her cat-like pupils.

Sandra pulled away- was that disappointment in Reby’s gasp? and gestured me to come closer from the piano. “Now Sir Williamson, I believe we promised a bit of a lesson. Lesson number one.

“You men are always so simple. You think you will show your strength through forceful action. But no. For your wife, Henry, you must show her your strength through restraint.” As she spoke, her hands drew along the lacey crest of Reby’s bodice. With a slow motion, the dress dipped down, and Reby’s breasts bobbed up to rest by Sandra’s hands.

“You surely have the strength to ravage her. But instead, ravage her mind.” Sandra’s hands traveled. They dusted the hollow of Reby’s neck, traced the line of her collarbone, never touching the goose-bumped skin of her breasts. Reby swallowed. I noticed her roaming gaze, decidedly looking anywhere but at me. “The mind is capable of fantasies beyond number. Let her imagine, dream… of what you might do next.”

Sandra was so closer to her lover now, their noses almost touching. Sandra’s hands were at Reby’s middle, gently massaging the taught skin right bellow her tits. Reby shivered. “Sandra… what-augh”

Her words cut off into moan as Sandra’s fingers hands closed around her. I watched in shock as Sandra’s hands worked into her lover, massaging in circles, before abruptly tugging the breasts together The blood-swollen pink points brushed each other. I was in awe. Partly at the subtle grace in Sandra’s touch. But also in how she had waited. I was ashamed to admit it, but if I had been her lover, I’d have wanted attend to her breasts immediately.

But while Rebecca was quite obviously in an emotional state, Sandra seemed in control. She gestured me closer, and I reluctantly stepped close enough to see the red blush forming on Reby’s cheeks. Our gaze met for an awkward moment, before we both looked away.

“No, no. Come on friends, I need your close attention for this lesson to succeed.” Sandra caught my hand in its own, dragging the rough pads of her fingers over my palm as if to illustrate something. “Now, Henry, certainly the hand can be essential in this work. But for women… the tongue is queen.”

Sandra’s lips parted, and her tongue–pink and pert–darted forth. Reby’s eyes had time to widen before Sandra was tracing a spiral over her right side. I observed the tongue weave and fold, gentle against the reddened skin. Then the pink of the tongue met the pink center, and the two moved together like a painter’s brush on canvas. The motion was gentle, muscle wrapping and rubbing against the nipple, but Reby’s body was anything but. Her arms wrapped around Sandra– dragging her closer until Sandra’s mouth was filled to the brim.

My head beat with a drum’s cadence. And even though my own body seemed ready to burst with its own tension, I strived to capture the scene within my mind’s eye. The flexibility of Sandra, responding to her lover’s action by sucking fervently. Reby communicating her pleasure at this with palms spread, weaving into her partner’s hair. They seemed able to tell each other paragraphs without words.

And then Sandra was pulling back, only a rise and fall to her chest betraying her own passion. “Very-very good.” She kneeled before Rebacca on the sofa, beginning to unlace the shoes. “Now, once your wife has her mind ready, you’re ready to begin with the foreplay.”

I was confused. “Fore-foreplay? Playing what?”

But Reby seemed to know very well what was intended. Her freckled face flushed as scarlet as her hair, and she began kicking her feet in an effort to impede Sandra. “What- oh, good heavens. Surely, Sandra, you don’t intend to show him that.”

“I surely do. It will be one of the most important services young Henry can give his bride. And he’s very unlikely to learn it from his gentleman friends.”

“Surely? But we’ve only done it once before… I feel so shamed. And dear Henry, what will he think of me if he sees…”

I cleared my throat. “Lady Rebecca, you… you have my deepest respect.” I twirled a lock of my hair around my finger. “The courage you have shown tonight… Nothing can make me think less of you.”

Sandra had paused. “My dear. If you wish not too, then we shan’t. I am a cad for making you feel ashamed.”

“Yes, you are a cad, Sandy. A filthy cad.” Reby smiled down at her girlfriend. “Now get going. Take advantage of me if you must.”

They grinned at each other, and I learned something new. Sandra had stopped. She had given control to her lover. The last shoe dropped to the floor. Sandra’s nimble hands tugged, and lace stockings pooled around ankles. Reby was in no position of strength. But somehow, she had gained control.

“Henry, kneel next to me. You’ll need a scientist’s eye for this. But don’t touch her, of course. Or I’ll Escort Dubai break your hand.

“Very good. Now, here you can see my beautiful treasure’s undergarments. Pink, the same as her face right now.

“Sandy. Don’t dwell, I am my wit’s end!”

“Ah, perfection. Your wit’s end is where my pleasure begins, my love.”

Gingerly kneeled next to Sandra, I had to carefully balance within the cavern of Rebaca’s dress. Sandra removed the pink garment, to reveal- a mystery. Short dark hair, haloing a vertical crevasse of skin.

Sandra bumped her shoulder into mine, and I realized her conspiratorial grin matched my own. I was abruptly reminded of our childhood, roaming fields and meadows. That same smile as when we discovered a fantastic stone in a stream. Who would have thought my friend and I would share so much.

“Beautiful, isn’t she.” Sandra’s fingers caressed Reby’s thighs on either side of us. Her smirking face focused upon Reby’s center, and licked a gentle circle up that mysterious valley. And then… the valley opened. Skin opened up into itself, revealing a glistening flower of purple petals. Beautiful.

She became serious “Now, the capstone of the lesson. You men have your rod — with all the nuance of a thug’s club. But ladies, my love… Are a nuance and a mystery all of their own. You must treat her mystery with a scholar’s mind, an artist’s grace, and a sculptor’s chisel. Do you understand?

No. I was totally lost “No. I’m totally lost.”

“Good. Then you’re willing to search.”

“Now, watch us. And learn.”

I thought Sandra would attack the flower with the same vigor she’d shown earlier. But she came to Reby slow. Her tongue traced lines around the perimeter, dipping only occasionally. Above us, Reby shook, and I remembered the words about ravaging the mind. Sandra’s hands curled around Reby’s heavy thighs, tightening with a force that contrasted with the feather-gentle curl of the tongue.

The tongue curled at the flower’s base, plunging and retreating. She moved up, drawing circles further, further, until-

Sandra drew a tiny circle at the flower’s peak, and Reby bucked. The last thing I saw was Sandra seeming to respond, repeating the same motion. Reby’s legs clenched in. I pushed myself back to avoid grazing her skin, while Sandra settled further in.

On the floor, I couldn’t see Sandra at work behind the lace and cloth. But by know, I knew. She was listening to her loved one, circling that same point, responding to Reby’s pleasure.

On the sofa, Rebecca was alive. Her hands tore across the cushions, raking the fabric. Her lips pursed into a tight line, before exploding open with air. Her eyes were wild, before they fell on me.

At once she seemed to stiffen, and I was immediately worried. Was I to ruin it all? Reby couldn’t appreciate me seeing her indisposed in this way.

She kept me centered. “If my family… ah… knew I was like this… the shame would drench their name for generations.” Her hand drifted to her chest, tugging her breast into her grip. “I should stop, but I can’t. I… ugh… I’m a disgusting whore. I won’t stop with Sandra. Surely, Henry, you’re ashamed of me?”

Was her voice… pleading?

Under the dress Sandra started to speak up, but Rebecca firmly pushed Sandy’s mouth back in. “Surely, you’re ashamed of me?”

She was communicating with me, with words and without.

I assumed my most lordly posture. Back straightened, boot heels clamping the floor. My voice was slick ice, cold with disdain. “I… am disgusted. How your name has fallen, Lady Alistair. You are shameful.”

A low growl escaped her lips. She began to rut her hips forward into her lover. “So ashamed. I enjoy this so much, it’s so shameful.” Her dainty palm pressed harder on Sandy’s head. “Disgusting.”

“Indeed. The most inappropriate display I have every seen. If your noble line knew, I’m sure they would be shattered. Disgraceful.”

A plume of scarlet formed in Reby’s chest, rising up to her neck. The dress rustled and Sandra emerged, gasping. “Hah, hah… Henry, what happened, she’s gushing. I-“

Her eyes fell on Reby. A wicked grin spread over Sandra’s dripping wet lips.

“Oh Rebecca. Are you really going to let me take advantage of you in front of Lord Williamson? To let me fuck you while he watches… Are you that shameful?

“Yes,” Reby howled. “Yes, please! I want this lord to watch a women take me.”

Sandra was half back under the dress when she turned to me- and indicated two fingers plunging through a circle.

I didn’t understand it, but understood I should continue. “Really, Lady Alistair? You’d let a women take you? This was not how you were raised. The disgrace.”

“Yes, it’s a disgrace, it’s a disgrace and I like it.”

Her blush reached her eyes. But the play-act broke for a second when she smiled, and I saw joy in her visage. “I like her kisses, I like her laugh, I like her tongue, I-oh”

There was a noise and Reby’s voice choked out. Abruptly, I could hear a sound almost like shoes slapping against a wet country lane. Then Sandra stood up. Veils of cloth fell off her as she rose to meet Reby’s lips, kissing her fully.

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