The King`s Coat

He slid over to lump beside her as the coach left the cobbled town streets for a country lane with an uneven surface. There was only a hint of the moon, and the interior of the coach was dark as a boot. ’I know about you midshipmen.. ‘. ’Oh?' he archly queried. ’Won't do nothing to hurt their chances.’

’Urn. I suppose so…' he had to allow. ’My parents're pushing for a good match.’

’I believe I had noticed that at diImer.' He sighed. ’So if I wanted me a good match, I'd be having a young captain see me home, wouldn't I have?' she said, turning to press against him. ’Most-like,' he said in the dark, trying to slide away. 'Nobody wants a midshipman with no prospects.’

’I hardly rate myself as one with no prospects,' he fumed, in a pet that he had to be there in the first place, and for being told he was a nobody in the second by a colonial… nobody! 'Being a good little girl is such a bore. Ever do it in a carriage?' she whispered, leaning close and laying a kiss on his cheek, all but bouncing with excitement. ’Now look here, that's all fine for you, but if you turn up with a Jack-In-The-Box, where am I?' Damned if I haven't had my fill of these island women. Leading you into promises or pushing you into the bunk like you have no say about things. 'Well, don't you know that the blacks know how to stop babies?' she said, stroking his cheeks. 'There's half a dozen men with better prospects I could blame it on, anyway.’

Well, if that's so, the whole evening won't be a waste, he told himself. ’I'll have to marry one of 'em sooner or later, but for now, why can't we have some fun?' she said into his ear. She took hold of one of his hands, and forced him to seize a breast. It promised to be as full and heavy and round as he had imagined. 'I like doing it in a coach. Ever so nice. So dark and cozy, and the coachee not knowing what's going on, or if he does, he can't do a thing about it, can he? And the people by the side of the road who can't see in while we're having our fun?' Lord, You will remember I was ordered, he sighed. He tossed his hat on the opposite seat and turned to her. Within a minute he had his waistcoat and coat off, and his breeches down. He unbuttoned her gown and played with her truly magnificent breasts as she hauled up her gown and petticoats.

She spread herself open for him and propped her feet on the opposite seat while he half-knelt before her, his knees precariously perched on the seat between her legs, and gripped her buttocks. ’Oh, God, yes!' she whispered happily as he slid into her deeply. His knees slipped off the upholstery, but his feet were firmly planted against the front of the opposite bench. giving him purchase so he could thrust into her. Once engaged, he became excited and drove hard, partly for the enjoyment, partly to take his anger out on her for press-ganging him into leaving Lucy at the ball. Aemilia didn't care if he was performing with a knife at his throat, lost in her own joy and delighting in crying out just loud enough to tantalize their black coachman on top of the box. That also excited him, and he forced her to turn and present to him after her first pleasuring, still iron-hard and eager to gain revenge. He exploded into her, hoping that she was impregnated and forced into an unhappy marriage with one of her 'better prospects.' Wants servicing, does she? I'll give the bitch service! She was nimble and eager for more after some cooing and sighing, and he bulled her allover the coach for the rest of the trip, slamming into her hard, and ending with her head down into his groin as he sat on the seat and watched the suggestion of a planter's house loom up from the darkness. He ordered the coachee to stop for a while as he filled her once more, even though she was beginning to protest by then. She was shaken by the time he handed her down, and scurried into her home without looking at him. He shut the coach door and climbed up by the coachee, snapping the whip to speed their passage back to English Harbor.

'The things one is forced to do for one's admiral,' Alan said as he entered a dockside inn and found Ashburn still up, dozing over a pipe and a glass of wine. ’With that little country-put?' Keith asked, jealously. 'Just got back. Damn troll like to have had the skin off my back,' Alan said, motioning for the waiter. He was dehydrated by his exertions, and badly in need of ale. 'How was the rest of the ball?’

‘Wonderful,' Keith said. 'Ozzard got stinking drunk and had to be carried home. Lucy stayed 'til about one and then went home with her aunt. Far as I know, Sir Onsley is still tippling port with the dockyard captain and that ugly old general.' The door slammed open and a roistering party of Army officers staggered in, hooting loudly, calling for drink, service and spare women. Lieutenant Wyndham was with them, as well as the little Ensign Ames who had been at-table with Lewrie at dinner, plus two more lieutenants and a captain of some years named O'Boyle. ’We want your best, not common swill,' O'Boyle said as he swayed over a table. 'Not the usual stuff you trot out for sailors an' whores.’

’And we'll only pay for what we like,' Wyndham added to the cheers of his mates. 'Here, I don't like this glass!' It went into the fireplace, raising another cheer. Several naval officers began to look for their hats. ’Sufferin' Jesus,' Ashburn said. 'There goes a fairly nice public house. Behold our Army, the Drury Lane Fencibles!’

‘Wonder what got them out of Hyde Park?' Alan speculated. 'Gambling debts?’

‘That was good enough for Admiral Rodney.’

’This will do, barely,' the ensign told the publican. 'Though it's piss compared to the cases we brought with us. ’

‘I don't need no trouble with the watch, now, sirs,' the publican told them, grovelling and trying to watch all of them at the same time. 'Maybe ya might be findin' yer own better ta drink at this late hour.’

’There's a cod's-head I know,' Wyndham shouted, pointing at Keith and Alan. 'Ashburn, and little Cap'n Queernabs… Lewrie or something, ain't it?’

‘Your servant, sirs,' Keith said, raising his glass to them. 'Come have a drink on the 12th Foot,' Wyndham said, which set the officers off on a regimental ditty that made no sense at all, set to a nonsensical tune that resembled 'The World Turned Upside Down.’

’They look like they can pay,' Keith said. 'Want to?’

‘Free wine. Never refuse a treat.’

It seemed that they were all from London, or close thereabouts, so they spent a lively half hour reviewing plays, raree shows, gossip, and comparing mutton they had bulled' The 12th Foot had given up a half-battalion, a grenadier company and two line companies, which were to transship to St. Kitts to upgrade the defenses. The rest were still enjoying the pleasures of London, and this batch was mortally offended that they had been thought dispensable. The captain was Irish, which meant that he felt disposed of by the more fashionable officers, and was morose as a Paddy could be after having been sent to fight a war, while his English compatriots still rogered and swaggered through the towns back home.

More wine was called for, and the empties went smash into the fireplace. Gradually, the noise drove most of the other naval sort of customers away into the night. ’Lewrie,' Lieutenant Wyndham said suddenly. 'Now I remember you. You were at the ball this evening.’

’Aye, I was.’

’With that tasty little dish Lucy Beauman. Gentlemen, you remember the blond tit I taught cards to?' Wyndham asked, and received their drunken and heartfelt assent. 'A lovely piece, was she not?’

‘Admiral Sir Onsley Matthews' niece, yes,' Alan said, looking at Keith, who was beginning to sense trouble as well. ’I'm told you've been dashing, Lewrie,' Wyndham said. 'Particularly dashing, I believe was the lady's term for it. Burned a privateer all up with your own little hands. Saved a ship of the line, too.’

’Alan has been busy since coming to the Indies,' Keith interposed quickly. 'I was in Ariadne with him, both midshipmen at the time. Let me tell you-’

‘In fact, that was all I heard from that bitch,' Wyndham broke in. 'And I don't want to hear any more of it.’

’Here, now,' Alan said evenly. ’I shall make it a point to taste her pleasures, even if she is a lowbred island trull. Gentlemen, charge your glasses. Let's drink to my next mutton!’

‘Warren,' the Irish captain warned. His mates had gone silent at the provocation. 'No, I want us all to drink to Lucy Beauman,' Wyndham insisted, swaying to his feet. 'I'll play the upright man and break that little dell, though she wouldn't be fit company at home without half a crown for socket-money. Unless Mister Lewrie here has already strummed with her, then I won't go over a shilling.’

Alan tipped his wineglass and spilled it on the table. Keith did the same and they both rose together. 'I shall speak for both of us, sir,' Keith said, almost grinding his teeth. 'Such billingsgate about a fine young lady we would