would soon return. I wondered if she had said her prayers in French these past few days, and were her stockings straight, as mine had been. 'Shall we play croquet later, do you think?', Jane asked. I stared at her, and Arnold gaped. 'Two balls and a stiff stick', she murmured in my ear, then bit the lobe of it, made me say 'Ouch!' 'I say!', said Arnold. -'Oh, be quiet', said Jane to him.
I laughed; the laughter welled up from within, threw my head back till tears came in my eyes and Arnold's face became a perfect blur such as I wished it ever to remain.
CHAPTER 8
Some houses have little to be said of them, except they stand foursquare and have sufficient greenery to flirt and flow around their stolid walls, shrubs flourishing, upstarting trees, and sad, brown borders that lament the deaths of flowers when Autumn comes. Arnold's-I should say his father's, rather-was imposing, turreted in the fond manner of an architect who believes the Crusades still to be unfinished. Armoured, hollow men stood in the hall. All looked baronial and overdone. I did not like the crossed assegais on the walls, the hide shields. The stuffed birds were nice. 'We shall have pleasant days here', Constance said. Arnold dispersed himself upstairs. The drawing room was langourous and grand with silk and braided chairs, a crimson ottoman, a fine old Davenport. 'It may be so', I answered cautiously. Her Mama, Hilda, weighed me up and down and smiled. Jane fiddled with some cut flowers, looked about, and had an air on her as if she did not mind the place. My room-I had my own room, as it seemed- was next to that of Constance who then guided me around. 'The beds squeak sometimes-are you used to that?', she asked. 'I am, yes', I replied and stared her out, at which her eyes dropped, disconcerted, as I thought. 'We favoured you with lips and tongues', she said and then embraced me quickly as if I might retreat. I did not fold my arms defensively between us and was kissed upon my eyelids just as James had done. How easy it becomes to tell ourselves sometimes that such and such a one is nice when they are not! I wished to say she had outraged me, though in aftermaths I never bleat.-'You are delicious to make love with-did you know?', she asked. 'You know much more about it than I do-or seemingly. Where, then, is Arnold?' 'He? He will be seen to. Do not fret as to his cause. He has his weaknesses; I know them well.' 'I'm sure you do'. I turned my back on her and fiddled with the curtains. Velvet green they were, and not quite to my taste. Quite unabashed, she came behind me, licked her tongue around my neck. 'I am not incestuous, Emily. D'you think I am?' 'I care not…', I began, and then her Mama came in. I felt the smile of Constance on my neck together with her pointed tongue that made me quiver-tickle-tingle all at once. Her arms around my waist, my bottom bulbed into her belly, still she did not move. 'Shall you play maid at tea, or Emily, or Jane?', she asked. 'I? No-I did it yesterday, Mama, or was it last week? So much happens here'.
'Last week? Last year? Your legs were much admired. Dear Emily, she does not know of what we speak, though. Let her choose between herself and Jane. It is her day'. 'It is? I had scarce noticed if, I said. The sun's rays were stooping shallow on the lawn. A blackbird uttered its bright song. 'She has a touch of humour on her, Mama, does she not-it is very sweet. You are sweet; did you know that, Emily?' She turned me-all were fit, it seemed, to turn me as they would. I wished to beat at her, at her brown dress. Instead, I laughed, and thought myself a fool: a weakness in me I could not disperse. In their strange commonness, bizarre of tongue, was a rough strand of jollity that meant not to offend. Hilda departing, Constance stroked my face. Fingers of velvet, yes, she had. 'You have not played “maid”?', she asked. 'It is not so common in the county here. Papa says it is not, at least. A girl is dressed up as a servant girl, but with a skirt that shows her legs, and with an unstarched blouse with buttons all undone. She serves, we toy with her, then Arnold takes his pleasure of her. Such he is allowed to do.
Papa may spank her first, though-make her ready for the cock. Are you cock-ready, darling? Tell me yes!' 'I have… I have been. Does he-does he do it in your sight?'. I wanted not to know, and yet I did.
Pressed to the wall she kept me, and our thighs were warm. Julie would come and tongue us both, perhaps. Mad thoughts invaded me-I in this house, this strange room, with its camphor smell, the scent of polish redolent on wood. 'That is for you to say-or rather, it is now'.
'I have a choice?' Sullen my mouth. I altered it and smiled.
Tomorrow I would flee with Jane, I told myself. It mattered not as to the evening or the night. 'Of course, you silly. Is not love here shared? I will play a little with his cock. I promise you, I do no more than that. He is so timid really, one can handle him at will. His prick bursts in long, fine-spurting flood. Surprising, really, that he does so much. Ah, Fiona- yes, come in-what do you say? Shall it be Emily or Jane to play the maid today?' 'Neither', said I, and hooked her stare. 'You said the choice was mine-so be it. Fiona here shall play the part. Dress the girl quickly and be done with it. I would soon as see this play as any other'. 'But I don't want! Oh, not with Arnold, no!', Fiona uttered, pouting, shifting feet, tugging at dress. 'Fiona, she has never watched before. It is her due to see- today. Another time, another place, all will be different. Once and only once-you will for me?', so Constance wheedled, but I then stood firm, said it was my wish and not hers. At that, Fiona turned and ran downstairs, I following and Constance in my wake. 'The maid is Fiona', I announced. The congregation was complete: Arnold, his parents, and my sister sat as though all waiting for a train.
'You take command?', her father asked, his eyes amused, his mouth a line of doubtfulness. He lounged in shirtsleeves-a very common touch-as Arnold did, their collars off. I felt then in the long, ensuing hour that I had wandered on a stage-in view of audience-where an unwritten play was to be performed. Some altercation had ensued, but Fiona finally was sent upstairs, was dressed her part, and came down with a vague attempt at shyness, on her own. A skirt, much cut, of dusty black, came to her stocking tops which, like a servant's, were of the same hue. Unbuttoned was her blouse: the half-moons showed. Her hair was caught up with a ribbon tightly tied. 'Serve me. I will have port-the others, too', her father said and winked at me a vulgar wink that I ignored. Too long she was about it and was fetched by Jane who did not mind the chore and afterwards confessed to me that she had felt the girl a little, found no drawers, and 'tickled up her pussy just for larks'. Fiona was flushed when she came in, found us expectant, served her Papa first. I wondered at his hand that hovered near her thighs. He did not touch, though, and merely smiled.
Arnold did neither, for I stared him out. Hilda sniffed at her glass and rose. The night would be long, she said, and drifted off to go upstairs. 'Do you wear drawers, you naughty servant girl?', asked Constance of her sister when it came her turn to take a glass.-'No', said Fiona pettishly and made to make her exit, but her sister caught her wrist. I suspected some contraction of the action that might normally obtain-yet in all truth they had not the finesse for it.
Erotic moments, as I have long learned, must be played slowly, rather as a string quartet expands a melody as if to say, 'We may not finish here today'. Knees should be shown, the stocking tops displayed, a rim of thigh above-no more than that. First kisses should be soft, exploratory, the bottom rolling, wiggling, as one walks.
Hands may explore the tits outside the dress, but not within. A bedroom may be entered, but one sits at first, with thighs displayed, upon a sofa, toying with a prick not yet revealed to one, with fingers languorous-not too excited then-around one's quim. In such a mood, I have been come upon long since by a maidservant, but I did not stay my caressing hand, nor he. The girl looks slyly, sideways, at the pair. If she is clever, skilled at boudoir games, she may dust around a little, even humming to herself, and then depart- perhaps have glimpsed at last the lady's legs apart and seen her fondly tickled muff, the gentleman's stiff prick displayed. The couple may ignore her presence or, if the maid is pretty, may then call her back into the room and invite her to join them on the waiting bed. 'No drawers?
Why, how provocative! Go to the gentleman you first served, then, and ask his pardon for your rude display', said Constance to her sister who, hesitating, was ordered to put down her tray, given a push, and wandered with her finger in her mouth to her Papa. 'Yes?', he enquired.-'I have no d… d… drawers on sir', said she. 'Is your bottom, then, so warm you do not need to wear them? Let me see it; lie face down across my lap'. 'Oh no, Papa-I mean, sir-please!' A real wail from Fiona. Was it real? He seized her wrist and made her tumble down, face forward, belly on his thighs, and flipped her skirt up. The black stockings made her thighs above gleam sweetly. 'No, no!', she shrieked as he uncovered her and brought her bottom to our view. Chubby the cheeks were, plump with girlishness, the chasm tight. I could not resist the sudden thought that it invited explorations. Her ankles were towards us. Bent far over as she was, palms flat upon the carpet, one could see her nest, the peeping fig of the tight cunnylips. 'Sir, please-oh, not too hard!', she cried, then SMACK! His palm descended on her rumptious
