Marie secured her door behind Sarah as she took her leave to get a little sleep. A silent hallway greeted her friend as she departed; everyone else was sleeping off their evening exertions and the effects of wine. Gliding over to the table, she settled herself into the chair and gazed at her reflection in the mirror.
Since she had no one to entertain that night, she had eaten dinner with Madame Lambert in the dining room after the women departed with their patrons. She managed to sleep some, but now she was wide-awake. Her eyes were clear and bright, her complexion cool. No blood, no pain, no shame.
She wondered if sex had any merit at all. Men seemed to enjoy it, the sweaty union of two bodies and the climax at the end. The fact that many men returned to this place numerous times and paid handsomely for the privilege of their company proved its efficacy. But what was in it for women? Surely it was not an act meant to be endured instead of enjoyed.
An image of Lily came to mind. The girl bragged about the pleasure she gave men, and often spoke of the delights she received as well. She even mentioned with a giggle that thinking of Edward made her want to "touch the naughty places" on her own body.
Marie leaned closer to the mirror and inspected her visage. Was she pretty? Did Edward find her attractive? She looked nothing like Lily, whose voluptuous figure drew many a male gaze. Her own breasts seemed quite small in comparison.
Perhaps it is more than a physical feature, then? Marie frowned, tapping her fingers on the table. Why am I even pondering this? She wanted nothing to do with the so-called master of the house. She would attend him only because he employed her, nothing more. I've already slept with one worthless man. Surely this is more of the same.
Then why could she not stop from thinking about him? His dark golden curls, his mobile mouth, those strong-looking hands. She imagined them clasping her waist and drawing her close. She thought of his fingers touching her cheek, tipping up her chin, his breath fanning her face as he brought his lips nearer to hers...
Marie slipped from the chair and lay on the bed. She wore only her shift and her thin silk robe buttoned in the middle. Her mind played with images of Edward lying beside her, wearing nothing at all. Disgusted, she realized that she was putting his head on the body of the man who stole her virtue, and this did nothing for her. But when she imagined Edward standing before her as he had in the greeting hall, removing his garments, letting them fall to the floor one by one, she felt a warmth build, like tinder feeding a fire.
Her fingers stroked the silky edge of her robe, tracing all the way down to her leg. Too embarrassed to look down at herself, she dragged at the shift until it mounded around her waist. She used a single fingertip to tease that warm spot that seemed to grow in heat under her touch. She added another finger, and another, until she was fully stroking herself. She thought of Edward's mouth, how it could engulf hers. She thought of his palms cupping her breasts, his tongue circling the hardened nipples. Her other hand plunged into the pillow beneath her head, and she moaned aloud, arching her back. The sensations spread through her body until she was ready to scream with ecstasy—
|
