Saturday, February 18, 2012

Westmorland Chapter Three of the Regency Novella

Read the prologue, chapter one and two by following the links provided. Chapter four will be up in a week or so.

Dance at Bougival by Pierre-Auguste Renoir


Chapter Three

Claire could hear the click of the salon door snapping shut behind her and her silly heart fluttering in anticipation of what would no doubt follow. She could not hear Henry but she could not bring herself to turn around. Her skin tingled with awareness as her breath rushed forth at the encouragement of her fluttering heart.
He was watching her, his eyes fastened to her straight resolute back and he was instantly taken back to their first meeting in that very salon. They had all changed since then: her, him and the room. The room was French then – as his mother and her country – but it had since been transformed into a tasteful blue and white chinoiserie motif.
He had still been reeling from his father’s death and his break from Viola when he happened on her alone here waiting for his mother. She was Botticelli’s Venus from her flaming locks to stubborn chin and he was mesmerized, held captive by her and this strange feeling they had met before.
It was the first time in the year since Viola that his heart leapt at the sight of a woman and it filled him with dread. After all, he had loved Viola his whole life and she had abandoned him when he needed her most. He was terrified of this smiling goddess with her too wise eyes.
She had offered self-deprecation in answer to his open lustful stare and it made them easy right from the start.
“Is it not outrageous?” she had asked with casual point to her serviceably arranged hair the colour of liquid copper. “And because of it I’m not permitted to walk the fields during the fox hunt for fear I’ll be mistakenly taken down by an eager shot.”
“You are the young woman who is to help my mother introduce my sisters to society?”
“I am and I assure you that aside from my vulgar hair I am without impropriety.”
He had felt that a pity but had liked her right away nonetheless. She was quick to laugh, intelligent, alluring and quite simply a joy to be around. His entire family fell in love with her. His brother and both his best friends had proposed marriage to her but he had her heart.
He saw that now in the silence hanging between them and it humbled him. She had chosen him and had waited patiently for him. But, she would wait no more… that much he could see from her stance and that bothered him for he did not know if he could love her the way she deserved.
She was growing impatient with the silence that lingered between them, which was fine for he too had now found his resolve. Then she called for him, her voice an unsteady hush, “My lord?”
“Henry,” he corrected from where she stood unmoved behind her. “If this is to be all I'm given, then it must be Henry.”
“I cannot. I don’t want to.”
“You will. I promise.”
“Couldn’t you simply let me be happy,” she implored her face still facing forwards.
“And it would make you happy to never know my touch?”
“Better to never know your touch than to miss it for the rest of my days.”
“Then marry me,” Henry said suddenly at her side.
“I’d marry you in an instant if I felt it was truly the best thing but I’ve long since accepted the impossibility of it. I could be happy with Lord Addison and his children.”
“You’re wrong and it would only be time until you realized it. Then where will we be?”
“I’ll be someplace where I don’t hold my breath waiting for you to enter the door only to confess your love for some more suitable miss,” she charged accusingly. Henry placed an apologetic hand on her arm and Claire recoiled then snapped. “Don’t touch me. You’re always touching me.”
“I only touch at your encouragement.”
“You say that to me here? Now?”
“We aught to at least be truthful,” Henry countered. “You provoke my touch with your proximity and leering.”
“I despise you.”
“What if I told you I was careful to mine your want?” he said, leaning in so that his breath pulled at her skin. “What if I told you that I liked you looking, and that I take pleasure in the want I’m able to stir in you?”
“Then I would say you are as wicked as I suspected.”
“That only makes us two of a kind, darling for I’m nothing but the assent to your lure and if you marry this gentleman it will only be time before we are back to afternoons spent too close. Then you tell me how long after the constraint of your innocence stops being a hindrance will it take for us to come undone?”
“My word has value, my lord, and unlike those reckless wives who break their vows to entertain your whims, I will be steadfast and true,” she said turning fully around to look him in the eyes.
“You say that here locked in with me on solitary afternoon?”
“I say that in any scandalous setting you are able to conjure. I’m beyond what it is we do. I no longer wish to dream of your touch and hope for your love. I’ve had my fill of holding my heart until you reappear only to hold me hostage with your smiles. I can stand it no more and will bear no longer.”
“Claire that’s not fair. You’ve sentenced me without a trial.”
“And what testimony would you present if given the opportunity? Do you love me?”
“I’m yours. I can’t be without you. Let that be enough for now,” he said his hands on her face as he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. She kissed him back, her response instant, without falter and a surprise to them both.
The kiss was a homecoming full of warm comfort and gentle assurances. Both their hungry demanding lips taking refuge in the clear want and effortless giving. Each of them, in that moment,  the other’s soft place to land.
It was a deeply intimate kiss full of desire and longing, almost aggressively so.
Their mouths clinging greedily, as their lips part and their tongues licked a path to sweet surrender after a decade’s worth of want. Soon they were breathless and throbbing with naked lust. His hot lips were pulling over her own, swollen from their ravenous consumption.
He was filling her senses with raw sensual words as new awareness stirred to life in her womb.
“I’m all yours. Let me show you how much,” he said his mouth on her face his hands making her clothes and resolve untidy. “There is no end to me when I’m held to you. Will you let me show you, chérie?”
She held awhile and he kissed her until she relented, murmuring her compliance giving Henry permission to slide lower by inches, his lips hot on her neck his hands working at the fasteners of her frock until it gave and allowed him access to her beautiful breasts, lush and creamy with deep coral nipples.
Henry ran his hand over her breasts, squeezing them gently and Claire shuddered. Waves of excitement flooded through her body as his tender touch turned to more arousing strokes. She bit her lip, moaned in ecstasy and he filled his hands with the soft flesh of her breast and she arch up into his hand with a gasp.
He delighted in the privilege he was given, grazing his palms over her nipples already tight from his caresses, making her tremble as he furthered his exploration. Fondling fully every curve of her breast his thumb teasing and toying with soft flesh and tender nipples.
He lowered his head to lick at her aroused nipple causing her to groan blissfully when he pulled it between his lips and sucked, flickering his tongue with wicked deliberation. His hand moved with purpose down her body shifting and turning her until she was pressed lengthwise and he half on top of her.
His hands were on opposite poles, one at her breast as he suckled and the other on her ankle gently inching upwards in a manner intended to arouse and not startle. His hands moved, warm and strong up her calf, over her knee, stroking and pulling sighs of delightful surrender from a now shivering Claire.
His hands now assertive in the way of one confident of his skill as love as he moved closer to her center. Teasing with dexterous fingers between silken thighs and on to her willing flesh made moist because of his touch. Claire’s body quivered almost to the point of breaking as Henry’s touches became more intimate.
Then he took his mouth from her breast and grinned down at her, the look in his eyes saying, ah, but the best is yet to come.
He wanted to thrill her, show her some of the pleasure that could be had if she accepted his offer.
With this in mind, he, in one masterful move, lifted the hem of her frock with the hand that was at her breast and buried his head where is other hand played between her thighs. Running his tongue gently over the lips there, feeling her twitch in response with a whimper and he licked deeper dragging his tongue over the little hooded mound.
Caressing her until she jerked with a startled little gasp, her hands and legs clinging as her body wriggled closer. Her fingers twining through his hair to scrape over his scalp as she buried her heels of her slippers in his back. Henry winced against the pain of her demand before reaching up to grip her bottom and plunged deeper still.
Fluttering his tongue over the places he knew would pull ragged gasps and shuddering tremors, he was relentless in his administration delighting in her sweetness licking, sucking and nibbling until she teetered at the edge then he slid one of his fingers inside of her hot needy warmth.
Feeling her tighten immediately with want he pushed deeper in order to feed her craving and she lifted her hips to meet him, his name on her lips a continuous rhapsody of, “Henry, my god, Henry please I can’t bear it, Henry… Henry...”
She was close now, her breath coming in short, high-pitched gasps, her hips moving of their own volition. Henry pressed forward now with two very masterful fingers as he slid in and out in time while he sucked without yield at the erect little nub where all her desire was now focused.
Increasing the momentum of his touch, he stroked deeply, sucking and licking, fluttering his tongue until she buckled off the sofa cried out, her hands clenched in his hair. Then she was all warm ripples and melting bones as she fell back into the sofa, quivering orgasmically but he would not allow her to relax.
Suddenly he was desperate to mark her as his own, sucking methodically, keeping her at climax. Her body riding high as the rippling waves turned to pulsing spasms, that shook her violently threatening to turning her pleasure into pain. Then and only then did he release her, holding still until she came down.
When she sighed in contentment he licked her clean in a sort of grand declaration before lifting his head to hold her eyes while he deliberately licked at his lips.
“Hmm,” she nearly purred.
His own body aroused to strain his face smug satisfaction as he watched her breath returned to normal and she tided herself  but instead of the blissful heady elation he had expected she, with a sombre whisper, her eyes locked to his, said with near heartbreak, “You mean to get your way despite my reservations don’t you?”
“That’s not fair Claire.”
“Won’t you leave me be?” she pled. “I have nothing else to give and I find that I no longer have use for what it is you have to offer.”
“And this… Addison… he loves you?” Henry demanded angrily.
“No, but I don’t require love from him nor is he able to break my heart. He offers me purpose and the possibility of contentment.”
“You’re a coward.”
“And you are a heartless, pleasure-seeking, hedonist. So you see, we all have our cross to bear.”
“Better weak in restraint than a pious coward,” Henry said without bending. “Just imagine believing yourself in love with me then running off without declaration to shackle yourself to what’s safe because loving me has proven to be difficult.”
“I all but declared myself to you earlier this season, turning up at your home in the middle of the afternoon. I could have been ruined, taking such a chance and you treated me as errand girl, sending me off to the shops to purchase your mother’s birthday present so you could go cavort with Sir Crane’s widow.”
“Christ, I wondered after you had left… why you had come…”
“And still you did not ask.”
“I’m sorry Claire,” he said in earnest.
“I see that but it changes nothing. I love you, you do not love me and I will marry elsewhere.”
“Outside of my family there is no one I care for more than you. Not David or Morgan with whom I’ve shared three decades of friendship and that I think says something. Give me time to figure it out Claire.”
“I wish I could for both our sakes but I simply cannot. I couldn’t bear to wait only to have you confirm what it’s taken me so long to accept.”
“I care deeply for you. You know?” he vowed in earnest.
She could feel the tears in the back of her throat and swallowed painfully around them not wanting to shed tears in front of him.
She was without end. She loved him and could stand the heartbreak of his indifference no more but neither did she want to will him into marriage only to have him resent her once he discovered that he felt no more for her than he did for those other ladies he had loved temporarily.
Still what else could she do?
Then suddenly it was all every clear, her resolve of earlier. To give in to the want of their flesh until he grew tired of her so she might carry on with her heartbreak into her planned life of contentment with Lord Addison.
My love ,
Simone

Monday, January 23, 2012

Westmorland Chapter Two of the Regency Novella

Read the prologue and chapter one, chapter three will follow in about a week.

Demure by Johanna Harmon


Chapter Two

Henry took a moment there on the front steps to contemplate all he felt for Claire. He knew it was love and that it had been that almost right from the very beginning. That truth terrified him. She had the power to devastate his life and after the hell he had been through with Viola, he did not know if he could survive losing Claire.
She and the friendship they shared was the most precious thing in his life and now that his mother was leaving, he was going to need her more than ever. His siblings and friends had all long settled into marriage. He would be alone if she went with his mother to France but he did not know how he could possibly persuade her to stay without some kind of declaration.
Still without resolve, Henry returned to the blue salon where Claire sat patiently with the newly arrived tea service and he took the chair across from hers.
“Shall I pour you a cup tea or fix you a brandy?” she asked sympathetically.
He held a moment without bothering to answer with an expression she had never seen on him before, something serious and uncertain then he said, “Claire have you ever given marriage any real thought?”
“Of course I have,” she said looking at him now in earnest. “What female hasn’t?”
“Then why haven’t you married?”
“You know why.”
“No, I can’t honestly say that I do. You’re beautiful Claire. In fact, I can honestly say I’ve only know a handful of women whose beauty compares to yours and though modest, your family is respected.”
“Not modest, my lord, but paupers hence my vocation as lady’s companion,” she said with knitted brows. She could not tell what he was getting at and she didn’t like it one bit. She was accustomed to knowing precisely what he was thinking and was extremely bothered by this new interest in her personal life.
“Has knowing me stopped you from marrying?”
“Here now –”
“What am I to you Claire?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s been a full decade since you and I have been acquainted yet you’ve never once used my given name. Why is that?”
“You’re my employer.”
“We are friends.”
“Hardly that…”
“You don’t count me as a friend Claire?” he asked with open affront.
“Is friendship the only cause for this inquiry?”
“I’ll start there.”
“You either tell me what this is about this instant or you leave.”
“It has to do with you being in love with me.”
“I– What?”
“You’re here sacrificing your youth for the hope that I’ll turn up and brighten your day.”
“Let me stop you there before you embarrass yourself any further.”
“You needn’t deny it anymore for now that it’s been brought to my attention I’ve come to offer you my hand in earnest.”
“Good Lord.”
“Henry will do.”
“No, my lord. It most certainly will not,” said Claire. “Who’s responsible for this? Who would be callous enough to convince you of such a thing?”
“Do you deny it?”
“What do you really want?” she asked.
“You ask me that after a lifetime of friendship?”
“The fact that you are indignant does not help me for even the guilty are able to express righteousness and I’ve been your confessor long enough to know what you’re capable of.”
“Then you also know that if all I wanted was you in my bed it would not be a hardship for me. I see the way you look at me-”
“If you have mistakenly interpreted my pitied glances for an aged Lothario as anything but that well… it explains quite a lot.”
She lied for there was no denying that he had mastered the art of male allure or that you could very well seduce her out of her good sense, clothes or inhibitions.
He was the quintessential romantic English lord. He was tall, fair, lean and brilliantly proportioned with the sort of ratios that had undoubtedly inspired Michelangelo to put chisel to marble. He was beautiful and effortless with his clear blue eyes, wide shoulders and narrow hips.
He was sex, embodied.
He was built for it, smelled of it… Christ it radiated from his every pore with his lazy masculine smile to his easy fluid carriage. He was strong, intelligent and comfortable in his own skin. Men coveted him, women were drawn to the raw carnality of the air he exuded, and Claire was no different.
“What the devil is that to mean?”
“That you have an inflated sense of self.”
“From anyone else that might have been true,” Henry said. “It’s strange how I’m honest in all things in my life except with you. You with whom I hold my breath, trying always to be more than I am, younger, faster, smarter. All for you who expect nothing from me.”
“Are you telling me that our entire friendship has been nothing but a lie?”
“No, what I’m saying is I always make an attempt to present to you my best self but in the end I always fall short and through no fault of my own, I end up presenting to you my honest self. Though, why I should feel the need to defend myself to you who doesn’t even consider me a friend…”
“We are friends,” she conceded.
“And still you are an enigma to me, unseen but for your beauty. I know nothing of you, no vulnerability, no flaw, absolutely nothing beyond your pretty exterior.”
“You say that as if you hold me responsible.”
“Oh, but I do. You learned early that most are content to look upon a beautiful face, never seeing beyond its façade and you use it as armour to keep everyone at bay.”
“Why don’t you simply tell me what’s caused this sudden interest in me and my personal life.”
“Mother –”
“This is your mother’s doing?”
“She worries that your deliberate restraint at my presence is a sign of your deep tendre.”
“I’ll admit to you having a degree of allure but I would not go so far as to say it has altered my life.”
“Now, we both know that that’s not the truth and I feel it’s worth discussing.”
“There was never anything between us but a fleeting consideration and not even that if the truth is to be told. I was never more to you than an awed girl with unspoilt adoration but I’ve long out grown my fascination with the idea of you as romantic hero.”
“I was always so very careful with you, you know,” Henry said sincerely. “Ever mindful not to cross the lines of decency, never touched you the way I wanted. I let you provoke want in me time and time and again… but then, it’s never been a hardship for me for I’ve always delighted in the thrill and the chase.”
“None of this matters anyways. I hadn’t planned to tell you quite like this but I have decided to marry,” Claire said over her now strained emotions and his open stare.
“Is that right?”
“Yes. My Cousin Rachelle’s widow,” she offered steadily as Henry looked on with an easy smile.
Claire was bothered by his calm but she refused to let him see how much he was affecting her. After all, she was sorted now, she had just put him behind her and she would not allow him to upset her newfound equilibrium.
“Tell me, Claire. How long dead will I be when this wedding takes place?”
“You are being unreasonable. Besides I owe you no explanation and since that is the case I shall take my leave,” she said in preparation to leave.
“I’ll have my say, sweetheart.”
“What is there for you to say now that I’ve found an end?”
“Does that mean you no longer desire me chérie?”
“What does it matter what I want now that I’m no longer available to you?” she asked angrily. “I waited a whole lifetime for you to acknowledge what it was that laid between us and had your mother not insisted, heaven only knows what would become of me. No more. I’ve found a gentleman who is sensible and reliable.”
“And it’s your intent to build a life with this man based on qualifications that one seeks in a steward.”
“Better a gentleman with the resumé of a steward than one with the credentials of a malcontent, hell-rake.”
“Why are you trying to provoke me when all I seek is your comfort?” he asked with his continued irritating calm while she burned with barely contained anger. He liked that he was able to incite her out of her usual composure and took the opportunity to unsettle her further with a slow easy smile.
Poor Claire, she had never been able to tolerate the full effect of Henry’s lazy, self-assured smile and her traitorous body glowed with her want.
“I’d like you to leave this instant,” she said with dignity.
“Say it so I believe you mean it and I’ll not only leave. I won’t return unless invited to do so.”
“Why are you doing this to me now that I’ve found contentment?”
“Because what lies between us does not belong to you alone and I no longer wish to deny the attraction I feel for you.”
“You’re perverse.”
“I know,” he said with a wicked grin. “Why don’t you come here and let me show how truly depraved I can be.”
“And so smug. You’re convinced that you’re more equipped to resist my lure than I am yours.”
“Am I to take that as a challenge, darling?” he asked with a mocking brow.
“Now what kind of sense would that make? Why would I initiate a wager in a field where I have so little knowledge?”
“Surely you know that I’d be nothing but eager to teach you all I know on the matter.”
“Yes, alright then.”
“I beg your pardon?” asked a flabbergasted Henry.
“I’m accepting your offer.”
“Yes, I see that, but why now?”
“It will serve as a means to an end.”
“Yes?” he asked with a gesture for her to elaborate.
“It will cure you of me and affirm for me my belief that my choice of husband is the most sensible.”
“What the devil did you just say?”
“This is not meant to hurt you, you understand. It’s only that I’ve known you for long enough to know that you have not been able to sustain your interest in any female once you’ve had full physical knowledge of her,” she said. “In fact, I think it’s the only thing that’s kept you interested in maintaining our association.”
“You believe this to be true and still you continue to involve yourself with me?”
“I never said I was without fault. I know my judgement where you are concerned is not to be recommended and it’s for that reason I’ve decided now to go this course.”
“Oh, I see… Well, I wish you a good afternoon, Miss Maxwell,” he said before rising to take his leave.
“And to you my lord,” she returned with a triumphant smile as Henry rose to offer a curt bow before leaving.
Then something changed in his eyes and she knew, in that instant before he spoke, that she had given him the advantage by showing her hand too soon. He revelled in her loss, walking past her for the door as if he was nonetheless willing to concede. Then he stopped suddenly behind her with a, “Tell me, Claire… Have you already accepted this widower’s offer?”
“I will the instant his period of mourning is over and he sets forth his formal offer.”
“Brilliant,” he said suddenly bending to whisper in her ear, “For I wouldn’t want you to have to break your word once you finally accept that no one but me will do.”
He stopped for a moment so that she could feel the weight of his words while his breath, hot on her ear, pulled at her core. When he was sure she was well aware of the promise of the moment he brushed his lips over the eager flush of her earlobe with a, “I’ll see to it that we are not disturbed.”
Simone

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Lets stop running into each other this way

Misery is not seeing you and still there is no agony as great as your face at my door and no bliss compares to looking up to see your smiling face  there out of the blue


Flowers and Strawberries by Felix Vallotton
The Crush

You make of me a relic
A sort of dutiful pillar planted in quicksand but in time I’ll be covered
Hidden from sight
Forgotten by you
Only to be excavation and made valuable
Still it wouldn't have mattered for you would have been long gone
All but for the bits of you that remains a part of me
My love,
Simone

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Westmorland a regency novella

Read the prologue here, chapter two will follow in about a week.

Constance Ossolinska Lubienska by François Gérard

Chapter One
 “Marry me Claire,” Viscount Westmorland said to the stunning redhead seated across from him in his mother’s grand salon. “I can’t go on like this, another year. One of those ravenous maidens pinched me this afternoon in Harrison’s sitting room.”

“Shall I pour you a lemonade, my lord?” she asked.

“Marriage Claire. With children, grand estates and my eternal gratitude… Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

“And it would have to be you I marry?” she asked, eyes sparking with mischief as she extended a hand with the aforementioned lemonade.

“What keeps me suffering your awful company?”

“Does that mean you no longer wish to marry me?” she laughed.

“Did I tell you how Lady Riley lured me to tea with that sumptuous body of hers then tried to marry me off to her daughter.”

“She’s a lovely girl.”

“It’s perverse Claire. I could be that child’s father.”

“Oh, that’s right. You did court her mother when she was a débutante. Didn’t you?”

“Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?”

“No, my lord, but after a lifetime of knowing you I find I no longer have to make an effort. It just sort of happens.”

“I never liked you.”

“And still you would marry me?”

“Taking joy from my humiliation makes you depraved. You see that, don’t you?”

“Surely you don’t begrudge me my one happiness.”

“I realized something in coming here to see my mother.”

“And what is that, my lord?”

“I don’t like the company she keeps.”

“But I’m not company so much as companion and you pay my keep so you could, I suppose, instruct her to have me behave.”

“You only say that because you know full well she prefers you to me and would have me banished from the premises.”

“Nonsense,” his mother said as she entered, “Now stop bothering Claire and come take my hand. I have wonderful news.”

“I warn you, my dear. If this wonderful news of yours has anything to do with some suitable maiden I won’t be able to bear it,” Henry said as he greeted his mother with kind hand and a miserable smile.

“I’ve given up on finding you a bride and have instead found a husband for myself,” Blanche St John said pertly as she brushed pass her son to sit next to her companion.

“This is new,” Henry said to Claire as his mother settled.

“Have I your blessing, my angel?” his mother continued in spite of his rude dismissal.

“To whom have you decided to marry my dear?” he asked indulgently though he did not believe his mother would, at five and fifty, remarry.

“Lord Philippe Marcel. We are both widowed now and I should like to live out the rest of my days in the land of my birth away from this constant chill here in England.”

“Et tu Maman?”

“This was not done to you my angel,” his mother said defensively. “You’re three and thirty and I’ve dedicated a decade and a half to finding you a wife to no avail. No more. I will return to France at season’s end and you will wish me well.”

“And what of Claire?”

“Claire knows she will always have a place in my home, no matter where.”

“And you, Claire. You are willing to abandon England for my mother’s whims?”

“Your mother has been nothing but kind to me and if it is her wish to return to the land of her birth I will, if she requires it, attend her there.”

“Who else knows of this?” Henry demanded.

“If you’re asking whether or not your siblings know,” his mother said patiently, “Then yes, I’ve told them.”

“I see.”

“Don’t sulk, Henry,” his mother said, “It reduces you to a child.”

“Lest you forget, my Lady. I’m your child.”

“You, my Lord, are also peer of this realm, head of your brood and well past the hour where I’m required to suckle you at my bosom,” his mother retorted.

“What a thing to say to me.”

“You are a good man, my son, and you have seen us all well since your dear Papa’s death but it is time you saw to yourself.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“You use our care as a crutch,” his mother said plainly. “Your father was a lovely man even if a little rotten with the practical. I see that and understand how difficult it had been for you to care for us but you are now as wealthy as Midas. You did your duty and saw your siblings happily settled. For that reason I have not, until now, pushed, but I must insist.”

“Have I been a terrible burden to you maman?”

“No child,” his mother said, “But I worry we’ve hindered your pursuit of happiness with our unyielding demands and near constant crisis.”

“You mustn’t feel it is so.”

“And still I do.”

“Take heart my dear,” Henry said with guilt at having upset his mother. “I’ve been rotten in spite of your efforts. Marry Marcel and be happy.”

“You would pacify me now that I’m attempting to see you well?”

“I’m well when you are happy Maman,” he assured her, his voice warm but his tone firm and she knew there was nothing else for it.

“Will you come with me to Evelyn’s?”

“I’m not much for my sister and her constant offer of cheer just now, thank you.”

“Ah, ‘tis a pity for Philippe will be there and I so want the two of you to be better acquainted.”

“Don’t you worry, my dear, I shall make it my sole duty in the coming weeks to make myself known to your intended,” he vowed.

“Now, Henry. You must not terrify Philippe with your inquisition tactics. I want you two to get on.”

“And we will. The instant that I’ve instilled unholy fear in him,” Henry said with a charming smile.

“See me to my carriage,” she said with extended hand, “And Claire, my dear, see to it that he eats something before he leave.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The instant they cleared the salon his mother said, “There is a matter I need for you to see to?”

“You need but ask.”

“What do you feel for Claire, Henry?”

“She and I are friends, mother. But then, you know that so I suppose that isn’t what you’re asking.”

“You do not love her?”

“You ask as if you believe I do,” he said.

“I presume nothing but I see the way she is careful not to look at you and I’m a woman so I understand what that means,” his mother sighed. “That and I feel responsible for allowing it to go on so long.”

“What do you want me to do, maman?”

“Forgive Viola and embrace the possibility of happiness with Claire.”

“I’ve long made my peace with Viola and her betrayal.”

“Westmorland it does not serve you to hold tight to injury when so much awaits you on the other side.”

“My dear,” Henry said with measure and his mother adjusted her approach.  

“Then release Claire. She is nearly thirty and has made no attempt to marry in spite of my encouragement and offered assistance.”

“And you feel this is due to her friendship with me?”

“You doubt it?”

“I never gave it much thought.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you did?”

There was nothing else for it and suddenly his head hurt like the very devil. He watched his mother pull away in her carriage and lamented having answered her summons.

Chapter two here
Happy New Year to you all,
Simone

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

W/E

It would be easy to have married him or so she believes


Mijn Hart byErik Suidman

A wasteland of her own making

She would only divulge the bit that she was certain would cause her utter humiliation for at least then there would be a sort of penance. The entire thing had all but killed her, had left her broken and desolate, clinging to her isolation as a sort of sentence though she had long abandoned religion in hope of finding salvation.

She had been rich in sin right from the very beginning and had, by her tenth birthday, known self-pleasure enough to offer tutorial. It had been both comfort and shame but at least in that she was no different from anyone else who masturbated in a God-fearing land.

Then there were the boys who at first seemed to be co-conspirators for their parts in it but that was soon proven a lie. She had never needed them as much as they had come to want her and in that lay her tragedy. She valued the orgasm more than the device that got her there and since she was able to find fulfillment long before the boys arrived they would soon prove themselves no more than fallacy.

He had been the one that she wanted to matter, the one, in whom she had pinned all hopes for a normality of which she believed herself capable. She had given him what all the other girls wouldn’t but none of what was expected and in the beginning it had been perfection. She had no demand of his time nor had she required monogamy of him and in return he received all she had to offer.

She had not flinched at sodomy or gagged at fellatio but she would not allow him to penetrate her in the usual way. That he could get from any other girl. And they went on in their way until he wanted more, demanding of her truth, time and commitment.

She had panicked about how much she had lied to him. Not about other men for there was no one else at that time but him not really. There had been little flirtations but for the most part she had made herself so she had been just for him and even that had all been a lie. It was more intimacy than she wanted to own up to so she made it about something else. She made it about him.

It had been easy to make it about him possessing her in the one way she had insisted was sacred and it had taken no more than her confiding in the one man he believed capable of what he wasn’t. Her confidant was one his dearest friends but there had been a sort of rivalry between the two and she was a point of pride for her man. She knew this from the very beginning and there were times when he took pleasure from seeing his friend look at her with lust and at he with jealous. So, it had been easy for her to make it his torment.

A few smiles and a carefully placed hand was all it took for him to be consumed by it. Then he was left impotent, unable to find release, made insane to the point of meticulous action. In this she was a willing party and of course it would ultimately mean their end but what else could she do.

By November she was twenty-six and willingly lost, thus waited for him to act. When the time came he had kissed her in the manner of lustful teenager for nearly an hour on his sofa without hurry stilling her every attempt to put an aggressive end to their building desires. Then he was selfless, his face buried between her thighs. He had planned everything to perfection. He didn’t have to pause or rush forth with purpose for that matter. Once he had lifted his head to look her in the eyes they both knew.

He was not looking for her consent nor would he have proceeded if she had said no but he knew she wouldn’t have and not because she was swept away, for that she was not capable of. He knew only that she would rather sacrifice body rather than tell him a single truth and he no longer cared.

She braced for pain that never came and then it was nearly nice because for whatever reason it still mattered to him that she knew he had tenderness and capacity but it was for naught. She was in familiar ruins.
My love my care,
Simone

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Don't pick at it

You will only bleed and it'll leave an ugly scar


the intercepted love letter by Carl Spitzweg

Funny

Say it was good

No, say it could not have been better

And love me

No suffer for having loved me

And be turned inside out at the thought of not having loved me

Say perfect is knowing I’m part of you and you can’t bear me being torn away

No, say aguish is your leaving and having me be a compliant accomplice

And insist on my blood, tears and regrets so our end is as our passionate beginning
My love my care,
Simone

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Suddenly the impossible...

Someone who knows me completely

If I were to marry it would be to someone to whom I was able to show all the awful bits of me. All the deep dark secrets pieces that I keep hidden in order to save face and protect heart. The tender vulnerable little girl parts of me that won’t let anyone see her cry and who leaves before she can get hurt or never bothers getting too involved because she is too afraid. I don’t know I’m capable of it and understand that it is an ideal that could easily be lost to want for children or fear of being alone. I’m at least self-aware enough to know it would take me trusting enough to let go my control and being honest.

Anne-Louis Girodet de Roucy-Triosson's Hortense de Beauharnais

This would not be easy for me and not because I’m unwilling but because it is fundamentally who I am and fundamental to the person I’ve grown into. In my family keeping secrets is a mitzvah and as romantic as I am I'm able to see with clarity the woman I’ve become. She is no less than a perversion of the ideal girl I wish I was but never was capable of being. I will more than likely marry without having shared more than the necessary bits and sadly it will be enough.

I hope against all that I’m wrong

My love my care,
Simone