A Victorian Virgin? Ch. 02

Lucy gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. She walked on in silence.

"It's a meeting house," Ned told her.

"A what?"

"Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough."

Room thirteen was bounded by a white paneled door with a well-polished brass knob. Lucy quickly unlocked the door and handed the key to Ned. As much as she would like to stay around to hear what the Doctor's lady friend said when she discovered the nature of the building he brought her to, she could not shirk her duty. Miss Price would be terribly angry. "Your meal will be brought up shortly, sir." She turned and strode back down the hallway.

"Where are we?" Victoria asked as Ned opened the door.

"I told you, we're in a meeting house," Ned said.

Victoria's heart jolted as she surveyed Room thirteen. The walls were paneled with wood, until about eye-level, where burgundy paisley wallpaper took over to the ceiling. There was a small, round table set with a white tablecloth and linen. The carpet was thick and luxuriously patterned in a Persian design. The only other item of furniture besides the table and two chairs was a huge four-poster bed, draped with satin covers. Suddenly, she understood everything.

She turned to leave but he caught her by the shoulders and pushed her inside. She staggered through the doorway and heard the key click in the lock. "Why did you bring me here?" she snapped, angrily.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ned said.

"I want to go home." Victoria rushed back to the door and tried the handle. She knew that it would be locked, but that still did not prevent her from frantically trying to turn it. She struck the door with her fist, then turned on Ned Hawke. "Let me out!"

He caught her flailing form in his arms, forcing her hands down to her sides as he clenched her waist. "Calm down," he said.

"I want to go home," she snapped, fighting out of his grip. Her grey eyes flashed angrily beneath pointed eyebrows. Her face, rather than being red with fury, was as pale as china.

Ned struggled to grip his nurse's body. His hands slid down her back to clench the narrow curve of her waist once more. Her hands were against his chest, pushing and squirming for release. "Calm down, Nightingale. We'll have our meal, and then I will take you home."

"You don't come to this dreadful place just for a meal," Victoria snapped. Her balled fists broke his grip and she flew across the room to the locked door. "What do you think I am?"

"Nightingale-"

"Don't call me Nightingale. My name's Vic- Miss Buckley!" Her slate-hard eyes shot darts of mercury at the man. "I want to go home!" She wondered where the key had gone. Mr. Hawke had definitely had it in his hand and had managed to lock the door, but where was it now? He had given the man at the front door both his jacket and coat, and now stood before her in shirt, waistcoat and trousers. It was a large key. She was sure she would see it if it was in his waistcoat pocket. All that remained to be checked was his trouser pocket, and they both knew she was not going to put her hand in there.

"Please, calm yourself," Ned said. "I promise you that we will eat our meal and then leave. No hanky-panky, or canoodling or whatever you like to call it."

"I don't believe you. You're repulsive. What gave you the idea to bring me to such a place as this?" Victoria was losing control of her voice now. She could hear it rising like the call of a boiling kettle, louder and more high pitched with every word that passed through her lips. Soon she would either scream or burst into tears.

"I just wanted a place where we could eat and be alone together."

"What made you think that I wanted to be alone with you? You told me that this would be a proper meal, with other people around-"

"To chaperone us? What made you think that we need chaperones? There has to be mutual attraction for anything improper to happen. By your own tongue, I know that you do not like me, Miss Buckley. Since you obviously dislike and distrust me, I believed that nothing could possibly come of this evening. You push me away at every turn. Why would I believe that I could try to bed you? Calm down, Miss Buckley. I won't touch you if you don't want to be touched." He saw the heat rising to the surface of those cheekbones and knew that he had her. She was embarrassed, not by the terms that he had used, but by the knowledge that she was indeed attracted to him.

"Sit down," Ned told his nurse, his little Florrie Nightingale. "Come now, don't be silly. Come and sit at the table to wait for the meal."

Victoria slowly did as she was told, seating herself uncomfortably on the opposite side of the table to Ned Hawke. She must have succeeded. He really thought that she did not like him. If that was what she had wanted all along, why did she feel so disappointed?

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said, glumly. She could not even meet his eyes. She stared at the white, embossed linen of the tablecloth, the shining silver utensils and the luxurious napkins. Everything was placed in an organized manner, everything belonged. She wished that her own life were as such.

His next words jolted her heart to her throat. "You're still very beautiful."

Her eyes rose to his face. The handsome, chiseled lips curved into an easy smile.

One pale blue eye winked at her from its nest of eyelashes. His dark hair, thick and brush-like, was in disarray from their altercation. Brown strands flopped down from his cowlick across his forehead. Her heart thudded so loudly that she would not be surprised if he could hear it. It was the feeling that one might get if they had stood on the roof of an extremely tall building and nearly fallen. Her body seemed to shake involuntarily with the knowledge that he was watching her. "You didn't mean a word you just said, did you?" Victoria asked.

"I did mean it," Ned replied. He continued to grin, roguishly. "I won't touch you unless you want to be touched."

The air she breathed seemed to choke her lungs. She gave a small, ragged gasp. Her skin felt hot and wet to touch. She knew that her face was reddening as her heart pounded blood to every surface.

"The problem is," Ned continued. "You do want me to touch you, don't you?"

Victoria found her voice. Her body screamed 'yes', but her mind said, rationally, "No. Please don't."

Ned watched his Nightingale with pale, serious eyes. Her cheeks were red with blood flow, although she had done nothing exerting. He was making her feel very uncomfortable. The knowledge made him hot and hard. He would not bed her today, or next time, or the time after. He had to make her ready, to teach her how to use her passion. "I think you're lying to me and yourself. Doesn't your blood run as hot as boiling water? Doesn't you heart gallop as fast as the hooves of a hundred horses? Do you not feel your heart pounding in your ears, in your temples and your hands? Do you feel your breath tearing from your chest in short, hard bursts? Do you feel both light-headed and giddy stomached? Are you wet with sweat? I think that you are. I think that if I touched you would tremble as your heart increased its pulse tenfold. You'd melt with sweat."

He rose from his chair and came to stand behind Victoria. She shivered as his warm hand gently caressed the naked skin of her hot neck. "Don't," she said, severely. He did not stop.

He pulled the chair she was sitting in back from the table. She felt his hands returning to her neck, tenderly massaging the smooth skin in tiny circles. She relaxed under his grip. Suddenly, she felt his hot breath against her left ear. "Stand up," Ned commanded.

"You just told me to sit down."

"Stand up," he said again.

Victoria did so. Her legs felt like liquid and she half expected them to tumble from beneath her. He caught his hands about her narrow waist and pulled her close. They were of a height, she being a very tall woman and he being an average height for a man. Blood pounded through her body as his warm breath struck her face. She felt giddy and weightless as she stared into his eyes.

Ned felt the stiff boning of Victoria's corset through the fabric of her dress and damned the man who had invented such contraptions. He wanted to feel the delicate curve of warm flesh on her waist in hands, the soft, full breasts pressed against his chest. He instead encountered the rigid form of her restricting underwear. Those soft breasts were squashed flat, that waist pinched tight, her internal organs displaced horrifically within her body. Why did women allow men to decide what they should wear? These boned jails were as monstrous as anything that had crawled from Dr Frankenstein's laboratory.

He watched her face as she watched his. Lovely stone-blue eyes, observing him in fear through a lens of tears. Her high cheekbones were pink with heat, guilt, or embarrassment. Her full lips were strangely relaxed in anticipation. He brought his hand up and ran his fingers down her warm, smooth cheek. He saw her eyes waver in fright and felt her skin stiffen at his touch. "I won't hurt you," Ned told his nurse. She was his now, he could tell by the way her arms hung limply at her side and her face did not avert from his touch.

He dropped his hands down to her sides and gently picked up hers. Her hands were hot and clammy with sweat. They flinched in his grip as he positioned them around his own waist, forcing her hips forward against his. He felt his own blood boil as he held her hands in place. God, he wanted her so much. He ached to kiss her lips hungrily and rock his hips against hers. Not yet, he told himself as his hardened cock dripped hot lubricant. Not yet.

Ned cupped Victoria's chin with one hand and pulled it forwards. His other hand cradled her soft, coiled hair. His lips moved forwards until they were an inch from hers. "Can I kiss you?" he asked her. Victoria gave a short gasp, then nodded. Her frightened eyes did not leave his.

Gently, delicately, his lips came to rest upon hers. For a brief moment, they touched. Suddenly, Ned pulled away from her, taking the tender hands from her chin and hair. He broke the embrace of the small hands upon his hips. "They're awfully slow with the food. I have a good mind to complain," he told Victoria.

Victoria felt herself melt inside. She was hot and cold at the same time. Sweat ran down her back, under her arms and beneath her breasts. She felt an unusual wetness between her thighs, accompanied by a weak pulse and great heat. Her heart thumped with a strange hunger. They had been so close. Why had he pulled away?

Ned observed the change in his Nightingale's face. She no longer appeared weary or frightened. He saw lust burning in her eyes, disappointment in the droop of her lips. He knew he had her. He advanced on her and grabbed her about the waist. His lips contacted hers with fervor, pushing, pulsing, manipulating as she hung limp in his arms.

When he finally released her, he heard the trademark gasp for air. Her eyes watched him with wonder, he thought. Wait. There it was, the smile, lighting her face like a beam of sunlight in a dark room. She was so beautiful. He felt his own body run with heat at the thought of holding this exquisite creature in his arms. "Sorry," Ned gasped. "I shouldn't have forced you like that. I am terribly, terribly sorry." He released her, once more, from his arms.

"I-" she said. "Please, I-" She couldn't bring herself to translate emotion into words. He was walking away from her, strangely toward the door. She saw him take the glinting key from his trouser pocket. "What are you doing?"

"I'll go and see what the hold-up is with the food. The woman at the desk said that it was being held warm and that they would bring it up immediately. It has been at least fifteen minutes since then. I'm quite hungry, aren't you?" He didn't look at her, merely inserted the key into the lock and turned it with a click.

"You don't have to leave because of me," ran quickly from Victoria's mouth. Her own hand clutched at his elbow, compelling him to turn toward her. She could not believe that she was doing this. What madness had entered her blood stream and forced her to behave in such a forward manner? What was this lust that beat so quickly in her chest? "I wanted you to kiss me," she whispered, in a strange breathy voice. "I liked it."

He had caught her, Ned knew. "Really?" he inquired, already knowing the answer. He had led her by the nose, although she did not realize it. Now she was his alone.

Victoria nodded. "Yes." She caught him by the hand and guided it down to her waist. The other she held against her breast. She slowly pressed her soft, muscular lips on his, feeling her heart leap in response. Gently she moved her lips as he had done to her, carefully manipulating his skin. Suddenly, she felt him answer her. He kissed her rapidly and hungrily, dragging her body to touch his. His hand left her breast and migrated to her thick, soft hair. She felt his hips thrust against hers. Her hands clenched his hard buttocks, forcing his hips to be still, locked tightly to hers.

Their lips fought and maneuvered for control of one another. Victoria felt herself become more and more light-headed and knee-weak. All she could feel were the hot regions where her body contacted his. She needed air and gasped hungrily for it when he finally released her. They kissed repeatedly, until a knock came from the door.

Victoria jolted from Ned's grasp, so far that she actually crossed the room to be away from him. The knock came again, followed by a woman's voice, "Excuse me, Dr Hawke, your meal is ready. Can I bring it in?"

Ned opened the door to Lucy, the maidservant who had brought them up to Room thirteen. Her eyes flicked from the calm man who answered the door, embarrassed looking woman who stood awkwardly beside the table, to the bed. It hadn't been used yet, but give it time, she told herself. They had obviously been doing something, else the Doctor's lady friend wouldn't be standing there as if there was a poker stuffed up her arse. God, she looked uncomfortable. Lucy smiled at her, wondering whose wife this one was. She had obviously not been to such an establishment before.

Lucy nodded to the girl behind her, holding the door open so the girl could push the dinner trolley through. Those trolleys were useless. The wheels always stuck when they were forced to swivel to travel around a corner. This one was kept on the first floor, the food being brought up by a dumbwaiter device. One girl had to transfer each dish from the dumbwaiter to the trolley, whilst the other girl loaded the dishes into the dumbwaiter from the kitchen.

Victoria regarded the meal that was laid on the table by the two maids. It did look and smell very good. There was some sort of meat in a rich sauce, potatoes, carrots, and asparagus. A yellow, creamy soup steamed from its bowls. A carafe of red wine and two glasses was also arranged on the table. Her stomach growled just at the thought of eating such food.

"Thank you," Ned Hawke said in dismissal to Lucy.

"There's also a dessert. I can bring that up in half an hour's time, Doctor, and clear away your dinner plates."

"I'm sure dessert will not be necessary," Ned said. "You can collect the empty dishes after we leave."

After the maids had left, they sat down and ate their meal. It was the best fare Victoria had had in a long time, although by Ned's standards it was quite poor. He did not tell her this, when she remarked what a lovely meal it was. Men did not come here because the food was good, he reminded himself. They came here to meet with other men's wives in private, where no servant's tongues could waggle or neighbors could pry. It served its purpose well. The decorations, if a little eccentric, gave an aura of wealth and respectability. The beds were clothed in the best linens and were more than large enough for two people. Of course, he would expect these standards for the large portion of his weekly allowance that he had paid toward the room earlier that morning.

He was not at all hungry, but he ate as much as she did, just as he prayed before the meal because she did. Everything was going so well. They talked about all manner of things. He reinforced his previous promise to find her a job, although where, he did not have the faintest idea.

"That was lovely," Victoria said. "I couldn't eat another bite." She delicately blotted her mouth of gravy with a linen napkin. Ned followed suit, leaving his discarded knife and fork resting on his plate. She watched him with worried eyes. "What are we going to do now?"

He stood up and took her by the hand. She rose to her feet and immediately locked herself into his embrace. They kissed ardently, until Victoria pulled herself from his arms. "You put your tongue in my mouth," she accused.

"I'm sorry," Ned said. "I'm guessing that you didn't like it."

"It felt strange," the nurse admitted.

"Could I try again, a little more slowly?" She nodded, as he knew she would.

He kissed her slowly this time, feeling her lips press softly to his. Gently, he parted those lips with his tongue. He dove carefully into her hot, wet mouth. He massaged her slowly until he felt her respond. The passion behind her response shocked him. Her tongue darted into his mouth violently, her lips moving brutally against his. Her small hands came up around his neck, pulling his mouth down hard upon hers. He felt her body squirm in his grip as his hands massaged her warm, soft buttocks. Slowly, he stepped backward toward the bed, pulling her with him.

Her hands left his neck, combing passionately into his hair. He felt her breasts arch forward against his chest as he took another step. Her lips continued to dance over his, pulsing in a hard, vigorous way. This was far better than he had expected. She wasn't pliant, she was fiery. He had had no idea that so much passion could be kept hidden inside a woman. He was sure that she had never done this before, he could tell by her original, frigid responses, yet she was learning so terribly quickly. It was almost as if she had been waiting for someone with the right key to unlock her. He felt himself grow hard at the thought.

Ned fell back upon the satin cover of the bed, pulling Victoria with him. Now she became tight and unyielding, struggling frantically to get away from him. "Please," he heard her say. "Please, I can't do this."

He wrapped his legs about her waist, pinioning her hips to his. A bad mistake. He felt her small fists rain down upon his shoulders, arms and chest as she struggled to free herself. She forced her knees upward to contact his buttocks and groin. "Stop it," she cried, frenetically. "Let me go! Please."

He reluctantly disentangled himself from Victoria, also a mistake, as she saw the erection that was almost bursting from his trousers. She regarded him with fearful eyes as she kneeled beside him. Locks of her dark hair had come free of their pins and hung haphazardly about her face. Her eyes seemed shrunken. Those red lips trembled vulnerably. He noted that she had not actually left the bed, indicating that she was not completely aversive to the idea of sex.

"Nightingale, calm yourself," Ned gasped. "It seems a waste to pay for this room and not actually try the bed, especially when it takes such a predominant position in the room. Just lie beside me; we don't have to do anything."

"I do not think that that's a particularly good idea," Victoria replied.

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?" Ned queried.

"It's not proper." Victoria gathered her clothing about her and set about climbing from the bed. He caught her pretty, thin ankle in his grip as she did so, preventing her from moving. She looked over her shoulder at his hand in disgust. "Please don't," she said. "You're being childish." She jerked her foot from his hold and stood up.