A Victorian Virgin? Ch. 05

She had no idea what half the statements he had said meant, or what he was trying to say. "You didn't take advantage of me. I- I ripped your shirt I wanted you so badly. I would have ripped your trousers as well, had you not unfastened them. And it felt good, it didn't hurt- I liked it..." Her eyes studied his in question. "I don't understand the other things you said, sorry."

They were still standing so close, that had he wanted to take her again he would only have to advance three inches. Her red lips were but a tantalizing handspan from his, her eyes just as far. She had not pushed her skirt back down, and it existed like an umbrella in the space between them, shielding her line of sight from his arousal either the first time around or now. Gently, he ran his fingers over her soft lips and felt the plump ripeness of their form, guarding the wet mouth beneath. He knew that if he kissed her now, he would do her again, just as quickly as before. So instead, he traced the curves of her face and neck with his hand and felt the soft skin. It was almost more arousing than kissing her outright.

"There are a few things that you need to know," Ned told her, as his fingertips massaged her jaw-line. He could tell by the reddening of her face, the intensity of her breathing and her hot skin that she was aroused as well. "The first is that sex doesn't hurt. That's a lie that they make up to stop girls running off with every Tom, Dick and Harry instead of getting married. Actually, quite a few girls do go off with Tom or Dick or even Harry, or two of them or both of them or maybe even three of them- Let me address the issue once more. The fact is that it only hurts the first time, if the lover is inept and the woman is unready. It also hurts if the woman is forced. Other than that, sex doesn't hurt at all. It feels quite good, don't you think?"

Her answer came out in a ragged breath, "Yes."

"Secondly, what we did just then is what I would call fucking. Or just plain sex. What you needed, and what I should have given you, was lovemaking. That way we would both have been able to savor each other's bodies, you would have been more likely to climax and I would probably have lasted longer. However, I guess we got a bit ahead of ourselves. After all the playing we've been doing, I can understand that. Indeed, perhaps I should not have lead you on for so long. Your frustration has been borne out on my shirt.

"The last thing you need to know is that climax is what I did and you didn't do." By now Ned's fingers had left her cheek and were back down beneath her skirt, slowly massaging the flesh of her buttocks.

"Are we going to do it again?" Victoria asked. Her fingers looped around his neck and pulled his face to hers.

"No." He ran his fingers around her hips until he felt the soft skin at the base of her stomach. With one hand, he drew tiny circles with his fingertips, whilst his other hand traced the line of her inner thigh.

"What are you doing?" Victoria whispered as she felt his fingertip brush the tiny knot of her sexuality. The pulse of her heartbeat seemed to become louder and faster like the pounding hooves of an advancing horse. She didn't know whether she should let the strange muscles between her legs contract or relax to let the tingling feeling of his finger increase.

For a moment, Ned ceased his manipulation. He kissed her tantalizing lips. She responded violently, her lips pulsing against his mouth as if they wanted to devour him fully. She thrust her hips forward against his arousal, her hands drawing him tightly to her body. His eyes flashed up to hers and he saw her excitement burning as bright as the flame of a candle. Pulling away was all he could do to resist entering her again. "No," he heard his lust-coarsened voice say. "Not yet."

He dropped to his knees and drew her skirt over his head. "What are you doing?" she asked, almost in panic.

"Hold your skirt up, so that I can see what I'm doing," he told her. "If you feel like your knees are going to buckle, just lean back against the door."

She seemed to suddenly realize what it was he was about to do. "Wouldn't it be easier if I lay on the bed?"

"No, the bed's for tonight." He stared at the hair of her pubis, so dark and coarse in comparison to the white, soft skin of her belly and thighs. Gently, he nudged her legs further apart, taking in the glistening, pink skin of her arousal. "Beautiful-" he heard himself gasp as his own arousal heightened. He drew his fingers along the wet flesh and parted her further, his tongue stroking her swollen skin whilst she shivered above him. His fingertip slipped into her opening and massaged her inside as his lips began to suckle her arousal.

Her breathing increased as heat rushed to every surface of her body. She couldn't breathe. She could not draw enough oxygen into her lungs. She heard herself gasping like a fish out of water. She felt her insides jolt and quiver as if they were trying to escape fire. And everywhere he touched her seemed to shiver and grow hot and wet. It was as if she were on the edge of a great precipice. The strange jolting that she felt in her heart was the same feeling she would get if she nearly fell down the precipice. She thrust forward against his mouth, wanting him to contain her completely. She could not control herself. Her body shook and thrust, and strange, unintelligible sounds escaped her throat. She felt a feeling of euphoria, a feeling impossible to put into words, build inside her. She wanted the feeling so badly she found her sweaty hands leaving the fabric of her skirt and holding his face against her wanting flesh.

For a brief second she was there. Wherever she had been going, whatever she had been building inside herself, she had got there. All at once, she heard herself screaming, felt her knees buckle, and her body contract about Ned's fingers. Then it was gone. She tried to catch her breath. She was covered in sweat. She knew what she wanted. She forced her knees to lock as she helped Ned to his feet. As she felt him enter her body, she knew that she loved him. This time when she felt him begin to contract, she held him within her body. She felt the cream of his body surge into her. She knew not what it was, but she loved it anyway.

*

Ned could not help but smile as he left Victoria at the tavern after breakfast. Everyday she surprised him. He had not expected, had not planned, to have intercourse with her so soon. But it had happened. The attraction between them was explosive. He had always known from the first time that he had talked to her, that she was a woman that would not be pushed around. She could give as good as she got. At the same time, she was extremely vulnerable, if anybody got through that thorny exterior.

He was reminded of something Sam Morpeth had said. He and Victoria were like fire and water. Yes, that was a good explanation of how explosive the relationship between Ned and Nightingale was. They argued, they annoyed each other, they were too stubborn to back down, yet when they finally came together, it was, literally, fire and water. She was not particularly good at sex, but the passion behind her actions made for explosive activity. His ripped shirt was evidence of that.

He knew not where his physical needs overlapped his psychological needs, but knew that they most certainly did. This was love and sex merged. Physically and psychologically, he needed sex to keep himself sane, just as he needed somebody to love and talk to and make love to. There was a very thin line defining the two. Of late, there had been less talk and more action, however, once the madness of lust passed he would need her as a companion.

Ned traced his footsteps back to the police station where he had dropped Sam Morpeth the previous night. He was surprised at how well he remembered its location. It loomed above him, an ugly concrete building, lit by a single blue light, signifying that it was a police station. The light of dawn cast the building in a gray light. Ned doubted that the building would be any more attractive by the light of day.

There were three wide concrete steps from the dirty footpath to the two wide, wooden doors. The doors had six panes of glass each, separated by a wooden frame. Most of the panes had been broken, Ned observed. The bottom-most panes had been boarded over from the interior. The boards showed signs of a recent confrontation with a boot. Now that Ned regarded the rest of the building, he noticed several broken windowpanes. Clearly, crime was a problem in the area.

He climbed the stairs and pulled the door toward him. As he did so, he noticed glass upon floor inside. At least one of the panes in the door had been broken recently. He skirted around the glass as best he could and made his way to the front desk. Behind the desk sat a policeman with blonde side-whiskers. Ned could not tell what the man's rank was, whether it be constable or sergeant. He looked past the man to two empty desks, a door with a sign reading 'Holding Cells' and three other unmarked doors. To his left was a wooden pew, which he presumed was for sitting on whilst awaiting somebody. To his right was an upward wooden staircase. The stairway could not be climbed without passing behind the desk, which the man was seated at.

"Are you looking fuh summat?" the policeman asked.

"Yes, I am actually but why are all the windows broken?"

"Younguns wiv rocks. We get it every now and then," Constable Reece Cummings said briskly. "Anyroad, whatcha want?"

"Is Sergeant Morpeth still here?" Ned regarded the policeman. He looked very young, twenty years old if he was lucky. His eyes were dark hazel, more green than brown. The size of his eyes and the lack of creases that came with age, made the constable appear permanently surprised. His hair was very fair, Ned found himself comparing it to freshly made butter, yet his eyebrows were thick and dark. His bone structure was very gracile. The only features that prevented him looking feminine were his heavy eyebrows and long, brush-like side-whiskers. Ned got the impression that if the man hadn't become a policeman, someone would have made good money off him as a rentboy.

As if he could read Ned's thoughts, Cummings pursed his lips, sourly. "Whatcha want wiv 'im?"

"I know his sister-in-law. Morpeth asked me to come and tell him how she is," Ned said.

"What's your name?" Cummings stared at the man. He talked like a toff, but he needed a shave. Despite the top hat perched on his head, Cummings could see that the man's hair was in disarray. His coat was well made but the shirt beneath was clearly ripped and missing buttons about the neck. His tie was also absent. He looked like a drunk, although Cummings could not smell the reek of alcohol upon him.

Ned didn't like the way the policeman was looking at him. It was almost as if the man regarded him as some sort of unsavory criminal. "I'm Doctor Edward Hawke. I spoke to Morpeth last night about his sister-in-law, Victoria Buckley."

"Doctor, is it?" Cummings eyes shone with sarcasm. "Well I shall certainly go and speak wiv the sergeant and see if he wants to see you, Doctor." For a moment, Ned was afraid that the constable was not going to move. Cummings looked down at his desk, and then got up. "Don't you go touching nothing while I'm not 'ere." For what seemed like only seconds, Cummings disappeared behind one of the doors behind the desk, then he returned, followed shortly by Sam Morpeth.

Morpeth regarded the doctor. As much as he disliked Constable Cummings, the man was correct; Hawke did look a right mess. He looked sober, and his smile was as wide as any doorway, but his shirt was clearly torn in one place and he looked as if he'd slept badly, in his clothes. "Doctor Hawke," he said, wondering how to address the man, "Why don't you come through to my office?" He stepped aside to allow the man to pass in front of him, briefly examining him for the scent of liquor or cigar smoke. He found no such smell.

Ned found himself in a dimly lit corridor. "Which way?" he asked Morpeth.

"Oh, sorry." Morpeth pushed through in front of him, and held the door open. "Third door on the right."

Ned regarded the small room he had just entered. It was lit by a single flickering lamp upon a wide desk. The desk top was methodically arranged with several trays of papers and several ledgers. Behind the desk were a filing cabinet and a chair. In front of the desk, there was also a chair, which Ned sat upon. "This is nice," he remarked.

"It is not my office," Morpeth said as he seated himself behind the desk. "It belongs to one of the Inspectors; I just use it at night."

"So what exactly do you do here?" Ned asked.

Morpeth's vivid blue eyes flickered to the ledger upon his desk. "At the moment, a lot of paperwork."

"Really, I thought that police work was about being out on the streets arresting criminals."

Sam smiled wryly. "That is the part of the work that people see. What they do not know is that every constable on a beat has been assigned that beat by somebody, and that there is paperwork to back up who that constable is and what time he is working and whether he has turned up to work. Every criminal that is arrested, even if they only spend a few hours in the cells, has to be logged into a book. Most of the time that doesn't take much work. However, notes are made about important cases for death inquests and court cases, although most investigations in this area do not lead to anything. If somebody dies they're dead. Their killer is either found around the corner covered in blood and is consequently hanged or they disappear into the bowels of society, never to be caught, or at least not until next time."

"So what are you doing at the moment?"

"I am supposed to organize the sergeants and constables so that they know where they are going and whom they are supposed to be with. However, more often I seem to have to rewrite reports and back-up the constables on night-duty when they arrest somebody."

"That sounds like quite an important job."

Sam Morpeth smiled widely, lighting his face and eyes, "It's a bloody boring job, that's what it is. I'd much rather be out in the streets catching criminals than caged in here."

"Why do you do it then?" Ned asked.

"Two years ago, I was a sergeant assigned to a station in the west end. I was on what they call the fast track to becoming an inspector. But that wasn't to be. I got myself in a position I should never have been in. I had followed a man down a street I did not know. It was dark and I had no lamp. Someone jumped me, stabbed me twice in the back. I was apparently one of those miracle patients, since both wounds missed my organs, my arteries and my spine. I put Charlotte through hell though. It's because of her that I took this job. She doesn't want me back out on the streets where it could happen again." As Sam spoke, Ned noticed the thickening in his voice and the gleam of tears in his eyes.

"Why here, why Spitalfields? Surely it's more dangerous here than it was where you came from? You only have to look at the damage done to the windows of your station tonight to understand the fierce danger of the area," Ned said.

"What, the stones through the windows? That was just kids. I sent a constable out to see to them. As for why I came to work here, this was the position available. I had to take it. The city paid me a pretty sum for my wounds, but it was not enough to live on. Charlotte had to work during that time. I never want to put her in that position again. She deserves a life better than the one I can provide her with, but the least I can do is ensure that she doesn't have to work to eat. During the six months that I was laid on my front to heal, my old station promoted someone else in my place. So when I was finally better I had to come here. The rent is cheaper and the pay is only slightly better. I could have taken a job with someone else, but I am not qualified for anything else. My injuries mean that I cannot be a laborer. Anyway, enough of my woes, what brings you here?"

Ned was caught almost completely off guard by the sudden change in Morpeth's voice. He was a shrewd man, Ned decided, rambling for a moment, and then shooting a direct question at his listener. "I saw Victoria last night. She isn't at the woman's boarding house anymore because somebody stole her cape. She has moved to a terrible place with cheap single rooms belonging to a man named Bernard. It took me nearly all night to find out where she had gone."

"Did you get in fight with someone during that time?" Morpeth asked.

"No, I don't think so," Ned replied. His eyes flashed up to the sergeant's face. "Why would you think that?"

"The collar of your shirt is ripped, and there are two buttons missing where your tie should be. I noticed you had a tie on last night, but this morning it's gone."

The doctor's face reddened as his hand plucked at his collar. "Oh yes, I did...um..."

"Did Victoria do that?"

Ned squirmed further back into his seat, wishing he had left his coat buttoned up fully, as Victoria had arranged it before he left her room. He did not even remember taking his tie off, but knew that it would probably be on the floor somewhere near Victoria's bed. He felt his cheeks grow hot with the knowledge that the policeman was scrutinizing him. What could he say to this man? He was normally so smooth with other people, but Morpeth had once again caught him off guard. The question was not even posed in a hostile voice, yet Ned felt threatened.

"I presume you stayed with her all night, since you obviously have not shaved or brushed your hair, and you are wearing yesterday's clothing," Sam added. "Look, I do not mind if you stayed with her, I just need to know so that I don't wrong-foot myself when I call upon her."

"I slept in her bed with her, but I did not have intercourse with her there," Ned said, quietly.

Morpeth observed that Ned's eyes would not meet his with the final statement. "Then where did you have intercourse?"

"I didn't-"

"But Victoria ripped your shirt?" Sam said. "I suppose it isn't any of my business, although as her only male relative-" He broke off and thought about what he was going to say for a moment. "Look, I do not care if you had sex with her, but I do care if she becomes with child. You told me last night that you love her. Would you do right by her and marry her?"

"I can't afford to marry her," Ned replied. "But I will do so when I have the money. She will not become with child until I want her to be. I'm a doctor, I know these things."

Sam overlooked the statement about not being able to afford to marry. If a doctor like Hawke could not afford to marry than how was it that he, Charlotte and their child were surviving? "She's my sister-in-law. As much as my wife says she hates her right now, I know that I would be the one on the receiving end if any ill were to befall her and I had given you permission to do it. Do you understand?"

"I would never hurt Victoria."

"Good, then hopefully we will not be having this conversation again." Sam Morpeth smiled. "I bet I scared you then. I'm sorry, I just had to say it. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"I'm not happy with the room she is renting at the moment. The locking mechanism and door are substantial enough, but the room can be accessed from the street via some stairs, which are not guarded in any way. Her room is the second room you come to after climbing the stairs. Even if she locked the door, I'm sure that if somebody wanted to get in they would get in. If you read the stories in the papers at the moment, you can see that my fears are justified. The other thing is that the room has no window for light or fireplace for warmth. It is basically a box. She has paid until next Friday. I will stay with her every night until that date, then I am moving her out of there," Ned said.