Talisman Ch. 5: Victoria Grace Tilden

"Please lower your voice, dear. Someone might hear. I'm terribly sorry, it has been too long. I couldn't help myself. Please forgive me." He knew he was wrong.

Victoria pulled a mirror out of her bag and checked her lips to make certain no trace of the deed remained. "Mr. Berringer, you have gone too far inveigling me to be alone with you on this balcony, then losing all sense of self control. You are an Englishman and here you are acting like some dog of the streets. What if one of the natives had witnessed your behavior? If we are to work together, I can't have you pressing your…your…yourself against me at every chance you get. It's just unspeakably embarrassing. We are not man and wife yet. Remember that, Mr. Berringer."

"Yes, of course, you're right, Miss Tilden. I'm quite myself again." Michael folded his hands and looked away at the pyramids.

Victoria put her mirror away and sighed, watching Michael. "I shall attribute your impropriety to the heat, but in future, Mr. Berringer, I shall expect you to remember who you are and act as an English gentleman should, not like some - gigolo." She put her arm in his and composed herself. "Shall we return to the others then?"

Michael smiled briefly and looked to the Heavens for guidance as he took Miss Tilden's hand. They returned to the dining room and began introductions all around the table. After a good ten minutes, they finally approached the fine silken suit of Sir Winthrop. He was smoking near the windows at the far end of the room, gazing at the moonlit desert.

"And dearest, this is our host and company president, Sir Ceril Winthrop."

Winthrop quickly put out his cigar and smiled brightly as he saw Victoria. She curtsied as the older man took her hand and patted it. "Well, my goodness, Berringer, I can see why you were so excited about the approach of Miss Tilden's entourage this afternoon. She is quite a charming lady. Pleased to meet you after all this time, my dear."

"Thank you, Sir Winthrop." Victoria smiled at the white-haired gentleman.

Winthrop took Victoria's arm and put it across his, laying his hand over hers. "Now, I've got to get you off on the right foot, Miss Tilden. My name is Ceril. Sir Ceril will do nicely. Michael keeps shouting my father's name whenever he addresses me and I can't stand it."

"Yes, Sir Ceril. It's a fitting name for you, sir."

"Miss Tilden, may I call you Miss Victoria?"

"Sir, I should be offended if you did not."

Winthrop laughed and coughed. "Did you hear that, Berringer? Wit and beauty. My, my, what a lucky man you are."

"Yes, sir. At least, I'm glad that makes two of us who think so." Michael smiled radiantly down at Victoria, completely lost in her beauty.

Winthrop looked between the two of them smiling into each other's eyes. "Berringer, wasn't there something you wanted to give to…?"

"Oh, I'd almost forgotten. Forgive me, my dear." Michael hurriedly approached a waiter near the kitchen door, whispering something to him. The man nodded and went through the door.

"How was your trip, Miss Victoria? I understand this is the first time you have ventured to leave England."

"Yes, sir. It was long, but today… Oh my, I couldn't believe the heat and there was this man at the market… Ghastly condition. I was shocked."

"Oh yes, you'll see that from time to time. The poverty you'll find hereabouts. I could tell you stories, but enough of that. Here's your young man again."

Michael approached, hands behind his back.

"What is this? What are you hiding from me?" Victoria knew what was coming, but she still played the part for the men.

Michael turned to the room and raised his hands. In one hand was a gift-wrapped box. "Everyone. Everyone, please. A moment of your time." He turned back to Victoria, looking her in the eyes now with the gift in his hands in front of her. "Miss Victoria Grace Tilden of London, you have traveled these many miles to join our company this evening, and I wish to honor the event with a gift of gratitude."

He held the box out to her and laid it across her open palms.

"Thank you, Mr. Berringer. I'm very surprised." She looked at the gift wrapped in flowered paper and decorated with a bright red bow of silk.

A smiling Winthrop elbowed her. "Well, go on. Open it, Miss Victoria. Please, m'dear, indulge an impatient and somewhat irascible old man."

"Yes sir." She untied the bow and pulled at the papers, tearing them away revealing a bright silver box with a silver clasp shaped like a cat. It had tiny little feet on the bottom as though meant for display - but to display what?

"Go on, open it." Michael prodded her.

She flipped up the clasp from the cat's paws and opened the box. Inside, wrapped in a padded red silk interior was a delicate ivory medallion bordered by a fine gold chain woven through its edge. Open mouthed and speechless, Victoria looked at the delicate craftsmanship. The chain links so tiny, she felt they might break if she touched them. The medallion itself was beautiful. Luminous in the candlelight, it almost glowed. Carefully, she picked it up and looked at it. On the face of the piece was an engraved relief of Indian origin, she was certain of it. She looked at the back - a dancing man also of Indian origin, a god - Shiva, the destroyer of the world. Flipping it back over, she realized the large-busted Indian woman on the front must be Shakti, the nurturer and Shiva's wife.

She quickly looked at Michael. "Where did you get this? Certainly, not at the dig?"

"No, no, not at the dig, no. I bought it in a market in Tanta on a research trip there. Met a most interesting man, but I knew how you loved these interesting trinkets. It's old, isn't it?"

She looked back at the medallion in her fingers and smiled. "Yes, I think so. It must be very old. I'll have to ask Professor Peltrie about…"

"Try it on, dear. Let's see how it looks about that fine neck of yours." Puffed up and proud of his company, Sir Winthrop was pushy when drunk and the evening was young.

Michael took the chain from the box and looked at Victoria. "May I?"

She nodded. Michael stood behind her and draped the delicate necklace over her head, laying it gently around her neck. The chain wasn't cold; it felt warm. The medallion rested in her cleavage. She felt tingly inside her stomach.

"I can hardly feel it. It's so light, so beautiful, Michael, - I mean, Mr. Berringer." She touched the medallion with her fingers and lightly brushed her breast as she did.

"Do you like it, darling?" Michael looked her in the eyes and she melted inside. She turned around and threw her arms around him, hugging him to her. Surprised, Michael stood there for a moment, smiled and patted her shoulders.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, her lips trembling.

"Are you alright?"

Victoria looked up at the room of silent guests. "Excuse me, please. Excuse me." She hurried out of the room. Sarah trailed along quickly behind her.

Michael started to run after her, but Winthrop caught him. "Don't go, old man. She's fine. You've simply overwhelmed her, that's all. She'll be back shortly. Let the women settle themselves."

A waiter near the kitchen door gestured and Winthrop called to the room. "Come on, everyone. Dinner is on. I'm famished." He patted his belly and threw an arm around Michael, leading him to the table. "Come on, old man, we'll start you with a whiskey."

In the ladies parlor down the hall, Sarah entered gently, looking for Victoria. "Miss Tilden? Miss Tilden? You there? Are you all right?"

She was standing at the mirror with her kerchief out of her bag, blotting tears from her face. She looked up at herself as Sarah approached and placed her hands on her shoulders, looking in the mirror at Victoria.

"There, there, dear, everything is going splendidly. Are you all right?"

She felt anything but all right. Her insides were electrified. She felt tense. She felt tight. What is wrong with me? "I'm sorry, I guess it's just the long trip, seeing Michael for the first time."

"You must be tired. If you'd like, I could make our excuses and we'll retire now."

Victoria clutched at Sarah's hand suddenly and with a worried expression, turned to look at her. "Oh, no, we mustn't. Not after Michael - after he and I have been separated for so long. Besides, this is my first introduction to Sir Ceril. I can't leave him thinking of me as a silly woman." Suddenly, she went quiet, looking at the high curve of Sarah's cheekbones, the deep green color in her eyes, and the full lips on her mouth, ready to say something to her, ready to…

"We'll rejoin the others then - as soon as you are ready. Is something wrong, dear? Did I spill my wine?" Sarah turned to look in the mirror. In profile, Sarah checked her face and her blouse, looking down at her breasts and arms.

She is shorter than I, thought Victoria, but she has a fuller figure and such a small waist, really quite an attractive woman. "No, Sarah, you didn't spill. It's just that I'd never noticed you were shorter than I before now and a bit smaller woman, aren't you?"

Sarah smiled at Victoria and laughed a high pearl-noted giggle - such a pleasant sound. "Well, of course, you silly girl."

Victoria stared at her beauty and laughed along with her. "I'm sorry, I'd always thought of us as being the same size. I don't know why." She put an arm around Sarah's shoulders and looked in the mirror at the two of them together. Sarah put an arm around Victoria's waist. "You really are a lovely woman, Sarah. Why aren't you married?"

Sarah blushed red, looked down at the counter and became very serious. "I just haven't got… I just haven't got everything I need as yet, Victoria. I have a suitor back home where I come from, but we're waiting until our ducks are in a row. Until we can buy a proper home and - and get married."

Victoria felt great compassion wash over her and moved behind her friend, placing her hands on her shoulders and kneading them roughly like dough. "Goodness, you are very tight, Sarah."

Sarah sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, letting her head loll forward. She put her hands on the counter. "Oh, Miss Victoria, that feels wonderful." She could feel the warmth start at her neck and creep down her back as the younger woman massaged her.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" Victoria watched as Sarah rolled her head to one side and closed her eyes.

"What is, Miss Victoria?"

"All this waiting, waiting for the right moment as you say. Delaying what you want, waiting for the natural order to slide in alignment with one another. Waiting is terrible, horrible. I hate it." She pressed her hands more firmly into Sarah's flesh. Sarah moaned.

"Oh, you're good at this, Victoria. I love your hands."

Victoria pressed her body against the back of Sarah. Her full breasts pressed into her back. Her groin pressed into the shorter woman's buttocks. She could feel the heat coming off Sarah, coming off this beautiful, tantalizing friend.

"We shouldn't have to wait, Sarah. It's not the natural order. Human beings have needs on all levels, not only socially, monetarily and mentally, but physiological as well. There is a time for all things under the sun." Victoria looked down at her friend. Sarah was breathing deeply and steadily. The hard bumps of her nipples showed through her bodice. A sheen of sweat appeared beneath her ear. Her own breasts, pressed into her friends back, felt full and tingled with a force unknown to her. She looked at Sarah's neck, at the moisture there and wondered how it might feel, wondered how it might - taste. She bent forward, opening her mouth, extending her tongue. Yes, lick her. Lick her neck, right there, behind her ear.

Suddenly, the door swung open and two women chattering mightily about something crashed into the room. Victoria jumped up still holding Sarah. Sarah moved quickly away from her charge and began straightening her hair.

The two women saw them at the mirror. The first one spoke. "Oh, hello, how are you this evening?"

Sarah was taken aback by the informality of the other woman. After all, they had never been introduced. Deciding that some of the social rules must be in abeyance in this foreign place, she decided to reply in the same informal manner. "We are very well, thank you, and all is well with you?"

"Oh, yes. It's a grand evening. You should visit the garden next to the tennis lawns outside. Absolutely wonderful in the full of the moon." The ladies disappeared into two adjacent toilets and shut the doors.

Victoria just stared after the two women and then looked to Sarah, who turned back to her.

"Shall we rejoin the others now?" Sarah smiled and held out her arm. Still not certain what happened, Victoria took Sarah's arm and followed her out into the hall.

The dinner party was progressing nicely. Victoria took the seat between Michael and Sir Winthrop. The servants were excellent, filling glasses and plates as needed and without any interruption to the conversation.

As the hotel staff served a sumptuous meal of duck, pheasant, dumplings and fresh salad, Victoria was suddenly famished. Everything tasted so wonderful. It felt as though she'd never eaten before. The textures, the flavors, the smells all conspired to fulfill her senses. She couldn't get enough of the pleasurable sensation of eating. As a result, she hardly spoke at dinner as she ate several platefuls to the astonishment of Sir Winthrop.

"How does she manage to remain so svelte and eat like a horse?" He chided Michael who could only laugh and gaze in astonishment.

She tried to apologize. "I don't know what it is, this food tastes so incredible. It must be the climate. I can't seem to get enough of it. Would you mind serving more of the duck?"

By dessert's end and the end of the evening, Victoria could hardly contain herself. She had several glasses of the German dessert wine and an enormous piece of cake. She began to feel quite ill and Sarah took her back upstairs. Michael helped her up the stairs to her chamber's entrance as Sarah opened the door.

"I think I can take it from here, Mr. Berringer." Sarah nodded as he released Victoria. "We'll see you at breakfast."

With the mention of more food, Victoria groaned. Sarah pulled her into the room and sat her at the vanity.

"We must get you out of that corset, Miss. You must be bursting."

Sarah locked the chamber door, but Victoria could not wait. She stood up suddenly and ran into the toilet.

"Are you alright, Victoria? Do you…?"

Victoria vomited into the toilet several times. Sarah turned green at the sight, but grabbed some towels, trying her best to control the damage. Victoria was as white as a sheet. Her friend wetted one of the towels and cleaned Victoria's face, hands and bodice. Then she helped the young woman out of the confines of the corset and into a dressing gown.

Pulling back the bed's coverlet and sheets, Sarah helped Victoria into it. "If you need me, dear, I'll be right next door. I'll leave the connecting door unlocked and open. Just call and I'll come. Alright?"

Victoria fell asleep instantly as soon as Sarah drew the coverlet over her.

Sarah unlocked the adjoining door between their two chambers, then walked out the front door and locked it.

Michael was still there. "Miss McAuley, how is Miss Tilden?"

"She was dreadfully sick for a while there, but she's sleeping now, Mr. Berringer."

"What happened? I've never seen her do anything like that before." Michael paced and threw concerned looks at the chamber door.

"I think it must have been the travel that sickened her. The heat and the new food." Sarah dropped the key in her bag and entered her own room down next door. "Good night, Mr. Berringer. It was a lovely dinner. See you in the morning." Sarah closed her door and locked it.

Michael stood there, looking very concerned. All the food had been English, prepared by an English-manned kitchen. Victoria had been eating such foods her entire life. He walked slowly down the hall, worriedly glancing at the double doors of his fiancée's chambers.

Victoria awoke suddenly in darkness, sitting up in bed. She was hot and perspiring. She pushed the bed coverings off her. The front of her gown was soaked through with sweat. She got out of bed, lit the lamp on her vanity table and walked into the bath. She washed her face in the basin, toweled off and went to the armoire for another gown. As she pulled out the gown, she noticed a sliver of light shining across the tile floor from the tall window beside her bed. She crossed to the window, pulling aside the curtain. The moon was setting over the sea of dunes beyond the hotel grounds. She smiled at the beauty of the desert at this time of night: cool, not threatening, mysterious with the artifacts hidden by its winds and storms.

She dropped the gown and stripped the damp one over her head. Her breasts felt chilled by the night air and her hands went to them, brushing the remains of dampness away. Her nipples rose against their areola and for a moment she felt as though someone was watching her from over her left shoulder. She turned quickly. There in the light of the moon, Michael's gift, the medallion was glowing on her vanity table.

Curious, she walked to the vanity table and picked up the delicate chain and its medallion. The ivory rocked in and out of the slit of light. In the Moon's glow, the ivory seemed to catch the light and hold it as though lit by a phosphorescence from within. She smiled at the gift, put the chain over her head and tilted the mirror to admire it.

As the ivory settled between her breasts, a warmth slowly spread through her chest, neck and shoulders winding its way to her head and down her body. She closed her eyes for a moment and stretched her arms out, rolling her neck as the sensation relaxed her. It felt as though she were being massaged - such a sensuous feeling, such a comfortable feeling. She opened her eyes and saw her naked reflection staring back, but she wasn't surprised and she wasn't concerned. It was as though her Victorian manner had been silenced.

She turned her shoulders side-to-side, admiring how the chain glinted against her skin. Her left hand touched the beautiful carving on the face of the ivory. Seating herself in the low chair at the table, she watched the chain rock back and forth between her breasts. She breathed in deeply, then slowly sighed as she watched. She felt relaxed and at the same time, very alive, very aware of everything around her - the linen curtains on the windows behind her, the wood and velvet paneling lining the walls of the chamber, the glow of the oil-filled glass lamp beside the mirror and its burning wick.

Her hand drifted off the medallion and brushed her breast lightly, gently. She closed her eyes momentarily at the pleasurable sensation, then opened them, watching her fingers press into the soft flesh. The fingertips lightly traced its fullness, finding a sensitive path along its bottom to her ribs beneath. Her warm, damp palm cupped and pressed upwards, lifting the flesh from her ribs like an offering. A tingle of pleasurable sensation shot through her body and her nipples balled into tight little knots, casting faint shadows along the curve of her breasts. She relaxed into the back of the chair, her shoulders molding themselves to the curved walnut. Looking in the mirror, she saw her body outlined by the strong, cool light of the Moon shining through the curtains over her shoulder. The pale light of the flickering candle lent its warm glow to her face and breasts. Her heart was beating heavily, deep inside her body. It's steady thump, thump, thump playing a rhythmic tattoo to which her mind could dance.