The Mail Order Bride

(Author's note. This story, set in the 1890s, is obviously fiction. Waverly, KS exists and was my parent's home town. The character, John Senior, who makes a cameo appearance early in the story was a real person, was the mayor of Waverly and has a street named for him there. He is my maternal grandfather.)

I had a good job. I was the editor and part owner of a weekly newspaper in Waverly, Kansas. It was a town of about 1000 souls, settled after the Civil War by a group of pioneers from Ohio. In fact the main event of the year was a large gathering in a clearing on the edge of town and it was called Old Ohio Days. I had a good house, a modest three bedroom bungalow within walking distance of my job. I had two good children who had long-since grown up and moved away. I had four grandchildren who I rarely saw but who entertained me with occasional letters and pictures which they had drawn in school. I had all the good things a man could desire save one. I did not have a good woman.

I had had a good woman, my wife of many years, but she had passed away after a long and fearsome fight with cancer. I was still in good health, good being a relative expression for a man who had recently seen fifty. I was still considered marriage material but unfortunately in those days, the tail end of the 19th century, and in that place the pickings were slim.

Perhaps I was too picky. There were several widows of my age in our small community. I rarely lacked for dinner invitations, some of which I accepted, some I declined. The women came in various sizes with various backgrounds but none of them lit my fire. Perhaps I was looking for too much wit, too much intelligence, too much articulateness.

My late wife and I had shared many intellectual conversations. We were both avid readers of the Saturday Evening Post and Harpers Weekly and eagerly awaited the arrival by mail each week of the Sunday New York Times and enjoyed solving the crossword puzzle together. For daily news of a more local nature we read the Emporia Gazette which was edited by William Allen White. He was one of my idols having gained national publicity in 1896 for an editorial he had written entitled 'What's the Matter with Kansas".

We also enjoyed a robust sex life, while she was healthy and I missed that greatly but I mostly missed the wit and the conversation. I had learned that the hours one spends making love are dwarfed by the hours one spends just living together.

I shared my loneliness with my daughter who was living in Illinois. She suggested that I explore the possibility of a mail-order bride. At first I resisted but she persisted and even sent me a page of advertisements from the Chicago Tribune. I sat it aside and forgot about it until I came across it several weeks later under a pile of things on my desk.

What the hell, I thought,let's see what's out there. Turns out there were a goodly number of women out there who were looking for a husband and willing to travel.

There were no pictures of these women and most of the ads were poorly written but one in particular caught my eye.

College-educated woman seeks articulate man. I am in my late 40's and have never been married. I have been a school teacher and care-giver to my father who recently passed away. I am in good health and I am willing to devote all my energies to building a lasting relationship with a husband. I seek a man of good character, preferably with a college degree who enjoys reading, writing and intelligent conversation. Please respond to Box 182 c/o The Chicago Tribune.

Being a firm believer in the old adage of 'nothing ventured, nothing gained' I decided to reply. I wrote:I am a widower in my early 50s and the editor of a weekly newspaper in the small town of Waverly, Kansas. I have two grown children and four grandchildren all of whom, unfortunately, live a good distance away from me. I own a modest home and I am not wealthy. I have a bachelor's degree in Journalism from the University of Kansas and attend the Presbyterian Church on a fairly regular basis. Truth be told I am probably what is referred to as a "free thinker" and enjoy reading the thoughts of the notorious Robert Ingersoll. Politically I am also considered a liberal by those who know me. I place high value in a woman's intellect and would consider my wife my equal. I do not require a cook or a housekeeper. I have acquired those skills over the years, particularly since my dear wife of many years passed away. That said I would gladly share those duties with a wife. Should you wish to continue your career in teaching I would be supportive and you should have no trouble finding employment here on the prairie if you wish to work. I am in good health, for a man of my age. I have blue eyes and a full head of silver-gray hair. I wear spectacles. I have never been arrested although some of my more conservative readers have threatened to lynch me after some of my progressive editorials. (I say that in jest.) If you are interested in continuing this dialogue I welcome your reply. You may reach me at my business address: Jerome Bender, Editor, The Waverly Gazette, Waverly, Kansas.

I mailed the letter and went on with my life. Several weeks passed without a response which was not disheartening given the slowness of the U. S. Postal Service. Still I watched the mail eagerly every day. Then, on a bright, crisp October morning while going through the mail - bills, some checks for subscriptions, letters to the editor, etc, I came upon a handwritten letter which was obviously the work of a feminine hand. It was postmarked Springfield, Illinois and I opened it eagerly.

It said:Dear Mr. Bender, Thank you for your most informative missive. You express yourself very well and I appreciate the value you apparently place upon those of us of the fairer sex. I would enjoy further correspondence with you if you choose to continue. Yours sincerely, Rebecca Thurston.

I smiled, carefully put the letter in my desk and sat down to write a response. Our letters back and forth continued for several months and brightened what otherwise proved to be a typical, cold and windy winter on the plains. She indeed proved to witty and literate and thankfully she shared many of my liberal views on politics and religion.

We exchanged photographs. Hers showed a 40ish woman standing next to a seated older man - probably her father. She had a small face with a nose perhaps a bit bigger than the norm but I liked her looks. I have heard that type of face described as rat-faced, an apt if not enticing description. She had dark hair streaked with gray, done up in a bun on the back of her head. She appeared to be rather petite and not overly endowed but femininely shapely. Her long dress gave no hint of what her legs looked like. She was certainly not a Gibson girl but I found her attractive and hoped that the photograph was fairly current.

In March I sent her a modest diamond ring and asked her to come to Kansas and become my wife. I hastened to add that, since we were still relative strangers I would not expect her to immediately become a conjugal partner.

She replied promptly and my heart leapt as I read:Dearest Jerome. I would be pleased and honored to become Mrs. Bender. I adore the ring and am wearing it proudly. I must say that I am the envy of my lady friends. Several of them have asked if you have a brother or a friend who might be interested in correspondence. My darling - if I may call you that - I appreciate your thoughts about conjugal relationships. I have never been with a man but I am a good student and an eager learner. Write me as soon as you can so we can work out the details and arrange for my travel to the wild, wild west. With all the love a woman can muster I remain,

Yours Forever, Rebecca (the future Mrs. Bender) Thurston.

Thus on a bright April afternoon I stood at the Santa Fe depot with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. The train chugged up to the station and stopped and one lone passenger got off. It was Rebecca, carrying a small valise and followed by a porter with two large suitcases. I hurried to them and tipped the porter after he had put the suitcases on the boardwalk next to the train.

I turned to Rebecca and shook her hand.

"Miss Thurston, I presume?"

She laughed. "And who would you be, Sir?"

"I believe you know my name. Suffice to say that I'm a bedazzled, befuddled, bewitched believer that dreams do, indeed, come true."

She smiled and said, "My, my. What a greeting. What a welcome to Kansas."

We walked to my carriage, loaded her luggage and drove off. I gave her a tour of the town which didn't take long. I showed her our school, our new library, the newspaper office and then took her to my house.

"Here is my, uh, our home. It's not much but it's paid for," I said.

"It looks fine," she said.

We went inside and she looked around. After my wife had passed away I had removed most of the feminine additions, mainly because they reminded me of her and possibly because I hoped another woman would want to add things of her own.

"As you can see we definitely need a woman's touch," i said.

"We?"

I laughed. "We...the house and the owner."

She laughed and reaching up tenderly touched my on my cheek. I put my hands on her shoulders and slowly brought my lips closer to hers, stopping just inches away. She pressed her lips against mine and we kissed for the first time. Our lips connected lightly at first and then I moved my hands from her shoulders and wrapping them around her trim frame I kissed her more passionately and even darted my tongue into her mouth. She responded in kind. There was definitely some chemistry and hunger between us. I moved my mouth away from hers and said, "In my all-time ranking of first kisses that has to be number one."

She laughed, squeezed me tightly and said, "I told you I was a good student and an eager learner."

"Rebecca, you are exactly as advertised. In fact you are even better than I had hoped for. We need to see about a marriage license and a preacher."

She smiled and said, "I don't mind waiting for that for a few days. I know that I want to marry you but I don't want you to feel that we have to get married immediately."

She paused and then said, "You still don't know how well you will enjoy, uh, intimacy with me."

"Alright." I said, "I appreciate that and thank you for the option. As I have written to you I value you more for your mind than for your body although your body is most pleasing to the eye. If you want to wait for a while that's alright with me. However, while we decide we'd best get you a room at the hotel - at least for the sake of appearances."

She agreed and we rode back to the center of town. We checked her into the only hotel in Waverly and carried her luggage up to the room. I watched as she put her things in the closet and chest of drawers. She was efficient and orderly and a pleasure to observe.

"I hope your stay here in the hotel will be a short one," I said.

"I agree," she said.

"It's about dinner time," I said, "Are you hungry?"

"In more ways than one," she said with a chuckle.

"I'm afraid our choice of restaurants is somewhat limited but the hotel dining room downstairs isn't too bad. Unfortunately we can't get any alcohol. Carrie Nation's influence is still very strong here in Kansas."

"I can remedy that," she said and, reaching into her valise, she brought out a small bottle of brandy.

"You think of everything," i said.

"I try."

We rinsed out a couple of glasses and I poured a small amount of brandy into each one.

""Here's to a long and happy relationship," I said.

"Here, here," she replied.

We toasted and drank and walked downstairs. The restaurant was busy but we didn't have to wait too long for a table. I noticed the patrons noticing us including some of the Waverly widow women who regarded this strange woman with some degree of interest and animosity. Perhaps that last part is just my male ego talking.

We even had a short conversation with the mayor, John Senior, who was a lawyer and the President of one of the two banks in our little town.

I introduced Rebecca to him, saying, "John I would like you to meet my fiance Miss Rebecca Thurston from Springfield, Illinois."

"Miss Thurston I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I wondered who that attractive woman sitting with our Editor was and couldn't help but notice the glares from some of the ladies in the room."

Rebecca laughed, we chatted for a few more minutes and Mr. Senior departed, saying, "Miss Thurston, welcome to Waverly and I hope your stay is a long and happy one."

The waiter brought our menus.

"What would you suggest?" she asked.

"Do you like steak?"

"If it's well prepared."

"Than I would recommend the Kansas City Strip sirloin. Back east they call it New York Strip but here we call it Kansas City."

"Sounds good to me."

We ate and talked and some more people stopped by to meet this mystery woman. I had not told any of the locals about our postal relationship. I introduced her as my fiance, Rebecca Thurston from Springfield, Illinois. The word fiance drew some raised eyebrows and glances at the diamond ring she wore. She seemed very comfortable with what to her were strangers and I smiled proudly. After dinner I said, "Would you like to stroll along Main Street and see a little more of your new home?"

"Lead the way," she said.

We paid our bill and, hand in hand, strolled through the modest village. The sidewalks were paved with brick and I explained that Kansas boasted a number of small brick plants primarily in the southeastern part of the state. Waverly was in the northeastern part of Kansas about 100 miles from Kansas City. We walked and talked and then I said, "You're probably tired after your long trip. Let me escort you back to your room."

She nodded with a shy smile and we went back to the hotel. At the door she said, "Please come in."

I nodded and bowed graciously and said, "Lead the way."

She closed and locked the door and said, "It would not be seemly for you to spend the night but I would like to lie with you for a while, if that's alright with you."

"I was hoping you would ask."

She gazed at me lovingly and said, "Before I lie down with you I would like to take a bath, how about you?"

"A capital idea," I said.

"Perhaps some time we can bathe together but, for now, you go first."

I went into the bathroom and removed my clothes and drawing a lukewarm bath I cleaned up the best I could. I put my underwear back on and walked back into the bedroom.

"I didn't bring a robe," I said.

She laughed and said, "You look fine."

She had drawn the bedspread and top sheet back from the bed and, motioning toward it, she said, "Make yourself comfortable and I will join you forthwith."

She walked into the bathroom and I got into bed, covering myself with the sheet. Soon I could hear her running a bath, humming contentedly to herself - a positive sign. After a bit she returned, wearing a white night gown with a lacy trim at the hem and some flowers embroidered around the neckline. The night gown ended at about her knees and from what I could see of her legs she looked fine. She had unpinned her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. She turned out the light and slipped into bed beside me.

We laid together quietly for a few minutes and then she turned toward me and said, "I'm ready for my first lesson."

"I thought you were the teacher," i said.

"This is not my usual classroom. You're the one with experience and there's much truth to the old adage that experience is the best teacher."

I laughed and drew her body close to mine. We kissed deeply and this time our tongues probed and danced in each other's mouths. She tasted like peppermint, she smelled like lilacs and she felt divine. I left the bed momentarily and walked to the window. I pulled back the curtains to let the moonlight come into the room providing just enough light so we could see each other.

"Let's get undressed," I said and began to remove my underwear.

She looked at me expectantly and then sat up and slowly pulled her nightgown over her head and dropped it to the floor. In the moonlight I admired her. Her breasts were not overly large but very nicely formed with small hard nipples. Moving my gaze down her body I saw a nice thrush of dark pubic hair which contrasted nicely with her pale skin.

"Do you like me?", she asked.

"I adore you."

She dropped her gaze to my hard cock and said, "Is that for me?"

"For whenever and where ever you want it to be."

I laid back down beside her and kissed her again and said, "May I touch your breasts?"

She nodded and I gently touched them. Keeping my touch as light as possible I cupped them in my hands and then coned my fingers and began to caress her nipples.

"That feels very, very good," she said, "How do they feel to you?"

"Very good hardly describes them. May I kiss them?"

"Do you want to?"

In reply I moved my mouth to one and than the other, licking and nibbling and savoring the taste of her.

She sighed and said, "You're making me wet down, down there."

"Show me," I said.

She took my hand and placed it gently between her legs. I played with her pubic hair and then moved my middle finger lower and began a gentle up and down motion on her labia, gradually inserting my finger. She was, indeed, very moist. Moving my finger up a bit I found her clitoris and with tender touched coaxed it out of its nest.

"Are you okay with this?" I asked.

She responded by putting her hand on mine and pressing it firmly.

"I'm going to move my finger inside now and let me know if it hurts."

I carefully inserted my finger into her tunnel and encountered her hymen. I probed it and she winced a little bit. She was, as advertised, a virgin.

"I'm going to try to open you up a bit more," I said, "you may feel a little pain but it should quickly go away."

I added a second finger to the penetration squad and probed again. She responded by putting her hand on mine and forcefully pushing my fingers inside of her. She winced and cried out momentarily and I could feel a modest amount of blood flowing on my hand. I stopped my manipulations and allowed her to compose herself.

"I'm glad that's over," she said.

"I hope it wasn't too painful for you."

"Just part of the learning process, I suppose," she replied. She paused for a moment longer and than said, "Go on."

I kissed her sweetly and began to probe with both fingers while I rotated my thumb on her clitoris. She pulled my face closer to her and kissed me passionately, ramming her tongue into my mouth in rhythm with my stroking hand. I pulled my mouth away from hers and said, "I love you Rebecca. I love you and I want to please you."

"Oh, you are," she said, "you are, you are, you are, YOU ARE!", and with a a gasp and a heave she climaxed. I smiled contentedly and slowed my pace, petting and patting her pussy.

She caught her breath and said, "What a glorious climax. I must confess that I have had some in my life with my own fingers but nothing to compare with this and I've never had fingers inside me before tonight. Thank you for a glorious initiation."

"Always glad to be of service, my dear," I said with a chuckle. I put my arm around her and held her close and she sighed with contentment.

"Speaking of service," she said, "I believe it's my turn. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to be comfortable with me."

"I'm already there, thank you very much," she said, "Teach me how to give you pleasure."

I smiled and said, "Whereas women have many erogenous zones, most of a man's are centered in one particular place."

She laughed and, reaching down, put her hand on my penis.