A Ladies of Madame Pecheur 01b: Hope

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Hope arrived from Madame's parlor house by carriage. Tired, exhilarated, and determined to take control of her life without her husband but preferably with him. She left the parlor as Hope. Then returned home as Sandra Dixon, wife of the esteemed Doctor Henry Dixon.

"Where have you been?" asked her husband. Standing in his night clothes and robe he was the image of the peevish old man.

"I promised myself I would never lie to you, husband," said Sandra. "I will tell you honestly if you sit with me and answer my questions as truthfully as I will yours."

"At one o'clock in the morning, your clothes and hair disheveled, you must have been up to mischief, and not as a proper wife. I would have every reason and every right to throw you out branded as a whore."

"That would be your right and as a woman, I would have no recourse. But as your wife, I ask you to sit with me and be forthright. If I cannot satisfactorily resolve our differences then I will leave of my own accord," said Sandra.

"Why should I?" he asked.

"Because you insisted we marry, and for that there must be a purpose," said Sandra. "You paid my father handsomely for the privilege to bed me and secure my virtue, yet our lives together have been nothing but disappointment for both of us. I have one last opportunity to redeem myself and I wish to accommodate you as my husband. Do you agree to sit with me? It will cost you nothing but your time."

"I will," he answered. "If only for the pleasure of seeing you walk away, penniless and broken when the sun rises."

"Good. Let's begin," she said as she walked into the library. A daring undertaking as the library was the Doctor's domain, though not forbidden it was understood to be the realm of men only.

The library was not elaborate considering the standards of the day. Shelves along one wall displayed the Doctor's medical books and journals. Along another wall, the great classics and tomes befitting a man of learning and high status. Books by great authors whose words hadn't been read in this room in more than three decades.

Grand portraits of Doctor and Mrs. Dixon, his long-dead parents, are on display on either side of the marble fireplace. They seemed to look on disapprovingly at whatever would transpire within their domain.

Two plush reading chairs and a small sofa, their bright yellow brocade fabric worn with age, almost threadbare. Their once elegant appeal was long lost. Two small and highly polished mahogany tables and a desk for correspondence, clean and dust free, yet scuffed and scratched from multiple lifetimes of use.

The doctor lit several lamps which seemed to cast eerie shadows as he walked. They were sufficient to dispel the gloom in their vicinity but one would have cause to wonder what lurked beyond their faint glow.

Sandra went to the well-appointed sideboard and poured two snifters of brandy. Handing one to her husband she placed the decanter on the table between them as she sat.

"You've never had liquor in my presence before," he said.

"There are always firsts," she said as she took a sip.

"What do you want to discuss?" the Doctor asked.

She asked directly looking at him in the eye. "Why did you insist on marrying me?"

He took a long sip of his brandy. "Because you are young and beautiful. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen in fact. I thought my wealth would sway you. Convince you to love me."

"There's more," she said. "Speak freely."

"My first two wives failed to provide me an heir. I am the last to carry my family name and my lineage dies with me. You are young and healthy and I hope that by depositing my seed with you I could create that which I have failed to do with them. That which I long for; to make me feel whole as a man."

"A your passionless, drunken interludes in the dark would make me conceive a child?" she said.

"Passion is for the young and perverse," he said. "It interferes with the flow of viscous fluids necessary for procreation. Worse it can make a woman insane and the child deformed," he said.

"There's more to your story," she said. "You cannot be so dispassionate. I've done nothing to cause you to treat me as a moldy dishrag. Since we've been married you hardly look at me. When I try to approach you, you turn away. Am I so hideous you must only approach me in the dark?"

The doctor poured himself a second drink and swallowed in one gulp, then poured himself another, ten one more.

"The day we wed I realized I was wrong. I had visions of walking with you and being the envy of every man that wished he could taste your beautiful lips and look longingly into your eyes. I wanted to have you on my arm at the grand balls. To dance with you and let them see me as the conqueror of beauty, the Adonis to your Aphrodite," he said.

"But -," she said.

"In my heart, I'm still a young man. I want to believe have a clear mind and virile body," he said. "When I see myself in the mirror I wonder what happened. Where did that young man go? Why has the passage of time turned me into this old, decrepit, soulless husk? Then I look at you and see what I've done to you. Chained you to this petulant beast that no more deserves your attention than a dead fish cast upon the shore. I want to love you but I am embarrassed at what I've become. Then I hate myself. I know you deserve more. I want you to love me, but I know I'm not worthy."

He paused to take another long drink and refill his glass.

"And so, I turn to Madame Pecheur and her whores to humiliate me and rob me of my passions and rid me of the lust in my heart that I have for you. I know if you truly knew me for the man I am you would walk away in disgust."

"And so you willingly live this facade? You sacrifice my life because you're too proud to open yourself to me? You ignore my desires because you think yourself unworthy?" she said.

"It is true," he said tears forming in his eyes.

"Husband, I believe we can find common ground. I want to be the wife you want, but you must let me. But you must forgive me my transgressions as I forgive yours." she said as she stood and kissed him.

She finished her brandy and walked to the middle of the room and faced him. Ever so slowly she removed her clothes letting them fall to the floor around her. Her eyes never left his.

"Whore," he said disapprovingly as he squirmed in his chair.

"Yes," she replied as she walked to him. "But I am your whore to do with as you wish but first I will do with you as I please." She bent over and kissed him. She took his hands and placed them on her breasts.

She could see confusion and a hint of fear in his eyes.

Spreading her legs she sat on his legs facing him and kissed him again, then nuzzling and kissing his neck.

Reaching for his hand she placed it at the entrance to the moist cleft between her legs. "Touch me here," she whispered and guided his finger to the soft nub, then slowly coaxed his finger inside her moist passage. Ever so slowly she moved her hips to create a gentle rhythm. She held his hand in place, "I like that," she cooed in his ear.

Pulling her head back she looked him deeply in the eyes. "Kiss me," she said "Kiss me like the whore you want me to be."

As they kissed she increased the thrusting of her hips as she felt the warmth of her orgasm building. "Mmmm mmmm," her mouth not leaving his, her tongue forcing its way between his lips. As her climax peaked she groaned, holding his hand in place until the waves of pleasure subsided.

"Mmmm, you did that for me," she said looking into his eyes noticing the fear and confusion were gone.

"I, I never did that with a woman before," he said.

"It's time you learned," she smiled. Slowly she moved to spread his legs and knelt in front of him. Opening his robe and untying his bedclothes, she reached for his manhood and gently caressed him.

Embarrassed he squirmed as if trying to move away. "It's -,"

"It's perfect," she said. "And it's mine. I will do with it as I please." Lowering her head she licked and caressed him, and ultimately took him into her mouth.

"No one has -," he said.

She looked into his eyes and said, "But I am, and you will let me do this for you." She returned to her task until his hips bucked and she felt his orgasm and heard his moans of pleasure.

"My god," he exclaimed.

"God had nothing to do with it," she smiled as she coax him to stand so she could remove his robe.

"I want to see you naked," she said.

"No. I'm -," he started

"You're mine," she insisted and she removed his bedclothes and hugged him close relishing his warmth.

"Hold me," she whispered. Reluctantly he wrapped his arms around her. Tentatively at first then more boldly he embraced her, caressing her soft body. His hands eventually took liberty with her, exploring a softness and tenderness he'd never experienced. For a long while they simply held and caressed each other, lost in time, ignoring the world around them.

Sandra coaxed him to lie on the floor with her. She lay alongside him, running her hand along his chest and tickling his nipples. Eventually, she caressed his flaccid manhood and eventually taking it into her mouth once more.

"I don't know if I can," he said.

"Let me do this," she whispered as she moved along his body to place his soft prick on his stomach and against her soft clit. Too soft to penetrate her yet large enough to stimulate that special sensitive place to arouse her once more. Ever so slowly she kissed and teased his chest, then gently undulating her hips against him. He marveled at her softness and her strength. He felt as if she wanted to consume him, and he wanted her to. Closing his eyes and losing himself in the gentle pleasure, he could feel himself getting aroused once more.

"Oh," he moaned as his lover increased her pressure against him. As he grew rigid once more she maneuvered his penis inside her.

"Yessss," she whispered. "Yesss, yesss yesss." her pressure increased against him and her hips found a rhythm with his. Rising up to put her hands on his chest she put all of her weight on his loins as her orgasm once more took control of her. Together they moaned and he finally pulled her down against him holding her tightly.

They rested and caught their breath. Laying her head on his chest she felt comfortable. His hands rested on her back gently caressing her. He lay in awe of her softness.

Sated she rolled off of him and sat on the floor by his side, holding his hand. "And what now?" she said.

He sat up and reached for the decanter of brandy and took a large swallow. "It will be morning soon," he said. "Will you share my bed?"

"Yes, husband," she said and kissed him softly. "The housekeeper will arrive shortly. She shouldn't see us in such a state."

Hand in hand, they retired to the doctor's bedroom.

It was nearly noon when they were dressed and descended the stairs for lunch.

"I didn't want to disturb either of you, but I was surprised when I found your clothes scattered on the floor of the library. Did something happen?" she asked innocently.

"Yes," said the doctor. "I fell in love with my wife."

"Well, just so you know, I'll not put up with hanky-panky goings on while I'm working. And from now on you'll have to pick up your own clothes. And you left that carpet a mess. I don't need to -,"

"Alice, Alice stop talking," he said. "The carpet will be replaced and the furniture repaired," said the doctor. "It's time we tended to this as a proper household, not a tribute to lives long past."

"Yes, sir," said Alice.

"Do you know of a proper assistant for my wife? Someone to assist her with her dresses and with the household?" he asked.

"Why yes. I do know of several. There are always young ladies looking to be domestics. After all, finding work in a noble household. I can -," Alice went on.

"Alice please," said Sandra.

"Yes, mam. Sorry mam. I do tend to go on, don't I? My last employer once told me that I often had nothing to say and went on and on to let everyone know about -,"

"Alice."

"Yes, mam."

"I read in the social paper that there's a formal ball scheduled for the benefit of the war veterans. My husband and I will be attending. Until we find another housemaid you'll accompany me to the dressmaker and help make preparations."

"Yes, mam. I've heard that the tawdry Madame Pecheur attends those affairs with her libertines. My lord, it's not appropriate those people are allowed to associate with -,"

"Alice."

Yes, mam."

"Madame Percheur will be at the ball?" said the doctor. "I will be most pleased to introduce her to my wife. Somehow I believe we all have something in common."

"Something in common?" said Sandra. "Well, I can only Hope."