A New York Haunting: Pt. 07

"The following morning, the sun and seaside breeze coming through the windows was a welcome restorative to my unsettled constitution, granting me a rueful perspective on the prior night's events. I chastised myself severely for succumbing to that scoundrel's seductive persuasion and reassured myself nothing irrevocable had befallen me --- my virtue was intact and no one else knew of these indiscretions.

"Henceforth, I would conduct myself with faultless rectitude."

"What happened when you saw Peter at breakfast?

"I was terrified as I descended from my room, but much to my relief, the young gentlemen did not appear at breakfast. Come midmorning, Bram found me sketching on the veranda and inquired as to my plans for the day.

"'I suppose I shall be accompanying Aunt Adele to a luncheon.'

"'How would you like to go on a picnic in the country instead? I invited Miss Sayre, but her acceptance was contingent upon there being another lady present.'

"'Who's Miss Sayre?'

"He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I grinned at his embarrassment. 'Bram, are you courting someone?'

"He shrugged. 'I'm reluctant to call it courting when I'll be returning to the war in a few weeks. But I do believe we have a mutual regard. In any case, I thought if you and Peter came along it would be a pleasant party.'"

Anders' writing grew more agitated. How woefully ignorant her brother had been of his friend's true character! He rejoined in a tight voice, "How did you respond to this invitation?"

"My smile faltered, and my thoughts raced. The implied pairing of two couples at once evoked a feeling of discomfort. Bram had warned me that Peter had an 'eye for the ladies,' but was he cognizant of the extent of his friend's uncouth behavior? I debated informing him of last night's incident, but in view of my own indecorous participation, I held my tongue. Quickly I weighed the options --- another tiresome day of stilted social functions and inane gossip with Aunt Adele and the other ladies, or a jaunt in the country in more informal company.

"'Peter wants to do some shooting as well.'

"The prospect of once again feeling a powerful gun jolting in my hand decided me. 'Yes, I'd be happy to go.' Surely, in my brother's presence, Peter would not importune me so crudely again. I felt a twinge of mischievous excitement recalling my brief subversion of propriety last night --- then quashed it mercilessly. Never again would my conduct be anything less than reproachless."

Anders studied her again tranquil face. "Tell me about the picnic."

"With the temperate weather, we set out in an open Perth cart --- Bram holding the reins, Peter next to him, and I sitting on the rear-facing seat. When we picked up Miss Sayre at the Newport Arms Hotel, my brother helped her up to the seat next to him, while Peter moved to sit beside me. Lest he contemplate taking any liberties behind my brother's back, I placed my portfolio bag between us on the seat.

"Miss Sayre was an attractive, full-bosomed, fair-haired young lady a few years older than me. Amiable and chatty, she explained her family was from Philadelphia, and her father was a physician attending the same surgical course as Bram, while the family enjoyed a summer holiday in Newport."

"How did Peter conduct himself?"

"Peter was on his best behavior --- even when my eyes briefly met his, his expression was entirely benign. Nevertheless, I remained on the alert. Amidst commentary on the scenery and weather, he made a seemingly offhand observation: 'I read in the Society pages that you went on a carriage ride with young Vanderbilt.' Despite his effort at casualness, a terse note was detectable in his voice.

"I was nonplussed --- the carriage ride yesterday with my suitor, his mother, and my aunt. Was it only yesterday? It seemed so long ago --- so much had happened since! Rarely did I peruse the Society pages, but I was unsurprised to hear the simple ride had become an item of gossip. No explanation did I feel obliged to offer Peter --- but then I recalled his brawl with my other suitor at the archery contest and exerted myself to reply, 'It would be better characterized as my aunt and his mother going for a carriage ride. We simply happened to be their companions.'

"No further remark did he make on the subject, and inconsequential pleasantries resumed.

"We took the ferry to Sakonnet and soon found ourselves riding through beautiful countryside. Presently arriving at an unpretentious vineyard, Bram secured permission from the owner to picnic and practice target shooting on his land, and we proceeded along a narrow dirt road past the verdant vines to the waterfront. Here we lay the blanket on a grassy bluff overlooking a pebbly beach. We had the remote locale to ourselves.

"Bram and Peter immediately climbed down to the beach to indulge in target practice with Peter's latest creation. Eager as I was to shoot the pistol, my better manners prevailed, and I assisted Miss Sayre in unpacking the picnic basket Cook had prepared for us. That task completed, we ventured onto the beach to join the gentlemen. Miss Sayre seemed shocked when I took a turn with the revolver and demurred when Bram offered to show her how to shoot it. As for myself, I rebuffed Peter's overly intrusive attempts to correct my shooting stance.

"A pleasant lunch followed, enlivened by champagne and conversation --- conducted predominantly by the three other members of the party. After a glass of champagne, I experienced a measure of ease, momentarily suspending my fretting over the incident with Peter in the library. Indeed, I was able to enjoy simply sitting on the ground and taking in the splendid prospect of the vineyard, sparkling bay, and Sakonnet lighthouse on its rocky outcropping.

"I cautioned myself to imbibe with restraint lest I drop my guard, but with the general merriment of the picnic, I lost track of my consumption. It consistently seemed I had drunk less than I recalled --- by the time I realized Peter had been repeatedly replenishing my glass, I was already feeling fairly giddy..."

"Was your brother aware of your state?"

"I don't think so. After luncheon, Bram invited Miss Sayre to stroll with him on the beach, and they rose from the picnic blanket. Nervous as I was to be left alone with the roguish gun entrepreneur, I still did not want to intrude upon my brother's tête-à-tête with his potential lady-love. Concealing my pattering excitement under an air of nonchalance, I pulled out my sketchbook and began drawing the lighthouse. With the effect of the champagne, I observed with amusement the imprecision of my pencil lines.

"The figures of my brother and Miss Sayre receded along the beach. In the deep recesses of my mind, I was vaguely aware that I should thwart any overtures by rising from the ground and retreating to the beach myself, but such was my state of giggly befuddlement from the liquor that I could mount no creditable vigilance.

"From the corner of my eye, I saw Peter remove his suit jacket and lay it on the blanket. Scooting closer to me, he stretched out his legs and leaned back upon his hands. I sensed he was studying me but kept my eyes fixed upon the lighthouse and the paper.

"At length, he commented, 'You're a champion artist.' After a few more pencil strokes, he nudged my shoulder with his. 'That's a fine subject for a drawing --- a splendid tower standing erect in the sky. You're stroking hand is rendering it perfectly.'"

Anders' mouth tightened, unsurprised at this development.

"There was a sly undertone in his voice that prompted me --- despite my better judgment --- to glance in his direction. Grinning at me, he pointedly looked down. My faculties compromised, my naive gaze dropped to the blatant protrusion of his trouser front. With my recently acquired knowledge, I could not mistake the pole-like outline for an innocent fold in the fabric --- and to my dismay, I could not stop staring at it.

"Peter chuckled and thrust his hips up with a brief motion. 'Go on and take it out, my lady. I know you want to touch it.'

"I felt dizzy, and as I struggled for an appropriate outraged response, I realized in mortification that his words were true --- I did want to see and touch that grotesquely mesmerizing appendage that pulsed and radiated in my hand. Scanning the vicinity, I spied the small, dark figures of Bram and Miss Sayre far down the beach. As if of its own will, my hand stretched towards his lap and fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, my fingers brushing against the hard staff within. Peter muttered encouragement as I unfastened the buttons, first of his trousers, then of the white cotton drawers underneath."

Anders jumped. Something had touched his leg. Looking down, he beheld in shock Ondine's pale hand upon his thigh, near his pocket. So engrossed had he been in her account, he had not noticed her arm lift and bridge the short distance between them. What the devil was happening?! Had she awoken from the trance? A quick survey of the lovely patient showed her pulse, respirations, and otherwise languid posture unaltered. The intermittent trembling of her eyelids continued as well.

In alarm, he watched as her hand with its stray smudge of pink paint patted its way under his notebook towards the flap of his trousers. In view of the current scene she was describing, he was seized by consternation. Should he pick up her hand and return it to her lap? What if the motion precipitously woke her from the hypnotic state without a proper exit? Could that be harmful to her psyche? Nothing he had read during his research had prepared him for this. His heartbeat quickened with his dilemma as her hand and soft narration advanced.

"My shaking fingers pulled the flap aside, freeing him from the fabric. The ruddy pillar sprang skyward. Before I could even consider changing my mind, Peter wrapped my hand around it and squeezed as he had last night. In short order, my clumsy fist was sliding up and down the strange, spellbinding object. My fuddled eyes shifted between the beach and the game at hand. In broad daylight, my maidenly inquisitiveness compelled a flustered survey of the now blatantly visible details of a man's privates --- the gradation in color from the base to the helmet-shaped head, the vertical, iron-like ridges, the bulging veins on the shaft, the auburn hair at its root, and the wrinkled skin of the balls below."

Anders held his notebook aside, all attempts at writing abandoned as he gaped at Ondine's small hand upon his lap. While her body lay in repose and her words flowed steadily forth, her slim fingers found the flap of his trousers and began fumbling with the buttons --- feeling for one after the other. Christ! What should he do?! Was he taking advantage of her trance? He hadn't done anything suggest she do this! Was she taking advantage of him? To his chagrin, the rousing sight and the shifting pressure of her palm and fingers upon the fabric over his equipment was fast wakening his longing cock.

Oh God! She'd freed all the buttons on his trousers! As her fingers next groped for the fastenings of his drawers, the expanding, fabric-encased column therein relentlessly bulged into the gap between the straining trouser edges. Ondine! Anders' eyes shifted back and forth between her artlessly determined fingers and her plump, moving lips.

"Again, I witnessed in fascination the changes wrought upon Peter by my attentions --- his panting breaths, his oddly grimacing face --- and I felt a naughty thrill to be the author of his evident discombobulation. Soon, the accelerated tempo of his breathing, his tensing body, and the moans he emitted seemed to herald some nearing crisis, stimulating a burgeoning, witless agitation in myself.

"'You can't wait to feel it up your cunt, can you?' he rasped. 'Ploughing you like in the pictures.'

"Not even understanding his lewd litany, I shamefully whispered, 'Yes.'

"A dog's bark sounded behind us. Then again, louder, approaching. 'Katie! Come here!' a man's voice called.

"In panic, my hand jerked back. Peter pulled his jacket across his lap. A moment later, a friendly Labrador retriever was on the picnic blanket, eagerly sniffing our faces and the remnants of the lunch. Less than a minute behind came the owner of the land to whom we had applied earlier for admittance --- I was petting the dog and Peter was engrossed in re-corking a champagne bottle as he approached.

"'Hello there!' the man said. "You've been out here so long, I wanted to make sure you hadn't fallen into the bay. Katie, stay out of their basket!'

"Peter grinned. 'Between the champagne and the view, it's hard to think of leaving. My friend and his fiancée are strolling on the beach.' He nodded towards the pair in the distance. 'We're just lazing about. Would you like some champagne, sir?'

"The farmer declined then gestured towards my open sketchbook, inquiring about my artwork."

Helpless under her touch, Anders stared openmouthed at Ondine's hand. Grazing and rubbing across his rigid organ, her fingers worked free the last buttons on his bursting drawers and promptly reached for him. He squelched a gasp at the touch of her cool fingers on his burning, bare flesh. She tugged awkwardly, disentangling him from his garments.

Fully released, his blood-engorged kraken stood upright --- naked and pulsing.

Anders gazed at it as if he had never seen it before, then his guilty eyes darted to the hall door, the windows, and the door to the conservatory. He was lewdly exposed in this grand sitting room in the Cornelissen mansion --- her uncle and numerous servants God knows how close!

And then her avid fingers wrapped around him. Herregud!

It had been forever since he had felt the touch of a female's hand upon his cock! But it was not just any female's hand upon him --- it was Ondine's! In blind joy, his crown saluted the ceiling mural above. Soft, dainty, and warming upon his overheated skin --- her small hand struggled unsuccessfully to encompass his girth. What a splendid pale cuff it was in contrast to his reddened truncheon! She squeezed the shaft --- Anders gritted his teeth and shuddered.

Vaguely he was aware of her continuing narrative --- how the farmer had chatted with them until her brother and Miss Sayre had returned, and they had packed up the picnic and departed without her escapade with Peter being discovered.

Anders' gaze was fixed upon her exploring hand, the battle waging within him: honor, ethics, and duty versus the extraordinary blessing Fate had visited upon his besotted cock. With every throb against her palm, his organ told her of his love. Now her fingers were palpating the flange of his knob! Ahhh, God! He must keep his wits about him and listen for clues that would help end the haunting!

"That night, alone in my bedchamber, I paced up and down with the unrest in my mind and body. Cool ocean air streamed through the windows and touched my skin under the thin nightgown. The flighty effect of the champagne had now resolved, and I berated myself for my reprobate character. Dear God! How could I --- a respectable, unmarried innocent --- have yielded to that man's scurrilous cajoling and touched his privates?! I was a wicked, wicked girl!

"And perhaps even more reprehensible than the physical act was my associated impish thrill while engaged in it! All the instruction and warnings throughout my life told me I should have been disgusted and offended and fled his company.

"It came to me then that the escapade with Peter corresponded to one of the acts depicted in the illustrations of Fanny Hill. In a deluge, the other pictures whirled in my mind, fanning my disquiet. Again and again, I heard Peter's pronouncement 'You can't wait to feel it up your cunt, can you?' and recalled my uncomprehending agreement. I did know that word was a rude term for a lady's privates. And such an exercise was indeed what the other pictures had shown: that staff I had palpated would go inside the lady's cunny --- inside my cunny!"

Anders' eyes bugged in his head as Ondine's grasping hand began to move --- sliding up and down his shaft, inexpertly but oh so eagerly. Oh, sweet heaven! He squeezed shut his eyes, endeavoring to block out the voluptuous sensations. It was wrong to let her do this, wasn't it?

"I was beset with unchaste curiosity --- even as I thought on those pictures and evoked the sensation of stroking the thick rigid organ, a wanton, quivering ache arose in my corresponding part. How I longed to study those pictures again! If I had but read the text, many of the answers to my naïve questions might have been answered. With what bitterness did I now curse myself for burning the book! Checking the fireplace grate, I confirmed it was utterly destroyed.

"The thought occurred to me that once returned to New York City, I could secretly peruse my brother's old medical textbooks --- sitting untouched in his former study --- and perhaps gain more knowledge of this taboo subject." Stroke, stroke, stroke... Ondine's guileless hand tugged upon his organ.

"I confess the monstrous curiosity then commanded me to embark on a shocking act. Heart pattering, I stealthily locked the door to my room and closed the drapes. Does it seem laughable, Mr. Røkke, that I --- would-be rebel against society's strict rules for females --- would be frightened to examine my own body in the privacy of my room? Of course, I had numerous times seen my unclothed form while bathing and dressing, but I had not dared to explore any further --- not since the day a governess had beaten my hands with a ruler for doing so. Ah, how powerful are the harsh lessons of the past!"

"What did you do?" Anders asked hoarsely.

"Retrieving my hand mirror from the dressing table, I climbed onto the bed and sat leaning back against the pillows. My raised, bent knees were tightly pressed together, and the hem of my nightgown covered my toes. With nervous fingers, I drew the gown up over my feet, calves, and knees. It slid the rest of the way down to my hips. I eyed my bare, closely-apposed thighs for several moments, then took a deep breath and slowly opened my knees about a foot and a half apart."

The vision of Ondine spreading her legs on her bed seized hold of Anders' mind. A strangled groan escaped him as the excursions of her warm little hand now extended from his shaft to the head, the prepuce covering and uncovering the glowing, swollen bulb with each stroke.

"My heart beat faster as I placed the mirror between my legs. I don't know what I had been expecting, but no appalling sight greeted my eyes. In fact, my first impression was of a sweet confection --- little puffed pink lips with a central vertical groove, sprinkled with decorative glossy curls. Emboldened, I let my upraised knees fall fully open.

"In blushing, furtive eagerness, I stared at my now flagrantly exposed cunny, the spreading of the initially visible lips disclosing between them a second, delicate pair resembling flower petals.

"But, where did the male organ go? No opening could I spy. I considered that perhaps it might simply lay between the petals like a sausage in a bun, but was skeptical, summoning forth all the recalled details of the illustrations in Fanny Hill."

Anders inhaled a ragged breath. I'll show you where it goes, sweet girl! In his mind's eye, he saw her as she had been during the ghost's visit --- her widespread legs doubled over towards her shoulders, tipping her pelvis off the mattress and ruthlessly displaying her open cunny and bottom hole directly before him.

His glazed eyes traveled from Ondine's closed eyelids to her pulpy lips to her gently moving breasts --- her lovely body pliant and serene in her trance, save for her heightened blush and her exquisitely pumping fist on his cock. Anders' heart and body strained towards the girl, desperate for her. It was all he could do to suppress the urge to climb forthwith onto the sofa, toss up her skirts, and mount her.