Bridget's Days Ch. 02

When we were finished, I noticed that Belle's hands had begun to shake slightly. I turned away from her. "Belle, you don't need to be afraid. I promise you are completely safe from me."

Belle placed her hand on my shoulder and turned me around. "No Bridget, I'm not afraid of you. I'm not trembling because of fear." She put her hands on my shoulders. She took two slow, short steps until her eyes were looking into mine from a distance of inches. Then her hands moved down. My eyes widened with the surprise a gasp when those hands covered my bare breasts. "I'm trembling for another reason." With that, she kissed me.

I closed my eyes as I felt her soft lips on mine. She ran her tongue over my lips as they parted for her. Her fingers caressed my breasts, gently stroking my rapidly stiffening nipples. Her hands were soft, comforting, exciting me as only another woman can.

Her tongue tip darted between my lips. Her hands left my breasts for a moment and I moaned with dismay. There was a rustle of cloth and then two hard points touched mine. My eyes opened. Belle's dress pooled at her feet. She wore only silk pantaloons. Above the waist she was nude. Her full, firm breasts pressed against mine, our nipples now jammed against one another's. Her tongue snaked deeply into my mouth, twirling with mine.

My hands touched her hips. Irresistibly my palms covered her bottom, rubbing the fine silk against her ass cheeks. Her arms were around me and she gasped as she pulled me tightly against her body. Her hands roamed as wildly over my back as her tongue did in my mouth.

Belle took two steps back to the bed. She broke our kiss and dragged her tongue down my throat and between my breasts. Holding me upright, she sat on the bed, her lips on my belly. Her hands fumbled at the men's trousers I had worn that night. She pushed them down my hips.

"Naughty, naughty Bridget," she mock scolded me. "You have nothing on under these pants. What if the material scratched something precious?"

I tried to reply. I couldn't. For without a further pause her head dipped between my legs and her tongue ran the length of my wet slit. All I could do was murmur her name over and over and touch her head. She lapped my pussy, her tongue sliding up and down in quick repeated strokes. Then she changed her motion, rolling her tongue and darting it inside my vagina.

For someone who didn't need to breath I was gasping in loud pants. My hand was on the back of her head, urging her on. I looked down to see she had slipped off her pantaloons and one hand was busy between her own legs, furiously rubbing herself. I raised myself on my toes, rocking back and forth onto her stabbing tongue. I stiffened. The first spasm ran through my body.

Belle sensed my build. Her legs splayed and she plunged her fingers inside herself, her thumb blurring on her clit. Her head raised ever so slightly and her lips found my own stiff nubbin and captured it A squeeze of her lips and I fell over the edge, flooding her face with a muffled cry of delight. She cried out herself, her mouth closing over me and drinking me as she bounced up and down on the bed in her own release.

We stayed in the room for 48 hours, sleeping in each other's arms. I woke her the first time with my head between her legs. The second time I woke to find her on top of me, with her strong legs already driving herself against me.

At dusk on the second day I slipped out of the building. I discovered Allan had returned and was cleaning up the remnants of the attempted murder. I was indeed correct, it had been a twisted alliance of Unionist and Southerners, the former determined to exact "vengeance" for some reason or other, and the latter trying to create a martyr to rally foreign support against a nation so lost to civility as to murder a female already promised her freedom.

Belle went back to the South a week after we showed up in Allan's office. We had nothing more than one fleeting moment together and we never saw each other again. But I've never forgotten her.

Three nights after Belle's departure I was back in Allan's office. He was talking to a well-built man of medium height who's back was turned to me.

"Bridget O'Brien, please meet Robert Dale." The man turned and offered me his hand. Hidden from Allan's view, his right eye dropped in a massive wink."

"How nice, Mister...Dale was it?" I replied with a straight face, which was harder to keep than usual as he pursed his lips and blew me a kiss.

"Yes," filled in Allan, who did not seem to have any idea of the undercurrents in the office. "I'd like you two to work together. I think you'll be a good match."

"I'm sure we will," we both replied almost together. Robert offered me his arm and we took out leave.

As we went down the hallway, I glanced at Robert. He was looking at me with that little smile on his face. I punched him.

"What was THAT?"

"You know perfectly well why. You're thinking of the last time you saw me about 40 years ago."

He sighed. "And you were lovely then too. Of course," he continued thoughtfully, "You were naked and in bed at the time too."

(To Be Continued)

(Historical Note: Bridget's actions and adventures in this chapter are based on the exploits of Kate Warne, one of Allan Pinkerton's most trusted and valuable agents. She did indeed act as one of Lincoln's bodyguards, worked undercover in both Virginia and Tennessee, and also served as a counter-spy in Washington. There is no evidence that she actually crossed paths with Belle Boyd, but she did indeed meet John Wilkes Booth. She is a little-known but fascinating woman.)