Elizabeth 04: Late Summer (Part 1)

"That would be lovely, thanks," Elizabeth said. "I am quite sorry, but it has been a long day."

"Indeed," Jonathan's father agreed. "In any event, Jonathan, I believe I mentioned to you that your mother and I have taken over the downstairs back room to sleep in? Much cooler in the summer."

"Uh..." Jonathan struggled to recall. "Fair enough, Dad."

His father chuckled. "No worries if you don't recall, son. Hardly important. In any event, your mother and I have instructed James to prepare your grandmother's old room for Elizabeth. You can have your old room, of course."

"And I trust you shall respect Elizabeth's dignity while she sleeps next door," his mother warned. "I am sure she does not need to remind you, you are not married yet."

"Naturally, Mother." Jonathan was nearly in pain with effort to avoid laughing; Elizabeth could tell because she was experiencing the same dilemma.

"I shall show Elizabeth upstairs," Jonathan's mother announced, oblivious to the reaction to her prior declaration. "Perhaps you have matters to discuss with Jonathan then, Warren."

"Well, right," said his father awkwardly. Elizabeth suddenly felt just as awkward, knowing all too well that the older woman simply wanted a word alone with her, probably something about who was and was not a blood relative regardless of whom Jonathan loved. Resigned to an uncomfortable confrontation, she followed up the narrow stairwell.

She needn't have worried, for Jonathan's mother was all smiles at the top of the stairs. "Silly boys will drag out a good-night all night long if you let them," she reassured Elizabeth. "Probably want to talk of rugby or some such. Nothing we need fill our heads with while struggling to remain awake! And I am sure you would prefer your time alone now in any event." She led Elizabeth down the long hall to a small, ornately decorated room with a double bed taking most of the space, not unlike many of the guest rooms at the Marlstons'. "My mother in law slept here for many years, as I said," she explained. "Jonathan was quite close to her, I am sure he has told you, and so we had his room just next to hers." She pointed at the wall opposite the bed. "Quite convenient for when they were up late chatting about anything and nothing, as one couldn't hear their noise at the far end of the hall, much less downstairs."

Elizabeth gave her a bewildered look, wondering for the moment if she was being drawn into a cloaked woman-to-woman conversation.

Her suspicion was promptly proven false. The older woman dropped her voice to a whisper. "I insisted upon having you sleep here, dear, because I trust Jonathan's respect for his grandmother will keep his baser male longings intact."

Though utterly bewildered, Elizabeth found herself oddly relieved as well -- evidently her hairy and horny reputation had not reached her future mother in law's ears after all. "Well...thank you," she said, sounding more uncertain than she felt.

"He is rather too much like his father in some ways, I fear." She turned to leave Elizabeth alone in the spotless, stuffy bedroom. "Welcome to the family, and do have a pleasant night!"

Elizabeth wanted to kiss her, but that seemed improper. "And good night to you as well." Once the door was shut, she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, unsure of whether to laugh or cry at all she had just learned. Jonathan, whose libido was never as intense as Elizabeth's, was "too much like his father"? Little wonder, then, that his mother seemed such a cold fish! It was unkind, but Elizabeth could not help thinking it.

Their delicious tryst on the train having only served to inflame her usual appetite, Elizabeth dearly hoped Jonathan would not let his grandmother's ghost keep him at bay. But with no sound of him next door (perhaps he and his father really were talking of rugby?), there was nothing but to wait and hope and make the best of whatever situation was to emerge. Fortunately, Elizabeth had two good hands and years of practice in their use. First things first, she got up and opened the window to let in the pleasant summer breeze. With the music of the insects and wildlife outside, she drew the shade and set about undressing. Jonathan or no Jonathan, the lovely surroundings and the soft bed were ripe for christening with her favourite pastime.

An uncomfortable-looking old chair sat in the corner by the window; Elizabeth soon had her skirt and blouse draped over it and her panties discreetly kicked underneath. Keeping her brassiere on for the moment, she padded quietly around the bed, drinking in the lavish décor and recalling Jonathan's words from earlier in the afternoon about enjoying the venue of her sexual awakening, and now imagining the same of Jonathan. Mightn't he have crept into that very room in his grandmother's absence, in search of all things feminine? That wonderful memory of all fantasies and mysteries being brand new flooded over her as she envisioned her own Jonathan experiencing the same. Just as well that they did not meet until adulthood, she knew, as they were ever so much more experienced; but oh! To have had her very first time with lovely Jonathan! And in such a room as this!

His mother's words about "dignity" and "male longings" only tickling her fancy further, Elizabeth reached down and began running her fingers through her lush bush just as Irene and I were imagining doing a few hundred miles away. (Neither of us would have been surprised in the least; Elizabeth alone in a bedroom could only ever lead to one thing!) Finding herself just as wet to the touch as she had anticipated, she wasted no time in settling herself on the bed with her legs spread and her hands between them. There were fleeting thoughts of pausing to remove her brassiere, but she found the taboo of being not-quite-naked enjoyable and the satin on her hard nipples quite erotic. A new room, a new bed, a new variation on her usual procedure -- how utterly delightful with or without Jonathan!

She was still lost in leisurely memories of the train and various other favourite sessions with Jonathan when the rap came at the door at last. "Elizabeth?" He said her name loudly enough that she could only hope his mother was right about hearing nothing from downstairs.

"Come in," she said as loudly as she dared, stifling a giggle at his likely reaction.

Jonathan appeared in the doorway, dressed in a raggedy bathrobe emblazoned in his university colours -- now rather faded. He looked freshly scrubbed and eager to join in with his true love, but he did not look surprised at all at her erotic pose. "I had rather feared you would get a head start without me," he said, grinning as he removed his bathrobe to reveal that he was predictably aroused at the sight. As always, the beautiful sight of his rigid cock only drove Elizabeth to further distraction.

"I wonder," she sighed, eyeing him hungrily as he made his way around the little room, "Just exactly what does it say about me that you are utterly unsurprised to find me playing with myself in your grandmother's bed?"

"I know only what it says about me, Elizabeth," Jonathan replied. "It says I really am amazingly lucky. What I did to deserve your love, I shall never know." He climbed onto the bed alongside her and she eagerly let his hands take the place of hers in her bush. "I trust my mother has told you, however accidentally, that we can do anything we like in here and they shall never hear us downstairs."

"Indeed, and I was wondering did she even realize what she had told me?" Elizabeth said just before giving in to the lusty gasps and squirms that she could always trust his loving fingers to bring.

Jonathan propped himself up on one elbow alongside Elizabeth, his other hand now gently probing her vagina. "Most likely not," he said, enjoying the sights and sounds of her response to his loving caresses. "My grandmother was my lifeline growing up, you know, always my trusty source for whatever I needed to know about girls -- I mean, anything -- and Mother never overheard our conversations. Felt absolutely safe discussing anything on our minds here, and she never knew."

He continued stroking as he spoke, and Elizabeth was well into her usual erotic lather as a result. "But...onhhhh, yes! But I mean...oooooohhhhhh...your talks weren't loud, were they? Loud as I get when youuuuuuuu...ohhhhh...when you make me come?"

"Well, admittedly, no," Jonathan said. "But I...sometimes the conversations were on very intimate topics, Elizabeth, and once Grandmother was safely out of the house, I would enjoy myself in here, just as you were doing. You know how sometimes I can be rather loud as well, but Mother never knew."

"Why not -- OOHHHHHHH! Yes! Unhhhhh. Why not your own room, Jonathan?" Elizabeth was just as titillated by the stories he was sharing as by his touch.

"This room was at least a little further away," he said. "Besides, Grandma had some art books she used to let me peruse. She said it was nothing to be ashamed of and better that I learn these things from tasteful paintings than from, well, the other options available to me back then."

"Jonathan!" Elizabeth lay still, catching her breath from her first orgasm. "That is -- well, odd and rather creepy when I think of grandmothers, but it's beautiful! She wanted to make sure you had a safe outlet for your urges...how I wish my mother had been so open-minded!"

"My mother wasn't either," Jonathan reminded her. "But then Grandmother never entirely approved of her. As I got older, I could see why." Sensing Elizabeth was satiated for the moment, he withdrew his damp fingers but continued running them playfully through her abundant pubic hair.

"So you used to do just as you saw me doing, in this very bed?"

"Precisely," Jonathan said. "Tell me, did you have a preferred place to play at your home? Please tell me it was the bed I slept in!"

"I'd have surely told you that already if it were the case," Elizabeth said. "You know that. No, my only refuge was the cellar, I am afraid."

"The cellar? How very unromantic!" Jonathan was climbing atop Elizabeth as he said it, and as naturally as breathing she reached down to guide him inside her.

"Unromantic but safe," she explained. "No risk of my sister walking in on me if I appeared to just be lying on the old couch reading books we had stored there. Not that she ever cared to read much in any event! But if she, or anyone else, did open the cellar door, I had all the time I needed to pull my skirt back down and look like I was only reading." She was laughing by the time she finished her reminiscence, as well as gasping with pleasure at Jonathan's delightful presence in her body. "No one ever knew!"

"I shall have to remember to visit your cellar the next time we are there," Jonathan teased as he slowly began his rhythmic pushing. And then there was no more use or time for words, as they were both soon lost in the throes of quiet passion, Elizabeth struggling to keep her moans to a low volume and barely succeeding as Jonathan thrusted his way to two more orgasms for her and one for himself. She fell asleep not long afterwards, and he made his discreet way back to his own room hours before anyone would have any chance at being the wiser.

It was one of the great ironies of our friendship, I suppose, that Elizabeth and Jonathan made love so casually and comfortably and then spent the night in separate beds, whereas Irene and I spent the night in a passionate embrace after our awkward playtime. Had that been the worst of it, I have little doubt that our evening together would remain but an hour or so of harmless fun in our memories.

Alas, that was not to be. Neither Irene nor I ever knew with any certainty which of us initiated it, or indeed if it were the result of actions either of us took while awake; but it mattered little. What did matter was that when we came to full consciousness in the warm light of the following morning, our eager but chaste hug had given way to rather more carnal pursuits. Hands all about one another's hips, breasts and pussy, both of us eagerly wet to the touch and frolicking about the bed, it was the most natural and delightful play I had ever yet experienced.

Until I snapped fully awake. "Heavens, Irene!" I said, her lips nearly brushing mine as I did. "I'm so sorry!"

"I'm not!" she said lustily. "No time to moralize now when we've torn down the wall, Agnes! Here!" She grabbed at my head and pulled me down to her generous breasts. Her supple flesh and firm nipples tasted as beautiful as they looked, and nothing could have felt more natural than my lips on them. Or her fingers in my pussy, which I was suddenly very much aware of. I was scarcely aware of my first shriek of pleasure until I heard it myself. I must have had a very amusing look on my face as I realized my own vocalisation, for Irene burst into laughter and I joined her. I then dove back into her breasts, drawing similar screeches from her as she rubbed me effortlessly to orgasm. Emboldened, I reached down and did the same, the taboo of it all melting away in the moist folds of my dear friend's vagina. Sensing she was near, I straightened up and kissed her on the mouth just in time to muffle her beautiful screams, which I instead felt up and down my own body.

After the lovely moment had passed, we both lay back on our own pillows, not touching and not talking for several minutes. Or so it felt in any event. At long last, Irene spoke, her voice tinged with regret. "I shall have to tell Benjamin," she said, as if fighting back tears.

"But..." I began, but could think of no objection. "Yes, I suppose we must."

"Not 'we', Agnes. I must tell him. It would never be fair to involve you."

"But how can you say I am not involved, Irene?" I demanded.

"Because it was my responsibility to hold you at an appropriate distance last night," she said. "I could have said 'no,' and I am sorry, Agnes, but I should have said it. But I did not." And then the tears did begin.

"Oh, Irene."

I rolled over and attempted to take her in a comforting embrace, but she pushed me away. "Please!" she snapped. "Please, do not touch me again, not here at least. I know it is your bed, Agnes, but I should appreciate very much if you would put on your clothes and then give me some privacy to do the same."

"Certainly," I said. I rolled out of bed, peering over my shoulder only to verify that Irene was not looking at me; she was not. In that moment, in the privacy of my own bedroom, I knew all too well the difference between nudity and nakedness. And I felt very much the latter.

Irene saw her own way out while I was bathing; she would later tell me she had put on yesterday's dress and hoped for few prying eyes on the streetcar into Westfordshire City. Feeling rather embarrassed and sorry for what I had done, yet exhilarated with the memory of Irene's body against mine, I put on one of my usual conservative work dresses and made my way down to breakfast. My three cousins were there, and nearly finished when I arrived. Joy, the youngest, was delighted to see me as always. "Agnes!" she called out with a cheerful wave.

"Good morning, Joy," I replied. And in quick succession I also greeted Thomas, who smiled a polite hello but showed none of the enthusiasm he always showed for Elizabeth (I was amused rather than hurt by this; his adulation for my friend was most adorable), and Alexandria. True to her father's commentary of the night before, Alexandria acknowledged me only with a curt, eye-rolling nod.

"Father says you must forgive Alexandria, Agnes," Joy piped up as I busied myself with the teapot.

"Shut up, you!" Alexandria snapped. "Agnes didn't ask your advice about me or anything else!"

"Children! Zat eess enough!" Sandrine, the children's tutor, made her presence known in no uncertain terms at the far end of the table. "I am zorry, Agnes," she said, pronouncing my name French-style as usual, with the stress on the latter syllable; it always made me feel quite elegant.

"That is quite all right, Sandrine," I assured her. "I remember being Alex's age all too well." As I sat down with my tea, I forced myself to smile at Alexandria.

"You were never my age," Alexandria grumbled, throwing her spoon down hard against her plate.

Sandrine stood up. "Thomas, Joy, let us go upstairs now." When Alexandria shoved her chair back with a dirty look, Sandrine continued, "Not you, Alexandria. We shall have a word with your nurse before lessons."

Alexandria's gruff façade vanished. "Not that! Sandrine, please! I'm sorry! I will be good today!"

"I should think you certainly will, my dear," Sandrine said, unable to hide her amused smirk as she guided the two younger children away. They all lived in fear of their nurse's temper, and with very good reason.

As they receded to the foyer and then the stairs, Alexandria stared down at her empty plate, looking near tears. Then she looked up at me. "Can you help me, Agnes? You know what Nurse is like!"

"Yes, but I also know what you have been like of late, Alex," I reminded her. "I should never wish her temper on anyone, but what do you expect when you are so surly all the time?"

"Why would I not be?!" Alexandria demanded. "Father is pulling all my world out from underneath me and all the grown-ups say they know what's best for me, and those two little brats are just living their joyful little lives as if there is nothing wrong!"

"Alex," I said more gently than I was feeling, "You are not the only person to be presented with a path in life that you did not want. You are not even the first one in this house." I knew all too well that she recalled the week in spring when I could not stop crying over Edward.

"Yes, but you had Auntie Elizabeth to help you through that!" Alexandria replied. Then, for the first time, her face softened a bit. "Speaking of Auntie Elizabeth, when is she returning? She is the only grown-up who even might understand me. Perhaps there is something she could say to Father."

"Auntie Elizabeth?" I repeated. "Since when do you ever call her that?" I had heard no such thing from Alexandria in the past. Joy called Elizabeth her auntie because she addressed all of her adult friends as such, and Thomas did the same because he had a crush on Elizabeth; but to Alexandria she had always been simply Elizabeth, and usually addressed begrudgingly even as such.

"Well," Alexandria said with a defeated sigh, "She is...I mean, Agnes, she is a silly, square grown-up who drinks too much tea and indulges Joy far too much, and heaven only knows what she and you and the rest of your friends are up to in those baths in the city -- yes, Agnes, I have heard of all that, and I shan't tell you how -- but at least she cares. No one else does, just now, that I can tell."

Alexandria was rewarded with the sight of me dropping my toast in surprise as I learned how much she knew of our private affairs at the baths, and then I was rewarded with her triumph turning ever so quickly to terror as the nurse appeared in the doorway with a bloodcurdling order to follow her.

I was alone now in the cavernous dining room, and so I did not care that my hands were shaking a bit as I resumed eating. Elizabeth had often wondered just what her host family knew of her reputation in the city, and so by extension had the rest of our circle of friends and lovers. But I did not believe we had ever considered the possibility that the children might have got wind of it all. Little wonder how enamoured little Thomas was of Elizabeth, then!

Blissfully unaware of what their two best friends had been up to back in Westfordshire, Elizabeth and Jonathan were enjoying a dusty walk along the village back roads later on that morning. It had taken some time to break free of his mother's prying efforts at conversation, but Elizabeth was mildly amused at it all now that they were alone again at last. "I do adore her concern for you, my darling," she told Jonathan. "But tell me, is she really ever so unaware of our lifestyle?"