Lady Pixie's War Ch. 03: Love

As it turned out, Beccy was even more of a marvel as a spy than she was as a lover - which is saying something indeed.

The material she brought back in her bag was, from my point of view, solid gold. It turned out that her father, Lord Robert, was at the centre of a group of high-ranking Englishmen who supported "Der Führer" as they reverentially called him. They saw in him a "saviour" from the "Reds" and "the Jews." They looked forward, it transpired, to the day when, with German help, they would be able to "restore" King Edward VIII, who had been forced to abdicate in 1936, and was well-known to have Nazi sympathies. In the meantime, they did what they could to support the German cause, and to try to support Chamberlain's policy of appeasement. In return, Ribbentrop, the German ambassador, fed them tit bits of knowledge. That was how, long before it became news, I was able to alert my contacts to the danger posed by the Sudetenland.

Now, all but forgotten, for a while in 1938 it was constantly in the news. A part of Czechoslovakia with a large German-speaking minority, Hitler settled on it as his way of breaking up the whole country. Of course, he claimed that he was just "protecting" the German-speakers, and equally of course, Chamberlain and company fell for it. But I was able to provide evidence, from the Ribbentrop correspondence, of what he was really up to.

As a member of the House of Lords, and as a politician of long-standing, as well as the wife of the Minister of State at the Foreign Office, I had "contacts" with what might loosely be termed "Military Intelligence." It was with these, and especially to Lord Wolmer, that I shared my information. Each week, when Beccy went to do her "Ribb letters," I would go to the Lords and share copies with Wolmer. Like me, he rather despaired of the Government, but at least I felt like I was doing something.

The young historian with whom I seem to be spending every Wednesday morning, asked why more notice was not taken. To explain would be to require him to forget all that history has taught him and to place himself back in 1938.

In the aftermath of the Great War of 1914-1918 no-one wanted to see another war. Czechoslovakia was, as Chamberlain put it crudely but accurately: "a faraway country about which we know nothing." The idea of getting involved in a war because Hitler wanted to "protect" other Germans was patently absurd.

Too many member of my own class viewed him as a bulwark against Communism, whilst too many liberals took the view that Germany had been harshly treated at the Versailles peace settlement and saw no reason not to amend it. We were just about recovering from a major economic crash. Those of us who warned that Hitler was a menace to civilisation as we knew it were dismissed as "warmongers." Contrary to popular myth, we were not helped by Churchill being on our side. He had been wrong on just about every major issue in the previous twenty years. With allies like him, who needed enemies?

The fact was that there was no organised opposition to a powerful Prime Minister who was expected to cruise to victory in an election that could come as early as 1938. Appeasement was simply the most over-determined policy it was possible to imagine.

That did not stop me, Wolmer and a few others doing what we could to gather information to try to push the Government a little. There was no use my trying Archie, who was, after all, a junior minister at the Foreign Office, because he was firmly in the camp of those who wanted peace at any price that we, the British, did not have to pay.

But I was grateful to my beautiful spy, Beccy, who kept me, and others, well abreast of what the Germans were up to.

There was a brief hiatus in her activities because, as I had hoped, my matchmaking worked.

We had the most wonderful weekend at our place in Sussex, and from the moment I saw Jack Carrington and her mounted for the hunt, I knew that there was something between them; the fox was not the only, or even the main prey.

The usual fashion at the time was for the lady to play demure and to let her Mama or sponsor (me in Beccy's case) do the work with the other Mama and the suitor. Beccy was sensible enough to let that happen, but the way she looked at Jack, as well as the way she comported herself in his presence was a masterclass in elegant and subtle flirtation.

"Could you [Jack] just help adjust my stirrup?" She asked before the Hunt left, thus affording her prey the chance to get close to her jodhpur-clad thighs. And did her hand "accidentally" touch his hair? Did her "thank you" handshake linger a moment too long? And did she fix his gaze for a moment longer than might have been thought proper? Of course she did. She did all that and more.

And at the post-hunt drinks, she was, of course, more than happy to let him "top up" her glass and then ask him to "taste this, do you think the punch quite right?" In so doing, she offered him the side of the glass from which she had been drinking. This, and a thousand other signals, had the poor boy all a-quiver.

When we withdrew from the men after supper, Dora whispered to me:

"She is an utter delight, Pixie. I can tell you that Jack is very smitten."

From the way he had been reacting to Beccy, I had no doubt, but it was good to hear that Dora, who was after all his Mama, agreed.

As we sipped our cocktails and gossiped, Beccy asked me how I thought "things were progressing?"

"My darling, you are a natural. They are progressing very well. His Mama and Papa thing you are charming, and as for Jack, what can I say?"

"What CAN you say?" Beccy sounded suddenly unsure of herself.

I realised, again, that she was a nineteen-year-old throwing herself into a part as an actress might; so I reassured her.

"I can say that you will be married to him this summer! Would St Margaret's, Westminster suit?"

She smiled broadly.

"Oh that was where Papa and Mama were married. It would suit me very well. You can arrange that as Papa is an MP?"

"I can my darling!"

Smiling at me, with those big blue eyes wide, she added:

"Well, Mama Pixie, I will look to you for the wedding preparation I need most. You will help, won't you? You are SUCH a good teacher, Mama!"

That girl could have seduced a saint. Of course I wanted to, but she made me feel that I would be doing her a tremendous favour and that in so doing, I was a wonderful person. I swear that girl could have sold fridges to eskimos.

At that point we were joined by the men, who had been doing whatever it is they do when we withdraw.

After a little while Jack Carrington asked if he could "have a word'?

"I gather, Lady Fortescue, that you are the woman to ask about the Honourable Rebecca?"

"I am, and for goodness' sake, do call me Lady Pixie, everyone else does."

I smiled sweetly. I knew what he wanted, but had no intention of making it too easy for him. He had to know she was worth working for.

"Thank you, I shall, Lady Pixie. Is she going to be at Bend 'Or's ball next week?"

"That is the plan, yes. I am expecting her dance card to be full."

"Oh, oh, I see!"

The poor boy's face fell.

Oh golly, I could not keep it up.

"But, of course, should you wish to book the first, and the last dance, I am sure I could prevail on her to agree!"

His face lit up. That, the first and the last dance, was the signal that a chap was serious, and was usually followed by a proposal.

"If, if you could, I should be eternally grateful. I gather from Ma that, erm, you are aware that I take after my Pa in some matters?"

"I am," I said, not sparing his blushes.

"Do you think Rebecca will, erm, object?"

"Would you if she took after her Papa?"

That one got him. He looked winded.

"You mean?"

"I mean if she, after producing the heir, were to please herself."

"Gosh, that's, erm, well...?"

"That's honest Jack. What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. If you could be faithful, she would be, but if you are not, she is not going to be a plaster saint. If that's a problem, let's scrub the dance card and you can find some ingénue."

He looked thoughtful for a minute.

"Tell her I am fine with that, Lady Pixie."

"I shall," I smiled.

And I did, back in my bedroom.

By convention, ladies who were "available" would linger over after-supper drinks, as Beccy and I had already decided she was available to me, we didn't.

She was so excited when I told her about my conversation with Jack.

"Oh Mama Pix, so her will propose?"

"He will, but, if I may offer advice, I'd say keep playing it as you are. My guess, and it is just a guess, is that you might just be able to keep him mostly faithful to you."

"You think, Mama? How?"

"My darling, men have only so much stamina, and they love to be admired and loved. I suspect your way of doing the latter might use up most of the former!"

She giggled.

"You think I have the stamina?"

"We can find out, my pet," I said, offering to help her out of her evening dress.

"Do you like, Mama?"

Beccy was such a tease.

I doubt whether anyone with any aesthetic sense, let alone a working libido, would not have been delighted by what undressing her revealed.

At five foot nine, and slender with it, she was tall for a woman, but not too tall, and for a man like Jack, who stood at least six foot, she was a good match. She kept herself in trim with her riding and had both the firmest thighs and the best seat of any horsewoman I ever knew. Her bottom was one of those lovely apple-shaped affairs with firm, soft cheeks, and her bush, which she seemed to keep in check, seemed but a veil to her womanly charms. Her breasts were, from my point of view, perfect. A B cup, her nipples, when hardened, tilted slightly upward. Slim, but not thin, she had a seductive smile, set off to perfection with big blue eyes and long blonde hair.

"Like, my darling girl? I adore looking at you!'

"How should I be for you Mama?" She asked, as she rolled her stockings down and off, answering her own question by lying back on my bed, her knees bent and thighs apart.

"I am ever so wet for you Pix? Would you like to touch?"

As I had already begun to wriggle my right index finger between her swollen lips, the question was a little redundant. I scooped up some of her nectar and offered it to her.

"There, my pet, taste yourself!"

The look she gave me sent shivers of desire to my very core, as she sucked her juices from me, slowly and sensuously, I could feel my fires of desire begin to burn bright for her.

She slowly licked, and then sucked on her gooey finger, looking at me the whole time. When I pulled it out, she said:

"I like the way I taste. Mind you, I love the way you taste too. Does it matter that I like girls as well as boys?"

The look of innocence on that sweet face just stoked the fires of my longing all the more.

"That is probably best kept to yourself and a select circle darling, as Society is fond of its rules."

"Do you think Jack would mind?"

I had to stop myself giggling.

"Mind?"

"Well, I suppose that he might like it if I let him play with my girlfriend too? Would you be up for that Pix?"

That girl never ceased to amaze me!

"That's very flattering darling, but in the first place I am a lesbian, and in the second place, but probably the first place for him, not the sort of women men like him would want. But on the general principle, once he'd recovered from the shock, I suppose he'd like it a lot."

"Oh goody! Well, Pix, I think my little Mama is scrumptious. Now, can we do some more marriage preparation?"

She looked at me, seductively, her firm thighs open, revealing her charms.

"Now," I said, getting between her legs, "critical point - you are entitled to fun too. Many of my girlfriends tell me that chaps like to get in, cum and leave. That you MUST not let Jack do."

"Okay Mama, I shan't. Will he do that thing you do to my fou... I mean my pussy?"

"You mean this?"

I smiled, looking up, as my tongue touched her slightly opened lips, tasting her nectar. She moaned and sighed.

"Yes, that!"

"Well, you may have to guide him."

Parting her swollen lips, I slid my tongue up, wriggling into her wetness, pressing through her folds until she moaned.

"Oh Mama, yes, yes!"

Replacing the tip of my tongue with two fingers, I worked them slowly into her, applying my tongue to teasing the area around her clit until I felt her gripping my hair. Her thighs gripped me tightly as she pushed wetness into my face, adjusting her position to accommodate my questing fingers.

I never knew a woman get so aroused so swiftly.

I slide my thumb under her until it was teasing her tight dark hole. Already wet from the secretions dribbling down from her pussy and my licking, it proved elastic to my pressure, as I pushed in, gripping my fingers through that narrow wall of flesh. As I had hoped, the sensation drove her wild.

"Oh, oh, Mama! What, what???"

She pressed so hard that I could feel my face being rubbed red. I'd need make up on the morrow, I reflected, and then concentrated on Beccy.

Her clit was more prominent than mine, and as she got closer, I flicked and then kissed it before pressing my lips on her. She could take no more, and suddenly two violent squirts sprayed into my face as she shook hard. Her convulsions wrenched my fingers from her, and I was able to get the full benefit of her squirting.

I lay between her thighs as she came again, and then a third time, just lightly licking her wetness.

Only when she stopped did she relax her grip. She looked down.

"Oh Mama, I am sorry, I got so carried away!"

I smiled.

"Do I look like I am complaining my darling?"

She giggled.

"You are all wet Mama. Can I clean you up?"

"Of course darling."

"I like it when you call me darling, Mama, makes me feel like your special girl."

Raising myself to kiss her so she could begin to lick my face clean, I responded:

"You are my special girl, Beccy."

"Really, Mama. You don't have lots and lots of other girls?"

As her tongue licked her juices from my face, I told her that, at the moment, she was my only girl.

"Tell me about your girls Mama?"

As she licked down my neck, I sighed, and told her about Annie and Dot, Sally, and Bella - and Lady Dora. By that time she was sucking on my nipples, which made me want her madly.

"Did they please you like this Mama?"

As she said that, her mouth began to suck on my aching pussy. She licked along the line of my thin lips until she reached the apex of my vulva, where she put into practice what I had just shown her. She applied just the right pressure in just the right area, her tongue seemed to swirl around, flicking me where it had the most effect.

She had also clearly remembered what I had said about my pussy, as she slowly, and carefully, slipped on finger in to complement the effects of her lips and tongue.

Lesson, what lesson? Preparation be damned. I needed this, and she was giving it to me as though she'd been doing it for years. I lost myself in the passion burning inside of me. I felt my sinews tighten. For a woman who usually took time to get aroused, I was closer to orgasm faster than I had ever been. Damn it! Pressing into her, I came, and I came hard.

As my eyes cleared, she was looking at me.

"Did they?"

Bless her.

"You are sure you are new to this darling? Because the answer is that you are wonderful!"

The joy that gave her seemed almost to match the orgasm I had given her.

"Oh thank you, Mama. I SO want to be your very special girl. Is it okay to say I think I love you? Can girls love other girls?"

I wanted to cry! So I did.

"Oh Mama, have I upset you? I am SO sorry."

She hugged me to her.

I pulled away and looked into her eyes.

"Don't be silly, Beccy, you just made me very happy. Don't you ever cry for happiness sometimes?"

She smiled back.

"Sometimes. So it's okay to love you, even if you're married?"

"I do hope so, because I rather think I am falling for you, and you are about to get married."

"Oh Mama!"

She hugged me tight.

And there we had it.

As I lay with her in my arms, I realised that I had fallen for Beccy. In a better-ordered world I would not have been preparing her for marriage to Jack, but I was the ultimate pragmatist. I loved her, she loved me, and we had here and now. What the future would bring, who knew? But Fate had brought me Beccy; that was enough for me - indeed more than enough.

Still, there were the conventions, and as I told her, we had to maintain them. This, alas, meant that she had to join the late night/early morning exodus from your lover's bedroom to your own, so that when morning came the maid would find you in your own room. It felt empty when she left me.

As the morning light began to play along the horizon, I reflected. I was as sure as I could be that the world was heading into another war, or even worse. Worse would be allowing Hitler to achieve domination. Was it wise to fall in love with a woman so much younger? Would it damage her marriage? If I loved her, shouldn't I let her go and be with Jack?

Then her words about "sharing" hit me. Beccy was a hedonist and a lover. She had the temperament to allow her to love her husband-to-be and me. My lack of jealousy would, I suspected, be the perfect complement to that.

as I decided to get up and face the day, I thought: "damn it! Live, love and enjoy, for tomorrow we may all die!"