Meet Me in St. Louis Ch. 01

As her heroine ought to have put it: "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a small fortune, must be in want of a bigger one, if she wants to be married." Such was the gloomy reflection of Lady Cynthia on the morning of her twenty second birthday. "And already," she sighed, "I am an old maid."

Despite the depredations of "the War" in thinning the ranks of eligible young noblemen, her sister, Ella had been snapped up at her first "season" in 1919. For those unversed in the mating rituals of the British aristocracy, the "season" is where young aristocratic ladies are "presented" at Court and then whisked off into a round of parties and balls in the expectation that Lord Right, or Sir He will do, would propose. That, as Lady Cynthia reflected sadly, had not been her experience.

Her papa, the earl of Bayswater, had been unamused. It was bad enough that, as his wife had failed to provide a male heir, the whole estate and title would pass to his nephew George, but being stuck with a "spinster" daughter was, as he frequently reminded them all "too much."

Ella had done her best, but as she had reported to their Mama, "Cyn is such a shrimp, and she is a bit of a blue-stocking. If only you could persuade Papa to give her a better dowry."

But the earl had been adamant. Had they not seen the economic damage done to the estate by the war? No, Cynthia would have to find herself "a bloody husband" and as he put it "toot sweet."

But even a second season had not produced a "chap." It was not just that no one proposed, no one seemed to want to dance with her. She'd overheard Lord Morley saying to a friend:

"Are you joking, that midget? Now if it was her sister, you'd be talking, but that one's just not, well she's just not."

Lady Cynthia was not sure whether she wanted to know what she was just not, but it seemed unlikely that she would find out.

It was in a gloomy mood that she went down to breakfast. Mama said happy birthday, Papa harrumphed, and Lady Cynthia applied herself to the toast and marmalade.

"Darling," her Mama said, "there is a note for you from Smithers."

"Is there by Jove!" The earl was suddenly attentive.

Smithers was the family solicitor.

"Open it Cyn, let's see what the beggar has to say. Wonder why he is writing to you and not me?"

With the aid of her little silver penknife, Lady Cynthia opened the letter. As she read it, she let out a cry.

"Oh, my goodness, Papa, Mama!"

"What is it girl?" The earl snatched the letter and read it out:

"Dear Lady Cynthia,

I hope this finds your ladyship in good health and spirits. We write to communicate news from your aunt, Lady Gregory, or rather, as we must sadly now write, your late Aunt."

"What does the beggar mean? Emily is younger than me, she can't be bloody dead!" The earl exclaimed.

"There was a dreadful accident last month in St Louis in the Americas in which your aunt, and many other prominent citizens, lost their lives. Her will leaves to you, Lady Cynthia, a house in St Louis and another establishment. The only stipulation in the will is that before you consider selling them, you should first visit them. Funds have been provided and your aunt has left you an income of £2000 a year. We shall be glad to hear from your ladyship at your earliest convenience."

"Gad!" The earl looked at his wife and daughter. "There you are, Cyn, see, what a gift to fall into your lap, You see, Maud, I was quite right not to give her more cash - that extra money will help next season. Well my girl, I expect you'd better get off to the States before the autumn storms make the passage uncomfortable. Maud, will you see to it? And Cyn, write back by return, be a good girl!"

And so Lady Cynthia's world was set on its head.

"Poor Aunt Emily," Cynthia said later when talking to Mama. "I barely remember her, but I do recall her losing her husband soon after they went to America back at the time of the Coronation."

"Yes, darling, it was all very sad. Of course, Papa's family did not approve of Jack as he was an American of no family, but he was very handsome, and your aunt fell for him. It was a tragedy that he died not long after they got to St Louis. Everyone expected her to come back, but she seems to have managed to prosper - and now this. Well, Cyn," she said, clasping her daughter's hands, "her bad luck is your good fortune."

Cynthia went to see Smithers, rather in the hope that she might just be able to sell up and bank the cash, but he was firm, the will stipulated that she had, first, to see them. Papa was equally firm.

"Look my girl, it's not as though you have a beau here. Now be a good girl, go to America, see the house and other property then come back and flog 'em off."

"Yes, Papa," she had replied, like the dutiful daughter she was. But even as she did, her mind was beginning to work overtime.

Unlike most girls of her class and age, Cynthia was a reader. Educated at home, she had, nonetheless, made good use of a library which neither Papa nor Mama ever used except as a backdrop to parties. She would dearly have liked to have done a university extension course, but Papa had vetoed it in no uncertain terms as worse than a waste of time.

"No man wants a wife who has been to a university. Damned stupid idea, not least for Cyn. No, she does not need more obstacles in the way of marrying her off."

That had been that. But she had joined the London Library, and when Papa thought she was off "shopping" she had actually been attending talks there. A rather shy, but she thought rather nice lady, Mrs Woolf, who wrote novels, had taken a shine to her, and encouraged her reading. They had even taken to having afternoon tea together. Then there had been that unforgettable afternoon.

Cynthia had minded papa's disobliging comments about herself more than she had minded not having a "chap." Truth to tell, when Ella and Mama had chatted to her about what she might expect from marriage, she'd felt vaguely ill. On the other hand, when Mrs Woolf's hand sometimes touched hers, she'd felt rather nice and sometimes had wondered what it might be like if they kissed.

Then, one afternoon, after lunch, just before her twenty-second birthday, Cynthia's wonderings had been satisfied. She had just been getting up to go as usual when Mrs Woolf said:

"Must you, Cynthia? I should rather like it if you stayed a while. Leonard is away, and we have the house to ourselves. And there is something I have wanted to do for an age."

At that, she had leant in and, holding Cynthia's face between her hands, she had kissed her firmly on the lips. Far from shying away, Cynthia thought it the most wonderful feeling ever, and kissed back. Before she knew it, the two women were together on the sofa, and her blouse was open.

"Oh Mrs Woolf, that feels so good."

"Call me Virginia, darling. You have such sweet little breasts, little buds of May. Are these little nipples sensitive?"

Cynthia's gasps of pleasure as she sucked her nipples were answer enough, and before long, Cynthia's dress was off and Virginia's hand was cupping her panties, pressing along the slit, pushing them into the wetness she could both see and smell.

"Are you a virgin darling?"

Her brain clearing for a moment from the erotic fog which had clouded it, she gasped that she was. But then the fog descended again as Virginia's finger circled around her bud. She wanted to push herself onto her, but hardly dared. However, as the desire grew, she could not help herself. This encouraged her seducer.

"Would you like to do the same to me, Cynthia?"

"Oh please, Virginia, can I? Will you guide me?"

"Am I really your first one, my dear?"

"Oh you are, you are," Cynthia breathed heavily.

Virginia guided her between her thighs, lifting her skirts. Lifting her bottom, she told Cynthia to pull her panties down and then to kiss her quim. It was a sign of how aroused she was that Cynthia did just that.

Virginia's quim was hairier than her own, but parting the hairs, she saw how wet and glistening she was there. Without hesitation, she applied her tongue to the wetness, pressing upwards, slurping in her tangy nectar. Virginia gripped her head.

"Good girl, yes, yes like that. Now higher, my bud, lick her!"

As she reached the apex of Virginia's quim, she let her the tip of her tongue tease her bud out of her hood, circling it, as Virginia had circled hers with her finger. She felt Virginia's fingers grip her even more tightly and then she moved with the directions that her hands were giving to her, letting the gooey wetness coat her face. Then she felt Virginia's lips part, and she tasted her inner sharper taste, her nose suddenly pressed against her bud.

That seemed to rouse her seducer, who ground herself onto Cynthia's face. Cynthia was seized with a desire to rub her own quim, and slipping her hand inside her panties, did so as she pressed her tongue in and out, loving the whole sensation.

Then Virginia climaxed, her wetness coating Cynthia's face. That caused Cynthia to climax too, soaking her panties. For a moment the two women were lost in that sensation of completeness. Cynthia felt a little ashamed of herself, but her hand stayed where it was, as did her mouth, and she slowly licked up Virginia's juices. She felt her lover raise her face to her.

"Was that really your first time, Cynthia?"

"It was and thank you, you were wonderful!"

"Let me smell your fingers, Cynthia."

Blushing, Cynthia proffered her fingers for Virginia to smell.

"You climaxed too, didn't you Cyn?"

"I did, was that bad of me?"

"Do you masturbate often?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you think of men?"

"Never, but I never imagined anything like this, Virginia. Is this lesbian love?"

"Part of it darling. Now, do you need to clean up, or shall we continue?"

"Could we continue, please?"

"Of course, stand up."

Cynthia had let Virginia inspect her, letting her remove her wet panties, then bending forward to grip her ankles, allowing her to access all areas. She shivered when her anus was played with, but felt such sensations that she abandoned any sense of shame. She felt herself get wetter, and knew, from Virginia's ragged breath, that the same was true of her lover.

"Would you do something for me Cynthia?"

"Anything!"

"In that drawer over there I have a phallus which I want you to use on me."

Cynthia took it, marvelling at it. Virginia seemed to be fascinated.

"May I suck it, Lady Cynthia?"

Suddenly Virginia seemed submissive, which aroused Cynthia.

"Of course, Mrs Woolf, open for me and suck."

Virginia got to her knees and sucked. Her hand drifted to her quim.

"Stop that, I am going to use that on you, so stop!"

Virginia looked at her with pleased amazement.

"Oh but please, I need to touch myself."

"Well you can't, can you Virginia?"

With a deep sigh, Virginia had agreed. Then she got her reward. Cynthia took the phallus and, opening her lover carefully, pushed it in as Virginia squatted before her, bouncing up and down shamelessly. Cynthia pushed in time with her movements.

"Oh please Lady Cynthia, can I finger my quim now, I am so needy."

"You seem to be Virginia. Does anyone else use you like this?"

"Yes, yes, Lady Vita does, oh please Lady Cyn, please!"

"Is this what they call fucking?"

"Yes, yes, fuck me Lady Cyn, fuck me hard."

"You can touch yourself now!"

Almost the moment she did, she climaxed, much to Cynthia's delighted bewilderment.

She had no idea what had just happened, but she knew she had liked it - all of it. She was used to feeling passive, powerless, with Papa and occasionally Mama, taking decisions for her, but here Virginia, who was a good twenty years older than her, had let her, no, almost begged her to take control; it had felt good.

Virginia had said they should attach no labels to what they had done and that they should just be happy that they had been able to give each other such pleasure; that suited Cynthia. Indeed, one reason for her hesitation over going to America, was that it would mean separation from Virginia, but the latter had insisted she should go "for the experience."

"You must write a journal and notes darling, it is so exciting."

The one question raised by the earl was whether it was appropriate for his daughter to travel alone. He was reluctant to bear any of the expense, but when Smithers told him the amount Lady Emily had set aside for the visit, he told his wife to advertise for a "lady's companion" for their daughter.

In a rare departure from her usual passivity, perhaps encouraged by her activities with Virginia, Cynthia insisted that she should interview any candidates and have a veto. Taken aback, her Mama assented.

"I don't know what's gotten into that child," the earl said when his wife told him, "but it can do no harm, it is her companion after all."

In the end they settled on a woman in her late twenties called Petra. She came from a respectable family and had worked for the Government during the war. Taller than Cynthia (but then everyone was), Petra was well-mannered and, in Cynthia's view, ideal for what could be a difficult role.

On the day of departure at Southampton, her Mama and Ella both came to see her off, Papa having business in the Lords that would, he said, brook no delay. There were the inevitable tears, but neither of the partings were as hard on Cynthia as her last afternoon with Virginia. But she had been encouraged by Virginia's gift to her of a journal, and by the prospect of having something interesting to share with her - and with Lady Vita.

As the English coast receded into the distance, Cynthia turned to Petra.

"Well let's take a look at the cabin, the porters should have taken our bags there."

"Oh, Lady Cynthia, am I not going steerage with the other servants?"

Lady Cynthia looked sympathetically at Petra, always having been second-best, she could see where the older woman was coming from, but this, she had decided, was a fresh start.

"Petra, you are NOT a servant, you are a lady's companion, so I booked us a double cabin in first class - there is enough money from my aunt."

Petra looked at her with gratitude.

"Thank you, Lady Cynthia. I really appreciate that."

"Excellent, let's get ourselves settled and then see about luncheon."

The cabin was luxurious in a way only one on a major ocean liner could be. Petra almost gasped.

"Gracious my Lady, my bed alone is big enough for two, this is really so nice of you. I hope I shan't be in your way?"

"Petra, you may call me Cynthia, or even better, Cyn, and there is room to lose a small army in here, so I can't see that you would ever be in my way."

Luncheon taken, the two women toured the first-class deck, noting the various activities laid on for passengers, all designed to help the week or so it would take pass more quickly.

"You did not sign up for any of the games, Cyn," Petra said when they were back in their cabin.

"I am not very sporty, Pet, and I'd rather curl up with a book."

"I noticed you had some signed copies by Virginia Woolf, Cyn, she is such a favourite of mine too, I hope I might be allowed to read her after you. My father did not like my reading such modern "trash" as he called it."

"Of course, Pet, but why on earth did he not want you reading her?"

Petra blushed, most becomingly, Cynthia thought.

"I hardly like to say Cynthia, I should not want to offend you."

"My dear," Cynthia said, soothingly, you must feel free to say what you like, you are not a servant, you are my companion, and I hope we shall be firm friends."

"Oh me too, Cynthia. Well, he said that her books were full of unnatural love, women for women, banned of course by holy scripture. I can't say I saw it, but well, I would guess that like me, you are used to your father setting the rules. Did yours not object?"

"My dear, Papa has never read but one novel in his whole life, and anyway, Virginia and I are friends."

Petra's eyes widened.

"You know Virginia Woolf?"

Cynthia smiled, deciding now was the time to go for broke:

"Very personally one might say, even in the Biblical sense."

Conscious of the risk, Cynthia had nonetheless decided, as part of her new life, to take the initiative, damn the consequences. She saw Petra colour and wondered whether she had just been rather stupid and reckless and lost a friend.

"Oh, erm, so my father was right?"

"About unnatural love, no, I don't find it at all unnatural, Pet."

There was a moment when everything hung in the balance.

Cynthia fixed her eyes on the taller woman as though daring her to dissent, and then, to her delight came the answer:

"What's it like, Cynthia?"

"It's utterly delightful - have you ever kissed a woman?"

So saying, Cynthia reached up and planted a kiss on her lips before moving away and looking at her again.

"How did that feel?"

Petra stammered, blushing, but smiling.

"Could I have more Cyn?"

"More sin?" Cynthia joked, punning on her name, "of course, we have time before dinner, let me help you undress."

As Petra's clothes were taken off, Cynthia took pleasure in looking at her body, which seemed to her utterly perfect. Her breasts, once bared, were not too big, but not as tiny as her own, and her nipples were already hardening under Cyn's touch. Kneeling in front of her, Cynthia pulled her panties down and ran her fingers through her luxuriant bush. She was, she was sure, going to enjoy this.

"Lie back on the bed Pet."

Petra, in a trance, did as she was bidden, letting Cyn open her thighs and lick along her slit. It was the first time anyone else had ever touched her there, and Petra, who had occasionally rubbed herself, was amazed at the difference. Cynthia's tongue was sending such sensations through her that it felt as though her very core was on fire. As Cyn sucked on her bud, Petra gripped the bed sheets and moaned loudly. To her surprise, she suddenly found herself sucking on her own wet panties as Cynthia stuffed them in.

The moans coming from Petra turned Cynthia on, but she did not want their neighbours hearing, and as the nearest gag to hand was Pet's panties, they would have to do. The muffled sounds coming from her excited her strangely.

This was new. With Virginia, her first, she had been the novice, and if she had ended by taking a lead, that was because Virginia wanted it, but this, well, this was organic. She was now the more experienced woman (even if she had only one previous lover) and Petra seemed to relish her taking the lead. What a good job, she thought, that she had bought herself a replica of Virginia's phallus. Reached under the mattress, she produced it.

"Darling, you don't have a hymen to lose, so would it be okay to take you there?"

Petra had no real idea what Cyn was talking about, but she did not care, she knew she had no hymen, and she knew she wanted her quim filling, so when she felt something thick and hard sliding between her slippery lips, she just threw her head back and let Cynthia have her way.

Cynthia took care, coaxing her along, but she judged she was ready to be taken hard and deep, and proceeded to do just that. It was with huge delight that she saw Petra cum for her.

Lying next to her, Cynthia looked at her and kissed her lips.

"You are mine now."

"Oh, yes, Cyn, so yours."

Cynthia smiled to herself. New World, new self. What on earth lay ahead, and above all, the question that had been in her head since she had read that letter. Why had Aunt Emily left the property to her?