Repercussions Pt. 02

Grady

The running footsteps receded in the distance. Grady staggered forward, wrenching open his trouser flap --- his overready cockstand sprang free. He sank to his knees where he had been just moments before. Sitting back upon his heels and bracing his spread thighs, he spat in his palm and wrapped it around his engorged organ. He saw again her parted pantalettes...her dainty patch of dark curls. Up and down his hand stroked. He felt again the soft spring of her hair...the curve of her mound...the silky top of her notch...Oh sweet love!...her little bud noticeably swelling under his fluttering tongue! Faster and faster came his breath now...her squirming and panting...the hint of her tantalizing female scent...Oh God!

His seed spurted forth, filling his hastily seized handkerchief.

For a few minutes he remained kneeling and breathing hard. By and by, he rose to his feet. He rebuttoned and straightened his clothing, brushing off the knees of his trousers. Finding no remaining evidence of the encounter in either the room or his appearance, he stepped out into the courtyard. Whilst his pearly emission had momentarily soothed his agitated body, the elation in his heart was undampened. Sauntering along the back of the garden wall, he restrained the urge to leap into the air --- not knowing who might witness such remarkable behavior --- but he could not contain the grin that overspread his face.

Passing through the gate in the wall he found himself in the paradise of a fluttering pink tunnel of cherry blossoms. He felt an unfamiliar ache in his soul at the beauty of life...for several moments he stood dazed, inhaling deeply, his heart flooded with Chloe. Ahead, on the other side of the fountain, he noticed Mr. O'Malley --- Grady immediately assumed a purposeful stride, greeting the gardener cheerfully, then heading directly to his quarters in the servants' wing. In his current state he could not trust himself to not draw unwanted attention.

Closing and locking his chamber door behind him, Grady leant back against it, exhaling deeply. Again, the irrepressible grin spread over his face. Oh sweet Chloe! She had let him see her cunny! Kiss her cunny! Lick her cunny! Well, partially anyway. In her pantalettes and standing with her legs together, Grady had been thwarted from fully indulging his desires. He licked his lips: just the faintest trace of her beguiling scent yet remained --- damn it all, he had not been able to taste of her fully! Why had she not let him do it properly?! She had clearly been aroused by his tongue's caresses...oh how she had squirmed and panted and pressed her cunny to his mouth! Indeed, he would have sworn that she had been upon the brink of spending when she pushed him away. She had seemed stunned...or frightened. Despite what she had seen Mr. Calhoun and Lucy doing, Grady sensed that she had embarked upon something that she did not fully understand.

But this puzzle failed to detract from his jubilation at the turn of events, for he had been in love with Chloe for some years now. True, his feelings hadn't always been such. When they were small children, he had felt a protective impulse toward the determined little sprite that was ever following Edwin and him about. Later, when they were somewhat older, she had proved herself to be a companion whose curiosity, humor, and sensibility he admired. He had also started to notice that she was a pretty girl.

He recalled instructing her in fencing --- and she eventually became so adept with the foil that she was able to best him (one time anyway, he smiled). Together they had climbed up the ivy-covered walls of Greystoke Hall to reach Edwin's window to play pranks upon him...and then she had applied the same method to play pranks upon himself. There had been the time when Chloe had recruited Edwin and him to help with her efforts to aid famine victims in Ireland. For three years they had collected their pocket money and extra food from the kitchen, and with Mr. O'Malley's assistance, sent it to a charity in Cork.

Everything changed after the first Lady Trimingham died. The new Lady Trimingham had put an end to Chloe's playing with him. Then he was off to boarding school with Edwin. 'Twas around this time too that his own father had taken him aside to lecture him on proper behavior towards their "betters." In particular, he was a young man and Miss Chloe was growing into a young lady; he must stop being so familiar with her. He must always treat her with the utmost respect and deference, lest he offend Lord Trimingham or besmirch her reputation. He did as he was instructed --- but with bitterness, both because he was forced to give up his friend, and because in his heart he rejected his father's counsel. He scorned the whole class system of this bloody country.

The ensuing years saw more changes: the most remarkable of which for Grady was Chloe's blossoming. There were long intervals of time between visits home, and when he saw her, he marveled anew at her growing beauty. She was petite like her mother, and her straight girlish body had been transformed into the light, graceful figure of a young woman. Surreptitiously his eyes lingered over her slender waist and the enticing round breasts that had made their appearance. Her wide skirts hid everything else from his hungering eyes...he had only his imagination to furnish a lower half as alluring as her torso.

The features that had seemed exaggerated in the face of a little girl were now coming into their own as well. Upon first glimpse of her, one was struck by the dramatic contrast between her glossy, dark hair and her pale skin. Strong brows and thick lashes balanced her big greenish-brown eyes. A small mouth with plump lips finished the portrait. A Greek sculptor might apply his mathematical formulas and take exception to her slightly wide cheekbones or her slightly too large eyes, but these divergences from "perfection" only enhanced her appeal.

Her beauty would attract any man's notice, but for Grady --- knowing something of her heart and mind --- her beauty had a unique depth. In the fluctuating color in her cheeks and the simmering expression in her eyes, he recognized the intelligence, inquisitiveness, and spirit that had always been hers. For him, she outshone the celebrated beauties of the day; she had none of their carefully cultivated attractions. She was natural, unspoiled...even wild. Like a nymph or a sprite, she was more a creature of a shadowy, mossy woods than of a gilt and porcelain drawing room. 'Twas nigh impossible for Grady to look at her provocative beauty and not have amorous thoughts...indeed lewd thoughts.

Thus it was: he had desired her for over two years now. Outwardly he was as respectful and courteous as any servant should be, yet inside, his heart ached for her. His eyes remained neutral whilst savoring every glimpse of her. He longed to be her sweetheart...longed to be her husband if she would have him.

He considered that he would not have been here to see Chloe grow up if he had persisted in his chosen path. Even as a lad, when his father had started teaching him the work, Grady had known that he did not want the life of an estate steward --- a life working at a desk in an office...a life as a servant, beholden to a master who was one's "better." Instead, Grady wanted the opportunity to make his own way in the world --- to succeed (or fail) based upon his merits. Moreover, he didn't want to live in a society with fixed constraints upon one's success. He dreamt of going to America where there were no lords and ladies or kings and queens.

His father and Lord Trimingham had been dismayed when he left boarding school at fifteen and secured an apprenticeship with a builder in London. For him, it had been an invaluable three years: he had learned a trade that he loved; his comrades had been hearty, hard-working men without airs; he had seen realized the concept of work-based reward.

When his father's health had begun to deteriorate, he had importuned Grady again. With his increased maturity, his loyalty to his father and his appreciation for Lord Trimingham's past generosity now joined forces and compelled him to leave the apprenticeship at eighteen and join Edwin at Cambridge --- his admission to the college of law having been arranged by Lord Trimingham.

The years away from Greystoke Hall had proved most instructional for Grady in another realm of his life as well. He had at last gained knowledge about the subject that had preoccupied his mind since age thirteen. During his apprenticeship, he had his first woman...well, more like she had him. Mr. Wright's building company had been commissioned by a wealthy merchant to erect a gazebo in his garden. Whilst the crew was constructing the foundation, Grady was sent inside to show the client two options for the ceiling moldings. The merchant was not at home, but Grady was summoned by the wife. He was surprised to find himself shown to an upstairs sitting room. The lady of the house, an attractive woman closer to Grady's age than her husband's, motioned for him to approach with the wood samples. Grady's surprise expanded yet further when she indicated which wood sample she preferred. A half hour later he emerged from the house a man...dazed by life's greatest wonder. The experience was happily repeated a handful of times during the two-month project.

Understanding the mechanics of the exercise had addressed many of his burning questions, yet it did nothing to diminish his urges. Throughout the remaining years of his apprenticeship and his years at university, he pursued a variety of dalliances. In contrast to his companions' predilections in both environments, Grady never had an interest in sexual favors granted upon a monetary basis. Instead he sought companionship with ladies with whom he shared a mutual regard and desire for pleasure. Given such restrictions, his number of partners was significantly lower than that of other young men of his acquaintance.

His most intimate associations had included his landlady's daughter --- who had been content to amuse herself with him whilst she and her mother searched for a wealthy husband for her. Another was the mistress of one of his professors at Cambridge. Grady had been enlisted by his professor to carry a message to her. The message, which proved to be his regrets for missing a planned rendezvous, threw the young lady into such a fit of pique that she took the messenger to bed. Their assignations continued for some time until Grady could no longer contend with the deception. Also during his time at Cambridge, he had, following a chance encounter at the theater, renewed his acquaintanceship with the lady of the garden gazebo. Now a widow, she was most eager to assess the state of his education; he had been happy to oblige her.

Neither by design nor happenstance did any of these liaisons have a romantic bent. As his love for Chloe had grown, so had faded his interest in bawdy pursuits with any other lady. In his heart had sprouted the dream of sharing all the gifts of Venus with this lovely girl whom he adored. Being near Chloe had been his other, more profound reason for returning to Greystoke Hall and taking over his father's position.

Had Grady's aspirations not lay in a different direction, it would have indeed been easy to find contentment as an estate steward. 'Twas a respectable position with good wages, and the work was not menial. Moreover, he was accorded status and privileges beyond those of an ordinary servant. He did not have to wear a uniform, he was provided a fine horse, he had the opportunity to travel with the family, and his rooms included a small parlour and his own bath in addition to the bedchamber.

It had been almost a year since he had assumed the post. He had not a definite plan for presenting himself as a suitor for Chloe. In the meantime, as he struggled with his predicament, he strove to prove his worth in his dedication to his service to the family. To hope for acceptance was to disregard centuries of societal rules for the classes. Yet he did have a filament of hope, grounded upon three pieces of knowledge. One: Lord Trimingham had a warm regard for him. Two: Lord Trimingham was not without compassion. He himself had defied Society's rules to marry Chloe's mother. Three: Chloe's own opposition to an arranged marriage.

Naturally she had never shared such confidences with him, but Grady had observed her disdain when the subject was discussed. His suspicions had been subsequently confirmed by her maid Harriet in private conversation. It did not however follow that Chloe had any partiality for him. Therein lay his dilemma; the polite coldness between them was so long established that he knew not how to broach the subject of his feelings.

A few weeks ago, upon learning of her impending return to Greystoke Hall, his need for some tangible step towards his dream had manifested itself in a secret project to make a gift for her, using the tools and scraps of wood he had saved from his apprenticeship days. He had converted the writing desk in his quarters into a makeshift workbench, and night after night had been applying himself to his vision --- sawing, gluing, carving, sanding.

His agitation had grown worse over the past week after her arrival home: he had been able to see the subject of his yearnings daily, and he had most unwillingly been made part of the accelerated plan of arranging her marriage. If he intended to present his case for her hand, 'twas essential to act expediently.

Chloe's actions over the past week in the absence of supervision bolstered his impression that the true Chloe was hidden beneath the veneer of the elegant young lady, just as he hid behind his façade of a deferential servant. He observed that she was defiantly indulging herself in the various activities that Lady Eveline discouraged. He noticed her choice of simple gowns and unfixed hair. From her ease of posture and subtle jiggle of her breasts as she moved, he deduced with a thrill that she was without a corset much of the time.

Grady was beset with longing, seeing her so, in all her unconstrained beauty. He had almost been caught a few days ago when he was watching her through his office window. She had been at the garden fountain, kneeling upon the stone basin wall and bending forward to wash her hands. Her bottom was upturned in a most tempting manner...he had imagined approaching her from behind and raising her skirts to bare her buttocks. He would bend to sprinkle kisses over her pretty arse...then he would lick at her cunny lips pouting back between her thighs...lick her sweet cunny until she was ready for him. Straightening, he would hold her hips and slowly open her with his cock...

The butler Scofield had walked in at this point to ask him a question. Fortunately, Grady had been holding his open ledger against his thigh and was able to hide his stiffstander when he turned to respond.

Then yesterday --- was it only yesterday? --- seeing her bare thigh when her skirt was caught upon a branch...it had almost been his undoing. In a flash his eyes noticed everything: her berry stained mouth and fingers, her stocking, her creamy skin below the lace edge of her pantalettes. As he had continued his ride, he envisioned tumbling her in the meadow among the wild flowers...licking the berry juice from her lips... seeing her small white hand with its berry juice tipped fingers wrapped around his burning staff...pulling down her pantalettes...parting her smooth thighs...

Today with a bolt of lightning, Heaven had opened! Everything had changed! He knew not why she had favored him so...but damn it all, he had just been rendered the happiest man alive! Grady abruptly pushed off the door and strode into the room. With a hand upon the back of the divan, he vaulted over it to land upon the seat. Grinning, he tugged his cravat knot open.

A knock upon the door interrupted him. He rose, the cravat hanging loose about his neck, and returned to the door. 'Twas Tom, one of the footmen. "Mr. Woodbyrne, Lord Trimingham requests your presence at dinner tonight --- eight o'clock."

Grady nodded. "Thank you."

He checked his pocket watch as he headed into his bedchamber: an hour until dinner. Every few weeks the honor of dining with the family was extended to him --- but only when no other more worthy guests were in attendance. Tonight, it was an honor he could do without. His mind overflowing with Chloe, he had grave doubts concerning his ability to maintain his composure being in her presence --- alongside her father and brother. He extracted his dark blue jacket from the closet and began applying the clothes brush.

*****

Lord Trimingham, Edwin, and Grady sat at the dining table, drinking their aperitifs. Grady ran a nervous finger under his cravat, finding it uncomfortably tight. The empty chair between Lord Trimingham and himself seemed so glaringly accusatory that one minute more of her continued absence would send him to his knees in confession.

"My lady," said one of the footmen behind him. The three men rose as Chloe entered, clad in a dark blue silk gown. Grady could not deny that she was as luminous and graceful as an elegant lady as she was as a free-spirited lass. He bowed as she took her seat between her father and him. "Lady Chloe," he murmured.

"Mr. Woodbyrne," she said in her usual polite voice, not meeting his eyes.

The maids approached with the soup, and the meal was entered. Chloe sat very straight, her face without expression, eating in silence. Grady's tense state of mind only increased as the evening progressed. He downed his wine, praying for its soothing effects. Chloe's wide skirts, through only the fault of the fashion, were pressed against his leg in a most distracting manner. He endeavored to turn his thoughts away from her lap --- visible from the corner of his eye as he turned to speak to Lord Trimingham. Under the napkin...under the gown...under...what else did she have on under it? A delicate female undergarment...pantalettes with an open slit between her legs?...oh God! Stop! Not now! He swallowed, shifting in his seat and turning his face down to his plate.

Lord Trimingham's inquiry regarding his excursion to assess storm damage was a welcome diversion. He organized his observations geographically, describing from east to west the damage to the farm cottages along the river.

"A very thorough report, Mr. Woodbyrne," Lord Trimingham declared at last. "Order the necessary building materials and send for the carpenters."

"Your Lordship, I believe I can accomplish the repairs myself...with the assistance of the groundskeepers. We shall not be in need of outside labor."

Lord Trimingham nodded, glancing at Edwin with a pointed look that Grady did not understand. "Very good. You have my leave to address yourself to the repairs in whatever manner you deem appropriate."

Edwin changed the subject. "Woodbyrne, you enjoy a fine whiskey, don't you?"

"Aye, when I can get it."

"Answer directly. Which do you prefer: Scottish or Irish?"

"Well..."

"No, no --- don't ponder it --- just blurt out your first thought."

"Scottish, then."

"Ha! Just wait until you try the whiskey that we had at Lord Lancaster's the other night. 'Tis an Irish whiskey called Jameson's. I was of the same mind as you until I tried it. What a revelation! At first sip you taste only the smoothness...but then beneath that serenity is...a restless soul that I've not encountered in any Scots whiskey...you can taste the earth, rain, fire...the sea...and...and..."

"Despair?" Chloe offered.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "I'm quite serious. You wouldn't understand. Woodbyrne, you must try it! Once you get the taste upon your lips, you'll never want anything else."