Caroline

CHAPTER TWENTY

It may seem from my narrative that all our acquaintances have been of extremely amourous bent. The world is not made such, of course. Would that it was!

A case in point is that of Jane Maudesley and her sister, Ethel-the former being twenty-two and her sister two years her junior. They were, and are, utterly charming girls, quiet and modest when we knew them first and not given to such larks as I have mainly been describing.

It is but a month ago since Jane paid a visit to Caroline. Making my presence known-for I find the girl exceedingly attractive-I soon perceived that she desired to speak with my wife alone, and so I left them. A full hour later I was called to bid her farewell, found her pale and her face a little tear-streaked and asked with gentleness what was the cause.

“I will tell you later, dear,” interposed Caroline hastily. We escorted Jane to her carriage. I kissed her on the cheek and found it velvety. Her waist enticed my arm for a brief moment, then with a sad smile she was gone.

“What is to do?” I asked.

“We must have Adelaide in on this,” replied Caroline, as though to say that my intellect could not cope with the matter on its own.

“You may tell me meanwhile,” I said, taking umbrage a little.

“No-for then I shall have to say it all again.”

I refrained from observing that she would do so in any case. Women are frightfully repetitive when they have their hooks in something, and I had no doubt that this would be the case, and was right. A further half hour passed before my sister returned from riding with some friends, and then Caroline called for tea: a prerequisite for the female species when anything of a serious nature is to be discussed.

I will tell what transpired in my own words. At least it will be briefer. The father of the girls, Thomas, was a widower who had become involved of late with one Esmeralda Tompkins-Smith who was of similar expunged marital status.

From Jane's account it would have seemed that Esmeralda was an opportunist in several main respects. Having the usual fondness for keeping up appearances, she had begun to find that she could not afford to do so in the manner to which she had been accustomed when her husband was alive and hence had cast around for another suitor.

Jane thought her vulgar, as did Ethel, too. I took some suspicion of this point of view at first, for it does not take a fine intellect to perceive that if Mrs. Tompkins-Smith succeeded in a permanent manner to the bed of Thomas Maudesley then she would have first call upon his property in the unhappy event of his demise. Trailing, too, in her shadow-from the point of view of Jane and her sister-were Esmeralda's son, Nicholas, and her daughter, Mabel.

“We do not want them to live with us, in any event,” Jane had said unhappily to Caroline.

Many women other than my dear wife would have declared immediately-not wishing to get involved but eager nevertheless for all the tidbits-that it was not a matter in which they could interfere, but Caroline had merely listened (putting all the questions that she could) and had finally told Jane that it was a matter of great seriousness that she would certainly consider.

In the first instance, said Caroline when all had been told to Adelaide and myself, we would make the lady's acquaintance. Thomas being already known to us-though not in any sense intimately, for he was a man of some propriety-this was not too difficult to arrange. Having shown no outward enmity towards that lady in question Jane and Ethel contrived to have their father give a small tea party to which we were invited.

Upon meeting Esmeralda, I found her bright of eyes, forthcoming in manner, and with that slightly overwheening attitude to one that brings a cautiousness into her soul. She is, I suppose, in her early forties, of middling height and possessing an abundance of curves which, as Caroline observed rather cattily, must owe a great deal to a very tight corset. Her lips are full (Esmeralda's, that is to say), and the same adjective can be supplied with freedom to her breasts and bottom. A juicy piece, the vulgar would say, and no doubt very cuddlesome in bed.

Her daughter, Mabel, is no less so, and would be categorised in any free-speaking entourage as a jolly good ride-a firm and bouncy little one. Little, I say, only because Nature has not endowed her with much height. The top of her head came up but to my chest. There is a certain winsomeness in that. One looks down at her melons, firm and protuberant as they are, and realises that one has to raise one's hands but a little to form, as it were, two plates for them to rest upon…

The thought of such… But no, I must proceed…

The son was a nonentity, I thought, is nineteen and two years his sister's senior. I did not envisage him as any other than a small-part actor to the play which was to be performed eventually, but that was not the case. Several times during the course of the tete-a-tete that Jane and Ethel had arranged, Esmeralda remarked to me what a splendid house they had, which I thought a little out of place in view of her intentions.

“I would change the curtains, and much of the furniture,” she observed in the hearing of Jane who flushed and moved away into the breakfast room. Making some excuse, I followed her and closed the door. She was on the point of weeping once again and declared to me fiercely, “Oh, I loathe that woman!”

“As well you might,” said I, for which she gave me a look of great gratitude so that, taking advantage of her state, I passed my arms around her in an avuncular fashion and told her with all the sincerity I could muster that we were foremost for her cause.

“But what can you do? Papa is stuck on her, I do believe,” she answered, responding shyly to my loose embrace by placing her hands above my elbows, and so we stood.

“We are discussing the matter now, Jane; a solution will be found,” I said gravely. I caressed her slim waist gently, found the outcurving of her hips and so held her lightly.

“Will there be? I cannot conceive of it,” she answered, whereat I passed my left hand round the back of her head and, as if to comfort more, brought her face to nestle in my shoulder. A small move this, it may be thought, but I have frequently found that in dealing with a timorous maiden, and one above all who is softened by latent tears, that it is best to shadow their eyes and thus draw them into a comforting dimness of vision. Thereupon I moved my free hand down and beneath her back to cup her bottom, but did so with great stealth as if I wished to help her keep her balance.

Her fingers trembled to my arms. Her gown being loose, I was able to gather up its folds until my fingers found the bulb of her bottom through the cloth. I felt her drawers beneath and, with a touch that has become exceedingly sensitive to such sly explorations through the years, tasted the deepest undercurve of her tight derriere while all the while my words of comfort droned on in her ear.

A petulant jerk she gave but that was all. In such a moment the decision must be made as whether to continue the hold or to end it quickly with a slight caress. I decided on the former for a moment and with some deliberation pressed both gown and drawers into her groove and fingered her with purpose there, finding the rimming of her bottomhole.

“You must learn to ease your mind and body both- you will feel better for it, Jane,” I said.

“I don't want to,” some girls are prone to say, but she did not, most happily.

“I suppose, yes,” she answered in a quavering tone. It was enough. I lewdly felt her nice, tight groove once more and then I let her go, not with a suddenness but as if with infinite regret, which I am bound to say was positively the case. The gourds of her tits were hard and firm, her belly flat, and thighs most promising. I heard her swallow and let her turn away. The material of her gown being caught between her bottom cheeks where I had pressed it, she gave it a self-conscious tug and blushed. “This is the price I have to pay,” I heard her think but felt a certain ruthlessness at it.

At that, Caroline peeped in. She has a positive talent for appearing at moments that are apt.

“We must go, my dear,” she said to me, and then- observing Jane's flushed visage-asked her, “Is all well?”

“Oh, yes-but really I cannot think of anything you could do,” said she.

“Nonsense, my pet. A touch of boldness is requisite here, and with a mite of ingenuity we shall free you from her wiles, you must be active, though. That, too, will be required and in ways that may blur your natural modesty a little ”

“Oh!” exclaimed Jane and brushed her eyes away. The impress of my fingers would be felt still in between her darling cheeks.

“It is requisite, Jane,” said Caroline tenderly, “But we will discuss it more when we have plotted out our plot.”

“Yes, yes, I see.”

“Goodbye, my dear.” I embraced her once again, but this time only held her hips, yet let her experience the possessive firmness of my hands, this Caroline observing with approval, for she kissed her, too.

“Did you feel her?” she asked immediately we left the house. It was not the question of a jealous wife, but one of plain enquiry.

“Yes. Her bottom has a noble feel to it. She did not wilt too much. I felt her drawers.”

“Good. That is a beginning, at the least. It may not be necessary for her to participate too closely, but we shall have to see. Adelaide-have you thought of anything?” she asked my sister in the carriage.

“Dearest, I have the most wonderful idea in the world!” my sister answered with no modesty at all, then looked at me across the seats and asked, “Do you know anything about photography at all?”

“A little, yes, but…”

“Oh, Adelaide, get on with it!” said Caroline impatiently.

“No-for I want to think about it just a little more. I rather fancy her, you know.”

“Who?” we both asked as one.

“Why, Jane, of course. I think she will be malleable.”

“Really, my pet, if you are thinking of the same old game-of first seducing her and then putting her to bed with Thomas… really!” Caroline exclaimed.

“Nothing so crude. Wait until we are settled and then we will discuss my plan. It is a little elaborate, but I know it will come off,” said Adelaide with great self-satisfaction, and maddeningly would not utter up another word upon the subject until-and I hate to say it, but it's true-we were indoors and more China tea was served.