Blooming: Veronica (21 page)

So sad. She had hoped marriage might be more.

“Have you some objection to my proposal?” her husband asked, still staring at her.

“Only my lack of cock. A limp sock stuffed in my drawers is hardly impressive.”

“Shh,” both men hushed her.

“Sssss,” she hissed right back at them through her teeth.

“Your darling spits like an enraged kitten,” Alfred said.

“You should hear her purr. Though you never will get the chance, you scoundrel.”

Why did Talbot’s chest puff up in pride when he made that remark? And why did her nipples tingle, then elongate under her man’s tailored shirt as a result?

“The room number if you please?” Mr. Bowdoin asked.

“Fifteen.” Alfred placed a key in her husband’s outstretched palm. “Have a lovely time, gents.”

No need to push her up the stairs. Not at all reluctant, she went with a bounce in her step, which set her breasts to jiggling.

“Enjoying yourself?” Talbot asked under his breath as he unlocked the door and they stepped into the room.

“I believe I am.”

“Shall we make ourselves comfortable?”

She looked around the plush gold environs. From wallpaper to furnishings, the room had the Midas touch. “Will patrons be able to see us in here?”

“Note the painting of the elderly man to your right.”

She clapped her hands. “Holes are drilled in the eyes, correct?”

He chuckled. “Only in bad mystery novels. A peep is situated below the outer corner of the frame and various other places throughout, which I shan’t enumerate in fear of bringing on a bout of stage fright in you. Now remove you coat, my darling, and we shall begin.”

Chapter Twenty-six

Veronica shrugged off her outer garment, a swift obedience, but clutched at the waistcoat.
I dare not remove everything, sir
, she mouthed,
lest I give my true gender away.

So as not to betray his thoughts, Talbot fixed his expression to reveal nothing. A quandary as Veronica tickled his funny bone no end. Honest to Christ, was she so oblivious to her own beauty that she thought she would pass for a male here or anywhere?

It would take a hell of a lot more than a sock stuffed in her drawers to accomplish that end. In countless ways, some significant, some less so, she was all woman. Her full breasts alone negated any attempt at disguise. Even now, when she stood stock still, her titties shifted with each of her breaths. As to her cashmere and wool trousers, their fit revealed a narrow waist and shapely female hips. No male would fill out pants the way his curvaceous wife did.

No cause for concern here. Anything went in this private club. Cross dressers frequented this establishment in full regalia. Men who dressed up as befrilled and beribboned women, all the while sporting facial hair, was a nightly occurrence here, over which no one looked twice.

Unless the patron was a voyeur, like Talbot himself. Then, staring at fellow members was not only allowed, but encouraged. As long as one had sufficient wealth to afford the steep annual dues, levied to keep out less deep-pocketed undesirables, live and let live was the club’s philosophy, and to each his own fetish was the motto.

No one gave a flying fuck if Veronica appeared rather too feminine to be a man. As a member in good standing, Talbot could bring anyone he damned well liked here as his guest, including a dancing bear. Or even a curious wife.

Naturally, knowing the owner helped Talbot bend the rules. With association came special privilege. With friendship came understanding.

They were friends, Alfred and he. As a personal favor, the tailor had already closed and locked the peeps so no one could see into their room, a necessary precaution to assure complete privacy.

Unlike his darling show-off wife, he was no exhibitionist. The reality was, he would never permit an uninvolved party to see his woman during an intimacy, a protective and territorial facet of his personality he would keep to himself. Why ruin her naughty fun?

She thought they were about to be observed, and the forbidden fantasy thrilled her. As he intended it should. He would provide as many titillating thrills as it took to satisfy his darling’s deviant appetites.

After neatly folding her coat and placing it on a dressing chair, she turned to face him. “Down on the floor,” she said, all pretend male bravado. “Suck me off.”

“Very amusing. But out of the question.”

Poor dejected deviant. His unwillingness to play along took the winds right out of her sails.

She pouted. “Why ever not?”

To keep up the illusion that someone might be observing them at that very moment, he lowered his voice. “Because I do not feature having a wool sock stuffed in my mouth.”

“There is that,” she grumbled. “All right. I shall be the one to knee the floor.”

“No.”

“Then what
can
we do?”

“Cheer up…er…lad. I have a little something to show you.”

“Oh, goody. A surprise.” She closed her eyes. “I utterly adore it when someone tries to catch me off balance. See? ” Giggling, she gave a little jump, which sent her lush tits to jiggling.

He had all to do not to squeeze those bouncing melons for ripeness.

Despite the womanly curves, his bride could be such a child at times. And that made them all that much more compatible, because when it came to certain specific areas, he could be rather childlike himself.

He rummaged around inside the leather sack he carried, found his latest invention, and pulled it out. “Feel free to look now.”

Her eyes widened to the size of buffet platters. “But you said you had ‘a little something’ to show me. That is not ‘a little something.’ That is a monstrously huge something.”

“I will have you know, I patterned the phallus after my own dimensions.”

“A remarkable match in that instance,” she said, her tone full of good cheer and impish mischief.

“For home use, I built one that is steam powered, but nothing will beat this one for sheer portability.” The pace of his words quickened as he warmed to the subject. “It can go with the owner everywhere.”

“How handy,” she offered. “One never knows when one might wish to eviscerate oneself.”

Her surly remark had no impact on his firing thoughts. He did so want to share his inventions with someone. He never had before.

“Convenience! Exactly! And see here? If I press the release on the side, weights drop into place, and the dildo vibrates.

“And on whom do you intend to use that thing?”

“Why, on you, my darling.”

This time, despite a reckless enthusiasm over his latest invention, he was cognizant of her harrumph.

His bride was not at all happy. What had he said?

In her usual straightforward manner, she disclosed his error in thinking. “Did you forget, sir? I am masquerading as a male.”

Ohhhhh…

He had forgotten. When trying out a prototype, he did tend toward absentmindedness. Wrapped up in the invention, he lost sight of the outside world. This was not a slight toward her. In fact, her welfare was uppermost in his mind. It was only the anatomical differences behind her disguise that had managed to slip past his regard.

In order for her to reap the most benefit from this exercise, she must continue to believe she was on display, which meant he had to treat her as he would a male sexual partner.

The situation would have to be altered, as he would not cut her adventure short. But how?

Lightning struck. All was not lost.

“Any portal in a storm, as they say. Drop your trousers and drawers, and bend over the end of the bed…er…lad.”

Veronica’s gaze darted about the room. “Drop my trousers and…and my drawers?”

“That is what I said.” His hesitation would not serve her here. Taking charge was the way to go with his nervous bride.

She turned away, but not before he saw her fervently lick her lips, a kitty at a bowl of cream. Not so nervously, she tore into her clothing.

Within a few seconds, the requested items had dropped away, and he narrowed his sights on the rounded contours exposed to him. The flesh of her bared bottom looked silky and smooth, the crevice deep and tantalizing, and his cock jutted in anticipation.

He stepped nearer, then nearer still, close enough to reach her.

Extending an arm, he palmed her, his fingers cupping her plump derriere, a thumb hooking into the deep demarcation between two perfect globes. Unquestionably, he was subject to dark urges, and anal intercourse was one of them. The lack of eye contact during the intimacy, the impersonal quality of the posterior positioning, the bestiality of it—all appealed to his preference for emotional distancing with people. Getting close to a sexual partner was a dangerous predicament for a man who remained unsure and unconvinced he could give himself fully to another person or even if he had anything inside himself worthy to give.

With her, his need for emotional distancing fell away, and feelings, all sorts of feelings, bombarded him from every direction. Veronica was beginning to mean something to him, and he was hoping their marriage would be a real union in truth. For that to happen, he would have to reveal his occupation to her and more.

Not yet.

Filling her in now would most likely prevent her full recovery and might even set her back so that she would never write again. For her sake, he would keep his guards up and his boundaries clearly delineated.

He dropped to his knees at her heels and opened her up in back.

“Such a pretty bud,” he offered and pierced the puckered opening with his tongue, lingering there as she wiggled in excitement.

She liked it!

Unexplainably, his heart sank. There was no going back now.

Unless he asked.

He pulled away. “Shall we proceed or leave here and go home, where we can do something more…ahem…orthodox in nature? Candlelight and fine wine, perhaps, and the missionary position.”

Her face pressed to the coverlet, she berated his stab at romance. “Are you backing out on me?”

“N-n-not precisely. But neither am I about to let you back
into
me, if you understand my meaning. I am merely changing the manner of the engagement.”

“But I happen to like the manner of
this
engagement. I told you I wanted this done. Remember? We were in the hot pool at the time.”

“I thought it might have been only a tease,” he said glumly.

“Teasing is for children, and I am not a child. I always say what I mean and mean what I say. Please feel free to take me at my word.”

“Very well,” he gritted out. Her wishes had to come before his. It was why he had brought her here tonight.

His bride was a lusty piece, and he knew her hot temperament would carry her along into enjoyment, albeit a darker enjoyment than she was otherwise used to, sheltered miss that she was, but enjoyment all the same…if he could make sure she climaxed.

Could he?

She was a novice at sex, regardless of her big talk. Her receptive frame of mind would certainly help, but was that enough?

Paint it any way he pleased, this
was
sodomy, and she was a lady gently raised.

Because of all her excited wiggling, by this point she was leaning into the bed, her face pillowed in the outermost region of the coverlet, her hips well forward, her arms supporting her upper body. In an effort to sustain her arousal, he pushed his hands up her torso, under the waistcoat and shirt to an unfettered breast, his fingers capturing the sumptuous flesh.

“I love your big ti—er…chest,” he said. Finding her erect nipple, he gave the tip a pinch and the gold hoop a pull.

Now she was straining. Not to get away, but to bring herself closer to him, her bottom tilting.

An invitation to begin.

“So beautiful, my darling” he crooned.

“Oh, please, sir. Please. Touch me.”

“I have. I did. Where else do you need my touch?” he asked, forcing her to say.

“My…um…cock,” she answered, keeping up the pretense for all that there was no need. No one could see them.

She had only lowered her trousers and drawers in back. To keep up the pretense on his side as well, he burrowed his free hand into the crotch of the breeches from the front, chuckling to himself upon encountering the sock. Pushing the fraud aside, he searched out her delectable slit.

Juicy as a ripe peach with arousal.

He fingered her deep, then circled her pierced clit, alternately exciting and soothing until she was moaning. When her excitement exploded out of bounds, he removed his hand from her nipple, took up the dildo, and oiled it with sex oil readily available throughout the room. That done, he introduced her to the sculpted piece of wood.

Veronica, please meet Monsieur Dildo, rather an oily fellow but well intended…

As he suspected she would, she delighted in the forbidden acquaintance. He had butted the dildo against her back egress for only a matter of seconds before her body gave way and she accepted the penetration with a panted, “Oh, yesssssss.”

He dropped the lever, and the weights inside fell. The dildo shuddered, then vibrated.

Arching her back, his adventuresome bride lunged, taking the entirety of the wooden dildo. The phallus pinned her in place.

He lowered her drawers and trousers, the discharged male clothing encircling her ankles, and looked his full as she cried out a climax, then another.

“Time to end it,” he said on her third.

“No,” she decided. “More. Give me more.”

A slave to her wishes, he rubbed her all over as he would a sweating mare after a long ride, then ripped the wool waistcoat from her back so she would cool down.

In evidence that his frisky bride had a mind of her own, she kneed the bed. With the dildo inside her, she scooted across the coverlet.

“More,” she cried, the discarded trousers and drawers tripping her up. “But not with that thing. With you,” she said plaintively. “Come inside me. Please, sir. You!” She sobbed in distress. “I say what I mean and I mean what I say. Sodomize me,” she wailed.

How could he refuse such a heartfelt petition?

Knowing he could not, Talbot climbed up on board, fully clothed, with half-naked her.