Amply Rewarded (17 page)

“Julie, I really must insist that you take advantage of my tailor. He’s fresh out of fashion school and ambitious. Find some new projects to occupy his time. Surely it will be more interesting for him than making suits for an old man.”

“Hal, you’re not old.” I sipped my Earl Grey. “Where do I find him?”

“He’ll come around at two. I’m sure you need some new clothes.”

“Fabulous.”

“Then it’s settled. He’ll meet you in the boudoir. I should warn you—he’s handsome.” He smiled. “Well, I’m off.”

That was how things went at Strawberry Hill. Hal had his business to attend to, which, from what I could gather, consisted of making appearances. I would eventually be expected to attend social functions on his arm, but it was too much to ask of a belle to do so on her first week. Organising smooth inheritance probably also required a great deal of charisma, and Hal was very distracted during those first weeks back home. I could sympathise. Coming into the estate as an outsider presented me with a certain disbelief. The threat of the government confiscating it from him must have been a nightmare. Once accustomed to this kind of living, as Hal had been his whole life, since he spent all of his summers here, nothing else would be impressive. Not the fancy hotel suites, not the most extravagant homes on the west coast. Nothing.

At two o’clock, I met Simon the tailor in my dressing lounge. Hal’s warning had been accurate. He was a strapping young man—a design student, apparently—who made his living sewing for Virginia’s best dressed. Hal adored him. I immediately understood why.

When he entered the room, he fumbled and accidentally dropped his sketchbook. Instead of simply picking up the fallen drawings, he apologised profusely and started a hilarious chain reaction that culminated in his bumping his head on the coffee table. Why is it that nervousness piques my interest?

“You have to forgive me, ma’am, for my clumsiness. I have only worked for men before,” he said, as he held the measuring tape around my waist, taking preliminary peeks at what was to become his new oeuvre.

“Hmm, I suppose this must be awkward for you, then.” I took the measuring tape from him and lowered it around my hips.

His cough expressed his stress as he recorded my measurements in his notebook. He struck me as inexperienced and sweet. He was just the kind of well-behaved young man that a woman could really enjoy. He seemed determined to say and do the right thing all the time.

“This must be intolerable.” I placed the tape around my bust and motioned for him to take it from me. He clasped the tape and came close to see the number. “You poor thing,” I said. Then I laughed.

He feigned amusement.

There is something so titillating about inexperienced men. Simon was the perfect specimen. His bookish fumbling and lack of social grace told me that, if he had been with a woman before, it had not been an affirming experience. His gentle hands almost shook as he wrote. I could not help but play with him. What could be the harm in a little innocent flirtation?

“Simon?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“Yes, ma’am. Absolutely.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t believe you. Prove it.”

“Um… I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, you said you think I’m pretty. I want you to prove it,” I said, squinting ever so slightly. I just wanted to hint at something dirty, not actually come on to him. In his volatile state, an actual advance would have been devastating.

He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure Mr Broughton would approve.”

“Oh? And why not? How were you going to prove my prettiness to me?” I pouted.

“Um…” He had no idea what to do, and I enjoyed watching him squirm. I was just having fun but his expression suggested this was torture for him.

“I think we should leave Hal out of this, don’t you?” I took the notebook he was clinging to so naïvely and tossed it onto the floor. He stared at me as if I were the most wicked and crazy woman he had ever met, and I loved it. He was so deathly afraid of upsetting Hal—and even more afraid of abandoning his etiquette—that his face became pale, like a Victorian lady’s.

I pushed him slightly, and he fell backwards onto my boudoir’s velvet ottoman.

“I’m not sure…”

“What, Simon? You’re not sure this is appropriate? You’re not sure if you’ll lose your contract with Hal?” I paused. “Or is it that you’re not sure I’m pretty?”

“Oh, you’re very pretty. I’m definitely sure of that.”

“Then why don’t you want to prove it to me?” I pouted. It had been a couple of weeks without any sexual attention and I was hungry for something tasty.

I climbed on top of him where he was seated. I straddled his lap and felt his throbbing presence between my legs. “Oh, I see… You do want to prove it to me. You’re just afraid to say it. Is that true, Simon?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I jumped from his lap and gained my composure. Standing in front of him, I towered over him. Then I slapped him. Hard. Across the face with my open hand. “I cannot tolerate fearful men in my home.”

“Ma’am?”

“You heard me. If you are too afraid of Hal or me to tell me how you really feel, then you might as well leave now, or I will personally see to it that your position here is terminated.”

“I’m not afraid.” His voice suggested otherwise, but the young man was coming to his senses, aware that I wanted to play a game with him. That was all this was—just a game of cat and mouse—though, like a good predator, I pounced when he least expected it.

“I don’t believe you,” I insisted.

He stood up. He was taller than me, and slim. Despite his scholarly physique, he was handsome and exuded an artistic flair. He was unlike any of the men I’d met on the road or at Carla’s, and he was nothing at all like the guys in Idaho. I could tell just from his choice to wear corduroy slacks and a loose-fitting, white linen shirt. He stared into my eyes, then grasped both of my arms with his strong hands.

I was momentarily stunned as our dynamic shifted. It had been a while since a man had handled me this way, and I savoured the familiarity of feeling small in someone’s arms. He pulled me close. Our faces almost touching, he whispered, “Julie, you are a beautiful woman. I can hardly control myself in your presence, if I must be honest.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” I said, and closed my eyes. His lips met mine and our kiss resonated deep inside me. I could feel his hardness as he pulled my body flush with his own. I broke away from Simon, walked calmly to the door, turned the key, then turned on my heels. I could feel myself moisten with each step I took towards him.

Even the most cultivated creative type has an animalistic side. I was about to encounter Simon, unbridled. It had been too long that I had waited. The adventures with Sam and Timothy and Hal had been fascinating, but I was in dire need of a ravishing union.

I tore at Simon’s buttoned shirt. He immediately shed his pants, his undergarments, everything. As he stood there, exposed, I felt the desire to intimidate the poor young man a little more.

“What makes you think you can have me?” I asked. He looked confused. “Hmm? Mr Tailor? What makes you think you’re good enough to fuck the lady of the house?”

I even surprised myself with my tone. But Simon played along, perfect prey that he was.

“I don’t think I’m good enough.” His tone was meek.

“You don’t
think
you are?”

“I know I’m not, ma’am. I’m not good enough for you.”

“That’s right, Tailor Boy. Now get down on your knees.”

He knelt down. Crouched on my floor, he kissed my feet. He caressed my ankles with his soft hands and I sat down on my ottoman, fully clothed in front of my naked admirer. His dedication emanated from every part of his body. I could not help but feel adored. Something told me I could get used to having Simon around.

He stroked and caressed my left foot as I brought my toe to his mouth. He engulfed it with his soft, warm tongue, which was exactly the fellatio I craved. His suction became more and more prominent as I pushed and pulled my toe in and out of his mouth. With my right foot, I stroked the ever-growing bulge between his legs, which made him moan in delight. He slid his tongue between my toes and I cradled his now throbbing hardness with my other foot until we were both in dire need of relief. I recalled the image I had of Kelly—Mistress Veronica—and let myself feel the longing I still had for her.

* * * *

Simon and I had an excellent understanding. He was happy to design and sew and cater to my needs. In return, I toyed with him every time I felt like it. It was the perfect flattering union. I couldn’t have planned it better. Simon worked busily, compiling a late summer wardrobe of light dresses and pretty blouses for me. I perused fashion magazines and picked out fabrics and shoes and accessories. His job was to say ‘yes’ to me. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Simon became the hobby that occupied my time in those first couple of months at Strawberry Hill.

Hal could tell how much I was enjoying the arrangement.

“That Simon, he’s quite the terrific tailor, wouldn’t you say, darling?” he asked me one night, in his study.

I loved Hal. We were so easy around each other. It was easy to love him and easy to get along with him. We liked the same lifestyle and he never saw himself as my keeper, even though he was.

“Simon is excellent,” I confirmed, lying on his beautiful cherry-wood-trimmed sofa, reading my magazines while he sat at his desk with his cup of tea and paperwork. Many evenings were spent like this. It was hard not to love his study. It was better than an office, with its brick fireplace and bear rug, its antique furniture and old style lighting.

“Simon and I are preparing a surprise for you, dear.”

“For me? Does it involve nudity and a bottle of oil?”

He chuckled quietly. Whenever we were alone together, Hal felt comfortable to voice things he would never say in public.

“No, darling, nothing so dashing. I think you’ll like it, though.”

He was so dapper, Hal. I loved to do nice things for him. This surprise—the jade dildo and my perfectly fitted harness—was my latest obsession. It might not be the kind of surprise Hal was up for, but it was the kind of thing I felt was my duty. I just couldn’t resist.

He smiled at my coyness and we went back to our silent, solitary activities. I really loved him even though we hadn’t consummated in that way…yet. I often thought about it. I wondered if he did, too. We had sort of fallen into a pattern of not fucking because that was what seemed most natural. It seemed as if we shouldn’t because his preferences lay elsewhere. But I became intent on the idea. After all, we cared about each other. It was dangerous for me to start thinking of him in that way and I knew it. Our relationship had already reached the pinnacle of intimacy because we had been sleeping in the same bed, regularly, for months.

There is something about waking up in bed together that is inherently more private than sharing bodily fluids. I let Hal see me in what I think of as the most compromising position—sleep followed by bed hair. It was one thing to show off my body and my flexibility, to leave lovers wanting more or, even in the case of Sam, to leave them confused or at least with a mental image of my physical nudity. But Hal knew what I looked like naked in the real sense of it—devoid of all airs. He knew what it felt like to hold me, to feel my arms wrapped around him at night. He knew what I sounded like when I slept, whether I snored or not. He was always such a gentleman, so I never believed him when he told me I didn’t snore, but how would I know? The only other person I could ask was Kelly and those days had been different. Hal and I, though, we had something. It was a kind of closeness, more than a platonic relationship, more than a brother-sister style relationship. We weren’t asexual. In fact, we loved telling each other about our escapades and we had been involved with the same lover, so we couldn’t have pretended not to notice each other in that way. I didn’t want to put our closeness at risk with my harness plan. I couldn’t bear the thought of Hal’s rejection. I feared it terribly, which was why it had taken me so long to get Simon to make the harness. But as our wedding night approached, I felt that there would be something satisfying about Hal and I being able to express ourselves together.

One morning, as the sun shone through the white curtains, I felt his morning erection against me. I didn’t do anything about it, though part of me wanted so badly to slip underneath the covers and to take him in my mouth. I couldn’t do that kind of thing with him. He wouldn’t like it. In fact, I was quite sure he would have to be extremely turned on if he was ever going to let me use the jade dildo on him. I might even have to plan it in conjunction with a visit from Timothy or one of the new boys of which Hal was so fond. But that idea saddened me. I wanted it to be between the two of us. I wanted to be able to seduce him myself. It was the ultimate challenge.

Maybe what he needed, or what
I
needed, was more masculine signifiers, I thought as he put his still sleeping head on my chest. I lay there propped up on his pillows with my arms folded behind my back, and he nuzzled into me. Conventionally, our postures were the reversal of what our genders dictated, which only led me to further think about the possibility. Maybe I should take Simon shopping. Maybe I needed cologne. Maybe I would look great in tweed pants and a white collared shirt and a tie. Maybe I should learn to smoke a pipe. I smiled at the idea. It was no longer about Hal. I should feel as comfortable to do that as anything. Why not?

I’d been laying there in my private thoughts, looking out of the window, when Hal woke up. He looked at me.

“I can’t wait to be your wife,” I said. “Let’s do it soon.”

“If it were up to me, I’d bring the minister out today. We could do it right here, right now.”

“Minister? Like from a church?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“I hope so. Hal, I’m hardly a believer.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, what would you like?”