Anonymous - Emily - Or, the voluptuous delights of a once-innocent young lady

'Perhaps -yes. All things are perhaps', he said.

'We shall come down', said Jane. Her tone was crisp, brought order to my mind, a suddenness of some decision that I gathered up.

'My room-I wish it kept', I said. 'Of course. What else?' He gazed at me, was gone. I touched my wardrobe, knew its old, blank stare. The long and time-stained mirrors on the door, surrounded by fancy scrolls of wood, would hold my image ever on. When someone stood before them, they would see me there. All was propriety downstairs, as Jane had said. Only two cushions tossed upon the floor showed evidence of wanton play. I wished to examine them as might a scientist, but went to Mama and received a kiss. Her lips were over-moist, as too were Eveline's. Arnold stood pale and wan, top-hat in hand. I could not imagine him with riding crop, as Papa sometimes carried, nor a gun. Farewells were said, James kissed me on the eyes, which I thought sweet. His trousers were not fully buttoned, though, were twisted at the front where he, in haste, had missed a buttonhole.

I whispered to him so; he blushed. 'Come, chaperone', I said to Jane. I had a merriment of slight hysteria. All stared at first, then laughed in turn. 'I will take your arm', said Arnold. Suddenly he came to life. His Papa, I believe, had frowned at him. 'No, thank you, Arnold, I have Jane's', I said. Our bodies moved like leaves that drift in a slow breeze. The servants bowed to me upon the steps, the sunlight-dreaming of past summers-shone. 'The carriage is not clean', I said to Arnold. Jane sat with me of a purpose, and he forced to face us both. 'Ah, no', he uttered-had no more to say, save for such spinnings in his mind as might occur but could not, would not be produced. The gravel chinked and grated underneath the wheels as our procession moved. Mama waved, Papa waved, and Eveline. Julie had not come, alas, though much had wanted to, had been transported off to Paris, but would soon return. I wondered if she had said her prayers in French these past few days, and were her stockings straight, as mine had been. 'Shall we play croquet later, do you think?', Jane asked. I stared at her, and Arnold gaped. 'Two balls and a stiff stick', she murmured in my ear, then bit the lobe of it, made me say 'Ouch!' 'I say!', said Arnold. -'Oh, be quiet', said Jane to him.

I laughed; the laughter welled up from within, threw my head back till tears came in my eyes and Arnold's face became a perfect blur such as I wished it ever to remain.

Some houses have little to be said of them, except they stand foursquare and have sufficient greenery to flirt and flow around their stolid walls, shrubs flourishing, upstarting trees, and sad, brown borders that lament the deaths of flowers when Autumn comes. Arnold's-I should say his father's, rather-was imposing, turreted in the fond manner of an architect who believes the Crusades still to be unfinished. Armoured, hollow men stood in the hall. All looked baronial and overdone. I did not like the crossed assegais on the walls, the hide shields. The stuffed birds were nice. 'We shall have pleasant days here', Constance said. Arnold dispersed himself upstairs. The drawing room was langourous and grand with silk and braided chairs, a crimson ottoman, a fine old Davenport. 'It may be so', I answered cautiously. Her Mama, Hilda, weighed me up and down and smiled. Jane fiddled with some cut flowers, looked about, and had an air on her as if she did not mind the place. My room-I had my own room, as it seemed- was next to that of Constance who then guided me around. 'The beds squeak sometimes-are you used to that?', she asked. 'I am, yes', I replied and stared her out, at which her eyes dropped, disconcerted, as I thought. 'We favoured you with lips and tongues', she said and then embraced me quickly as if I might retreat. I did not fold my arms defensively between us and was kissed upon my eyelids just as James had done. How easy it becomes to tell ourselves sometimes that such and such a one is nice when they are not! I wished to say she had outraged me, though in aftermaths I never bleat.-'You are delicious to make love with-did you know?', she asked. 'You know much more about it than I do-or seemingly. Where, then, is Arnold?' 'He? He will be seen to. Do not fret as to his cause. He has his weaknesses; I know them well.' 'I'm sure you do'. I turned my back on her and fiddled with the curtains. Velvet green they were, and not quite to my taste. Quite unabashed, she came behind me, licked her tongue around my neck. 'I am not incestuous, Emily. D'you think I am?' 'I care not…', I began, and then her Mama came in. I felt the smile of Constance on my neck together with her pointed tongue that made me quiver-tickle-tingle all at once. Her arms around my waist, my bottom bulbed into her belly, still she did not move. 'Shall you play maid at tea, or Emily, or Jane?', she asked. 'I? No-I did it yesterday, Mama, or was it last week? So much happens here'.

'Last week? Last year? Your legs were much admired. Dear Emily, she does not know of what we speak, though. Let her choose between herself and Jane. It is her day'. 'It is? I had scarce noticed if, I said. The sun's rays were stooping shallow on the lawn. A blackbird uttered its bright song. 'She has a touch of humour on her, Mama, does she not-it is very sweet. You are sweet; did you know that, Emily?' She turned me-all were fit, it seemed, to turn me as they would. I wished to beat at her, at her brown dress. Instead, I laughed, and thought myself a fool: a weakness in me I could not disperse. In their strange commonness, bizarre of tongue, was a rough strand of jollity that meant not to offend. Hilda departing, Constance stroked my face. Fingers of velvet, yes, she had. 'You have not played “maid”?', she asked. 'It is not so common in the county here. Papa says it is not, at least. A girl is dressed up as a servant girl, but with a skirt that shows her legs, and with an unstarched blouse with buttons all undone. She serves, we toy with her, then Arnold takes his pleasure of her. Such he is allowed to do.

Papa may spank her first, though-make her ready for the cock. Are you cock-ready, darling? Tell me yes!' 'I have… I have been. Does he-does he do it in your sight?'. I wanted not to know, and yet I did.

Pressed to the wall she kept me, and our thighs were warm. Julie would come and tongue us both, perhaps. Mad thoughts invaded me-I in this house, this strange room, with its camphor smell, the scent of polish redolent on wood. 'That is for you to say-or rather, it is now'.

'I have a choice?' Sullen my mouth. I altered it and smiled.

Tomorrow I would flee with Jane, I told myself. It mattered not as to the evening or the night. 'Of course, you silly. Is not love here shared? I will play a little with his cock. I promise you, I do no more than that. He is so timid really, one can handle him at will. His prick bursts in long, fine-spurting flood. Surprising, really, that he does so much. Ah, Fiona- yes, come in-what do you say? Shall it be Emily or Jane to play the maid today?' 'Neither', said I, and hooked her stare. 'You said the choice was mine-so be it. Fiona here shall play the part. Dress the girl quickly and be done with it. I would soon as see this play as any other'. 'But I don't want! Oh, not with Arnold, no!', Fiona uttered, pouting, shifting feet, tugging at dress. 'Fiona, she has never watched before. It is her due to see-today. Another time, another place, all will be different. Once and only once-you will for me?', so Constance wheedled, but I then stood firm, said it was my wish and not hers. At that, Fiona turned and ran downstairs, I following and Constance in my wake. 'The maid is Fiona', I announced. The congregation was complete: Arnold, his parents, and my sister sat as though all waiting for a train.

'You take command?', her father asked, his eyes amused, his mouth a line of doubtfulness. He lounged in shirtsleeves-a very common touch-as Arnold did, their collars off. I felt then in the long, ensuing hour that I had wandered on a stage-in view of audience-where an unwritten play was to be performed. Some altercation had ensued, but Fiona finally was sent upstairs, was dressed her part, and came down with a vague attempt at shyness, on her own. A skirt, much cut, of dusty black, came to her stocking tops which, like a servant's, were of the same hue. Unbuttoned was her blouse: the half-moons showed. Her hair was caught up with a ribbon tightly tied. 'Serve me. I will have port-the others, too', her father said and winked at me a vulgar wink that I ignored. Too long she was about it and was fetched by Jane who did not mind the chore and afterwards confessed to me that she had felt the girl a little, found no drawers, and 'tickled up her pussy just for larks'. Fiona was flushed when she came in, found us expectant, served her Papa first. I wondered at his hand that hovered near her thighs. He did not touch, though, and merely smiled.