Nan Ryan - Naughty Marietta

“No,” said Marietta. “You can let him in. I’ll finish behind the dressing screen.”

Madam Sophia grabbed her charge’s arm, whirled her back around. “With him in the room?”

Marietta laughed off Madam Sophia’s chagrin. “That’s what dressing screens are for, Sophia. Is my dress completely unhooked?”

“It is,” said the coach, hands going to her wide hips.

Marietta nodded. “Then open the door for Maltese.”

“If you undress behind the screen, he’ll see the tops of your bosom,” scolded the disapproving Madam Sophia.

“Nonsense,” said Marietta. “He’ll see nothing. Now, please, answer his knock and then you may go.” Madam Sophia made a face.

Marietta laughed at her friend’s needless concern and assured the older woman, “Nothing will happen, believe me. I see to it that Maltese is always a gentleman with me.” She danced around behind the screen. “You know I’m telling you the truth.”

Madam Sophia lifted a skeptical eyebrow, crossed to the door and admitted the eager admirer. To Maltese she said, “Marietta has early rehearsals tomorrow.”

Eyes only for Marietta, Maltese said, “I won’t keep her up too late.”

Madam Sophia bustled out in such a hurry, she bumped into Lightnin’, who stood just outside the door. They glared at each other.

Maltese closed the dressing-room door and leaned back against it. “You were a sensation tonight, my dear,” he said.

“You’re so sweet,” she replied with a flirtatious smile. “Give me a minute to get out of my costume and I’ll be ready to go to dinner. Will you blow out the lamp?” Marietta asked and ducked behind the dressing screen.

“Of course, sugar,” Maltese said as he crossed to the mirrored dressing table, lifted the lamp’s glass globe and blew out the flame.

The lamp extinguished, now only a single white candle burned in a holder near the open back window. The small room was bathed in the candle’s mellow glow. Shadows danced on the walls. It was a seductive atmosphere.

Marietta was soon to make it even more seductive.

His voice cracking a little, Maltese turned about and said, “So…you haven’t changed yet?”

“No, Sophia and I were so busy congratulating ourselves I didn’t get around to it. But don’t worry, I won’t be a moment,” she said and favored him with another dazzling smile.

Marietta was a tall woman. Her head and shoulders rose above the covering screen. She lowered the sleeve of her turquoise gown down one shoulder and asked, “You don’t mind waiting, do you?”

Maltese swallowed hard. “No, sugar. You take as long as you need.” His eyes flashing with expectation, he reached for a chair, turned it around so that it faced the screen and quickly sat down.

Marietta knew exactly what she was doing. She would, on this festive evening, provide her middle-aged benefactor with a few memorable thrills. And she would do so without actually showing him anything or compromising herself.

She knew how it would excite him to know that she was stripping behind the screen. So Marietta stepped out of the turquoise costume and draped it over the screen.

She paused, rested her arms atop the screen and said, “I’m just dewy with perspiration from my strenuous performance.”

“Are you, sugar?” Maltese managed to say, his wide-eyed gaze resting on her pale shoulders. “Did you want to go up to your quarters and take a bath before dinner?”

Marietta pretended to be thinking it over. “No, tell you what, Sophia was so thoughtful, she placed a basin of water here behind the screen. I’ll just strip off everything and take a little sponge bath. If that’s all right with you?”

Maltese was now practically speechless with excitement. He nodded his silver head vigorously and gestured with trembling hands.

“Does that mean yes?” she asked in a honeyed voice.

“Y-yes,” he finally croaked. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Good. I declare, I’m just so hot and sticky.”

Marietta sensuously wiggled free of her lacy petticoats and tossed them atop the discarded costume.

“These tiny little hooks on my camisole are hard to manage,” she informed him, her face screwed up in concentration as she worked at undoing the minuscule fasteners. She laughed then, and added, “If I can’t get these little devils open, I may have to enlist your help.”

Maltese’s breathing grew labored and shallow at the exciting prospect. He watched with growing anticipation.

“Ah, there!” she said after a moment. “Finally got the last one.”

“That’s nice,” he said, a cloud of disappointment crossing his perspiring face. But the disappointment evaporated as the lace straps of the camisole slipped down her shoulders. The frothy undergarment was soon draped across the screen’s top and Maltese felt his heart hammer in his chest. His beloved—standing not six feet from him—was now bare to the waist.

He began to pant when Marietta lifted her arms, swept her long red-gold hair atop her head and pinned it there. The movement caused her shoulders to lift, the swell of her full, bare breasts to rise dangerously close to the top border of the screen.

Maltese anxiously licked his dry lips. He gripped his trousered knees with dampened hands; hands that itched to touch the beautiful woman who so tempted him. He could almost feel the warm heaviness of her white breasts in his palms.

Marietta, knowing what was going through his mind, chattered gaily as if nothing unusual were taking place, continuing to thrill her suitor without really giving him anything. When she slithered out of her lace-trimmed pantalets and tossed them over the screen, she sighed as if with great relief.

Maltese, red-faced now, pulse pounding in his ears, squirmed on his chair as she noisily kicked off her shoes, then peeled her silk stockings down and tossed them over the screen.

“Ah, there,” she sighed, “everything’s off and I’m as bare as a newborn babe. It feels sooo good. Sometimes I wonder why we must wear such hot, heavy underclothing.” She laughed musically then and added, “Sometimes I wonder why we must wear any clothes at all, don’t you, Maltese?”

“Y-yes, oh, yes,” he groaned as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest.

Just then a strong night breeze stirred the sheer window curtains. The candle flame danced wildly. The quick surge of light outlined—for a fleeting instant—Marietta’s bare silhouette against the dressing screen. Maltese quickly put a hand to his mouth to stifle his rising moan of joy. Such undraped perfection! Such purity! And it was his, all his.

Light-headed, dizzy, Maltese felt his brain pounding out the message, “My darling Marietta is naked. Totally, gloriously naked. She is bare. Not wearing a stitch. And there’s only a silk screen between us.”

Marietta began to hum as she dipped a sponge into the basin of water and pressed it to her throat, then let it slide slowly down her chest until it disappeared behind the screen. Maltese had never known such sweet agony. He watched, entranced, as his naughty Marietta sponged off her entire body. He could see nothing, but he imagined that he could. He wished that she would announce which part of her lovely body she was presently washing. But, of course, she wouldn’t. She was too much of a lady.

Maltese held his breath, hoping against hope that the candle would flare again. His chest tightened as he pondered whether or not she had reached the nether region between her long slender legs. God, he wished that she would tell him.

Marietta revealed nothing, just continued to hum.

Still, being afforded the opportunity to share this intimate bathing exercise with her was incredibly pleasurable and highly arousing. He could, if asked, truthfully brag that he had watched Marietta take a bath. But that would be raffish behavior.