A Gentlewoman's Pleasure by Portia Da Costa Read Free Book Online

self-pleasure to be most beneficial.”
    “Me too,” replied Lucy, giving him a sultry look that she would never have attempted a few days ago, but in which she now felt completely confident. “And I would like to observe you in that particular pastime….” She paused, and then slithered back over the bed, lying down sideways again and parting her legs. “But I rather believe that I need servicing again.”
     
    “And then what happened?” demanded one of the Misses Gray, who were twins, and each one as inquisitive as the other.
    Lucy realized that she’d paused in her narrative, and had been silent for several long moments. She glanced around, seeing faces even more avid than when she’d first begun.
    “We fucked again, of course!” She flung the forbidden word out boldly, her body warming yet more just at the thought of it.
    “Bravo, my dear! I’m glad to hear it,” approved Sofia Chamfleur, beaming, “Your young man sounds perfectly delicious. Of course you fucked him. Who wouldn’t, in your place?”
    “And what happened after that?” Prudence Enderby leaned forward, sipping from her cup and grimacing. She’d obviously let her tea grow stone-cold during the story.
    There was so much more, but they would be here all afternoon and evening if she recounted it all, and husbands and families would be wondering where their womenfolk were.
    “Well, we made love again, and we ate again, and then Ethan mended my bicycle and conducted me to my cousin’s house in a borrowed horse and trap…and then we parted.”
    For a moment, a lump filled her throat. It had been hard to say goodbye, but she’d been prepared for it. Magical erotic idylls in secluded country hideaways could not last forever, and the protagonists would always have to go their separate ways. She’d cheerfully—and bravely, she thought—made her farewells, and not cried at all.
    No, she’d not wept until she’d discovered the letter secreted in her bicycling suit pocket, and then she’d sobbed for an entirely different reason.
    “Well, you’re a dark horse, Lucy Dawson,” proclaimed Arabella Southern, reaching over to pat her on the back. “With a truly scandalous imagination. I don’t think anyone here’s ever described a more risqué fantasy. Not even Prudence, who usually tells the tallest of tales.”
    Lucy beamed. She took off her spectacles, polished them and, on donning them again, looked around the circle, to see looks of awe and wonder, and a gathering understanding reflected back at her. It seemed that some of the ladies had already turned the page to see the next chapter of her story.
    “Ah, but it was no a fantasy, Arabella. It all really occurred and Ethan actually exists.” Her heart thudded, dancing anew as she hugged her good fortune against it. “And he gave me a letter, formally asking if he might call on me in London, in order to pay court me properly. He’s in town on business today, and tonight we dine together at the Café Royal.”
    Before she knew it, Lady Arabella had her in a most unladylike bear hug.
    “Good for you, my pet. Good for you. I knew you had it in you, so to speak.” The peeress winked, then paused while general giggles and merriment subsided. “Wait a minute…. ‘Oakley,’ you say? And he’s a builder?”
    “Yes, indeed. He’s an architect and a builder, and doing very well at it. The house he’s building in the country is his own. He only took the little cottage temporarily for convenience to be adjacent to the site.”
    “He isn’t the Oakley that did the Duchess of Tewkesbury’s new ballroom and west wing, is he? Apparently he’s very much the thing, and in demand with all the right people.”
    “Yes, that’s my Ethan, the very same.”
    “Capital! Not only have you bagged yourself a fine young stud, but a good prospect into the bargain.”
    “But I haven’t quite bagged him yet. Thus far, he’s only courting me.”
    “Nonsense! From what you’ve just told us, the