A Gentlewoman's Predicament Read Online Free PDF Page A

heart.
    And as one, we all cry out as we achieve sweet resolution, Yuri pumping enthusiastically inside me while Ambrose spills his seed upon my belly.
    I am awash. I am debauched. I am in heaven.
    For many minutes, we lie too stunned to speak or move, but as I recover my faculties I’m not so naive as to believe that such an occurrence as this is regular. I sense that it was different. Unusual. That Ambrose Chamfleur does not often take part in such frolics, or at least to such a degree.
    When I look into his eyes I see them filled with wondrous happiness.
    My heart fills with joy, too.
    As Ambrose leans in to kiss me, I am vaguely aware of Yuri sliding from the bed behind me and padding from the room, his job well done.
    “So, Mrs. Harewood, do you feel that you are fully acquainted with sexual rapture now?” Ambrose enquires when we are alone, reaching to sweep my tangled hair away from my cheeks so he may see my expression clearly. I, in turn, feast my eyes on the noble contours of his suddenly dear face.
    “Fully. Although I suspect that there are many shades of bliss yet to be discovered, Ambrose.”
    I try to imagine looking into the eyes of Mr. Trentham, or Lord Lotherton, or the earl of Davy whilst experiencing this glorious lassitude, and I find I cannot picture them. They are nothing to me. Just ciphers. Only this man—and his delightful companions—have any reality for me.
    I can see that my previous plans will have to change.
    1888
    She draws me aside at the Ladies’ Sewing Circle. Young Lucy Montgomery. Mrs. Montgomery, as of a few months ago.
    Her eyes are strained. Her face is pinched. Experience tells me that all is not well in the bed of her new husband. Mr. Montgomery is older, so much older, and her family’s choice for her.
    I remember when I felt as she does. Disillusioned. Disappointed. Yearning for a certain magic that I was convinced existed but had not yet experienced.
    Not until I met a man named Ambrose, who has some revolutionary ideas about how ladies should learn about matters of the bedroom.
    As she haltingly describes her dilemma, I find myself drifting back to that first time, just after I’d behaved like a wanton libertine, and discovered my true erotic nature in the arms of Ambrose and Yuri and Clarence.
    Afterward, alone, he tended me with all the delicacy and scrupulousness of a perfectly trained lady’s maid. Washing his jism off my body with a soft muslin cloth dipped in rose-scented water, talking to me in quiet tones, and all the while smiling as he described to me all outrageous delights and glories that lay ahead of me in the world of sensuality.
    Alas, with such heated descriptions, and such intimate handling, it wasn’t long before my dear Ambrose was spending his dear, precious essence all over me again, although this time we both naked, his clothes being off.
    In the peaceful aftermath, I outlined my plan, and though nervous at first, I warmed to my theme. And so did he.
    A process that led delightfully to yet more spending.
    “Er…um…Lady Arabella said that you might be able to advise me…offer a consultation and perhaps some…therapy?” She twists her handkerchief in her fingers, mangling the poor scrap of lace near to destruction. “Obviously, on a professional basis, of course…. She said you were a…a consultant.”
    “Of course, my dear. I’ll be happy to help.” I still her hands with mine, then reach into my reticule for my card case. “Why not come to this address at around three p.m. tomorrow? I’m sure that my associates and I can provide you with all the answers—and the therapy—that you need.”
    “Associates?” She looks doubtful.
    “Don’t be concerned. They’re the most trusted of professionals. You’ll be safe in their hands.”
    She smiles. Her spirits seem to be lifting already and her eyes are brighter.
    “Thank you so much. I’ll be there.” She almost seems about to kiss me in gratitude. “Bless you, Madame Chamfleur. I