Lewrie's hand to the waistband buttons, hers working up from the bottom of the row, and he was free in a trice, breeches and stockings discarded atop the chest, and the boots, and the room's chill a sensual thrill from the hem of his shirt to his groin.
"Ye have 'armour'?" she softly asked, her hands under his shirt, on the tops of his thighs. "They'll not let us, without. Do ye not, I've a few in the-"
"A round dozen," Lewrie told her in a throat-constricted mutter as Tess's hands slid up to his hips, bracketing his taut belly.
"Saints preserve us, but I hope ye'll spare me the use of all of 'em, arrah!" Tess said with a gasp of alarm, false or not, he could not tell. She dropped back to her heels, eyes wide.
"The Green Lantern's Best," Lewrie assured her, offering her a hand. "Let's get under the covers, then have another glass of champagne, me girl. Vite vite, as the Frogs say."
Out of her shoes, Tess was about four inches shorter than his five feet nine inches as she rose to her feet, and, with his hand in hers, quickly led him to the bed. He whipped the coverlet, blankets, and sheet back and they both jumped in, her heavy wool robe slung to the footboard, then the covers pulled up to her chin, the pile of pillows flounced up and braced behind their shoulders and heads. Lewrie reached for the bottle and the glasses, poured for both of them, then shifted to his side to face her, clinking his glass to hers once more.
She took a sip, then leaned back against the pillows, sighing contentedly. "Never had champagne 'fore I come t'London, I never," she told him, flashing her that rather sweet, shy smile again. "La, 'tis a grand thing, the 'bubbly.' "
" 'Deed it is," Lewrie happily agreed. "Why, a fellow captain I know, Benjamin Rodgers, couldn't go to sea at all, did he not have at least three dozen dozen bottles in his lazarette store. Goes through it like a country squire sucks up ale," he said with a hoot.
"An' here I thought goin' t'sea was all misery an' hard times," Tess said, shifting to her side to face him, one hand propping up her head. " 'Twas bad enough, just goin' by packet from Belfast t' Liverpool, and sick! I thought I'd die 'fore settin' foot on hard ground. Whush! Sure, and it'd take a power o' strong drink t'get me aboard a ship again. T'make such life even passin' tolerable."
"It ain't always that stormy, in the main," Lewrie told her. "More good days than bad, really. The worst part sometimes is days on end o' boredom. One week after t'other, exactly the same hum-drum and routine."
"And there's dancin' t'hornpipes, an' all?" Tess asked, smiling and much more at ease than their first moments. "Shinnin' up masts, an' such?" she added, with a sly leer in her eyes.
"Ye'd not ask me t'shin up a mast tonight, will ye, Captain Alan?" she asked with feigned dread.
"Seein' as how you're a landlubber, not a 'scaly fish,' I don't think I'll put ya to the main-mast truck quite yet, m'dear," he joshed with a grin and a throaty chuckle. He slipped closer, putting an arm behind her head, and she snuggled up to him, bringing welcome warmth and a heady mix of enticing aromas. "Perhaps I'll start ya out on the mizen… only as far as the cro'jack yard."
"Ye haveta learn another tongue t'be a sailor?" she asked with a shake of her head.
"We've our own language, for certain, Tess," he agreed.
"Ye'll not be too rough an' hungry, will ye, Captain Alan?" she asked in a soft voice. "Mean t'say… ''
"I've simple, normal tastes, if that's your question," he assured her, feeling warm enough to undo his cuffs and slide out of his silk shirt. "Nor am I a brute. Mind though… it has been a long time. But, we have 'til dawn, or a little later, I'm assured. I doubt we'll go through the whole dozen. But… ya never can tell, am I inspired?" he said with a grin. "And you are inspiring."
They sipped at their champagne, he faster than she, and set his empty glass on the night-stand. He turned back, and she was waving her empty at him with a bolder grin of her own.
"Should I snuff some candles?" she asked as she slid down in the bed, sweeping her long hair to one side.
Only three single candles barely illuminated the small room; it was all amber and gently flickering shadows. Now they were silent, he could hear what was going on in the other cubicles; the rhythmic thud of mattresses and the squeaking of slats or ropes, urgent grunts, moans, and throaty soft laughter.
"Not right now," Lewrie said, sliding over to hold her close, to kiss her throat, her shoulders, and nuzzle below and behind of her ears. He moved up to her forehead, her cheeks, and her chin, testing whether she was the sort of whore who'd kiss for real, or turn her head away to feign passion. His lips found hers, and they were very soft and sweet as she allowed him… then, after a few light, teasing kisses, parted her lips and met him, measure for measure.
His free hand gently slid under her chemise to roam over her hip, and trail spider-soft down her thigh, then back up slowly, roving over the back of her leg 'til he could cup a firm, baby-bottom-soft buttock and stroke a circle; expanding wider to her waist. Tess shifted beside him, parting her thighs wide enough for him to put a leg between them, and feather his fingers from her waist to her belly, then down to her fluff. Her arms were round him, her kisses more urgent, and the musk of her breath intensifying. She slid a hand down to her waist-sash and undid the loose knot so he could tickle his hand up her back, above her waist, cross her rib cage, and slide the chemise up even higher.
"Let's have this off, sweetness," he growled, helping her lift it free over her head, and she flung it away, with no care for where it landed, then flung her arms round his neck, beginning to moan kittenish as he buried his face against her neck and hair.
"Oh, Captain Alan! Uhmm! Oh, yes, ooh!" Tess whispered, her fingers in his thick hair. "Ah, that's darlin'!"
It was such a sham, almost enough to put him off for a moment, yet he was determined, almost challenged, to take her beyond the play-acting, before the night was done. One last open-mouthed bout of kisses, and he slid down her body to her breasts.
Not all that large, yet soft and milky, and delightfully scented. His tongue rimmed her puffy pink areolae and nipples, smiling to himself as they went taut as he licked, flicked, and assayed a shuddery play-nip that made her moan a tad more authentically.
Lower down, bestowing attention on her sides, her ribs, and she went onto her back, slim thighs parted further to make room for him when he got to her stomach, her belly, her navel, and Tess's hips were slowly rolling and beginning to push up to him.
"Ooh, ooh, ah!" Tess uttered as he gained the deliciously soft tops of her inner thighs, and she lifted her knees, shifting again and widening her legs as his hot breath stirred her corn-silk-fine patch of fluff, kissing her belly above it, and feeling her stomach shudder.
If that ain't real, then it's one hell of a trick! he thought.
To the seat of pleasure at last, tongue and lips on her cleft, and she smelt so clean, for a moment, before the musk arose, as Tess went from dryness to dampness, then to slickness as he pressed his face to her.
There'd been a courtesan in his teens, then a Chinese whore in Canton, who had titteringly instructed him in how to pay attention to "the little man in the boat"… not just a brief visit, but a lengthy stay,… and the result he could conjure with what the Chinese girl had called "the hummingbird." And damned if he would go anywhere else 'til he'd lit a proper fire… an honest fire.
It seemed to be working, for Tess's fingers clawed in his hair, at his scalp, her hips jouncing up in time with his tongue, panting in rhythm, and mewling soft yelps and urgent whines.
"Oh, oh, oh Jesus, Joseph an' Mary, oh God, m'dear, uhm!" she whimpered, her hands now clamped round his head, knees almost to her chest, shoving him into her groin. "Oh, God in Heaven, ye bastard…! Yes, yes, yess! Ahhhaa!" she wailed, arching her back, "Ah, ye darlin' man, oh Jaysus!" She froze of a sudden, loins pressed upward hard and her thighs gripping his head, her arms flung outside the blankets, to grip the pillows and the edge of the mattress, to claw the sheets. A moment more stiffness, and she collapsed with a shudde
r, croaking from a dry throat, gasping for air as he swarmed up her to take her in his arms, shift to lie on his side and stroke her all over.
"My dear," Tess said with a shaky laugh once she'd gotten her breath back. "My God, but where'd ye learn that 'un? I never… ''
"I told ye the Navy'd see ye right, dear Tess," he chuckled.
"Faith, if ye haven't. Whush!" She fanned herself with the bed covers. "But… isn't it time ye fetched one o' yer cundums an' had ye're own pleasure?" she whispered, beaming with fun.
"I do believe you're right, sweet 'un," Lewrie heartily agreed, Before he could turn over to fetch one, though, Tess swarmed over him to the drawer of the night-stand and pulled one out.
"Your turn," Tess whispered, a playful leer on her face for a moment. "My turn," she added, tossing back the covers and slipping down to his erection to tie the cundum on… but not before her lips tasted him, licked, and surrounded its top, her mouth and breath hot and wet and maddening!
" 'Tis a fearful big thing ye own, Captain Alan," Tess said as she rolled away, opening herself to him. "But I do believe I'll manage… d'ye start out gentle."
In the candlelight, her eyes shone with mischief, and her mouth pouted so very prettily, her lips slightly apart. "Now, sir?"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As the bells of London chimed the hour of one in the morning, a very pleased, and smug, Alan Lewrie allowed himself to imagine that he was not yet that old; that he did main-well for a fellow who'd reached his thirty-eighth year. His birthday had occurred a week before, to no particular notice from anyone else, friend or family.
"Hmm," he purred into Tess's hair as she lay half atop him, one slim thigh between his, and her belly sticky-damp against him. "Mmm!" was her matching purr as he stroked her back and kissed her cheek.
"Ye're feelin' sleepy yet, darlin'?" Tess asked, her head upon his chest.
"Is that a wish, Tess?" he asked, chuckling.
"Faith, it is not," she answered, propping her chin on him, to peer drowsily sweet into his eyes, with that fetching wee, shy grin of hers breaking out on her face. "I was only wond'rin' do ye feel a wee bit peckish. Should I ring for somethin' t'eat?"
"Besides your sweet self?" he teased.
"Sweet Jesus," she said, laughing softly, "sure and ye'll be th' end o' me,… an' starve me into th' bargain."
"Sounds good. I am hungry," Lewrie decided. "What might they have?"
"Well, each ev'nin', there's an invitation supper," Tess said, rolling away to grope at the foot of the bed for her heavy robe. "For the regular customers. More o' what they call a buffet than anythin' else… tonight was ham, roast beef, an' goose, an' there's sure t'be plenty left… enough for sandwiches."
"Aye, ring for something," Lewrie told her. "We might not need another whole bottle, but… we could stay awake long enough to finish one. Another bloody guinea."
"Sure t'be part of a bottle left by others, in the parlour," she speculated as she quickly dressed, and hopped out of bed to search for her shoes. "Be back in a tick."
"Wait," Lewrie said, getting up on one elbow and taking her by the hand. Tess was simply delightful, and, with her heavy robe still hanging open, he could not let her go without drinking in the sight of her. Her hair had long before come undone from its restraining ribbon, and hung long and fair to her waist in soft curves, and in the dim candlelight, her body was a study in amber wash.
"Best choice ever I made," Lewrie told her, " 'cause you're the loveliest girl I've clapped 'top-lights' on in years, Tess."
"Ah, go on with ye," she laughed, rewarding his words with one more shy grin and a cock of her head. "You keep the covers warm while I fetch us some vittles." She stepped out into the narrow passageway and Lewrie settled back with his hands behind his head, about ready to laugh out loud in glee to have stumbled upon such a sweet young thing… even if she was a whore.
He heard her shoes click down the passageway to the outer door, the door open and close, and listened to the sounds of the house, now that things had slowed down a bit. Damnably, there was still a wench in a nearby cubicle who must have aspired to the opera, who trilled and hallooed false passion, still. Cross the hallway, perhaps, muffled but still loud, there was a couple who cursed each other like salty bosuns, between animal-like grunts and whoops. When he and Tess were not busy, they'd giggled like schoolchildren to the sounds, speculating what the other whores and customers really looked like… and what particular act they were engaged in.
Sleepy? No, he didn't feel sleepy in the slightest, yet. There were seven more un-used cundums, and, with a cold collation and a new bottle of "bubbly" coming, he imagined he might attain a new record.
Tess was that intriguing, and enflaming.
And I'm too bloody hungry, he admitted to himself.
"Hallo," Lewrie muttered to himself as the amourous sounds of the house changed. There were shouts belowstairs, a thud or two, then the quick clopping of someone's shoes, the opening and slamming of the hallway door, some closer clopping… which forced him to sit upright in bed.
There was a woman's shriek of alarm, another woman's voice raised in high dudgeon, men bellowing, and…
The door to the cubicle burst open, Tess with her hair flying as she dashed in with a champagne bottle in her hand! She slammed the door and clawed at a pocket of her heavy dressing robe. "Help me, Cap'm!" she cried. "The chest! The bloody chest!"
He sprang from the bed stark naked, padded to the door, and she tossed him the champagne bottle-half-full as promised, sloshing on his bare chest and stomach, as she dug in the other pocket, then sprang to the silk robe, then the night-stand.
"Shift th' damned chest! Block th' fackin' door, please Jesus, for I cannot find th' fackin' key!" she wailed. By then, all the customers and whores on both the second and third storeys were either yelling in fright or bellowing in anger.
"What the bloody Hell?" Lewrie demanded as he knelt to shift the large chest in front of the door.
"Fackin' mad man, oughter be in Bedlam, he should…!" Tess said in a gasping voice, then exulted as she found a rusty key. She tossed it to him, which he dropped, then scrambled for, and locked the flimsy door for her. He turned to face her.
"What bloody mad man?"
Tess was now holding the throat of her wool dressing robe shut with one hand, and in the other, she shakily held a shiny wee dagger.
Belowstairs-uncomfortably closer than before-there came sounds of a struggle, and a bellowed demand. "Tess! Vant Tess, and no other, hear me? Peasants! Serfs! How dare you? Yob tvoyemat!"
"Eeep!" was Lewrie's outburst upon hearing that Russian curse.
What's Durschenko doin' here? was his first panicky thought; I ain't toppin' his daughter, so…!
He picked up the champagne bottle from the floor, took a large swig that bubbled round his mouth and chin, then went to Tess's side.
"B'lieve I know a bit more about daggers than you, sweetlin'," Lewrie said, hand out to request it. " 'Less you've killed somebody in the past with it. Here, I'll trade you," he said, offering the bottle. For an off-hand weapon, he picked the empty champagne bottle from the night-stand.
"Now, who's this bloody lunatick that's callin' for ya," Lewrie asked over his shoulder, taking stance between Tess and the door. "His name ain't Durschenko, is it? Arslan Artimovich? Scrawny old Russian devil with an eyepatch?"
"No… no, he's a student," Tess said with a weak shudder to her voice. She'd climbed onto the bed and was huddling in the far corner near the drapes. "Says he was. Anatoli, he called himself. Russian, aye. Goin' t'Oxford, an' some sorta title… count or somethin'. He was took with me, but Jesus! He's a mean'un! I told Mother Batson I'd druther he come round no more… choose another girl, but…! Ye'll not let him in an' git me, willya, Cap'm Alan, for th' love o' God?"
"Not if I can help it, no, Tess," Lewrie assured her, hefting his dagger and make-shift cosh.
It sounded, though, as if the struggle had reached a high-tide mark on the second
-storey landing, safely a floor below. More curses in Russian, from two voices, some good old London accents from several more bully-bucks. "Sasha, pamageetyeh! Doh! Viy mojetyeh mnyeh pamoch?" from one, and "Oww!" and a grunt from another, preceded by some lovely meaty thuds from fists and cudgels. "Vill burn house down! Ow! Kill all you pryazni… oof!"
Of a sudden, it got delightfully quiet. While whores continued to fret and fuss, and gentlemen customers made idle threats, an ironic series of cheers could be heard; the grunts and heavy-footed shuffles as bodies were hauled downstairs, and victorious bully-bucks congratulated themselves on a duty well done.
"Think you're safe, now," Lewrie told Tess, turning around. She was behind the bed, 'tween the mattress and the wall, with the covers thrown over her to appear as a pile of blankets shoved off the bed… one frightened eye peeked from a tiny fold.
"He's gone?"
"Bashed senseless, by the sound of it," Lewrie said with a wry laugh, "him and another, both. Damme, I don't usually do my fightin' in the buff." He put the dagger back into the night-stand drawer, the empty bottle on the floor beside it, and hopped back into bed, pulling up the covers and shivering. "Well, don't I get a reward?" he asked with a laugh. Tess untangled herself from the pile of covers, spread them back out to cover all the mattress, and slid in from the off-side.
"Ye'da fought him for me?" Tess shakily exclaimed as she curled up to him under the covers, her wool robe itchy on his skin. "Ye'da risked yer life t'keep me safe?"
For a second he took that for false hero-worship, the fawning of a courtesan dependent on his purse, yet… she sounded truly amazed to have someone… anyone… stand up for her.
"Still have the 'bubbly'? Let me have a sip, there's a darlin'," Lewrie bade. He took a drink from the neck, then grinned at her. "Whoever the bastard was, you were terrified… and, he was spoilin' our time t'gether, so what else could I do for a pretty young lass? Doubt he'll be comin' here again, so… ''
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