Still, it was warm and comfortable being held in his arms, even for a few stolen moments. Audrey pressed her face into his lapel, her hands on his hard chest, while he soothed her.
“I-I-I’m not really a t-t-tart,” she stuttered.
There was a pause. “I know you ain’t. But you put yourself in harm’s way and done something wrong.”
“Yes, sir.”
He pulled away slightly and looked her in the eye. “You get home and think on it, honey. Be a good girl, okay?”
“Okay.” She finished wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. “I’ll try.”
“Good.”
Audrey snuggled up against him again, and he didn’t withdraw. “White Star?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not sorry about what we did. I’d-I’d do it again.”
He sighed and his breath slid over her scalp like a warm breeze. “It ain’t going to happen.”
Downtrodden, Audrey left it at that, allowing him to lead him out a back route toward the stables and one of the Bar R buggies. Their trip back toward town was silent. Audrey tried not to think about her loss.
White Star stopped the buggy on the outskirts of town. It was maybe a kilometer back to the boarding house and Audrey trudged there, her head hanging.
As soon as she got to her room, she lay down on her bed and yet her eyes were wide open. She thought about White Star, about the spanking, about the lovemaking from before. Audrey knew she should close her eyes and move on to the next segment, but her bottom smarted and it kept reminding her of White Star’s attention to it. She got up from the bed and took off her clothes. She didn’t want to sleep in the fancy dress with its too-tight waist anyway.
Once she was naked and on her bed, however, the thoughts of White Star became more dominant, churning around in her brain. Almost of their own accord, her hands moved to her breasts, caressing, and Audrey imagined White Star’s mouth on her there. That sensation had been sublime. She would never forget it. After a few minutes of massaging her flesh and teasing her nipples, she decided that a daydream in her head, within a dream in her head, was ironic enough to be indulged. Audrey raised her knees and slid her hands down her abdomen, where they came to rest on her moistened pussy.
White Star had teased her with his fingers. She tried it on herself. Without her real-world stimulator, it was a weird sensation to feel her fingers in herself, but she kind of liked it. It had sure felt wonderful when he did it to her! Touching her clit made her gasp as a frisson of desire raced up her body. The jarring movement that went along with that shock of sweetness made her bottom hurt all over again, but she kind of liked that, too. Sure it hurt, but it was an experience with White Star. Another experience she would never forget.
She played with herself for a few minutes, spreading the growing moisture all over her excited pussy, and teasing her clit more and more frequently. Apparently, her stimulator wasn’t actually necessary. Audrey found that to be a curiosity, but was so busy with the pleasurable sensations she was giving herself, that she didn’t dwell on it.
The pleasure grew and grew. She imagined White Star fitting himself to her, thrusting in her body. His hardness was bigger and firmer than her fingers, but her fingers were better than nothing, and thinking about him made the experience so much better. He would push inside and pull out, push, pull, in Audrey’s imagination. Soon she was so excited that she was on the precipice, dangling right on the edge. One wriggle of her painful bottom on the quilted coverlet and she would be over the edge. The pain of that wriggle shot straight to her nipples and down to her clit and that was it. She fell over the cliff, floating on wind for a moment while the climax raged through her body. Slowly, she wafted down, back to the reality that was her current experience, her RAVE. Her imaginary, make-believe White Star was a memory again.
Audrey closed her eyes. Sure enough, when she opened them about ten minutes later, the sun was coming up outside.
Mrs. Brown was shouting for her downstairs. “Audrey!”
Quickly, Audrey popped up out of the bed. As she moved to grab a dress, she ran her hand over the fine fabric of her wrinkled blue gown.
“Audrey Beacon, you get down here right now!”
Without lingering, Audrey threw on a calico and hurried down the stairs. Mrs. Brown was waiting for her there, hands on her hips. Her face was flushed and her dark brows were veed over her nose. It was obvious that she was mad as could be. Marcus stood behind her, a smirk on his face. Uh-oh.
“Audrey! I’ve got a complaint from Mr. Rimley. He says you stole his pistol.”
This must be one of those times when “sleeping” didn’t fix things. Damn Romantek anyway! “I…uh…borrowed it.”
“You bring it here right now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Audrey raced up to her room and got the pistol from her reticule, hurrying back down the stairs with it. She carefully handed it back to Mrs. Brown, studiously not pointing it at anyone. “Here, Mrs. Brown. I’m sorry. I was concerned about my safety when I…when I went on an errand out of town. I only borrowed it for a little while.” Audrey looked to Marcus, but he was having none of it. In fact, he looked quite pleased with himself.
“You had it for several days, Miss Beacon,” he supplied.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Rimley. I truly am. I simply forgot that I had it.”
Mrs. Brown handed the gun to Marcus. “My apologies, sir. I assure you, this will not happen again.” She turned back to Audrey. “I can’t have a thief in my employ. You’re fired. I want you out of here within the hour.”
Audrey had no place to go, and, because of her new dress, she had only fifty cents left. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Brown, Mr. Rimley. Please can’t you let me stay? I promise nothing like this will ever happen again!”
“I can’t believe you would betray my trust like this, Audrey Beacon. You get yourself out of here!” Mrs. Brown was adamant, and Audrey couldn’t really blame her. She trod with heavy feet up the stairs and gathered up her meager possessions. She wasn’t sure if she should take her calico dresses or not—they had been there upon her arrival—but she stuffed them in a carpetbag and took her hairbrush and a cake of soap. Maybe she could sell the dresses, especially the beautiful blue one. One of the hard and fast rules of the RAVE was that if she was without funds for more than twenty-four dream hours, the dream would stop and be over permanently. This was for your own safety. Of course, it hadn’t been all roses, had it? Maybe stopping wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to her. Who knew what Romantek had in store for her from here on out? Clearly, she hadn’t played the game very well, or she wouldn’t be in this predicament. They didn’t call it the “adventure of a lifetime” for nothing. She would remember this misery for a long time to come.
Audrey tied on her bonnet and gave one last look at Mrs. Brown, who was clearly waiting for her to get out. Marcus was standing there, cleaning his nails with a small knife.
“I’m very sorry,” she said, one last time.
Mrs. Brown pointed at the door.
Eyes tearing up, Audrey opened the door and made her way down the path and toward town. It wasn’t a long walk to Main Street. She didn’t know where to go, but did know where the seamstress’ home was. She found it easily enough and sold her dresses there rather easier than she had thought she would. Now she had two dollars and fifty cents.
Miss Patty’s hotel cost one dollar a night, so she paid for one night and hoped against hope that she could find another job within twenty-four dream hours. Her other dollar and a half would have to go for food.
* * *
Hours later, footsore and desperate, Audrey stood staring at the saloon across the street. She had tried the seamstress (her first stop), the milliner, the mercantile, everywhere, even the livery stable. Gossip had gone around town that Audrey was a thief—thank you, Marcus Rimley—and now she was a pariah. The saloon was probably her only hope. But would that be better than popping out of the dream? She assumed it was a hard life for a sal
oon girl. Waiting on the men constantly, being pinched and fondled by unwanted hands, some of the women even prostituted themselves in order to make enough to live on. What fun could that be? Not much.
Deciding that it was better to spend fifty cents on the one meal she would be able to eat that day, she was about to head to Miss Patty’s, when David Ryan and a few of the Bar R hands rode into town.
Audrey waited for them to dismount in front of the mercantile before she approached the boss of the Bar R. “Mr. Ryan. Do you remember me? Audrey Beacon. I came to your party yesterday.”
He removed his hat. “Sure enough, Miss Audrey. How are you today?”
“I’m well, Mr. Ryan.” She hesitated, finally taking the plunge. “Except for one thing.” He gave her a polite smile. “I…uh…had a misunderstanding with Mrs. Brown, and now I’m afraid I’m in need of a job.”
“That’s a powerful shame, ma’am.”
So much for hinting. “I was wondering, sir, if perhaps you have any need for a general worker? I can sweep and tidy a kitchen. I know how to collect eggs and clean rooms.”
“Well…I don’t rightly know, Miss Audrey. I can’t say as I need another housekeeper.”
She gave him a nervous giggle. “Oh dear. I’m not qualified to be a housekeeper. But I can help your housekeeper do her chores.”
He stared at her hard. Audrey was sure he was going to say no. Instead he gave her a short nod. “All right. You can help Clarissa with her chores. She’s my housekeeper.”
Audrey’s world suddenly got a whole lot brighter. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” She almost hugged him, but caught herself in time. It wouldn’t do to hug a married man here on Main Street…or anywhere for that matter. Not in the nineteenth century.
“I’ll send the buggy for you this afternoon, after I do my business in town and get back to the ranch.”
“I promise, Mr. Ryan, I’ll do a very good job. I can follow directions really well. I won’t let you down.”
Ryan put his hat back on and nodded at her again. “You do that, Miss Audrey. I’ll see you later.”
“Yes, sir! Yes!”
Floating on air, Audrey made her way over to Miss Patty’s dining room and spent fifty cents.
Chapter 8
The buggy didn’t arrive that afternoon, or that evening. Audrey saw the end in sight, but decided to stay awake all night to postpone what she saw as the inevitable end of her dream adventure. If she was without money for twenty-four hours dream time, everything would come to a halt and she barely had any left. If the buggy from the Bar R didn’t come for her soon, she would have to find another way.
At about ten o’clock the next morning, Audrey waited in the hotel lobby, desperately trying to figure out what to do next. A young man, well dressed and wearing a bowler hat came in through the large double doors. He blinked, seemingly getting used to the dimness compared to the bright sunshine outside, and after a moment, his gaze lit upon Audrey and he smiled and hurried over.
He removed his hat politely. “Miss Audrey Beacon?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Braxton Tipton, Mr. Ryan’s secretary. I apologize for my late arrival. I’m afraid Mr. Ryan forgot about your arrangement until this morning. I was dispatched immediately, of course.”
Audrey returned the man’s smile. He had an amiable face, so serious and yet kind. What a relief to know that she didn’t have to give up yet! “I was worried, of course, but I knew that Mr. Ryan is a man of his word, so I didn’t worry overmuch.”
“I’m glad you were not too distressed. Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes, sir.” She stood and picked up her nearly empty carpetbag.
Braxton took the bag from her. “Is this all you have, ma’am?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
His smile was sympathetic. “Well, it’s good to travel light, as they say.”
She rather liked this young man.
“Shall we go?”
Audrey nodded, and followed him out the door to the waiting buggy. The ride to the Bar R was not too long, but Audrey felt road-weary when they arrived. Buggies were not comfortable conveyances, she was discovering. How she longed for the cushions, smooth ride, and rounded corners of a self-drive auto.
Upon arrival, they went around to the back of the house and entered through the kitchen door. No one was inside, but appetizing aromas of bread and something meaty teased Audrey’s nose. Her mouth began to water. Even though it was only make-believe, she could still be hungry, and the meal the night before had been necessarily small.
Braxton put down Audrey’s bag. “Please wait here. I’ll get Clarissa.” He hurried off through the interior kitchen door.
Audrey waited, her tummy rumbling, until Braxton returned with a middle-aged woman. Her hair was brown with gray streaks, and her face was a bit lined, but her eyes were bright blue with merriment shining in them. She nodded at Audrey immediately.
“Clarissa, this is Audrey Beacon. Miss Beacon, this is Clarissa Phipps, Mr. Ryan’s housekeeper.”
“How do you do, Ma’am?” Audrey hoped her manners were up to this challenge, it was so formal, not to mention important for her to make a good first impression.
Braxton excused himself and left them alone.
Clarissa smiled. “Mrs. Ryan tells me that her husband hired you to help with the housekeeping.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you have experience?”
Audrey explained the chores she’d done for Mrs. Brown. “I know it’s not much,” she finished. “But I can learn to do more.”
“You seem like a bright young woman, my dear. I’m sure we’ll find plenty for you to do. Although, Mr. Ryan seems to have been busy hiring helpers yesterday.” Gesturing toward the interior doorway, Clarissa said, “Follow me. We’ll get you settled in a room. I’m afraid you’ll be sharing with our other new girl, Rosemary.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’ll be just fine.” Reluctant to leave the appetizing smells of the kitchen she knew she had to be obedient and amiable. But Audrey had never shared a room in her life. Like everyone in North America, she had her one sibling, but he didn’t share a room with her. Her tiny apartment in Nebraska was all her own, too. Even when she’d had a boyfriend—failed though that relationship had been—she’d never shared her living space with him. He never stayed overnight, or did more than shower in her eco-clean.
She and Clarissa walked through the kitchen door and made an immediate left to a narrow staircase. It went up to the servants’ quarters, where there were two garret rooms. Clarissa pointed to one and said, “That’s my room, Audrey. You are welcome to call upon me as needed.”
“Thank you.”
“And this is your room.” She opened the other door and Audrey nearly gasped. All traces of hunger evaporated like so much steam. The room was so small! She and this other girl, Rosemary, would be stepping all over each other. Plus, there was only one bed. Big enough for two, certainly, but Audrey was appalled. She wouldn’t even be allowed to sleep by herself! What if this Rosemary snored? What if she was a tosser and turner? Audrey reminded herself that there were only a few days left in her dream. Even though she wanted to experience every minute she had left, she might have to “sleep” in order to get the other woman out of her hair. She’d have to make do.
Putting her carpetbag down, Audrey tried to smile. It was a hard thing to do, under the circumstances. “This is lovely, Mrs. Phipps. The gingham curtains are a beautiful touch.” The window was tiny, but light streamed in through the blue and white curtains, giving the tiny room a more cheerful feeling.
Clarissa smiled. “I’m Miss Phipps, but please call me Clarissa. Everyone does.”
“Yes, Ma’am…I mean, Clarissa.”
“Let’s get you an apron and get busy.”
The first thing Clarissa asked Audrey to do was beat the carpet. At first, Audrey had no idea what that meant, but two strong ranch hands came into the house and rolled up the rug in the parlor. It wa
s a cushy rug in various shades of brown and navy blue. The pattern was of leaves and vines, all with little curlicues and embellishments. The men took it outside and laid it over a rope between two trees. The housekeeper handed her a wooden rod with a kind of woven flat paddle at the end. It reminded Audrey of a Celtic knot, but not quite. She stared at the instrument dumbly, until Clarissa took it back out of her hand.
“Don’t be shy about it, Audrey,” she said. “Give it a good whack with the beater, like this.” The carpet beater smacked the carpet with a mighty thud and a cloud of dust rose. Audrey sneezed. Birds in the nearby trees few away en masse, and a squirrel raced up to safety. Clarissa smiled and handed Audrey the beater. “Do you have a hanky, dear? This might make you sneeze a bit more.”
Audrey withdrew White Star’s white cotton handkerchief from her apron pocket and dabbed at her nose and watering eyes. This wasn’t going to be as fun a chore as those she’d done at Mrs. Brown’s boardinghouse. Still, it was exercise, and that was good. “I’m well, Clarissa. Thank you.” She breathed in the smell of the hanky, hoping for a little bit of White Star’s scent left to comfort her, but it smelled like soap. Audrey wondered if the ranch hands, like White Star, had anything to do with the household help on a social basis. It seemed unlikely. And White Star hadn’t appeared inclined to further their relationship when they parted. Disappointment was a rock in the center of her chest. “Don’t worry about me,” she told Clarissa.
“Good! Get busy. I’ll check back with you in two hours or so.”
Two hours! Audrey would be a dishrag by then. Could your muscles hurt in a RAVE? So far, none of her chores had made her ache, so maybe that wasn’t possible. She had never been asked to do anything quite as strenuous as this though.
Audrey got busy. After an hour, her arms were weary. Just like that sensation of falling in your dreams, so very real, so was the soreness in her muscles. It wasn’t pleasant. Her hands were also smarting. When she looked at them, she saw the blisters that were causing her pain. Gasping with shock, she dropped the carpet beater. Blisters! On her palms! She had never experienced such a thing before. Her job in the twenty-second century was nowhere near as physically demanding, nor harsh on her person. Tiring, yes, but not the body, only the brain.
The Winner (Romantek) Page 9