The Fallen Woman of Világos

by Ursula Grey

  “But we have not yet finished, my dear," he added. "We have further to go and much work to do."

  Once again, she turned from him, desperate to avoid his eyes in light of the lascivious behavior she'd just displayed to him, a total stranger. "I think it would be better if I left, doctor," she said. Her voice quivered, but she forced herself to continue, "It is kind of you to offer to assist me, but I fear I am beyond help. I have imposed upon you long enough. If you will see to my clothing, I will depart."

  She couldn't tell from his expression what he was thinking. Such a mystery was this man. With the others, she knew at a glance what they were about to say. He merely sat silent, though his eyes were lit with a fervent flame.

  "No," he finally spoke. "As a physician I cannot allow you to leave given your condition. Know that you shall want for nothing while in my care. As soon as you are able, the entire wing of the house will be yours to roam freely. The servants shall not disturb you, for this wing of the house is closed to them.”

  He rested his hand upon hers and looked into her eyes, as a parent does a doubtful child. "Before we begin your treatment, it is of the utmost importance that you recover from your injuries. I advise that you remain in bed this day. I shall return to check on you. Remember," he said, "you are safe here."

  "Doctor, do you truly believe that you can help me?"

  "I am certain of it. I ask only that you trust me." He bid her to rest. Rising, he bowed and departed.

  Never in her brief and sordid life had a man sparked in her such passion. What had overcome her? The only option now was to seduce him at any cost. Sadly, for one moment, just one, she sensed that something different might have transpired this time. But such a life was not meant for her—she had seen to that long ago.

  Several minutes passed before she finally noticed the meal he'd left for her. Wiping away a tear, she ate rapidly, devouring every morsel.

  Chapter Three

  She'd passed another night in the doctor's home peacefully enough, but recalled the strangest dream. In the dark hours of the evening she'd have sworn a man stood over her for an interminable period and watched her while she slept. At first disquieted by the presence, she soon surmised he meant her no harm. She felt the coverlet being drawn gently about her shoulders and a hand caressed her cheek. The comfort she derived from this small act of kindness made her sink into a dreamless sleep from which she was only now truly awakening.

  Usually she tried to forget her dreams, for they were not often pleasant. This was the first night in many that she'd slept so soundly. She felt an inexplicable hope that the darkness in her life might soon be lifted.

  From the comfort of the bed, she scanned the diverse curiosities and objets d'art with which she shared the room. Maps and magnifiers, timepieces and speckled stones, and the painted masks of primitives inhabited the chamber. A great chest of drawers stood beside a mahogany chiffonier. She surmised it could have housed most, if not all, of her worldly possessions. High backed, deeply cushioned chairs were placed about the room. All the pieces together made for a cozy amalgam of eccentricity that she did not find uncomfortable. The doctor’s tastes were eclectic but elegant.

  The erotic wall hangings, however, presented a strange dichotomy to the eye. As did the doctor, she realized. He was in all appearances normal. If she were to meet him in passing, she would not have outwardly suspected of him anything untoward, but he was not like other men. Without doubt, his opinions were markedly different from those of the day. A strange and archaic fire lit his eyes. This fire frightened her, yet discharged a magnetic force that drew her to him, regardless of the consequences.

  His accent she couldn’t identify. To her ears it spoke of a well-traveled man, but still she could not put her finger on his place of origin. If he was of this land he'd definitely spent time in others. Of one thing she was certain. While he was in close proximity, she could not hope to leave voluntarily.

  His scent intoxicated her. It lingered in the room long after he'd departed. When she detected its aroma the secret place between her thighs grew moist. He had a rugged look about him, extremely masculine but not brutish. His features were strong and chiseled, alluding to an inner strength. She feared she would not be able to resist his efforts to help her to “recover” her memory.

  She grew tired of lying in bed. She was no prude, but the prospect of roaming the halls in the nude was one she did not relish. How could she ever appear in society if someone should catch sight of her? It took little enough to ruin a woman’s reputation. It was a subject of which she had much personal knowledge.

  Her fear of discovery eventually fading, she realized if she stayed in bed like a frightened child she would never find her way out. She had to know if she were being held against her will. Deep within, she knew it mattered little. Strangely, she sensed she had come home, that she had finally found a place to rest her head, if only briefly.

  She rose from bed gingerly, the ache of her ribs still sharp. On the way to the door she passed a large dressing mirror. Pausing to look at herself, she noted that she did not look very different from the women in the paintings. Her hair had loosened from its pins and fell to her shoulders. The tendrils just covered her nipples but unfortunately did not reach to the delta between her legs. Her face and chest reddened at the thought of the doctor's hands upon her, within her. Her inner walls involuntarily contracted as if eager to retain any part of him.

  No stranger to her inner nature, she freely admitted that she enjoyed relations with men. Unfortunately, she frightened many of them. Men dreamt of a wild vixen to take, one who would respond to their advances in a like manner, but when given such a creature, they suddenly withdrew.

  She had yet to meet a man who could truly satisfy her in that most intimate way. And so always it was she who ended the affair. She would grow tired of them. The monotony exhausted her. The lack of finesse repulsed her. Would she ever meet a man who could satisfy her, entice her to stay? Would she forever be subject to playing these silly games, a game that had recently almost cost her her very life?

  Enough. If she had no clothing, she would remain in the nude. She could breathe and move freely without the constraining corset and stays. She pirouetted across the room to the door and turned the knob.

  The long hall was empty and she heard no sign of anyone other than herself. Not making a sound, she tiptoed forward. One room was as good as the next, but she was drawn to a set of double doors that promised more grandeur than the others.

  She entered what appeared to be the library and was greeted by a rush of clean mountain air. The immense doors of the balcony were opened wide and she walked to them directly. A great blue lake hung round with pines lay at the feet of the majestic white-capped mountains in the distance. Their beauty enthralled her. There was not another residence as far as she could see, so she stepped outdoors and inhaled the freshness of the early morning. Such a breathtaking sight to behold!

  So taken by the beauty before her, she failed to hear him enter. Only when she detected the caress of his breath upon her neck did she realize she was not alone. He must have watched her tiptoe down the hall. So engrossed was she in her exploration that she’d neither seen nor heard a soul.

  "Oh, it is so very lovely," she said. "I could look upon this scene forever and never grow tired of it."

  “The glory of nature,” he said, taking in the vista before him.

  She sensed it was not only the mountains in the distance he spoke of. He glanced down at her breasts. Her nipples were centimeters away from his sleeve, a mere touch away from his fingertips.

  "Strange," he said, "I would have thought a woman such as yourself would find life in a city more attractive than an Arcadian existence devoid of the company of society."

  She suspected he tried to draw her out with idle talk in order to dupe her into revealing herself. "I don't understand, doctor. What can you know of me when I know nothing of myself?" The scene before her appeared as she imagined the Garden
of Eden might, and she was awestruck by its grandeur. She continued without turning in his direction. "I see only beauty before me and it gladdens my heart."

  The crowded world of the city suddenly seemed faraway and unappealing. She was tired of unhappy faces, fetid breaths, and the strain of having to survive all these years by her wits and beauty and little else.

  "There is much before us that we do not see. Much exists that is invisible to the eye but lies hidden in the recesses of our souls. Much of what we keep hidden even from ourselves holds profound truths, if we are brave enough to look. Wait here a moment then," he said. "I've something to show you."

  He returned a few moments later holding a strange contraption composed of two thin brass tubes welded together.

  "Here. Come to me," he said, beckoning her with his eyes. "Look through the lenses and tell me what you see."

  He positioned himself behind her and enclosed her between his arms. A tingle of excitement flashed through her. The fabric of his shirt warmed her back and his trousers brushed against her legs.

  "Whatever is it?" she asked. "What a strange instrument." One of the many curious possessions of the doctor, she mused.

  "A magical instrument. Think of them as twin telescopes. Here, look through them." He held the metal tubing before her and raised the eyepiece upward. "Tell me what you see," he whispered. His lips brushed the lobe of her ear as he spoke.

  Slightly unnerved by his closeness, she placed the lenses before her eyes and focused. "How incredible. Oh, my. I can see forever, it seems. Why, there, I think it is a heron, and then an egret. How lovely!" Now excited, she held the brass apparatus and adjusted the tubes to correctly fit her eyes. "The leaves quivering on the trees, the snow on the mountains . . . How I should love to climb to the summit of the highest peak and look down upon the earth from that vantage."

  "It is a solitary venture," he uttered softly, "and one that requires a great strength of spirit."

  "I know that I could do it, doctor. I would not stop until I reached the top."

  "Then I am certain you would be successful, for any well planned venture is sure to succeed," he said, growing quiet.

  He stepped back to allow her greater movement and she immediately felt a loss at his withdrawal.

  Silently, she took in the Alpine panorama. After several minutes, she pivoted to her right and peered in his direction through the lenses piece. "Oh, too close," she said, with a start.

  The deep husk of his laughter delighted and surprised her. She smiled.

  "So now you have seen one of my most recent acquisitions," he said, looking at her thoughtfully as though she truly might be the most recent. "But they do not work so well when viewing what is directly before you." His dark eyes held hers as he spoke.

  "What a marvelous invention and such a wonder," she said. "I could pass the entire day looking through them." What she did not reveal was that she could also spend an equal amount of time looking upon him. He was more attractive than she'd remembered.

  "Well then, you must feel free to use them as you wish," he said, ushering her inside. "Tell me, what beckoned you to this room as opposed to the rest?”

  “I don’t know, really. I was curious. I sensed it was a special place.” Indeed it was. Fine leather-bound volumes covered the walls of the room from floor to ceiling. Reading tables were positioned throughout and a writing table stood near to the fire. Beautifully carved sculptures of the hunt sat upon the mantle of the fireplace and paintings of the landscape hung from the walls. Ottoman settees and deep cushioned chairs of burgundy made one feel at home in this place.

  “It is in this room that I hope to help you discover who you are. Come,” he said. "Shall we begin now?"

  When she hesitated, he took her by the hand and led her over to the leather covered recamier placed in the darkest corner of the room. “Lie down,” he said, “and close your eyes, if you wish. I am sure you must be curious regarding my methods and what I will ask of you.”

  "I want to trust you," she said. "I truly do, but I am at a loss as to what to say. Since you are the physician I can only trust in your good word."

  The cold leather against her bare bottom and back caused gooseflesh to rise upon her skin. Her nipples contracted from the breeze entering from the balcony. The thought that he observed her nakedness and she knew not where he looked set her senses astir. There was no doubt that his eyes were upon her for she could feel the intensity of his scrutiny.

  “Well then, I give you my word. You may trust me. I will ask of you nothing that will denigrate or defile you. While the weather holds, you should remain in the nude—in your natural state—because it is healthful, and I am a naturist,” he said. "Have you heard this term?"

  "Is it one who loves nature?" she asked.

  “In a sense it is. It is also a belief in living in harmony with nature; that nature has the power to heal us. You see, I do not find nudity and the human form shameful. Living without clothing whenever possible is a principle of this philosophy."

  She closed her eyes as he spoke, listening in quiet fascination to the richness of his voice. Deep and pure, the sound vibrated through her body like a tuning fork, humming through her veins and releasing tension.

  He paused for a moment. She supposed he waited to see if she listened—or had an interest. "Yes, doctor," she said, "please continue, if you would."

  "If we can rid ourselves of the misguided notion that the body is sinful, we would all be better for it. Hopefully this movement will catch fire and spread to other likeminded souls.” He cleared his throat and continued. “I am also an explorer of a new and fascinating field. Are you familiar with the term ‘hypnotism’?”

  “No,” she answered. She was unlearned, though not for lack of intellect. She spoke several languages fluently, a result of her flittering ways, but she'd had no formal education. She longed for the day when she could lose herself in books. Whenever she had the opportunity, she read voraciously. Unfortunately she'd little time to indulge in it.

  What she must not appear to be was a simpleton, she thought. Possessing only a quick tongue and lively wit, she knew she was lacking in this respect. She considered it her one weakness and vowed that one day she would possess the ability to verbally spar, and slay, her detractors.

  “I would like to learn more if you would be kind enough to explain the tenets of this philosophy to me.” She opened her eyes and watched him walk back and forth across the library as though lecturing to a captive audience. All the while she noticed he watched her intently.

  “Very good,” he said. “It involves allowing your mind to relax so that you can enter the place where the core of your personality resides. I hope to help you regain your memory in this manner.”

  What harm could come of it? If she could help the doctor and stay on a little longer—until she could plan her next move—she would indulge him.

  “We will delve into the deepest recesses of your being,” he told her. “One caveat: you will reveal thoughts to me that you have not shared with another living being, perhaps not even with yourself. As your physician, I assure you that what you divulge will never be attributed to your person when I record your case. If, that is, we are successful in determining who you are. Do you trust in me?” he asked.

  Ha! She thought. Nothing could induce her to divulge who she really was. How could it when not even she really knew the creature that resided within her? She would tell the good doctor what he wanted to hear. It would serve no good purpose for him to learn what truths she did know about herself.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, suddenly uneasy.

  The sound of his voice, slow and melodic, lulled her into a state between sleep and waking. Without warning, she drifted along, over the edge of a precipice and onto a waiting cloud, soft as cotton.

  Chapter Four

  Lukas Holt observed how the wayward beauty, now shorn of pretense, easily detached herself from the confines of her present rea
lity, though he suspected she had intended to resist. Her breathing was steady and deep. As she reclined upon the sofa, he had a full view of her firm breasts and the tender pink tips of her nipples pointing reverentially upward. One leg was draped over the side, her slender foot aslant. Her slightly parted lips revealed the remarkable whiteness of her pearly teeth. A wood nymph, a sylph, an angel—he should not think of her in these terms but he could not control his thoughts. He sighed. The mass of blonde curls, thick and unruly, spread about her like a halo and her pert nose and cheeks were dusted pinkish with cold.

  His rising hardness caused him to pull back from his desk and shift in his chair. He reminded himself that as a physician he'd sworn an oath to prevent and cure illness. He tried to drive away the thought of ravishing this delectable woman in her helpless state. Her beauty was intoxicating, and he shook his head to rid himself of the erotic images lodged in his brain. Instead he rose and closed the doors to the balcony lest the room grow too chill for her.

  Returning, he opened the leather-bound journal in which he would chronicle his efforts to help her to recall her memory. Dipping his pen into the ink well, he recorded the date and time in careful strokes, then poured himself a brandy.

  Once he'd recovered and determined to his satisfaction that she was in a relaxed state and open to suggestion, he would commence with the regression. She claimed to suffer from amnesia, although he was still doubtful, thinking her story either self-induced or simply fabricated. Amnesiac or not, her mind held closed doors. In order to learn the source of her illness he would begin by drawing upon the memories of her childhood. Whatever door was shut upon her memory, perhaps this would provide a key to unlocking it.

  “You are safe and relaxed," he began quietly. "No harm will come to you. You shall answer my questions to the best of your ability. Do you understand?”