“A life of being alone for the most part,” she told the wide-eyed blonde. “Finding others, who are interested in the same things you are,” she gestured to herself, her body, and waited to make sure that Abigail understood before continuing. “Those that want to indulge in the pleasures of the female flesh.”
Abigail desperately wanted the details. What pleasures of the flesh? She didn’t dare ask, but hoped that Melissa would tell her, would provide those details.
“I don’t think an Englishwoman such as yourself should indulge in such. You are expected to be a virgin on your wedding night for your potential husband.” God, she sounded like such a ninny. Still, she must discourage Abigail.
“What if I don’t want my husband?”
She did have a point. “Didn’t you once tell me that love wasn’t for the members of the ton?”
“Yes, I’ve heard that you marry for wealth and status, and later, after the heirs are born, you can indulge in love with someone else.” She said it prissily as though it were a fact and acceptable.
Mel felt sorry for her if she believed that. It sounded terrible to her. Then again, she didn’t have many options. Yes, she could marry and have children with a man who would marry her for her wealth. He might possibly squander that wealth, but she would have status and position. He would receive an allowance, but the fact that he was her husband would allow others to let him borrow against his future allowance, and she would be expected to pay off his debts. She could still love women. No, she wouldn’t do that to herself. She knew her father wouldn’t let her marry a man that he didn’t trust with his daughter or his money. It was one of the reasons she traveled with him and learned his businesses, so she had the knowledge to protect herself against such unscrupulous men. “Well, you aren’t married, you aren’t even engaged, and you shouldn’t indulge with someone like me,” she pointed out.
“Melissa,” Abigail said quietly, her English accent weakening her and causing chills to run up Mel’s spine at the sound of its soothing tones. “I’ve thought about you, about this, a lot since I realized what you were doing with that Belgian woman.” She practically spat out the last two words, which left no doubt in either of their minds how she felt towards the woman. “I want to find out what it’s like.”
“No, Abigail. You are my best friend, and your parents trust me. If we indulge, they would never forgive me.”
“They don’t have to know,” she said earnestly, sensing she was going to win this argument.
“What if they find out? There would be a scandal.”
“They aren’t going to find out. I certainly am not going to tell them,” she said, sounding supercilious, something of the English aristocracy coming out in her tone.
Mel couldn’t help but smile at the tone and her naivete. “But what if they do?” she asked, realistically.
“We will be discreet,” she assured her, leaning closer and saying it softly.
“No, Abigail,” she answered firmly. Abigail could be very persuasive, and Mel knew her own resistance was weakening. She sensed something she had always wanted but never dared hope to have was within her grasp. All she had to say was yes. She already knew her body was willing. The flesh was weak, but her mind told her to refuse this earnest, young woman.
“Yes, Melissa,” Abi whispered as she came even closer, crawling up onto the bed in order to breathe it closer as she stalked the older and larger woman.
Mel leaned back, moving away from Abigail but nearly fell off the bed. She caught herself on the post and curtains and was trapped by them at the same time the blonde leaned in to kiss her again.
Abigail remembered the passionate kisses of the Belgian woman and how Mel had been so masterful. She realized her pecks hadn’t been correct, and she leaned in, her lips lightly parted, not pulled into the bird-like peck she had been taught as a child. Adults must kiss differently, she thought, and she put her lips against Mel’s, hoping she was doing it right.
The relaxed feel of Abigail’s luscious, little lips was Mel’s undoing, and she couldn’t help but respond. She also couldn’t help but take control of the first real kiss they had ever shared. Her warm lips captured Abigail’s, deepening it, teaching her as she pressed her own lips against the blonde’s. Slowly, she opened her mouth. Abigail responded and did the same. As Mel expertly used her tongue, she was nearly undone by Abigail’s copying of her ministrations. Her hands crept around the luscious, little blonde and began to caress her. Her heart melted further at the little moan she heard when she pulled Abigail on top of her and could feel her weight against her. Slowly, she stopped the kisses and pulled back. She had to try once more, at least for form’s sake.
“Are you sure?” she asked the befuddled, petite blonde, looking anxiously into the glazed eyes for reassurance.
“Oh, yes, Melissa. Moooore,” she breathed out enticingly.
Mel needed no further encouragement. She began to kiss her again in earnest, over and over. Slowly turning them, so they were side by side and her own weight was not imprisoning Abigail.
Shyly, Abigail began to copy the caresses, marveling at Melissa’s size and strength and how much she wanted to feel her bare skin against her own. The muscles rippling under her fingers only invited her to caress and feel for more, to find out where this would lead.
Mel grasped the blonde’s foot, caressing it and the leg attached to it, her lips applying feathery kisses about the ankle.
Abigail had never felt anything like that. It felt as though butterflies were brushing against the skin of her ankle. Seeing Melissa’s bent head, she felt a warm rush of gratitude for her best friend’s attentions.
Mel kissed her way up, her fingers caressing every inch of skin she bared to her touches. She looked up to see the eyes of her lover, dilated and trusting, wanting but not knowing what. She wanted to drown in those violet colors and kiss her senseless as she possessed this young woman.
Her senses had never expected to experience this overload. Abigail loved the feel of Mel’s lips on her skin. Her fingers were delightful, but she wanted more, and she was anxious to experience it.
Mel was in no hurry, delighting in the exploration of the young woman’s body. She could already scent her arousal, wondering briefly if she was even aware of the copious amounts of fluid between her legs. She was obviously blonde as Mel noted in passing. She worked her way up Abigail’s torso, avoiding the most sensitive area between her legs as she undressed her.
“Melissa…Melissa…” Abigail gasped as the brunette began to play with her nipples, which suddenly felt over-sensitized. She’d never thought someone kissing her nipples would feel so good.
Mel looked up, sharing a kiss with the woman and teaching her to open her mouth sensuously, gently touching the lips, the teeth, and her tongue to Abigail’s. She could tell that she had never been properly kissed.
“What can I do for you? What do I do?” Abigail gasped when Melissa pulled back slightly, her hand enjoying the feel of the blonde’s small breast in her palm. Her thumb and forefinger couldn’t help but slightly squeeze at the erect nipple that begged to be suckled.
“You will want to do what I’m doing to you but not right now…no, not right now,” Mel told her. She wouldn’t be able to hold back the passion that threatened to overwhelm her if this unschooled virgin even attempted to do these things. The intensity of her feelings would scare the young woman for sure. “I want to make love to you. I want to make it right for you this first time.”
Abigail didn’t mind. She was feeling a rush of gratitude for the way the woman was making her feel. She was being schooled and paying attention. She had no choice. Her body was very sensitized to Melissa’s touch. It felt so warm and smooth, and she knew all the spots to touch the young woman.
Mel knew she couldn’t give Abigail the ultimate kiss. She would be shocked, and she wanted this first time to be special for the woman. Instead, she finally allowed her fingers to play with the blonde curls between her legs, feeling th
e wetness as she tugged slightly on them before letting herself probe between the folds. She looked for and found the tiny nub that had the young woman gasping, not knowing it was even there. A finger curled inside, following the wetness. It was followed by another finger, widening the tight channel that had known no one…ever. Mel relished that she was Abigail’s first and hoped that she would also be her last. She started to thrust, being careful not to go beyond a certain point, feeling the delicate bit of flesh that protected Abigail’s virginity.
It was too much for the young woman. Having never had such stimulation before, she came before she could even understand the feelings that were building inside her. The tingling started, and she had no idea she was following a path that would lead to her destruction.
Mel captured her mouth just before she could shout out, having felt the copious cream on her palm and hearing her breathing change, rising with each gasp.
“Oh…OH!” Abigail’s mouth was covered by Melissa’s, and the echo of that last gasp was muffled.
Mel held her as her body convulsed slightly, pulling back her hand, so she wouldn’t damage the tissue even as Abigail plunged her body and especially her pelvis almost violently against her in her passion.
A long time later, as Abigail came down from her first ever orgasm, Mel released her now cold lips and pulled her hand from where the blonde’s legs held it tightly captive between them.
“That…was…marvelous,” she said, wetting her lips with her tongue, surprised at how cold they felt.
Melissa smiled at her, pleased with herself and what she had accomplished. She desperately wanted to get off herself but didn’t know if Abigail was ready to ‘return the favor,’ as it were. She wished they could have mutually caressed each other to fulfillment.
“Can I do that to you?” Abigail asked ingenuously.
“Oh, yes,” Mel encouraged her, hoping she would. When she started, Mel helped her by showing what pleased and delighted her own overly sensitive body.
That night and many other nights when the American stayed with them, Abigail snuck into Melissa’s bedroom, enjoying the education she was receiving from the older woman. She thought it a lark to sneak about, feeling there was nothing wrong with their love. If the servants noticed an increase in the amounts of body stains on the laundry, no one dared voice it.
When Melissa was gone with her father on their many trips, Abigail fretted that she would find someone else, someone more experienced. She delighted in welcoming her back, begging her mother to extend an invitation to that American who, although she was not of their class, had proven to be her best friend.
They made love mostly in Mel’s guest bedroom but took picnics and daringly tried things out in the grassy glen as well as in the stables or anywhere else they could consummate their love. Both were young, carefree, and healthy, and their appetites for each other grew as they learned what pleased the other. Neither worried about how it would end.
“Mary reports that Abigail hasn’t been sleeping in her bed,” her housekeeper reported to Lady Baxter. Unfortunately, she reported this in front of Lord Baxter.
“What? What do you mean?” Lord Baxter asked, suddenly alarmed and slamming down his drink. Had his daughter been associating with one of the footmen? One of the grooms? He hoped not. He’d had some very respectable offers for her hand in marriage, and he was considering one or two of them. He’d been busy with other business dealings and not paying attention to his daughter this summer. Now, he had to think about those things. His gambling had gotten way out of hand. He needed to consider the best offer to help their finances.
“I don’t know, sir,” she said, quailing at the thought of discussing this with his lordship. She glanced beseechingly at her lady, but she was of no help. She cursed herself silently for not having brought this news to her mistress in private.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this right now!” he thundered as he got up, Lady Baxter following along anxiously as he stomped up the stairs to the wing where his children’s rooms were located.
Fortunately for Abigail, her time of the month was upon her, and she was spending an uncomfortable but quiet night in her own bed. The lamp on the bedside table was bright as she read a book from their library. She looked up in alarm, jumping as her father slammed open the door.
“Father?” she asked, surprised at the invasion of her privacy. She pulled her covers up above the nightgown she was wearing and glanced at her mother, who gave her a warning shake of her head.
“What’s this I hear you ain’t sleepin’ in yer bed?” he asked, looking around the room curiously, hoping to see some sign of someone or something that would tell him what was going on.
“But I am,” she said sensibly, gesturing at her bed. She tried to look confused, but her heart was beating hard. Melissa wasn’t even in their house. She was off on one of her father’s many business trips.
“Well, see that you keep it that way,” he said gruffly, seeing nothing was amiss and feeling embarrassed for the display. He pulled the door shut and turned to his wife, seeing the housekeeper beyond. “You keep your suspicions to yourself,” he told the woman as he brushed past them angrily. Maybe he should go over the proposals again and get the girl married off. The offers would help his debts and having the girl out from under their roof would be one less worry.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” began the woman once he had gone.
Lady Baxter held up her hand to silence the woman, wondering where Abigail was sleeping when the servants had noticed her empty bed.
It wasn’t until Melissa Lawrence visited again a week or so later that Lady Baxter began to become suspicious. She knew better than to voice her suspicions to anyone, especially her husband, who seemed to be dealing with a lot of business these days. He was apparently worried about something. He was drinking more than ever, and she knew he wouldn’t confide in her. She knew about the proposals he had gotten from Belgium when the Lawrences had taken their daughter, lavishly and at their own expense, on their buying trip. She thought it had been an extraordinarily fortunate and generous event in the young woman’s life before she would have to settle down to a husband and marriage. Anthony had been furious at those foreign men making offers for his English daughter. She knew nothing about the offers they had gotten from English suitors, many who had never even met Abigail Baxter but knew she was of a marriageable age and wanted the association with the earl and his familial ties.
On impulse, Lord Baxter had been checking on his daughter every few days. When he found her bedroom empty one night, he began to check his other children’s rooms. He surprised his sons but wouldn’t say why he had opened their doors. He started checking the other bedrooms, including their guest rooms. Hearing voices in the one that Melissa Lawrence stayed in, he hesitated only a moment before opening the door. Inside he found his naked daughter, sitting above Melissa Lawrence, who was sucking lustfully on his daughter’s tit, her arm snaked around the young woman’s waist, encouraging her, as she ground down upon the American woman.
“What in the name of all that is holy is this?” he roared, startling them all.
If Mel hadn’t been in the throes of one of the best orgasms of her life, she might have heard the door open. Instead, she rolled Abigail to the side, trying to shield her naked body from her father’s view and covering them both with the bedclothes.
“Fa…father!” Abigail gasped, shocked to see him coming through the door.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he yelled at her. Her mother’s face appeared over her father’s shoulder, seeing Melissa and Abigail in bed, both obviously naked. Her eyes widened at the sight and its implications.
Neither young woman knew what to say as they stared at the adults, who stared back at them in shocked horror.
“Get your clothes on,” Lord Baxter ordered his daughter ominously.
“Y…yes, Father,” she answered meekly, but as she went to get out from under the covers, she realized her state o
f undress and stared, unwilling or unable to move.
“Well, girl? What’s keeping you?” he snapped, not understanding.
“Anthony, you need to come away,” Lady Baxter tried, taking pity on their oldest daughter.
“I will not! This is my house and finding this going on under my roof is unacceptable.” He looked apoplectic.
“She cannot get dressed until you leave,” she said reasonably, glancing warningly at the young women to say nothing as she tried to distract him.
Lord Anthony Baxter blinked, glanced back at the two young women holding the bed clothes up to their chests with their hair in disarray, and swallowed. He was very aware of what he had interrupted, and he would never be able to forget the sight of his daughter and that woman; it was burned into his mind. Turning, he faced his wife, then glanced down the hall where his other children had popped out of their rooms at the commotion. “Get back to your rooms!” he ordered, turning his anger on them. Seeing he had obviously alarmed the servants with his raised voice, he turned it on them as well, “Don’t you have something to do?”
“Girls get yourselves dressed,” Lady Baxter told them warningly as she gave her husband a slight push out the door and closed it.
Looking at each other in fear, they both sprinted for their clothing. Mel wasn’t certain if they meant night clothes or day clothes, so she began to dress. Abigail only had her nightgown, so she put that on, then wrapped her robe around herself.
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