“Sarah,” he asked her softly, “Do you actually know what it is like when a man and a woman are... well… when they are together?”
“Of course, I do,” Sarah answered, sounding surprisingly casual.
Henry cast her a puzzled look.
“You do?”
“Well, they get married and have children,” Sarah explained matter-of-factly, “and the woman looks after her husbandʼs needs, respects him and his work, tries to dress nicely when she appears at his side in public, looks after the children, blah blah blah…”
Henry smiled amusedly at her.
“Well done, Miss Partridge, but do you also know what happens when they... well, what happens before they have children,” he asked. “I mean, these children... they must come from somewhere, after all.”
“Oh, you mean the love-making,” Sarah answered, shrugging. “Yes, I know all about that, too.”
“Would you care to tell me what you know?” Henry asked, slightly confused by Sarahʼs offhand reaction to his intimate questions.
Sarah sniggered. Then she leaned forward and whispered something in his ear: something about pollen, bees, and—strangely enough—bellybuttons.
Henry tried in vain to suppress a grin. He was aware of the fact that sexuality was by no means subject of any lesson in school and that girls rather found out about the facts by actually making love to a man or by asking other girls who might have had early experiences. But as no decent lady had such early experiences before getting married, the facts often fell victim to a more than wild imagination.
So one thing he now knew for sure: Sarah didnʼt have the faintest idea about reproduction, because she truly believed that a man would somehow access a womanʼs bellybutton with his finger, and that this would make the woman pregnant. She did not know at all what love-making was really about.
“Was my definition correct?” Sarah asked uncertainly.
“It comes pretty close, yes,” Henry lied, trying to pull a serious face. “May I ask where you know all this from?”
“The cousins of Baron Copperwoodʼs son Wilbour, Elizabeth and Alicia, told me all about it. And they know it from Wilbour himself,” Sarah explained. “They said that it was only of significance for the man, though.”
“Did they?” Henry asked, frowning.
“Well, they said that it was rather a technical thing for a woman, but that the man gets some sort of pleasure out of it. I do not know what they mean, but at the end of the day I do not really care either. After all, as a woman it is my task to just wait it out.”
She shrugged again.
“Wait it out...?” Henry stared at her incredulously. Wasnʼt that just what he had expected of Copperwood, that old, greasy man, that master of sexual remarks; namely, that he considered women as mere objects that were used for pleasure and then put away like a toy. As for the bellybutton theory, Henry didnʼt have any idea where that story had originally came from, but he assumed that Wilbour simply had pulled the girlsʼ legs.
“Let us not talk about these silly things now...” Sarah said and cuddled up to Henry. He put his arms around her, pulling her closer to his body. They were lying like this for a while, enjoying each otherʼs nearness while Henry desperately tried to come up with an idea how to tell her what really happened when two people were making love to each other.
“So would you like me then to... stroke your bellybutton... just a little bit?” he asked eventually.
Sarah raised her head and looked at him, a slightly scandalized expression on her face.
“You will not make me a baby, will you?”
“I will not, I promise.”
Henry raised his hand as if he was about to swear an oath.
Sarah nodded and appeared content.
“Well,” she said, “I will gladly grant you this experience if it is of any value for you. After all, I love you and I would do anything for you.”
She sounded indifferent. Still, Henry could sense that his request had confused her. He gathered that he had to be even more careful than he had originally expected.
He placed his hand on her belly and let it rest there for a little while. Then he began to kiss her again. He gently nibbled at her lips and played with her tongue in a careful attempt to distract her from his hand, which was now moving away from her bellybutton and was slowly wandering down the length of her body, brushing her waist and her hips. When he had come as far as her thighs, the expression on her face changed from puzzled to suspicious to highly alarmed because of his touches and the new sensations that accompanied them.
“Donʼt worry, Sarah,” Henry whispered. “If you do not like what I do, I will stop.”
Very carefully, he let his hand slip between her thighs and began to tenderly carress her mound. She parted her lips as if she was about to say something, but all that came out of her mouth in her confusion was a faint gasp. After a while, her breathing dramatically accelerated, and Henry gathered that it gradually began to dawn on Sarah what was happening. She seemed in such a turmoil that she wasnʼt even blushing as it was her fashion. Instead, all colour had disappeared from her face and she was pale as a ghost.
“Are we... just... making love?” she stammered.
He smiled warmly at her.
“Almost,” he whispered.
“So, it... it is not about bellybuttons then...?”
Henry shook his head and laughed.
“I am afraid, I have to tell you that this boy Wilbour is rather dumb and not to be taken seriously at all…”
Sarah looked at Henry sternly.
“No one has ever touched me like that...” she breathed.
“There is always a first time, Sarah.”
Henry shivered with delight at the thought of being the very first man to make love to Sarah—even before Damian could lay hands on her; if he ever laid hands on her at all, as Henry was still hoping to find a way to prevent this unfortunate fate. The thought of her being untouched aroused him so much that he felt the desire for his own relief incessantly grow. Hesitantly, he moved closer to Sarah and pressed his hips against hers, but when he did so, Sarah immediately recoiled and sat up.
“What are you doing!?” she exclaimed.
“Nothing, Sarah, nothing. I will not do it again, I promise. Do not walk away, please…” Henry quickly said in an attempt to soothe her.
The beseeching tone to his voice made her give in and lay back in his arms again. Still, there was bewilderment written all over her face. Henry refrained from pulling her all too close again because he he was worried that his erection would scare her again. Instead, he smothered her with gentle kisses and let his hand slowly wander up and down the length of her body until she had calmed down. Then he carefully placed his hand between her thighs and began to stroke her again.
Eventually, she closed her eyes. Every so often, however, she opened them for a split second, as if she tried hard not to entirely succumb to these unfamiliar sensations, as if she wanted to make sure that she was still in control of it all.
Henry was rubbing her quickly and firmly now. He felt her moisture between his fingers and bravely fought his desire to let his passion out on her. Sarah moaned, and then, suddenly, she flung her arms around his shoulders, threw herself at him and buried her face on his chest. He could hear her gasp and breathe heavily, heard her little cries of pleasure, heard himself cry out loud as her excitement fueled his own. Eventually, Sarah let out a very long pleasurable sigh and then collapsed in his arms.
He held her tight and rocked her gently until her breathing had gone back to normal again. He felt how she slightly trembled in his arms. She didnʼt dare to look at him. He guessed that she felt ashamed, because she had exposed herself so much in front of him.
For quite a while, they were holding each other in a tight embrace, their eyes closed and peacefully dozing in the sun that fell through the attic windows, when suddenly Henry felt something ever so carefully exmanine his groin.
It was Sarahʼs h
and.
He opened his eyes and looked at her, perplexed.
“Is that where you get the pleasure…?” she asked shyly, blushing a little.
Henry nodded.
“Yes, Sarah.”
He was rather taken off guard by her unexpected approach and felt his heartbeat accelerate again at her tender touch.
“Henry?” she asked.
“Hm?” he mumbled, slightly dazed.
“Is love-making… is it... is it the same as what Meggie and Baxter do?”
Henry looked at her puzzled.
“Who are Meggie and Baxter?”
“Sheep,” Sarah explained matter-of-factly. “They belong to Steven OʼBrian, the local shepherd. And sometimes they do… well... they do strange things, and then Steven OʼBrian laughs and Aunt Priscilla gets outraged and tells me to shield my eyes or go back inside the house and do my embroidery…”
An amused smile played across Henryʼs lips.
“Well, letʼs say that Meggie and Baxter might have a more… blunt and straightforward approach…” he began. “But generally spoken—and technically too—well, yes… I suppose it is what Meggie and Baxter do.”
Sarah looked at him, a strange mixture of shock and curiosity in her eyes.
“Oh…” she said and slowly withdrew her hand from his groin.
Then she lay back down next to him and hid her reddened face at his chest.
As for Henry, he closed his eyes again and smiled to himself.
It wouldnʼt be long from now.
* * *
It was stuffy and warm inside Henryʼs bedroom. The little breeze that came in through the window didnʼt help to refresh him. It had begun to rain, but it was just a slight drizzle, and the air which had heated up during the day was not cool, but damp and humid.
Henry listened to the sound of the raindrops and stared out into the darkness. For the past hour he had been pacing up and down his room, trying to read, trying to write a letter to his brother in New York, trying to get Sarah out his head; at least for a little while. But the past afternoon that he had spent with the girl had stirred his desire for her so enormously that he was unable to concentrate on anything else at all. Again and again, the image of Sarah lying next to him on the lounger emerged in his mind and wouldnʼt go away.
She had come at his hands. She had touched his sex.
He needed to have her close; more than ever before.
Permanently fighting his carnal desires was gradually beginning to wear him out. He found himself becoming edgy and bad-tempered. Eventually, he decided that he couldnʼt just sit here and wait all night until that inner tension would miraculously disappear. He felt in need to get outside, to move his legs, to distract his mind. He even considered going for a swim in the freezing water of the lake, just to stop his hormones from going wild.
He moved away from the window, put on his coat and hastened over to the door. When he opened it, however, he was in for a major surprise.
Standing outside, wearing nothing except for her nightgown and her cardigan, was Sarah. She was holding a candle in her hand whose light was bathing her in a warm glow, making her appear like a supernatural vision amidst the darkness of the corridor.
“You are leaving?” she asked. Concern lay in her voice.
Incredulously, Henry stared at her. It took him a while until he realized that she had actually asked him something.
“No, no, not at all,” he quickly answered. Suddenly becoming aware of the danger that someone might see Sarah standing in front of his door, he grabbed her arm and pulled her inside his room. Then he closed the door behind her and turned the key.
Sarah leaned at the wall, motionless, the little flame of her candle flickering excitedly.
“Where were you about to go?” she asked.
“I donʼt know,” Henry answered, still confused by her unexpected but highly appreciated appearance. “I could not sleep and wanted to go for a walk.”
“I can not sleep either,” Sarah answered.
For a moment they were just looking at each other, uncertainly.
Henry raised his hand and gently touched her face with his fingertips.
“I was hoping that you would come,” he whispered.
He quickly took the candle out of her hand and placed it on the nightstand. He almost dropped it on the way, jumpy as he suddenly had become. Then he hastened to the window, closed it and carefully drew the curtains. Only now that he could be certain that they were entirely safe from view, he carefully took Sarahʼs hands, slowly pulled her towards him, and, with a content smile, craned his neck to seal her lips with the most tender kiss he was capable of.
Although Sarah had come to see him, he sensed that she was hesitant and tense again. Her kisses entirely lacked the passion of their previous encounters. He knew that she was scared. She had already proved enough courage when she had brought him to the attic in the afternoon, but Henry was aware that being with him in his bedroom in the middle of the night was, of course, a very delicate situation for her. He knew that he needed to take it infinitely slow if he wanted to make her feel comfortable in his presence.
A reassuring smile on his lips, he led her over to the bed where they sat down. He raised his hand and let his fingers slowly run through her long, silken hair. He noticed that his hand was trembling with excitement.
“I will not be able to stay very long, though,” Sarah said firmly.
“Of course,” Henry answered, still mesmerized by her sight, still incredulous that she had truly come to see him.
He moved a little bit closer to her, put his arm around her and began to kiss her neck.
“I am rather nervous, Henry,” he suddenly heard her whisper.
He raised his head and looked into her troubled eyes.
“I know,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Trust me, Sarah. I could never harm you.”
She nodded imperceptibly, but Henry sensed that she was still uncertain.
He took her in his arms again, and, while kissing her, slowly pulled her down on the bed. When they lay next to each other, she inched closer and nestled her head at his chest.
They lay there for quite a while, holding each other and listening to the sounds of the rain tapping at the window pane.
And suddenly, Henry felt his conscious interfering.
What if it really happened, tonight…?
Although she had not said it out loud, Henry was certain that the reason why she had come to see him was that she secretly expected him to show her what it really meant to make love to each other. He knew, after all, that despite her shyness she was rather curious at heart.
Yes, Henry was certain that this was the night he would sleep with her. He would sleep with a girl before actually being married to her. And to top it all, he wasnʼt even the man she was supposed to marry.
God, please forgive me, for I am about to commit a terrible sin...
“Sarah,” he began hesitantly, “I suppose that you know that… that what we are doing here is something that two people actually only do when they are married.”
“Do you seriously intend to hold a lecture on moral issues now?” he heard her whisper.
“Not really, no...” he answered.
“Then donʼt do it. We have already broken all ethical rules with our love for each other alone, havenʼt we?”
Henry didnʼt reply. He didnʼt know what to say.
Had they really broken any rules? And were they really about to commit a sin? How could love between two people ever be a sin when the love was requited by both? They were in love and they followed their natural desire to get close to each other. What was wrong about it?
The way Sarah held on to him now told him that she longed for him to give her warmth and love, something which she had hardly received for quite a while.
No, it can not possibly be a sin... Henry thought, realizing that there was no real need to brood over right and wrong, as they had already reached the point of no r
eturn.
His heart was hammering relentlessly in his chest as he pulled Sarah close to his body. She flinched, but she didnʼt back away anymore, even when she felt that his body was already in a state that conveyed that he could hardly contain himself any longer.
“I will not hurt you, Sarah,” he said softly. “It is nothing to be just endured.”
“I trust you,” he heard her whisper. The uncertain tone to her voice conveyed all her inexperience and innocence and reminded him that no one had ever touched her before and that he would be the first man in her life.
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