Muriel slammed the book shut. Why did photos of a woman being spanked, and then filled with two pricks and a dildo, make her quim so wet? Her nipples ached to be touched, and her clitoris throbbed with the need for attention.
She’d never had one prick inside her, much less two. And the idea of taking a marble phallus inside her was—Muriel shivered. It was a fascinating thought, that’s what it was.
It was a shame she would never find someone who would think the same thing. She wished her parents had concentrated on finding her a husband, like her mother had said they were going to do. Where would she be able to find someone who would enjoy these types of activities?
She needed to push those thoughts from her mind. Her main objective was getting the reliefs that Mrs. Temple wanted, getting them back to England, and earning her reward—money, and a trip to Paris where she could explore monuments, restaurants, bookshops. It was all like a dream come true, and Muriel couldn’t wait for it to happen.
Maybe she could find a Frenchman to take her maidenhead, and to help her explore the finer points of sex, which included spanking, and maybe playing with a dildo, or two.
“Focus, Muriel!” she said to the empty room. “If you don’t memorize the reliefs you might buy the wrong one, and that would be the end of everything, including your employment.”
She picked up the book and studied the marked pages. Then she flipped through the rest. It was obvious Fortuna had done many paintings. There were similarities in some of them, changes in couples, maybe, but not in the positions. She would have to be on her toes to make sure she had the right ones.
What she really needed to do was research on Fortuna. Her mother always told her to learn all she could about a situation before she went into it. That meant a trip to the library tomorrow, where she could study the artist in a quiet setting.
* * *
She worked in the morning, and fielded questions about her trip. She said the house was in the Cotswolds, and she prayed she was right. Mr. Holmes didn’t seem to know, and Connie didn’t either. The day was slow, so when she asked for time off to get ready for her trip, Mr. Holmes didn’t argue.
Connie had ignored her for most of the morning. When Muriel said goodbye, Connie only grunted; professional jealously was not a pretty thing. Muriel could only imagine how Connie would respond to Mrs. Temple’s request that she go and purchase sexually explicit reliefs in France. The thought made her laugh, which earned a big scowl from her friend. At least Muriel hoped they were still friends. Maybe Connie was so angry that she would not have anything nice to say to Muriel in the future.
Before she left she received a note from Mrs. Temple, telling her to go to Mrs. Green’s for a fitting at five in the afternoon, and then to come by the house afterward. That cut into her research time, but when the boss sent for you it was best to obey.
She left the shop at one and made her way to the library on St. James’s Square. They knew her well there, and she knew they wouldn’t bat an eye when she said she wanted to study a Roman painter. Fortuna did many things and not all of them were erotic.
Muriel was happy to see that Derrick Plant was working the desk that afternoon. She smiled at him and asked if he could point her in the right direction.
“We have several research books you can view,” he said.
“What about one or two I could take home?” she asked, and then she batted her eyes.
“Sorry, they’re all out,” he said.
Muriel stared at him. “All of them? How many books do you own on Fortuna?”
Derrick didn’t consult any records, which let her know he’d looked at them fairly recently.
“Can you tell me who has the books?” She flashed him a seductive smile, hoping it would make him forget the rules and tell her who had been searching for books on Fortuna.
“You know better than that,” he said. “The only people who know about books that are lent to subscribers are librarians. And you are not a librarian.”
“I’m a bookseller,” she said. “Does that not count for anything?”
“No,” he said, but he did smile. “I’m sorry, Muriel, I would like to help you, but I want to keep my position even more.”
“I understand,” she said. “Can you point me in the direction of the books that are not lendable. Surely they are on the shelves.”
“They are,” he said. “Come with me.”
He pulled three books from the stacks and led her to a table. There were several small lamps on the table. Muriel settled herself between two of them and started to read.
She’d been sitting there for about twenty minutes when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up, and up, and then frowned at the man standing next to her.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“I would like to look at the book next to you, if I may,” he said. His sharp Scottish accent made her knees go weak.
Muriel stared at him. He was not overly handsome, but he was nice to look at. And his request had been made in a polite manner.
“I’m using it,” she said. “I won’t too much longer, if you’d like to wait.” Muriel turned her attention back to the book she’d been reading. She finished the chapter on Fortuna, and then took up the book the other patron was looking to read.
It was an art book. She opened it to the chapter on Fortuna and started to read. It talked of his sculptures and paintings of the Roman gods, but it didn’t mention his erotic work. She wondered how he’d become known for such things when no one seemed to write about it.
“Are you researching a certain artist?” the man now across from her asked.
“Excuse me?” she asked as she closed the book.
“Who are you reading about?”
She pushed the book toward him and started to gather her reticule. “That is none of your affair, sir.” She stood and started to walk away. But then she turned back to him. “Are you the one who has checked out the books on Fortuna?”
“Perhaps,” he said. “May I ask why you’re interested in him? He’s not exactly a well-known artist.”
Muriel scoffed at him. “Then why are they writing about him in the art books?”
“One or two pages,” he said. “He doesn’t even have a whole chapter assigned to him in books.”
“One or two pages in the books you’ve borrowed?” Muriel asked. “If there is so little information on him in those books, why would you have to take them from the lending library?”
“Why indeed?” Muriel frowned at him. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“I didn’t give it,” he said. He stood and bowed to her. “Good day, Miss Robertson.”
Before she could respond he walked away. Muriel watched him go through the door, and then she called for Derrick. “Who was that man?” she asked.
He looked around. “You’re being very loud, Muriel. That man, as you called him is Ewan McClacken.”
“What does Ewan McClacken do?” she asked.
“He is what one terms a jack of all trades,” Derrick said. “I’m not sure what his actual job is. He pops in here from time to time to research things. He started last week on artists.”
Someone called for his help at the desk and he turned away.
Muriel felt a stone drop in her stomach. Something told her she’d just met one of her opponents in the bidding for the Fortuna reliefs.
Chapter 2
The smell of lavender filled Muriel’s senses as she alighted from the carriage. She took a deep breath, sighed in pleasure, and then took another one.
The French countryside was as beautiful, and as aromatic, as Muriel remembered. Of course, when she visited with her parents they rented a little cottage. It was nothing like the chateau that she was staring at right now.
Her love of history, instilled in her by her parents, made her wonder if famous kings and queens walked through the halls, or slept in the beds inside. There were gardens surrounding the front and sides, and Muriel could only imagine what the
ones out back looked like; they would feature ponds and statues and gazebos that would be incredible to explore.
Muriel itched to do just that, even though it was not on her list of things to do. Five reliefs. That’s what she was after. She needed to focus, to get what she came for and not play around.
“Mademoiselle Robertson?”
Muriel turned her attention from the flowers to the man walking toward her. “Oh my,” she said softly.
The man held out his hand. “Philip Bancor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you,” Muriel said as she shook his hand. She liked the fact this man was treating her like an equal.
“Your employer speaks highly of you,” Philip said. “She has put a great deal of money at your disposal. I hope you can make well of it and acquire what she desires.”
“I have no doubt I’ll be successful,” Muriel said. She’d been thinking of nothing else on the train ride from Paris. Her mother had told her once that for her to be successful in life she had to be assertive, to believe in herself and never be skittish. Her words still echoed in Muriel’s mind. “It’s a man’s world, my dear, and for a woman to succeed she has to be strong and fearless. Always remember that.”
“Let me show you to your room,” he said, breaking her thoughts.
She lifted her skirts as they started up the stairs.
“You’ll have a maid assigned to you, and if you should need anything you simply need to let her know. Her name is Pansy, and you will be her only concern during your stay.”
“That is very generous,” Muriel said. If she told him she didn’t need a maid, it would lower her esteem in his eyes.
“Dinner will be at eight tonight,” he said as a footman opened the door for them.
When they stepped inside, Muriel fought back the gasp that rose in her throat. The place glittered like a diamond mine. Baubles and crystals hung from the chandeliers, the frames on the paintings glittered with gold, as did the staircase baluster.
“I will order a tea tray for you, to tide you over until the dinner hour,” he said. “If you want to explore the grounds that is your choice, all I ask is you are on time for dinner.”
“Thank you, Philip,” she said. “May I ask, have the other guests arrived?”
“They have,” he said. “You will all be properly introduced tomorrow, and the first showing of the artifacts will be tomorrow after lunch.”
They were on the second floor now, and while the area didn’t seem to shine as much as the downstairs, it was still very opulent. How did a person live like this, she wondered? Even Mrs. Temple, who had money, didn’t have these sorts of lavish furnishings.
Maybe it was the French setting. The French had always seemed to be better at making things bigger and shinier.
They made their way down a wide corridor and stopped at the second door. He opened it and indicated she should go before him. Muriel was glad her back was to him, because the chamber before her made her gasp. It was larger than her flat back in London. There was a sitting room at the front, with a table and two chairs and a bookcase loaded with tomes.
Behind that was a screen, painted with beautiful flowers. Despite the need to control herself, Muriel couldn’t help but cross to it and look behind. The large canopy bed made her want to giggle. It was covered with a satin blanket and lacy pillows. She’d never slept in something so elegant, or so sensual. Something told her she would be bringing herself to orgasm that evening, dreaming of a man that could play with her.
A man like Ewan McClacken? The voice in her head was deep, and it giggled. Muriel had thought about Ewan since the day she’d met him. She’d told Mrs. Temple that he was researching Fortuna, and something told her he was looking for the same thing she was seeking. Something told her she would see him at the auction, and that was not a good thing.
Muriel’s need for physical contact had grown since she’d looked at the book on the reliefs. She wanted a man in her life. She was willing to give up her maidenhead, even though she was not married.
Ewan McClacken would fill the need very nicely. She would beat him in the auction, and perhaps she could get him to mount her in the bedroom. The thought had filled her mind a lot during the long trip to Paris. She hoped she saw him tonight. She hoped she had the nerve to make a suggestion to him about what she’d thought about.
But what if he were looking for the same thing she was? That put them in differing corners, and, well, maybe he wasn’t the wisest choice.
“Mademoiselle? Are you all right?”
Muriel turned to Philip.
“Yes, it’s just this room is so beautiful,” she said. “I was working to take it all in.”
“The maid will be up shortly with your tea tray,” he responded with a smile. “I will see you at eight tonight.”
“Thank you.”
He closed the door and Muriel turned back to the bed. She’d have to get him to bed her before the auction. He would be unhappy after it was over, because she would own the reliefs. That meant she needed to seduce him tonight, or maybe tomorrow afternoon.
It didn’t matter to her what time of day it was, as long as she felt him inside her before the end of the day. She had made her decision. She would not back down. By the time tomorrow came around she would no longer be a virgin.
* * *
Despite her best plans to go and visit the gardens, or explore the house, Muriel couldn’t help but sit down on the bed. She’d only meant to feel its softness for a little while, but the next thing she knew someone was gently tapping her on the shoulder.
“Mademoiselle?” Muriel blinked, trying to bring the room into focus. The woman standing before her was about her age, and she wore a black dress with a white apron. The maid.
“Yes?” Muriel said, her voice scratchy from disuse. “What time is it?”
“Dinner is a little less than an hour away,” the woman said in a heavily accented voice. “Philip will not be happy if you are late.”
Muriel sat up. She looked around the room as she tried to waken enough to figure out where she was. She looked at the window and gasped.
“It’s dark already?”
“Yes, I didn’t want to wake you,” the maid said. “You seemed so peaceful. I unpacked your belongings and I have had a bath drawn for you.” She pointed to an area across from the bed. There was another screen, one she hadn’t noticed before.
“We must get you bathed and dressed,” the maid said.
She sounded nervous, as if not meeting the deadline would bring her grief. Muriel stood and started to undo the stays on her skirt.
“Please, mademoiselle, allow me,” the woman said.
“What is your name?”
“Pansy, mademoiselle.”
Muriel shook her head. Of course it was, Philip had told her that on her arrival. “Pansy, please call me Muriel. And I am not used to having someone to wait on me.”
“But it is my job, mademo…, um Muriel.”
Muriel sighed. Time for her to be totally truthful. “I don’t have a maid. I’ve never been naked in front of another woman before.”
“Never?” Pansy’s eyes were wide in shock. “But what your own maid?”
“I have no maid, Pansy,” Muriel said. “I would prefer to bathe and dress myself, if it all the same to you.”
“If Philip finds out, I will be punished,” Pansy said.
“Then stay in the sitting room while I go about my affairs, and when I am done, I will quit the room and you can leave after. He doesn’t have to know.”
Pansy looked like she was not convinced, but she nodded.
“Thank you,” Muriel said. After she was undressed she took a quick bath. She was soaking when Pansy’s voice came to her.
“Will you want the blue dress, Muriel? It’s quite stunning and would make a good impression for the first dinner.”
Muriel continued to wash, and prayed the maid would not come to the other side of the screen. “Yes, that one will do nicely.”
It was one of the dresses Mrs. Green had made for her. It was not an original one, rather one she’d started for another customer who had declined it as being unworthy of her. Mrs. Green had altered it to fit Muriel. It was rather low-cut, and would show quite a bit of cleavage, which would fit her purpose in trying to seduce Ewan tonight.
“That one will do very nicely,” Muriel said under her breath as she finished bathing. Once she was dried, she put on the undergarments she’d brought behind the screen. When she stepped into the bedchamber, she found Pansy waiting, the dress in hand.
“May I?” Pansy asked.
“Yes, you may,” Muriel said. “I’ve never been dressed before, so you’ll need to instruct me in ways to make it easier for you.”
A few awkward moments later, Muriel was in the dress, and stood in front of the mirror. She stared at her reflection and couldn’t help but smile.
“You look beautiful,” Pansy said. “May I do your hair now?”
“Of course,” Muriel said. She sat at the dressing table and thought about tonight as Pansy combed, pinned and curled her tresses. When she was done, Pansy went to a table and picked up a necklace.
“This was in with your belongings,” she said as she slipped it around Muriel’s neck. “I think it matches your dress wonderfully.”
Muriel toyed with the necklace. “This isn’t mine,” she said. She wondered how it had come to be in her bag. She turned to Pansy. “Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
“No, ma’am,” Pansy said. “I found it amongst your belongings.”
“What else did you find, besides a few books, and my clothes? There was no jewelry.”
“Several pieces, ma’am,” Pansy said. “A necklace to match each dress.”
“That can’t be possible,” Muriel said. She’d packed her own bag, and there had been no jewelry. She’d unwrapped her new dresses when she’d picked them up, so she knew there was no jewelry included in the bundles.
Muriel’s Adventures Page 2