“As I said, I would happily walk in the rain.”
She says nothing then. I still haven’t looked at her, but I can smell her delicate scent on the other side of the tight space. A scrap of vanilla. I noticed it yesterday, butonly subtly. Now, in these close quarters, it is much stronger. Strange. Vanilla seems too sweet a scent for such a harsh woman.
My blood warms. But I still believe in my ability to withstand her if I can distract myself.
“I didn’t know you were so intimate with the Ludlows,” I say.
“Betsy was my nurse when I was a child,” she replies coolly.
It seems a vulnerable statement, somehow.
I cast my gaze across the carriage.
And, God, it is a mistake.
Her beauty is severe, almost ascetic, especially with her dark dress against the gold damask of the carriage interior. I feel drawn to her in a way that I don’t understand. I want to fall at her feet and pray to her like the Catholics do to their effigies.
Heresy, I scold myself.
I am behaving like a Low church lunatic.
“Ah,” I merely say. “I didn’t realize.”
“Yes. They are the only people in this godforsaken place worth anything at all.”
Obviously, I cannot agree with such a thing. But she is my employer, so I say nothing.
And it is another mistake. Because in the silence her scent and her nearness further infiltrate my consciousness.
I realize, horribly, that I won’t be able to stave off what is to come. I only hope she will not notice.
I begin swelling in my trousers. I attempt to reorient myself on the carriage seat so that my state is obscured.
But I despair of the action. I am hardening, lengthening, and unfortunately my cock is an indecent, large thing. I have only one hope.
My hat, which sits on the seat next to me. I only need reach for it.
I am, without a doubt, hard. My cock is clearly visible in my lap.
Her glance, however, is thankfully out the window.
I reach for the hat, grasping the brim, and the movement attracts her eye.
She studies me for a moment, her brows crinkling.
And then she looks down.
I freeze.
She is a woman of the world.
She will not mistake what she sees.
Nevertheless, I hope that she will somehow miss the obvious.
I close my eyes just for a moment so that I do not have to meet her gaze.
My cock strains. My mortification deepens.
