Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

 

A brief summary of what has transpired thus far. (To get a breakdown of the earlier chapters, please see Chapter Links for descriptions)

Orphaned at the age of eight, sixteen-year-old Doris Sloane has spent half her life in a Catholic orphanage, where she was trained to care for young children. Our story begins when she is taken into service at the home of Victoria Shaw, a widow with three daughters: Melinda (ten), Sophia (eleven) and Becky (fourteen). Doris is thoroughly satisfied with this new life, but her orderly world takes an odd turn one night when she is seduced by Mrs. Shaw. Surprising herself, Doris responds eagerly, fully returning the pleasure she has been given.

In the days that follow, Doris and Victoria couple frequently, and Doris becomes skilled in the art of lesbian lovemaking under the tutelage of her mistress. She is deliriously happy, but her joy is tainted by the fact that she is only engaged to serve in the Shaw household until Melinda, the youngest, turns twelve. To complicate things even further, Doris has fallen madly, passionately in love with Victoria, and lacks the courage to tell her so.

One of Doris’ duties as nanny is to give Melinda and Sophia a bath every other day. The girls often invite Doris to join them in the large Japanese-style tub, but she always refuses, believing it isn’t proper. When she mentions this to Mrs. Shaw after a bout of lovemaking, Victoria suggests that Doris do what her youngest daughters want: get naked and bathe with them. Furthermore, she encourages Doris to pay closer attention to the girls’ nudity, to notice how beautiful they are in the altogether.

Doris finds this a bit strange… but that evening, while giving Sophia and Melinda their bath, she takes the time to study them more closely, and is startled to find herself feeling somewhat aroused.  The girls notice her interest, and on subsequent evenings, eleven-year-old Sophia begins to tease Doris by flaunting her nakedness. This only fuels this budding desire Doris feels… and very soon, she is masturbating to lewd fantasies of Victoria’s daughters.

One afternoon around this time, while the girls are at school, Doris in asked to join Victoria for a light luncheon in the back yard. There, Victoria offers the girl a permanent home as a member of the family, then tells her, “I love you.”

Doris is overwhelmed by emotion at first… but she joyfully accepts, and they celebrate by undressing and making love. 

Then next day, Victoria tells Doris how she first became attracted to women. It began at the age of sixteen, when she was given the service of a personal maid, a lively Irish girl named Nora, who would quickly become young Victoria’s faithful friend and companion.

The story resumes here. Do enjoy.

 

by JetBoy and BlueJean

I

Our lives are stories within stories.

They begin with the story of our birth, then branch out into a multitude of other tales along the way, which in turn give rise to yet more stories, each smaller narrative feeding back into the larger one. And as our lives touch the lives of others, loved ones and strangers alike, our stories merge and overlap with theirs, changing the flow of the prose in subtle and unpredictable ways.

This story is about my time at Shadowglen, but to tell it properly, I must also share Victoria Shaw’s story, the way she related it to me. You have already heard part of her tale: the life she was born into, the death of her brother, how she met her friend and lover Nora Murphy.

The next part of Victoria’s tale began with an old hardback copy of Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tales and fables, and inside that book, yet another tale: “The Shirt Collar.”

It was a dull, overcast afternoon that threatened rain, and the two of us had retreated into Victoria’s study to spend some time reading. I sat on a sturdy wingback chair next to the window, an open copy of Steinbeck’s To a God Unknown resting in my lap.

Leaning forward in her Chesterfield, Victoria ran the tip of a finger down an old, battered book that lay open on her desk.

“What’re you reading?” I asked.

She peered across, as if noticing me for the first time, and it was clear I’d pulled her from some reverie or other. “Hmm? This? Oh, an old book of stories that’s been in the family for donkey’s years. But I’m not exactly reading it. Just… remembering.”

“Remembering what?”

Victoria regarded the old volume with a thoughtful smile that was tempered by a shade of melancholy. “A bedtime story,” she said. “And a love that was not meant to be.”

II

After that first time Nora bathed me, I had the old tin tub hauled up the stairs as often as I was able without arousing too much suspicion. During the day, I would often go out of my way to become sufficiently grubby, working up a sweat riding my pony, or returning home with bits of twigs and leaves in my hair from rigorous hikes through the woods.

The thought of Nora’s soapy hands upon my naked, wet skin never failed to leave me breathless with anticipation, and our little bathing sessions happened later into the night, knowing as we did that most of the other staff had already retired for the evening, our privacy all but ensured.

One evening, after Nora had dried me off with a towel and slipped a nightdress over my head, she drew me towards her for a long, warm embrace. “It’s late, Buttercup,” she crooned when we’d parted, stretching her limbs in a most unladylike fashion. “I’d best be getting to bed.”

I didn’t want her to go back to her own room, though. I never wanted that. I craved her company, her sweet scent and her raucous laughter; her silly stories. And something else that I had no way of truly recognising or understanding, some longing for intimacy that didn’t seem like it was meant for Nora and me.

As she turned to go, I touched her shoulder, seized by an impulse that simply had to be obeyed. “You could stay with me tonight,” I murmured, gesturing to my bed. “There’s room for two.”

The way her eyes gleamed, I could tell she liked the idea, but there was reluctance there, too. “I shouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “‘Tisn’t proper. And it could get me into trouble.”

“No one’ll know,” I assured her. “As long as you go back to your room before the rest of the household wakes.”

Nora put her hands on her hips and gave me a good natured scowl. “Sure, and you’ll be the death of me, Victoria Shackleford! All right, then. I’ll spend the night with you.”

“Splendid!” I exclaimed.

Nora slipped off her pinafore, then began to undo the buttons on her uniform. “Will you read me one of your stories?”

I had to smile. In many ways, Nora seemed a far more womanly creature than I, but given the chance to hear a fairytale or fable, she became a wide-eyed child again. “Of course… we mustn’t go to sleep without a story,” I told her. “Which one would you like?”

Thinking about it for a moment, she replied. “The one about the shirt collar! I like how you tell that one.”

“A good choice.” It was one of Nora’s favourites. Fetching my volume of Hans Christian Andersen from the shelf, I returned to the bed. “Let’s get under the blankets first. My feet are getting cold. Do you want to nip back to your room and fetch a nightshirt? I think mine would all be too small for you.”

“No need,” Nora answered, a merry lilt to her voice. “I don’t wear them.” She removed her dress and draped it over my vanity chair, leaving her in nothing but a chemise and a pair of split drawers.

I was more than a little intrigued. “What do you wear to bed, then?”

Nora’s eyes danced in the dim light of my bedside lamp. “Not much.” The chemise joined the dress, and now her breasts were bare. With a single deft motion, she undid and removed the drawers, leaving her completely nude. Standing before me, she spread her arms ever so slightly, as if presenting herself.

My head swam at the sight. It struck me that I’d never seen anyone completely out of their clothing before.

Nora was magnificent, a goddess sent to walk amongst mortals. Her breasts were pillowy and full, the perky nipples ringed by large, dark areolae. Generous hips framed a thatch of copper-red hair. Her skin was pale and creamy. Every inch of her seemed to glow with beauty and strength.

I’m sure I must have been staring at Nora like a fool, but she seemed to bask in my regard. “Will I do, then?” she murmured, hooking her hands into her hips and performing a slow pirouette for my benefit. No one could ever accuse Nora of being shy.

All I could do was nod appreciatively, studying Nora as if she was a piece of fine art. She was equally impressive from behind, not least the apple-like curves of her arse.

“You’re… you’re beautiful, Nora,” I sighed, feeling awed and, truth be told, a little envious.

“Oh, pshaw!” she said with a dismissive wave, though there was no mistaking the pleased expression on her face. “You’re just bein’ kind. ‘Tis you who’s the pretty one.”

I thought she was perfectly daft to think so, but it seemed a silly thing to argue over. “Let’s say both of us are pretty, then,” I told her, then gestured toward the bed. “Shall we?”

“Here, I’ll turn it down,” Nora said. One of her routine tasks was to prepare my bed for me, though I’ll wager this was the first time she’d ever done it in the altogether. She bent to fold the blankets back, and in the process treated me to an unexpected view of the flower of her sex. I don’t use that word idly – it really did put me in mind of a pink lily.

It was only a brief glance, but enough to send my imagination soaring to lusty new heights. Is that what I look like from behind? I wondered. Before I could give the matter any more thought, Nora had slipped beneath the blankets. “In you get, Buttercup!” she exclaimed, patting the empty side of the bed.

Placing my storybook on the night table, I began to lift the blanket, but Nora stopped me with an emphatic shake of the head. “No, no,” she said, pointing at my nightshirt. “Take your shift off first.”

I gawped at her. “Sleep in – in nothing? I’ve never done anything like that!”

Something in her smile quickened my heartbeat. “Time you tried it, then,” she said. “It feels much nicer with nothing on…” Nora flashed her jade eyes at me. “‘Specially if you mean to have a cuddle.”

I was rather taken aback by the boldness of her words, but upon further consideration, climbing into bed naked with Nora did seem to hold a certain curious appeal. In fact, I found the idea positively beguiling. Besides, it would have been more awkward for me to refuse, especially as Nora had already stripped down to nothing, and was expecting me to follow her example.

So reaching for the hem of my nightie, I tugged it up and off, casting the garment to the floor, then climbed into bed, stretching out alongside her.

She nestled into me, purring, “Mmmm, that’s lovely.”

It was lovely, too… indeed, almost intoxicating. I was enthralled by the softness and warmth of Nora’s skin, the scent of her hair, the way her breath caressed my ear.

I might have been content to lie there for hours, our bodies pressed together. But just as my eyes were drifting shut, Nora whispered, “What about my story?”

Sitting up, I reached for my book. I slipped the pillow behind me, then leaned back against the large oaken headboard before turning to the page I wanted. Nora rested her head against my breast as I began to read.

The story she asked for, “The Collar,” concerned a boastful, boorish man’s shirt collar. Deciding to take a wife, he badgers other items in his master’s house to marry him – a ladies’ garter, an iron, a scissors and a comb – but always without success. In the end, he is pulped along with a bin of old rags and made into paper. In fact, so the story goes, he becomes the very paper on which it was printed. Nora loved that ending, and would clap her hands with glee at the fate of the overbearing collar.

I usually enjoyed telling this tale, assuming different voices for each of the characters. But this time, it left me feeling a little melancholy. Soon, I would be presented to suitors of my own, gentlemen anxious to get their hands on our estate… and unlike the various implements that populated Mr. Andersen’s story, I would not be permitted to refuse. If my father approved the match, I would then be wed to a man I scarcely knew. Needless to say, the prospect filled me with gloom.

Bringing the story to a finish, I closed the book, returning it to the night table with a sigh. Nora regarded me with wide-eyed concern. “What’s the matter?” she said.

I wrapped both arms round my companion, drawing solace from her warmth. “Nora… do you think you’ll ever be married?”

She gave a snort of laughter. “No fear of that!”

“But you have admirers, don’t you?”

Nora made a face. “I’ve had a few so-and-so’s try to take liberties with me, but I just give ‘em a crack on the jaw, an’ that takes care of that.” She giggled, leaning into me conspiratorially. “Know who tried to woo me, my first week here? Your da’s man, Abernathy. He grabbed my arse, too!”

I was astounded. Abernathy had been Father’s valet for as long as I could remember. He’d always seemed the soul of propriety, much too dignified to do something like paw a servant girl. Clearly, I was even more naive than I’d thought when it came to the ways of men. “Did you crack him on the jaw?”

“Aww, no,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to leave a mark on him that the master could see. So I stamped on his foot instead! Madder’n a singed cat, he was! But he never put his grubby hands on me again.” I saw her mouth tighten. “I don’t like men that way. Never have, never will.”

“I’m sure there are at least a few men worth marrying,” I told her. “Maybe you’ll meet one of them and fall in love—”

I was only teasing, but I saw something unexpected in Nora’s expression; a grave solemnity so out of character for her that it silenced me in mid-sentence. Had I somehow wounded her feelings?

“Victoria,” she said, looking away, “if I… if I tell you a secret, will you keep it for me?”

I’d not seen her like this before. She wouldn’t meet my eyes, her cheeks were pale and she was strangely subdued. I was used to the child-like delight Nora took in the smallest of things – an oddly-shaped leaf or a toffee apple at the fair. But right then she put me in mind of a little girl who was about to be punished.

I took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Of course, silly. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“You mustn’t tell a soul. Ever. It would be terrible for me if I was found out.”

Now my curiosity was rapidly giving way to alarm. What in heaven’s name could she have done? Foolish child that I was, I actually wondered if my beloved Nora might be a murderess.

Not that it mattered. Come what may, I would protect my friend. “I won’t tell anyone,” I said. “You have my word on that.”

Rolling onto her back, Nora breathed out a ragged sigh. She regarded the ceiling for a long moment before speaking again. “You know how most girls have… fellas they like? Some of them likes pretty much any bloke they meet.”

“Girls like our Sally, you mean?” I replied.

Sally was the cook’s assistant. She’d not been with us for long, but had already chalked up a reputation amongst the staff for being quite the flirt. Mother’s maid Eileen had told Nora, ‘Anyone in trousers’ll do for that one.’

“Like her, yeah,” Nora answered. “But me, I’m not that way. I…” She rolled away from me, then hugged both knees to her chest. A tiny sob escaped her lips.

That struck me to the core. “Nora, what’s the matter?” I pleaded, grasping her shoulders from behind.

“Don’t wanna say,” she mumbled. “I’m ‘fraid you’ll hate me.”

I felt almost… angry with her. How could she believe such a thing? I sat up, glaring down at her with folded arms, my jaw firmly set. “Nora Murphy, let’s have no more of this foolishness. You’ll say what you have to say, and I will most certainly not hate you for it!”

In spite of everything, that made her laugh. “I s’pose that’s an order.” Turning back to me, she fumbled for my hand. “All right, then.” She sniffled, then raised her eyes to meet mine. “I… It’s not fellas I like, Victoria. It’s girls.”

I stared at her blankly. “Huh?”

“I’m sayin’ I like girls.”

Realisation suddenly hit me like a blow to the head. “You mean…?”

Nora nodded gravely.

“Oh… Oh!” I’d never even entertained the notion of women preferring their own sex. But once the possibility had been revealed to me, it didn’t seem so outlandish.

She stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes. “Do you want me to go back to my own bed?”

“Um… no. Why would I?”

“Just because.” She seemed puzzled. “Why’re you smilin’ at me like that?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Maybe because… I didn’t know girls could be that way? To be honest, I think it makes you awfully interesting. It gives you an air of mystery!”

“So you… you don’t think I’m disgusting?”

I cupped Nora’s cheek. “Don’t be silly. Why on earth would I think that?”

Nora covered my hand with hers. “You might, when I tell you the next bit.”

“Well, it can hardly be any more scandalous than—” I began.

Nora cut me short. “I love you, Victoria.”

“And I love you. You’re my—” and that was when the true meaning of her words sank in.

I stared at Nora for what seemed like an eternity, my palm still resting against her cheek, our faces so close that I could feel the warmth of her breath.

“You… love me?” I whispered after a long while.

Nora nodded.

“Why?” I asked dumbly.

“Why?” Nora repeated. “Er… I dunno. I just do, is all.”

“Well, what do you love about me?” My voice was steady and calm; inside, I was all aquiver.

Nora reached out to stroke my blonde tresses. “I love your hair.”

I locked my fingers through hers. “What else?”

She leaned into me and nuzzled my neck. “I love your smell.”

Her lips brushing against my skin tickled deliciously, making me giggle. “Wh-what else?”

“Your laugh. I always enjoy hearin’ it.”

I realised with no little amazement that the things Nora loved about me were amongst the very same qualities that endeared me to her. The lush red curls of her hair. The sweet smell of her skin. Her boisterous laughter. And that was by no means all.

Was that what it meant to fall in love, then? Those little unspoken things? I’d thought what Nora and I shared was naught but the cosy familiarity of companionship, but perhaps that distinction was a tenuous one. Girls fall into intimacy so much more easily than boys. Physical affection comes far more naturally to us, and there’s little of the insecurity and rivalries that define male relationships.

Indeed, had Nora and I not strolled through the woods hand in hand many times, or nestled together on the settee while I read to her? I’d enjoyed those intimate moments, but failed to recognise them as anything more than friendship. Back then I’d been too young and inexperienced to understand that the potential for love between two women was so often present, smouldering beneath the surface.

But my own feelings at that moment were more base and vital: Want. Need. Hunger.

And so I did the only thing I could do: put my lips to Nora’s and kissed her.

She stiffened at first, no doubt startled by my boldness… but in an instant, she was eagerly returning my affection. Her arms twined round my back, our bare bodies joining together.

Novice that I was, I chose to let Nora take the lead – for the moment, at least. She rolled onto her back, pulling me with her until my body rested atop hers. Parting her legs, she invited me to lie between them, her pubic thatch brushing my lower belly.

All I knew of kissing was lips meeting lips, but Nora showed me the many forms a kiss could take. Her mouth toyed with mine; teasing, sucking, nibbling. And when she finally brought her tongue into play, it was nothing short of a revelation.

I was a bashful but eager student, doing my best to match Nora’s passion. I met her tongue with mine, and we fell into a sort of playful combat.

I’d never felt so giddy, so alive. For the first time in my sixteen years I truly understood what it was to love, and my soul seemed to glow with the knowing of it.

Breaking our kiss, I blurted, “I love you too, Nora! I love you more than anything.”

Her face shone like the sun. “Oh, Buttercup… you’ll never know what it means to hear you say that!”

Our mouths drifted together yet again. This time, the kiss was tender yet sensuous, smouldering with promise. When Nora’s body moved against mine, it stirred a mounting heat beneath my belly, then fanned it into a flame. I’d known arousal before, as any girl my age had, but never this intensely, never so vital as to demand such urgent attention.

As if she completely understood my need, Nora drew away, a wild gleam in her eye. “Victoria,” she breathed, “I want to show you how a girl loves another girl. It’s proper nice; the grandest feelin’ you’ll ever have. Will you let me?”

I had to smile. What was the point of even asking? I could no more refuse her than I could sprout wings and fly away. “I want to know all of it, Nora,” I whispered. “Teach me everything.”

Her response was to roll the pair of us over until our positions were reversed. Now Nora’s warm, satisfying weight was pressing into me delightfully. She kissed me on the lips only briefly before her mouth trailed downward to nuzzle the hollow of my throat, then the top of my chest. A sob escaped me as her lips enveloped the taut bud of my nipple, and I held her as a nursing mother ight cradle a babe.

She gently sucked the tip of my breast, occasionally teasing it with tiny flicks of the tongue. It felt divine; a flame that caressed rather than burned. Then she switched to the other nipple, and that wondrous sensation renewed itself.

Casting the blankets to the floor with a sweep of her arm, Nora moved down even further to bury her face in the softness of my tummy. I saw her take a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. “My, but you smell good,” she sighed. “I could gobble you right up, so I could!” A mischievous smile teased the corners of her mouth. “Think I’ll do just that…”

And before my astonished eyes, Nora lowered her head between my legs, parted her lips, then took a long, slow lick along the cleft of my sex.

A welter of emotions surged through me. At first I was aghast, unable to comprehend that anyone would put their mouth down there. Then I was moved by the fervour of Nora’s devotion; that she would do such a thing for me. At the same time, my conscience prickled, certain what we were doing was a terrible, terrible sin… yet the sheer wickedness of the deed gave me an illicit thrill, since I so seldom misbehaved. But most of all, Nora’s mouth and tongue stirred me to rapture, summoning up ecstasy such as I’d never imagined. Surely these pleasures were the exclusive domain of the gods – yet now they were mine to take, to hold, to embrace.

My legs trembled as Nora buried her lips into my womanly centre, probing into me with her tongue. Her eyes burned into mine, alive with a fierce hunger. Even in the midst of my bliss, I was taken aback. Did she really desire me that much? Had she wanted this from me all along?

Warmth and pressure continued to build inside me, growing steadily until Nora withdrew her tongue, then slowly licked a pathway to the sensitive spot at the apex of my vagina. Occasionally when bathing, I’d found that area to be particularly tender, and would sometimes linger there with soapy fingers for longer than mere cleanliness required. But when Nora began to lick the little nub, those feelings surged to new, unimaginable heights.

I was certain the intensity of it would undo me. Somehow, I managed to clamp a hand over my mouth, muffling a cry I was unable to silence completely. My body was shaking helplessly, a marionette with tangled strings. Never having known the full extent of my body’s capacity for pleasure, I found the experience alarming, but in that moment of pure, urgent bliss, I couldn’t have possibly fought against the tide, even if I’d had any inclination to do so.

Such rapture could not endure for very long, of course. That frantic rush of sensations began to ebb, the howling wind slowing to a gentle breeze, my sex now tender and aching.

Thankfully, Nora understood that I’d drunk my fill and needed to recover. Raising her head with a sweet smile on her lips, she crawled into my arms, and I kissed her without a second thought, her mouth still smeared with my essence. Intrigued, I tasted myself on her lips. The flavour was tart and earthy, not at all unpleasant… and it had me wondering what it would be like to love Nora in the same way.

It was a powerful impulse, one I was unable to resist. Breaking our kiss, I gazed into those deep emerald eyes, whispering, “I want to do that to you.”

A hint of uncertainty coloured her expression, though she tried to conceal it. “Oh, you don’t have to bother,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if I was offering something as trifling as a boiled sweet. I wasn’t fooled for a second, mind you.

“I most certainly do!” I replied, feeling positively buoyant, more certain of myself than ever before. “And as your mistress, I insist that you lie back, open your legs and allow me to do as I please. Otherwise, there will be consequences!”

It was a pitch-perfect imitation of my mother in an imperious mood, and Nora was quick to recognise it. She gave a snort of laughter, then nodded. “Whatever the lady desires, I’m sure,” she said, making herself sound ludicrously timid. “Forgive me for not bein’ able to curtsy, ma’am, but as you can see, I’m not wearin’ a dress.”

We burst into a volley of giggles, then drew together to kiss yet again, my tongue seeking and engaging hers. I kept that kiss going after we drifted apart, taking my lips on a slow stroll over Nora’s chin, then trailing down her neck.

Nora’s breasts, so much fuller than mine, were a delight to explore. I had to pause in my travels to adorn them with kisses. A wave of excitement rolled through me as I took a nipple between my lips, feeling it swell when I circled it with the tip of my tongue.

“Lovely…” Nora breathed, the word trailing off into a moan as she cradled me to her chest. I didn’t bother to reply, just continued to nurse from one creamy breast whilst fondling the other, then switching sides. Suddenly a mischievous impulse seized me.

“Oh, Lord!” Nora gasped when I gave her nipple a playful bite, a shiver rippling through her body. “Do that again!” she implored me.

Happy to oblige, I lightly grazed the tips of her breasts with my teeth, each in turn. But like a gourmand at a feast, I was eager to sample all Nora’s delights, so I resumed my downward journey – nuzzling along the terrace of her ribs, then rubbing my face into the unimaginable softness of her belly. Nora’s scent was more potent here, the familiar sweetness of her skin enhanced by the thicker aroma of what I now recognised as arousal.

The smell drew me in like a beckoning finger until I was lying prone between Nora’s thighs, close enough to feel the warmth of her womanhood on my face. Like before, I was put in mind of a pink-petaled flower; an exotic bloom so much more interesting than my own neatly tucked cleft.

I inhaled deeply, breathing in the heady perfume of Nora’s musk as I slowly reached out to touch the rosy flesh. She shivered when I traced the moist opening with a fingertip, whimpering, “P-please… please, Victoria.”

My God, the power I felt at that moment! I’d never been comfortable exercising any measure of authority over the servants, always meekly asking for what I wanted. Now I had this strong, wilful young woman at my mercy, begging me to give her relief.

Of course, I loved Nora far too much to leave her wanting. I drew close to take a hesitant lick, pausing to sample her flavour. It was similar to my own, yet tantalisingly different. I licked again, this time trailing the flat of my tongue from the bottom of Nora’s slit to the top. She moaned long and low, her fingers twining into my still-damp hair.

I was beside myself with excitement. The memory of Nora bringing me to ecstasy was still fresh, and I was determined to do as much for her. After taking several more licks of that juicy honeypot, I buried my mouth in the rosy flesh.

“Ohhhh, Victoria, I – I love you…” she mewled, tightening her grip on my head. Wrapping my hands round Nora’s thighs, I pushed my tongue into her, just as she’d done for me.

The warmth and wetness of my lover’s vagina was considerable, and I found myself supping on Nora as if her sex was a sun-ripened peach, its sweetness glazing my lips and chin. Her trembling thighs tightened around my face as I continued to feast, my tongue burrowing as deep as its length would allow.

Determined to make Nora feel better than she ever had, I sought out that special place just above her slit. I felt for the little bead, then gently rolled it between my finger and thumb.

The effect was absolutely explosive. “Ohhh!” Nora cried as a violent jerk shook her, almost powerful  enough to dislodge me. She blindly fumbled for a pillow and pressed it to her mouth, stifling a scream that surely would’ve had anyone within earshot hastening to see what all the hubbub was about.

I continued to pleasure her with my mouth and fingers while she writhed on the bed, my lips slick with her essence. Finally, she shoved me away, blurting, “No more… Christ almighty, n-no more!”

Sitting back on my haunches, I studied my handiwork, well pleased with the result. Nora was gasping for breath, her pale body glazed with perspiration, face flushed a deep pink. Her hair had come loose, revealing the unruly shock of red curls that inspired her nickname. In truth, she looked faintly ridiculous, yet also utterly beautiful. It filled me with a bizarre kind of pride, knowing I had given my sweetheart the same feelings of rapture she had bestowed upon me.

Nora’s eyes fluttered open, and she gave me a weary smile. “’Scuse me for cursin’,” she murmured, “but bloody hell, Buttercup! That was – God almighty, I’ve not got the words!” She fixed me with a suspicious gaze. “You sure you never done anything like this before?”

I had to giggle. “No, never. Was it good, then?”

“Divine,” she sighed, giving her limbs a lazy stretch. “Course, I’ve only ever had it off with one other girl, but you went and put her in the shade!”

I was pleased, but also curious. “Who was she?”

Nora shrugged. “A maid at the last house I worked at. We shared a room, and… well, things just happened. I think that was only ‘cos she didn’t have a fella, though. Once she got her hooks into one, we never done it again.”

I stretched out next to Nora. “Is that why you don’t work there anymore?”

“On account of her? Ah, no – it’s ‘cos the master dropped dead at the dinner table one night. Bad ticker, it was. His lad closed the house down, and they gave us all our walkin’ papers. Thought I might have to go back home, tail ’tween my legs… but I found a job as a ladies’ maid for a sweet, pretty lass named Victoria.” She placed a tiny kiss on the tip of my nose.

Warmed by her smile and her words, I teasingly asked, “Is it working out for you, then, that job?”

“Oh, aye. The little miss is a bit bossy, truth be told, but she sure knows her way around a girl’s minge.”

I opened my mouth in shock, then gave her arm a half-hearted slap. “Nora Murphy! You really are awful!”

She drew me close, sliding a thigh between my legs. “But you love me.”

Basking in Nora’s tantalising aroma, her soft, warm frame nestled into mine, I felt that exquisite throb again, making itself known beneath my belly. “Yes… I do love you,” I whispered.

The impulse to kiss Nora was irresistible, and when my lips met hers, she responded in kind. And just like that, we were making love again.

This time we coupled by grinding our bodies together, generating a dizzying friction that stole my breath away. Moving slowly at first, Nora and I were soon going at it furiously, making the bed shake beneath us.

My lover and I climaxed together, frantically clutching at one another as those wondrous sensations consumed us. Her sex was hot and slick against my thigh, and I knew mine must have felt much the same to her. Then our shared rapture rose to its crescendo, and I ceased to think of anything but the immediacy of the pleasure rushing through me.

Afterward, I lolled in Nora’s arms, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair while her lips brushed my neck. We lay that way for a long while, nearly dozing in each other’s arms. Finally, she sat up and stretched her arms out. “I’d best be gettin’ back to my room,” she said with a yawn.

I pouted. “Must you?”

She nodded soberly. “I’m bloody knackered. If I stay, I’d fall asleep for certain. It wouldn’t do for us to get found like this… ‘specially since neither of us is wearin’ a stitch.”

I saw the sense in her words, but it didn’t mean I had to be happy about it. “I suppose you’re right. But… we will do this again, won’t we?”

Flopping back down by my side, Nora seized me with both arms. “Course we will! We’re sweethearts, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” I murmured. “We are. Well, if you really must go, may I have a kiss first…?”

“Y’don’t even need to ask, Buttercup,” she replied sweetly, a stray lock of hair falling across her face. “Not ever. You want a kiss, take it! I’ll never tell you no.”

So we joined together one more time. After the frenzy of our last round of lovemaking, this kiss was languid and gentle, our tongues engaging in a slow, romantic dance.

When eventually we drifted apart, Nora held the sheet up to her face and sniffed it. “I’ll wash your bedding first thing tomorrow, just in case one of the other girls gets to it ‘fore I do,” she said, then with a wicked grin: “Wouldn’t want people getting ideas, would we?” Climbing to her feet, she stepped into her drawers, pulled the chemise over her head, then gathered up the rest of her things.

“Goodnight, Nora,” I said, already missing the warm, naked presence of her body in my bed.

“G’night, my sweet,” she replied. Then, quiet as a whisper, she slipped out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind.

It was late, and I knew it would be best to turn off the light and go to sleep. But Nora’s scent still lingered on my bed sheets, and my mind was abuzz with excitement. How could it be otherwise? I’d taken my best friend and companion into my bed and, in the process, stumbled into a new world filled with possibilities. I was positively glowing inside, my body still warmed by the carnal delights we’d shared.

I have a sweetheart. Those wonderful words rang in my mind like silver bells. I have a sweetheart!

The spectre of marriage had loomed over me since I’d begun to menstruate, and I’d meekly accepted what was to be my lot – a life yoked in matrimony to some man I might never love, obliged to cater to his every whim, as a dutiful English wife of the gentry should.

But perhaps fate had dealt me a vastly different hand. I’d found my true love somewhere wholly unexpected. More than that, she had been hiding in plain sight all along.

My giddy mood dimmed somewhat when I reflected upon the difficulties of this love. It went without saying that my mother and father would be horrified to learn what Nora and I had been up to. In their eyes, my poor dead brother’s dissolute ways would be a trifle compared to this.

I pushed those thoughts aside, unwilling to let them taint my euphoria. I was a girl in love, longing to bask in that blissful state forever. And since I no longer had Nora to hold, I hugged myself instead, burying my face in the sheets to breathe in her fragrance until, shortly thereafter, I drifted into a blissful sleep.

III

Victoria took a sip of her tea, then made a face. “Ergh. Stone cold.”

“Shall I make us some more?” I asked, lazily stretching my arms.

“No, it’s all right. I didn’t realise I’d been talking for so long.”

“You certainly know how to spin a sultry yarn,” I told her earnestly, the warmth between my legs attesting to the truth of that.

“Well, you seem to like all the brass tacks,” Victoria said. “And I quite enjoyed telling it.”

From my place by the window I could see Mr. Farnsworth down in the garden, pruning roses. Off in the distance, a tractor weaved its way through a field of barley.

“Did you and Nora share your bed again after that first time?”

“As often as possible,” Victoria replied. “But it became increasingly difficult to keep our hands off each other during the day, too. It turned into a game of sorts, to slip away to some isolated spot without being noticed.”

“That sounds familiar,” I said wryly.

But Victoria was lost in thought, her expression turned grim. “We grew careless. Taking Nora into my bed was risky enough, but then we began to make daily sojourns into the woods to enjoy one another. It was brazen, even foolhardy of us.

“One afternoon, we retreated into a secluded part of the forest. Using our clothes as a makeshift blanket, we lay down on the ground and began to make love. It was only when Nora froze beneath me that I knew something was wrong.”

“What happened?”

“The next thing I heard was Mother’s voice. ‘Victoria Edwina Shackleford! Cease that disgusting behaviour at once!'”

Horrified, I couldn’t help but put a hand to my mouth. “Bloody hell.”

“Oh, that was only the start of it. Standing behind Mother with a face like a smacked arse was Elsie, one of our scullery maids. Elsie had tried to wedge herself into my friendship with Nora, without much success. Looking back now, I was perhaps a little colder to her than I ought to have been, but when Nora and I became lovers, there was no room for anyone else.

“I think she must have secretly followed us into the woods and, either out of jealousy or spite, decided to tell my parents. Anyway, I shot to my feet and tried to cover myself with my petticoat. Mother strode up to me and slapped me hard across the face. She’d never hit me before – a stern word was usually sufficient – and it was enough to make me appreciate the seriousness of the situation.

“Nora had gone as pale as a sheet, and as Mother hissed at us to get dressed, I couldn’t help but notice the pleased little smirk on Elsie’s face. I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more than I did her at that moment.

“Mother marched us back to the house, gripping my arm tightly enough to leave a bruise. I was terrified, but even more so for Nora. At one point I tried to tell Nora how sorry I was, but before I could, Mother cut me off. ‘Not a word,’ she snapped. ‘Not a word!’ Once we reached the house, Mother sent Nora to Father’s study, then all but dragged me to my room. She thrust me inside, then locked the door behind.”

“What happened to Nora?”

Victoria was quiet for a long moment. She sat on the edge of the chair and hugged herself, as if trying to seek refuge from the memory. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

I could barely hear her next words. “That was the last time I ever saw her.”

She was visibly struggling, trying not to weep, but all in vain. A single tear rolled down her cheek, followed by more. Then a sob racked her body.

I’d never known Victoria to cry, and the sight of it cut me to the quick. Alarmed, I rushed over to kneel at her feet. “Oh, my love!” I murmured, taking her hands in mine.

“They took her from me, Doris. They sent her away.” She got to her feet and brushed past me, striding up to the tall window and resting her head against the glass. “I wanted to destroy the world. I screamed. I raged. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I begged Mother and Father to tell me where she’d gone. They made it clear that I’d never see her again. How could they be so cruel? How?!”

I took Victoria’s place in her chair, my hands laced in my lap. “I’m so sorry.”

“Father had me fetched to his study the next day. I’ve no doubt he would’ve thrashed the life out of me, had I been a son instead of a daughter. In some ways, the look of disgust on his face was worse than any beating. He told me I’d be married off as soon as a suitor could be found, but I didn’t care about any of that right then. I just wanted to know where Nora was.”

“He wouldn’t tell you anything?”

“He said my foolishness had destroyed her life.”

I was appalled. “No! For God’s sake, it wasn’t your fault!”

Victoria spun to face me, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen pain like that etched on someone’s face, then or now. “Of course it was my fault!” she cried. “I took her into my bed when I should have pushed her away. I knew the risks. I knew Nora would be the one to take the brunt of the punishment if we were found out.

“Father can be a vindictive man. I wouldn’t be surprised if he spread word amongst the other estates that Nora was unfit for service. It might well have ruined her. Where would she have gone? Back to Ireland? Would the scandal have followed her there, too?” She slowly shook her head. “To this day, I wonder what happened to her. Did she end up in one of those awful Irish nunneries? Was she forced to take a husband to make ends meet? Could she have been reduced to – to selling her body on a city street? I just don’t know, Doris. And it’s the not knowing that eats away at me.”

“Did you look for her?” I asked.

“Yes. But it was years before I could even mount an attempt. When the children were old enough, and my husband too far gone to notice what was happening around him, I hired a private detective. It seems Nora had gone back to Ireland, but beyond that there was no trace of her.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

Victoria shook her head forlornly. “Not a whisper. Do you know the worst thing, Doris? The very worst thing of all? Worse even than my years of marriage to that monster?”

I could only shake my head.

“Imagining that Nora might hate me. That she might think I was the worst thing that ever happened to her. The spoilt little rich girl who had her bit of fun, then got to carry on as if nothing happened while Nora’s life c-crumbled around her.” Victoria folded to her knees and began sobbing all over again.

I rushed over to wrap my arms around her. “You mustn’t ever say that! Nora loved you. And she knew you loved her. What happened to Nora was your parents’ fault, not yours. Never doubt it, my love.”

“I wish I could be sure of that,” she whimpered, her head nestled against my shoulder. “What a terrible thing it is, to never really be certain…”

Victoria had no words left, and I lacked the wisdom to offer any more of my own. So we simply sat together for a long while, the afternoon sun warm on our faces.

Some time later, when the school bus pulled up outside Shadowglen and the girls could be seen climbing off, Victoria patted my hand. “I’d like to retire to my room for a little while. Can you manage without me?”

“Of course,” I told her. “Will you join us for supper later?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. Tell the girls I have a headache. I… I just need some time alone.”

“I understand.”

Victoria made to leave, but turned back to me in the doorway. “This doesn’t change anything between us, Doris. I loved Nora, and some part of me always will, but it isn’t love I cling onto – it’s regret. You were never a substitute for her. I hope you believe that.”

“I do,” I told her, and meant it. Nora was no threat to me. Indeed, Victoria had painted such a vivid picture of her that I couldn’t help but be fond of the flame-haired lass. I wished I could’ve met her, exchanged a joke with her, walked through the bluebell woods with her and Victoria. Perhaps even shared a bed with them both.

That night, waiting for sleep to come, I wished with all my heart that Nora’s life had been a happy one, wherever the poor girl had ended up.

On to Chapter Eight!