Chapter 2

Maureen's thoughts were flying in every direction but she was happy that she had fallen into the watchmaker's arms and lap because he was having a distinctly stabilizing effect on her ability to see things with an open and receptive mind.

It was obvious that whatever time period she was in, things were relatively the same with regard to human relations and the urges to have satisfactory sex in a dignified manner.

She hoped that Mister Kitchener was not one of those dominant males that preferred to soften up their female companions with a belt or a cane even though she enjoyed reading about such practices in her own time era. The young men of her time were so metropolitan in attitude that they almost begged their partners to "be on top" in matters of coupling face to face. It was becoming depressing to see the hordes of budding cock wielders taking the role of a submissive in close personal relations and she had purposely delayed becoming a bride because she wanted to hold out for a real man.

The closest she had come was in the form of Detective Sergeant Roberts who was married with four children and a twelve-inch dick. She had entered into several poking experiments with him all to her full satisfaction and if it were not for his unfortunate marital status she would have snatched him up in a heartbeat. He was particularly adept in anal training and she still tingled remembering his technique unmatched by anyone in her circle of buggery-minded male companions.

But that was then and this was now and she was content to furnish Mister Kitchener with the delights of the flesh that he preferred in exchange for his bed and board and the advantage of a wardrobe of perfectly fitted female finery.

She made a visit to the Museum of Science in a part of the city that could only be described as "mixed" at best. Knowing what she did of the period, she was careful to blend into the background and avoided any attempt to appear sexy or appealing because it was a sure sign that her body was for sale. Her long black dress and the untended tresses framed her unimpressive face devoid of rouge or lipstick. Still, it did not deter the innocent looking males in the line of visitors from occasionally allowing their female flesh seeking fingers from roaming about her personage with hidden delight in the concealing crush. It was so similar to her escapades on the mass-transit systems of the future that she almost felt at home when one of the more determined fellows reached an area of mutual agreement. She pretended to ignore the entire affair with a look of disinterested emotion and they usually desisted after seeing her lack of reaction that was definitely not to their expectation.

She was drawn to the display of mammal and aquatic skeletons that were more detailed than those in her own era probably due to skills lost as such exhibits moved from "hands-on" manual preparation to the wonders of the new electronic age and dependence on mechanical means of gathering data. It was the move from the "human" touch to the "machine age" touch that improved the research but at the same time lost some of that special magic only personal touch can evoke.

Maureen noticed that an older man with a full beard was watching her every movement as if she were some cutpurse looking for prey in the crush of spectators. It was almost a ridiculous thought if it weren't so degrading to her character and her ingrained sense of trying to do the right thing. Eventually, she lost interest in him and thus was surprised when a voice right next to her asked in a perfectly calm tone of voice,

"You are not related to the Lancaster's by any chance are you, young lady?"

She looked around to make certain he was addressing her and not some other person behind her. The last thing she wanted to do was to look foolish in a crowd of strangers.

No, she was the target of the older gentleman's question.

Maureen had to admit the question was one that she had to ponder on for a brief moment. After all, her mother's maiden name was Lancaster and she knew her mother's grandfather came from England. She wanted to blurt out her belief that she might indeed be related to the Lancaster's but some ingrained sense of caution made her noncommittal in her response and she answered,

"I am afraid I am just a daughter of Mrs. Brown, sir. Do I resemble the Lancaster people in your mind?"

He took off his spectacles and cleaned them studiously with a large linen square from his waistcoat.

"I expect you do resemble that family line and that's a fact."

She felt bad about misleading the gentlemen because he seemed a nice sort of person.

"Do you have any pictures of these Lancaster's? I might be able to recognize one of them."

The stronger than he looked gentleman took her elbow and guided her to his carriage sitting nearby and the driver put it in motion without receiving any instructions from the gentleman, which she thought a bit odd, but not suspicious.

Her precipitous tumble into this time period was in stark contrast to her boring life back home in her own era but she did have a sense of loss for her parents and some other close friends who constantly amused her with their outlooks on life and their little dramas that demanded their full attention.

The bouncing carriage jostled her against the gentleman and she was surprised that his arm was so strong and muscular for man of his age and physical appearance. They rolled through a high wall and iron-gate that led up to a huge mansion of imposing stone and imported tile. She was impressed with the wealth that must have been required to raise such an edifice.

She was whisked up the staircase and into a high ceiling white and black tiled lobby with elaborate chandeliers that sparkled in the pervasive light shining through the clear glass entrance skylights. In the hours after the setting of the sun, the candles would be lit for the evening festivities.