Chapter 5: Plots and Plans

Corky looked about wildly. Trunks and bags were piled on the bed and the floor. The wardrobe and dresser were open and empty. The knock came again-a light and hesitant rapping.

"William?" called a timorous voice outside.

He cracked the door open and peered through. "Beatrice!"

"You're- you're home early."

"Er, yes," he admitted. They gazed at each other through the narrow opening for a moment.

"There was such a racket," Beatrice said at last. "Is everything all right."

"Yes, yes." Making a sudden decision, he opened the door and pulled her in, shutting it behind her.

She looked about for a moment in consternation. "Oh my! Are you... are you leaving?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes. I, I, I am. At once!"

"But am I- are we never to see you again?"

"Dash it, Beatrice, I, I, I... Here, sit with me a moment?" He seated himself on the bed, and clasped her hands in his. "Don't you see? This is my chance! "

"Your chance?"

"To escape."

Her face fell. Impulsively, he declared: "But I'll come back for you. Er... if you like."

"Oh, William," she sniffled, "hold me!"

Corky took the trembling girl in his arms and she buried her face in his chest, her shoulders racked with sobs. At the contact of her warm and slender body, his libidinous feelings, so recently excited by the exchange he had overheard in the corridor, began to return with renewed vigor.

Unschooled in the handling of such outbursts, he patted tentatively at her dark tresses. "There, there. There, there. You mustn't, er- Oh dear."

At his attempt at comfort, she had squeezed him tightly, and only cried the louder.

"Now, Beatrice," he ventured once more, "you really mustn't-"

She looked up at him, her face flushed and tear-streaked. her full lips slightly parted, her dark eyes wide and shining.

"Oh, you are so lovely," he said impulsively. Their lips met in a long, melting kiss.

When they parted, his heart was hammering, and he gasped for breath.

"Oh, William! " she sighed, and covered his face in a flurry of little kisses, her warm, fragrant breath caressing his skin. They fell together onto the bed, their arms twined about each other, their lips meeting in numberless ardent kisses.

Beatrice tugged Corky atop her and he rolled onto her, thrilling to the sensation of her slender body beneath him.

Her little hands gripped his waistcoat at the base, and moments later she was untucking his shirt from his trousers, and running her hands over the heated skin of his stomach.

As he pushed himself up on his hands and looked down at her, her nimble fingers danced over the skin of his torso, finally reaching his tiny nipples, which she stroked lightly, eliciting a wave of unfamiliar melting sensation in Corky.

He drew back in some alarm. "Beatrice, dear," he insisted, "this isn't right. I know that your mother may have, have, have taught you differently, but in matters of, of, of tender feelings between a man and a woman, it is the man who must take the initiative."

Beatrice withdrew her hands, and, sitting up, folded them in her lap. "Very well, William," she said. "Proceed."

"P-proceed?"

"Yes. Take the initiative. Do your will with me, I shall not resist."

"My... will?" Corky said, with trepidation.

"Yes. Whatever you like. "

"Oh."

There was a long and expectant silence. At length, Corky asked, "Do you have... any suggestions?"

Beatrice smiled warmly. "Well, I am given to understand that some gentlemen enjoy touching the bosoms of ladies of whom they are fond."

"Capital!" Corky exclaimed. "Just the thing." He reached toward Beatrice hesitantly. "Er... how do I er, gain, er, er, access?"

She reached behind her neck and unfastened a clasp there, then drew her amrs from the sleeves of her gown so that it fell about her waist, her dark eyes never leaving his.

He reached out and, with trembling hands, pulled the fabric of her chemise off her shoulders, revealing the faint swell of her bosom capped by her dark little nipples,

"Lovely," he gasped.

"You don't think they're too small?" she asked plaintively.

"Not at all!" His hands reached out and cupped the soft flesh, her tight little nipples erect against his palms.

"Oh," Beatrice murmured at the contact.

Guided by primeval instinct, and by his paramour's recent example, his fingertips stroked the puckered little buds.

Beatrice groaned, and heedless of her recent resolve to undertake a more passive rãle, seized Corky's head and covered his face with kisses. Once more, they rolled together on his bed, gripping each other tightly.

Beatrice pressed gently down on Corky's shoulders, and he lowered his mouth, nuzzling at her soft neck, and then at the delicate skin covering her collarbones. At last he found his way to her erect nipples. With gentle words of guidance and encouragement she urged him to lick and suck at her tender flesh. She raised her pale slender arms above her head and arched her back, and his mouth found its way to the little soft tufts of dark hair beneath her arms, where he nuzzled at her tender, spice-scented flesh, causing her to twist and groan.

After a time, Corky raised his head and once more gazed at Beatrice's prettily flushed face "What shall I do next?" he asked.

Panting slightly, she took one of heis hands, and wrapped about her wrist. "A forceful and impetuous lover," she said, "might guide his sweetheart's touch to the point of his most ardent desire."

At once, Corky brought her palm to his chest, where she could feel the rapid rhythm of his heart through his waistcoat. Beatrice laughed, then averted her eyes shyly. "Oh, William, is'n't there somewhere where my touch might satisfy your longing more immediately?"

As Corky realized the meaning of her delicately-worded suggestion, he found that their conjoined hands were moving slowly toward the distended front of his trousers, though under whose power he could not tell.

They paused for a moment, suspended a bare inch from his aching genitals, before he pressed her hand to himself there, groaning at the exquisite pressure. He watched, trembling, as she deftly unfastened his trouser buttons and drew forth his anxious member, head slick with anticipatory fluid.

She took it in her hand, and it swelled still further at her touch. "It's so hot," she murmured in his ear, voice trembling with emotion, "so smooth. I'm longing to have your lovely thing in my mouth, William darling. Tell me to suck on it, I pray you."

"Oh, Beatrice!" cried Corky, "will you kiss my, my, my-"

But before he could select a suitable noun, she was kneeling beside the bed, her hands urging is hips forward to grant her access. She took the head of his prick between her full lips, and he groaned at the melting sensation, reaching forward to grasp her slender bare shoulders in his hands.

Unbalanced by the motion, his steamer trunk slid off of the bed and struck the floor with an enormous crash, springing open and strewing its contents about the room.

They leapt up guiltily and listened for anu approaching footsteps. After a moment, a rapid tread on the stairwell could be heard. Beatrice leapt up and, casting about for a hiding-place, dashed to the fortuitously empty wardrobe and stepped inside.

As the footsteps grew louder, Corky did would little he could to straighten his garments and order his disarrayed hair.

True to form. Maggie flung open the door without knocking. "Mr. Brandywine," she trilled, "have you seen Beatrice? Mother's looking for her."

"B-Beatrice? I, er-"

"Yes, spindly dark-haired creature, moony stare, no bosom to speak of. Have you seen her?"

"I, er, I do'n't-"

"And why on earth is all your luggage strewn about? Surely you're not going on holiday so early in the term?"

"I er, er, er, I wanted to... to make certain I had'n't lost any of it."

"How simply fascinating," Maggie said distractedly. "And Beatrice?"