Chapter 4

Damn, the next to the last initiation and I sensed trouble. Actually, the whole evening had started badly and just seemed to get worse. I introduced myself at the door of the initiate and briefly met the mother. She looked nervous and I wasn't invited in. The father was no where in sight, thankfully. I knew something was really wrong when the young girl I was to escort bounced up to the open door giggling about this being her first formal dance.

As soon as she said that, I looked more closely at the mother and suddenly recognized her as being a society member that had been at other initiations as a witness. She flushed a very bright, red color. Apparently, this was going to be my first initiation where the girl had no idea what to expect. Her mother closed the door gently as soon as the girl stepped through the entry. Even she looked a little surprised.

I debated whether I should tell her what to expect right here or wait until we were well on our way in the coach. The rapidity of the door closing suggested the mother didn't want to face her own daughter until it was all over.

Entering the coach she was dazed and awed at the attention she was getting from her family and others. A fancy coach and a handsome escort to her first dance. She couldn't believe her good fortune. All of this just because she had finished her minimal education.

When we were far enough so that running all the way back home in the dark was no longer an option, I explained the importance that her mother placed on membership in the society and that tonight she would be initiated into that society and not danced around the floor. She started out just looking a little confused. By the time I got to the real purpose, her mouth was continuously open. I had no idea what she thought of me personally, but she must have thought I was trying to take advantage of her. The country bumpkin's first visit to the city sort of thing. A couple of minutes later she was walking beside the coach and I was leaning out the coach door trying to reason with her.

"I haven't even kissed a boy. I have no idea what is going on. My mother wouldn't do anything like this to me. I'm a virgin."

"If you weren't, Miss, they wouldn't let you be initiated in the first place."

"I'll just tell them I'm not a virgin. Then we can go home."

A feeling of deja vu swept over me as I recalled a similar but opposite conversation with Abby four years ago. Abby had thought she could fake the loss of virginity.

"Your mother has told them that you are a virgin and they will check you before the initiation."

"But I'm scared."

"Look, come back inside and I'll tell you exactly what would happen if you change your mind and want to be initiated by the time we get there. Then you'll have full knowledge of the ceremony to help you decide what you want to do."

There was a certain reluctance but she finally got back inside. Instead of my sticking to a clinical depiction of what could happen as I had intended, I lapsed into slightly pornographic rhetorical descriptions. Then within another mile, she had been not only kissed for the first time but had been thoroughly french-kissed. She was apparently in shock and unresponsive to verbal speech. Soon, the top of her dress was at her waist and I was avidly sucking one nipple while gently massaging the other small breast.

By the time we were at the front door to the initiation hall, she was in a trance. I handed her down from the coach and asked whether she wanted to go through with it or go home. Well, maybe I shouldn't have even asked. Let the women decide if she was ready for it. Hell, I'd go along with whatever they decided.

The titular head of this month's ceremony was in a real quandry. Her Highness was not more than twenty feet away in the drawing room having tea. She had made this trip all the way from Buckingham Palace to see what an initiation was like. Having a member of the Royals in the society was very important to both them and the crown. There were definite mutual advantages.

But she was stuck with a girl that had been poorly prepared. The surrogate had unceremoniously dropped it in her lap. Of course, the fallout from a botched initiation would be on her head, not his. She was certainly not going to tell the Queen that she had wasted her time coming here. It had to go on and she could only hold her breath and hope for the best.

I dined and had a glass of wine or two while the society members prepared the girl. I hoped, in a way, that they would stop the initiation. It was unconscionable for a society member to ill-prepare her own daughter. But I was called to the initiation room on schedule.