Sibella paid the cab driver without taking her eyes off of the building in front of her. It was so very clean, and so very much unlike Clapham. This was no third-rate terraced house with six flats to a building. No, this building had only two, and was in much nicer surroundings. The front door was not locked, and Sibella ventured inside.
There was an apartment to her right and a flight of stairs in front of her, leading upward to the second apartment. In his letter, Monty had written that his was Number One, on the ground floor. Stopping momentarily to check her appearance in the mirror hanging on a nearby wall in the entryway, she approached the door to Number One and rang the bell. And when it opened, there was Monty, better dressed than she had ever seen him in his life.
"Monty," she spoke, smiling broadly.
"Sibella." Her smile faded slightly at his tone. It was rather aloof, almost cold. "Do come in." He stepped back from the door, holding it open for her to enter.
Sibella stopped to take in the room as Monty crossed to a brown armchair, leaning against the back of it, looking rather smug."It's wonderful, Monty, I… I'm so happy for you," she said, trying to sound cheerful.
"Things have changed, haven't they?" His tone still held that unnerving coldness, and Sibella began to worry that his feelings towards her had changed.
"And to think-" she began, but was cut off.
"To think, I began life in a third-rate terraced house in Clapham."
"Well. I suppose we're both doing rather well, aren't we?" She was still attempting to uphold a happy attitude. "We honeymooned in Firenze-that's Florence, you know." She was very pleased with herself for being able to pronounce the word in Italian.
"Is it?" He sounded alarmingly disinterested. "Just you and Lionel and all those marble statues. However did you tell them apart?"
"Monty, you are horrid," scolded Sibella. "Oh, Lionel."She stamped her foot lightly in distaste. "You know, I never would have believed that good looks could bore one so soon." Setting down her hat and handbag, she crossed to where Monty sat in the chair.
"I'm afraid good-looking people who are stupid try one's nerves sooner than plain people who are stupid. At least plain people do feel they must make an effort," he said grandly with a wave of his hand.
"Well, Lionel is not only stupid. Oh, he is vulgar,"she spat, sitting on the arm of his chair. She felt something in her recoil at the memories of their honeymoon, at the memory of his hands on her, of him inside her, treating her as though she were nothing more than a paid prostitute, with no say in or opinion on how they made love.
She gasped as suddenly Monty's hands were on her waist and shoulder, pulling her down into his lap. "Let's not discuss your honeymoon, shall we?" he asked, his voice now low and suggestive.
"No," she said with a giggle. "Let's not."
Monty kissed her fiercely, his hands on her back. Their mouths met again and again, each kiss deeper than the one before. Sibella tugged lightly on his bottom lip with her teeth, and he gave a noise that was almost a growl, bringing her up with him as he stood. He pulled her to him by the hips and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he kissed at her neck.
"God, I've missed you," he whispered before capturing her mouth with his again. Without breaking the kiss, Sibella managed to push his jacket off his shoulders and undo the buttons of his waistcoat. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her in order to unfasten the clasps down the front of her dress and throw his waistcoat to the floor. Once her dress lay on the rug, he wrapped an arm around her corseted waist and lowered her back into the armchair. Kneeling in front of her, he first slipped off her shoes and then pushed her petticoat up to her hips. Unfastening garters, he slid each stocking down and pulled them off, tossing them on top of the dress. Pulling the last of her undergarments down her legs and casting them aside, he pushed her knees apart, spreading her legs and settling himself between them. Sibella gave a slight moan in spite of herself, in anticipation of what was to come. With a devilish smile, he kissed the inside of each of her thighs before burying his head between them to taste her.
She bit her lip and rested her head against the back of the chair, feeling her body give in to his tongue. One hand on the arm of the chair, she ran the other through his hair, slender fingers entwining themselves in his brown curls, holding his head where it was. She gasped as he slipped a finger inside of her, which was quickly joined by a second.
"Oh, Monty," she moaned. He knew her so well, knew her body so well. He knew precisely what to do with his tongue, knew just what to do with his fingers, and soon he had Sibella gasping for breath. He savored every sound he elicited from her, worshipping her with his mouth and hand. Before long, he had her shivering with pleasure, moaning his name with increasing urgency. "Monty- oh, God- Monty!" She shouted his name once more and he felt her tighten around his fingers. Her hips bucked up against his mouth as she exploded in ecstasy.
Collapsing back against the chair, she struggled to catch her breath. Pulling away from her at last, he sat back on his heels. The color high in her cheeks, she met his eyes, a smile playing on her lips. He smirked up at her, looking incredibly pleased with himself. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he made a show of licking her off of his fingers and she giggled at him. Standing, he offered her his other hand. She took it, allowing him to bring her up out of the chair. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she held tightly to him as her legs trembled beneath her. She laughed quietly.
"Well," she murmured in his ear. "That's one way to break in an armchair."
"Oh, Sibella," he sounded amused, sly almost, and she knew he was planning something. "You haven't even seen the bedroom yet." He kissed her lips before leading her by the hand across the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind them.
