A response to the Chelsie-prompt on Tumblr about moving pictures.
"You're going much too fast, Charlie."
This was followed by a deeper grunt, and Beryl Patmore's eyebrows nearly reaching her hairline. She'd only wanted a bit of a mid-day chat with her friend but she'd found her door locked. Now, she found herself both fascinated and horrified by what she heard on the other side of the housekeeper's door.
"Now that's too slow."
"Elsie, please, I know what I am doing."
"For heaven's sake, let me do it."
"No, my hands are larger, and it is mine."
"Ah, there you have it. That's just right."
At that, the accidental eavesdropper had had quite enough. With a small cry of surprise, she turned and nearly fled to the safety of her kitchen, which is exactly where her friend found her some little time later to show off her newest gadget.
Mrs. Patmore regarded the amorous housekeeper with some suspicion. She took another sip of her cooking brandy, and asked, "What's that you have there, then?"
"It's the most marvelous thing," Mrs. Hughes, that is Carson, said, "It's called a picture reel. It just arrived in the post."
The cook regarded it skeptically and wondered what exactly it did considering what she'd just heard.
Mrs. Carson couldn't contain her enthusiasm, "You see. You look right here, and you turn this handle and you see moving pictures. It's just like having a cinema in your hand."
Mrs. Patmore took the contraption from her and watched the small screen in fascination while turning the small handle to see that indeed the pictures did move.
"Now you must be careful to not turn too fast or too slow. If you don't have it just right the picture won't look right. Char-, I mean, Mr. Carson still doesn't quite have the knack."
Mrs. Patmore sighed in relief and began to laugh. That explained what she had heard this afternoon. She should have known her two friends would never do such things here; not that she didn't hope they did do such things, at home, in the dark, with the curtains pulled and preferably where she would never, ever hear them.
Elsie went back to her sitting room and sat down in her office chair with a sigh, leaving the picture reel on her desk.
Her husband cleared his throat from the doorway, "Um, did she believe you?"
She fixed him with what would have been an irritated glare if she weren't actually rather pleased, "She did, but really you must be more quiet, especially in the afternoons."