CHARLES CARSON GLANCES OUT AN UPSTAIRS WINDOW TO FIND ELSIE HUGHES IN THE SIDE YARD, TEACHING ONE OF THE NEW HOUSEMAIDS HOW TO BEAT THE CARPETS PROPERLY. HE NOTICES THE FLUSH OF HER CHEEKS AND THE SWEAT UPON HER BROW AS WELL AS THE FACT THAT SHE HAS UNDONE THE TOP BUTTONS OF HER BLOUSE IN THE SUMMER HEAT. WHAT IS HIS REACTION TO THE SIGHT AND WHAT DOES HE DECIDE TO DO ABOUT IT?-CHELSIE-ANON
'Life's simple pleasures…' he thinks as he watches at Elsie taking the carpet beater from the new maid and showing her how to smack it to the old rugs with force. Her hair is coming undone slightly, little ringlets falling in her neck, soft whisps floating from her temples. She has unbuttoned a few of the buttons of her blouse, revealing soft, creamy skin and she is perspiring slightly, leaving her blushing cheeks glistening in the sunshine.
Soon, not now, but maybe a year or two, he will ask her to come with him and she will be beating the carpets in their own lawn flanked by flowerbeds filled with orange and yellow flowers, with tomatoes growing against the wall and he'll go outside to give her a hand, taking the beater from her and teasing her by patting the carpet without any power so she'll grab it back, whacking the thing, the swooshing sound of the reed in the air and she'll be panting and coming undone like she is now, but he won't have to restrain himself. He'll be allowed to put his hands on her hips to turn her and to kiss her deeply, thoroughly and she'll respond in kind.
He sighs, noticing the stirrings of his groin and letting out a defeated chortle. All he can do now is watch and offer her a glass of wine in the evening - something cold and sweet, not the heady wines of winter, but something light and sparkling and he'll offer to rub her shoulders and she'll turn to him gratefully.
He shakes his head, banishing the thought for now, seeing that she has sent her maid away and she has taken over the task with vigour. He has often wondered who or what she is thinking of when she beats the carpets and he knows he is probably better off not knowing. By the looks of things, she won't be finished for a while - the library carpets are big and heavy and attract dust like none of the other carpets and rugs in the house.
Shall he venture into the sideyard? Offer his help? She is still at it it with an energy he doesn't see that often anymore. Her flush is deepening and he can almost hear her breath. He then makes up his mind and leaves his room (he has started to go there each day for fifteen minutes or so, to get some uninterrupted rest - not to sleep, indeed not, but to be quite alone for just a bit without the fear of having his door knocked on - this is why he knows he won't be able to carry on much longer, this is why he knows he should retire soon), quickly making his way down the stairs, taking off his coat and hanging it by the back door and sliding from the corridors to her.
"Need any help with that, Mrs Hughes?" He asks and she smiles at him and she is a vision, so beautiful and he wonders why he has been restraining himself all these years, why he has been so worried they would be caught, because it's not important who knows, not really. What's important is that she drops the beater and takes a step towards him, only to stand on her toes and clasp on to him. All that really matters is the taste of her mouth, the feel of her form and her heart beating rapidly under his hand.
Soon he'll be doing this in his own backyard. It won't be a year. Certainly not two. But soon.
First published on my tumblr - reviews very much appreciated
Prompt fics are different from my regular fics, mainly because they are not beta'd, written in one sitting and because they've obviously been prompted.