The fact that she was willing to touch him was encouraging. More so was the fact that she had spoken openly of what was clearly a taboo subject. Men could engage in sex freely, in fact it was almost encouraged. If a man had sex before marriage it was laughed off as sowing oats. Women were supposed to remain chaste until marriage lest they have the label of having fallen. How were women or men for that matter supposed to gain information?
Some years ago Richard had stumbled over a copy of My Secret Life. One of his patients had gifted him with a box of books, mostly medical in nature however tucked away was a volume of this gentleman's exploits. However, the nature of the book made it hard to get the other volumes. There had been a short lived magazine called The Pearl which hadn't lasted two years before it was shut down.
It was getting late, Isobel went back to the bathroom and put her dress back on. Richard walked her back to Crawley House. While he had told her that she had to tell him what she wanted he decided to go against his own orders and kiss her. His lips applied more pressure than his previous ones had and her hands went to his chest. At first he thought she was going to push him away but she didn't. Her palms simply ran over his chest, learning the topography.
She moaned and Richard felt himself responding to her sounds. Not wanting to scare her he pulled away.
Her tongue peeked out to run over her lips as if to capture his taste and Richard ached to show her the pleasures of the flesh. He caressed her cheek and she whispered, "I liked that."
At this Richard hissed in want, she was responsive and telling him her preferences. He kissed her again, this time slowly and with less fervor. It was she who pulled away and whispered, "Good night" as she turned to open her door.
Her back was to him but asked, "Will you let me see you again?" knowing full well what the answer would be. She turned to glance at him over her shoulder and boldly said, "Yes."
At the hospital Nora noticed a change, Nurse Crawley and Doctor Clarkson seemed to be closer than usual. Nonetheless, her instincts as a woman let her know that they hadn't become intimate. More patients were being admitted with bronchitis, summer couldn't come fast enough to dry out the hills so damp couldn't take hold.
Inside his cottage Richard set his bag down, hung up his coat and hat and began to make a fire. A knock at his door had him rising. Isobel was on his doorstep a bottle in hand, "This is a surprise, I thought I wouldn't be seeing you until Friday."
She brightened, "I come bearing gifts." She said handing him the bottle.
"Glenmorangie" he whispered in awe his eyes widening. "How did you get your hands on this?"
"My secret." she said wickedly.
With him absorbed with the bottle she simply walked past him and went inside the cottage. Finally realizing that his door was wide open he shut the door and went to find some glasses. Instead of the kitchen he went to a small cupboard where he kept his cut crystal tumblers. A fine liquid like this needed to be held in an equally fine vessel. He came back to the front room where Isobel was sitting before the fire. He handed her the glass and watched as her eyes roamed appreciatively over the patterns in the glass.
He sat and watched her slowly sipping and enjoying her gift. She too took a sip to steel her nerves, "I would like to talk, I have some questions."
"Anything, you can ask me anything." He said truthfully.
Isobel put her glass down on a small table and resisted the urge not to wring her hands in her lap. "Did you...Have you ever engaged in self pleasure?"
Richard willed himself not to show embarrassment. It was vital that Isobel ask questions and that he give her honest answers. "Yes I have."
She picked up her glass again, "Is it the same as when you're with a woman or is it different? I've read what that psychiatrist wrote about women... how there are two types of conclusion. I was just wondering if it was the same for men somehow?" She shook her head and took a sip of her drink she was unhappy that she couldn't articulate her thoughts clearly.
"Being intimate with another person feels more intense than being intimate with yourself but it has its place. It's also easier for men for we obviously can see what we have to work with, take matters into our our hand. Most men and I'm including myself, mainly use self pleasure as stress relief nothing more." He said softly.
Richard was certain that Isobel had never engaged in any exploration of her body but he still needed to know for sure. "have you ever engaged in self pleasure?"
She shook her head in the negative and Richard's suspicions were confirmed. "No. Reginald tried on several occasions, touching me and I just couldn't...get there. Since he had no luck I just... didn't. "
She stared down into her drink the light from the fire was making the amber liquid cast a glow on her face. Did she know how beautiful she was? He was overcome by the urge to touch her and before he knew it the words were tumbling from his lips, "Can I touch you again?"
"No." She said and he swallowed thickly.
She put down her drink and stood. He stood as well his intent was to escort her to the door. Before he could move she ran her fingers down his arm. "I want to touch you. I want you to remove your clothes except your underwear and lie down on your bed."
He swallowed again this time his throat suddenly dry. There was no chance of denying her, he simply went to his bedroom to comply. He shucked off clothes and decided to turn down the bed. Instead of lying flat on his back he lay on his front. The sheets were cool against his skin a refreshing contrast after being so close to the fire. He startled when he felt fingertips run down his spine. He craned his head and saw her behind him, she was once again clad in his robe and he found he like the sight. With her shoes off he hadn't heard her approach. Gracefully she climbed the bed knelt beside him. He turned his head back so it was pillowed by the mattress. She began her touch on his right shoulder blade. She traced it with her forefinger before laying her palm flat over it. He sighed and she continued.
"Can you talk to me?" She asked quietly.
"What do you want to talk about?" He murmured before groaning as her fingers found tight muscle and began kneading it.
"What was your first experience like?" She asked.
Richard exhaled a breath, "Truth be told I don't remember much about it. I do remember it being over awfully quick."
Her hands stilled on his shoulders, "Did you enjoy it?"
He turned over onto his side and propped his head up with his hand. He wanted to be able to see her during this conversation. "I think on some level I did but Isobel it was so long ago. What about you? What do you remember about your first time?"
She sighed sharply before murmuring, "Everything, I was waiting in the bedroom wearing only my dressing gown. Reginald came in we shared a laugh. He kissed me, he was wearing a dressing gown as well. We laid down together the gowns came off. He started kissing me and then I became a woman. It hurt but I knew it would I remember thinking that I would be different, that it would change me. When it was all over I didn't feel any different."
She stopped talking and he merely pulled her to him, securing her to him and just held her. Being in close contact, horizontal and full of whisky had them falling asleep.
The next night saw Isobel on the bed clad in her slip as Richard's hands glided up and down her body. She was lying on her back as his palms skimmed over her breasts and down her sides. She used her voice to tell him what areas to stay away from and what area's to concentrate on. He stayed away from obvious erogenous zones to focus on her hidden ones.
It became a ritual of sorts they would come into his cottage, he would strip down to his shorts and she would strip to her slip before donning his dressing gown. They would touch and talk. Once again she commanded him to lie on the bed and he did so. Her hands always began at his shoulder and he relaxed into her touch. Fingers followed along the bumps of his spine and Richard could feel himself becoming aroused at her touch. He surrendered to the feeling and moaned in contentment. Her touches were inflaming and he found himself trying to shift his weight off of his growing erection. He grunted in frustration and her hands left his skin and he held his breath to listen more closely.
"Turn over." Came her command.
Again he obeyed without protest. As he settled on his back he saw that she was not wearing the robe, she was simply clad in her slip. What was more interesting was her eyes, her pupils had dilated. She was just as aroused as he was! He reached for her and she came willingly. He kissed her and pulled her against him. At the contact she moaned and kissed him back. She was in his bed and she was being a willing and enthusiastic participant. Through her slip he caressed one of her breasts she made no sound at this but her hips moved against his. More kisses were traded and the air between them was growing hot. His tongue touched hers and she felt desire pool low in her body. She began making needy sounds and Richard drank it in greedily. His hand wandered down to her hip and he asked, "Can I?"
"Yes" she nearly wailed.
His hand could feel her warmth through the slip. He grabbed the hem and pushed it up over her hip. As his fingers neared her he could tell she was holding her breath. He nuzzled against her collarbone hoping the slight tickling sensation would distract her. When it didn't he moved his body against hers, his cloth covered arousal made contact with her thigh making her gasp. He used this distraction to his advantage and gently touched her. He drew lazy circles against her and she cried out. Her hips canted forward into his touch, mentally cheering his kissed her neck and he increased his speed. Her cries were coming closer together and increasing in pitch. The woman in his arms was hot, flushed, wanton and alive not the depiction of frigidity. Her body was warm against his providing him with much needed friction and he bucked against her. Like teenagers they were half clothed and locked in a passionate frottage. Isobel was gasping trying to force her lungs to work. Richard's fingers pressed down lightly and he watched as the woman in his arms came apart in the first orgasm she had ever experienced. In this modest bed in a small cottage Isobell Turnbull Crawley had just discovered the delights of the flesh and Richard Douglas Clarkson had been the man who had given it to her. Nothing could compare to this, not a million pounds, not a trip around the world. The sight, sounds and the feel of her against him had him chasing after her.