The Acquisition of Memories

by BorneToFlow

Embarking on their honeymoon, Charles and Elsie begin to process the events of their wedding day and those leading up to it. A series of internal reflections; lengthy, fun & sometimes in-depth conversations; &, interspersed with requisite amounts of playful holiday fun & honeymoon adult times. From Ch19 rating is a tasteful but strong M. Some S5/6 JF canon is blissfully ignored.

29. Chapter 29- Only Connect

The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 29- Only Connect

Author Notes- I hadn't intended to update with a new chapter for quite a while, but the post-Christmas/ pre-New Year stillness afforded me some time to get a lot of this done. And boy- what a journey it has been! This chapter started with the germ of an idea in one piece of dialogue that I penned a long time ago, and it has taken me close to15,000 words to get Charles and Elsie to the point where they actually speak it to one another! And all for what probably only equate to an hour or so of their real-time honeymoon. It is such a flippant line at the end of the day, too. Crazy! Sorry if lengthy reads are not your thing, but I did not want this broken across different chapters.

There will be more chapters in the distant future- I just don't know when or how many- and I am still doing some present tense editing updates for previous chapters. I am slowly pegging out how I can reasonably cover certain, what I deem as, important emotional events in our heroes lives and so maybe move them to new levels of understanding, growth and connection in this one fiction. Then I will likely call it a day for DA.

Literary references: On the subject of connection- there are distinct pieces of literature that have influenced, to a degree, the ways I understand and have explored these characters- and none more so in this particular chapter than E.M Forster's Howard's End. This chapter's title is a reference to the epitaph of that book and an essential musing from Margaret Schlegel about Henry Wilcox in the novel. I have included that quote at the end of this piece if you are interested. Margaret and Henry are sufficiently different from Elsie and Charles to be highly intriguing in their own right, but perhaps similarities can be still found in their respective counterparts.

I have often wondered what literature has influenced a writer like Julian Fellowes, and I would hazard a guess that Forster, Austen and the Bronte sisters are on the list- and possibly Kazuo Ishiguro with the Remains of the Day too. Thankfully for us, Charles Carson has never subscribed to living a life of quite the same severe asceticism and total adherence to duty alone that Stephens the butler did in Ishiguro's novel does- but I do think a few small similarities may be found between Elsie and Mrs Kenton and Charles and Mr Stephens. Revisit or track down and read these great novels if you have not done so already. The films of both are great too- both starring the ever wonderful Emma Thompson and Anthony Hopkins. I still hope for a version of Macbeth with these two one day- but methinks the time for that to plausibly happen has well and truly passed (Actually- Rickman and Thompson may have been even better- circa the late 1990s). Sadly, we cannot have it all.

I am sure there are many more literary works that influence JF, but these are just a few that mean a lot to me, so I probably see more of them in his work than is actually there! I would love your thoughts about others you think may appear in his style/storylines. Leave it in a review perhaps?

**Warning: I have touched on some Christian rituals imagery in this fiction. It is not my intent to offend anyone of faith, but if you are sensitive to this sort of thing, maybe don't read this.

On eroticism: Imagery that inadvertently emerged in my writing of the NSFW erotica that I ended up presenting here I have had to attribute to the influence of a particular Romantic-era poem. I only realised the connection was there after I re-read and edited my own work, so I have included that poem at the end for your enjoyment, too. It will include some additional notes regarding it.

Also, I will cover a few points about why I have described certain delicate things in this piece in a particular manner. I will keep that brief and do it via a web link only for those who want to follow such an odd thing up- historical accuracy knows no bounds it seems!

But first of all, see if you can guess the poem I was influenced by!

**Warning: So once more- in Chapter 29- hefty internal reflections and some light humour (I hope!) abounds for Chelsie, but it does contain adult content and is, therefore, NSFW. Don't read it if that is not your thing.

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it.

Regards,

BorneToFlow

CECECECECE

From Chapter 28-

You undeniably lucky old duffer, Elsie! She thinks to herself.

"Happy, Elsie?"

"Mmm...Absolutely, my love" she purrs languidly. "You?" she asks back, as she somehow manages to move her leaden legs to hook the eiderdown between her toes and drag it up the bed until she can reach it to then toss it over them both.

"Mmm…Hmm." He mumbles before releasing a large, contented yawn.

"Roll over this way a bit, Love- or you will get cold- the sheets are damp."

"Hmm…" He rolls and replies sleepily, "you'll never hear any complaints from me regarding such a lovely circumstance that brings me back into your arms." It took all the energy he had left just to string what he imagines are somewhat eloquent words together… he is not even entirely sure it actually made any sense. It does not matter, he figures as he yawns again. His last vision is of Elsie shuffling closer to him and wrapping the blankets lovingly around his shoulders as she settles comfortably-sated and sleepy-into his embrace. The last muffled sound he hears is her sweet admonishment to him-

"Quiet, you."

Following her directive, he sleeps with the warm scent of clean soap from Elsie's hair feathering near his face, and with the heavenly musk of their lovemaking rising from their skin and marking a new memory in his subconscious mind of their beautiful and incredibly fortunate life together.

CECECECECE

"Huh!- Ow!"

"Augh!"

In the grey light of the pre-dawn hour, Elsie wakes with a start as she finally rolls away from Charles' and the skin across her breasts rasps as it roughly tears away from his belly and chest. The hot sheen of their passionate lovemaking the night before having stuck them together as sated sleep had claimed them both from within their final embrace.

Charles continues to gruffle and moan but is now quite awake himself.

"Urrrgh…" he groans deeply, his throat parched and voice scratchy with sleep and from the fervent crying out of his love for Elsie not so many hours before. "Ugh… I feel like I have swallowed a hay bale."

"Charming." Elsie huffs back good-naturedly. "Although I can't say that your breath would actually smell much better even if you had done, Love!" she snuffs out, rubbing a tentative hand across the sensitive skin of her sore and reddened chest.

"Grmph … Why thank you, dear wife." He rumbles out. "You know, if I weren't so completely enamoured of you and determined to behave in a somewhat gentlemanly manner …Ouch! …And if my arm weren't in utter agony right now- Ffff" He sucks air sharply through his front teeth and continues haltingly, "Arr...I might be inclined to cast similar dispersions upon you, my love. Ooph." Elsie chuckles lightly at him as he continues to groan like a bear finally roused out of hibernation, "Uugh…But do remind me, Mrs Carson, to never again have a full dinner with wines and not brush my teeth before bed again."

With a concerted effort, Elsie lifts her head from the top of his arm where it has been resting for the last six or so blissful hours as she answers, "Sounds reasonable." Elsie clicks her dry tongue somewhat noisily about her mouth and then smiles at him with foggy love, but with her eyes clouded with quite some concern for him. "Sorry about your arm, Love."

"Ummph."

"Hmm… Anyway, Mr Carson, your current, less than lovely state is more than forgiven based on your most recent behaviours– aand so long as you remind me of similar night time routines when required."

"Ugh," He groans once more. "Els, it is far too early to be negotiating the full terms of our marriage just yet I feel. Gah!…I need water. What time is it anyway?

"Agreed- much too early, Love. The sun's not even up yet." Elsie releases a long sigh. "Old habits die hard for us it seems. Ooo…But I didn't realise the aftermath of lovemaking could be such a… urk… sticky and painful affair." She rubs at the red marks her skin has left on his chest too. "Hmmm… But…I would that say it was all worth it, would you not, Mr Carson?" she asks rhetorically as she traces a neatly trimmed fingernail down the side of his belly and grins towards him.

Even so, and despite her contented state, Elsie does not yet want to admit it to Charles that her legs and other previously underutilised muscles are proving to be quite sore from their recent exertions. Elsie paws uselessly at her dishevelled hair, then intertwines her fingers with Charles's through the back of his hand as he reaches up with his good arm to lovingly brush some fuzzy strands out of the corner of her mouth and place them behind her ear.

"They do say that the darkest hour is right before the dawn, my love." he rumbles out softly, just enjoying gazing at wife and the fact that he had such pleasure in being responsible for her current love-mussed state. His lower back tingles with energy at the thought of it.

He continues to caress her cheek and down to her pearl necklace with his thumb pad reminding Elsie with a start that she should have remembered to remove such a precious gift before falling asleep last night. Her fingers grasp around his thumb to check that the piece did not break. Luckily, she and Charles had rested so solidly and with minimal movement all night long that it was not at much risk of becoming broken in her sleep.

"Hmm…But you are right, my love, being with you like this is all very much worth some small discomforts." His shining eyes smile proudly and contentedly at her, despite the sharp tingling of pins and needles in his deadened arm as the blood races back through his capillaries. "I really do need to get up and see to my teeth, though."

"Hmm… Likewise… and then we might be able to catch a little more sleep before breakfast is due."

As Elsie pushes herself to the side of the bed, she thinks she sees some sort of knowing light cross Charles' eyes at this last statement. But, she needs to concentrate fully on rising with some semblance of grace and coordination that she is still not entirely sure her current naked state and strained joints and muscles can yet afford her. Charles' hand trails down her spine, and he feathers his fingers lightly over her hip before she moves away from him with much more agility than she thought she would manage. Not so out of shape, after all, she thinks happily.

Charles hums appreciatively at her swaying, voluptuous hips as she moves across the room. Oh, today is going to be a very good day! Charles thinks lasciviously as her watches her disappear through her dressing room door.

oOoOoOoOo

Charles flops back into the pillows and sighs loudly and happily as his glazed eyes flicker over the decorative plaster moulding on the ceiling above him. The grey light of the slowly brightening day causes the bumps and recesses of the design to play optical tricks with his fuzzy mind. The effect is meditative, and he spends more time lying in bed than he had intended to as he tries to discern the features of the pattern. As his eyes slowly focus and refocus to bring the motifs on the ceiling into sharper relief, his mind works simultaneously through the play of patterns of light and shade, the movement and the stillness, that form the shape of his newly rendered life with Elsie.

Some features of his new life are difficult to pin down to a specific image- they are still blurry and dreamlike- flitting too close to be able to discern a definite shape to them before they pull away and out of reach so that he cannot grasp any clear meaning from them. He wonders if these notions will ever return and let him know them better. He hopes so. He senses they might be good dreams to live with. But then in other floating flashes, his mind is able to hold onto aspects of this new life more firmly. They appear before him with a sharpness that is no less astounding for the fact that they are also homely and comforting and yet somehow still profoundly gratifying to him. He finds surprising and deep enjoyment in the carving and display of these new patterns of existence onto his being.

For Charles finds that, despite having already lived a lifetime where his very nature has been focused on propriety and refined appearances, he can now most happily accept and, indeed, absolutely loves the fact that Elsie is so comfortable moving around in front of him fully naked. He is proud that she feels so natural and safe with him, for it gives him the added confidence he needs to be able to do the same thing around her. And such a wonderful reclaimed liberty it all is too! - After so many long years of being carefully and discreetly covered when using shared living and bathing quarters with other men. The last time he swanned around completely naked in front of anyone (and certainly never in front of anyone of the 'fairer' sex), must have been when he was a young lad, and he and the other young grooms and stable hands on the estate would sometimes cool down in the creek behind the coach house after a long hot day of work.

What is more, Charles absolutely adores how shamelessly lustful Elsie is when she loves him. He is helpless to prevent the light smile that has been playing at the corners of his mouth all this time from broadening into an overwhelmingly foolish grin as he visualises flashes of her movements above him last night. It is just so wonderful to not have to spend precious moments of their lovemaking time having to reassure her of how lovely and alluring she is. Not that he seems to be able to stop himself from complimenting her as a matter of course anyway. But, that it is more for the sake of the poetry she inspires in him, than it is a case of being a necessity to bolster her own beliefs about herself anymore, nor is it required to add anything to Elsie's intrinsic worth. Charles has always seen and known Elsie to be a beautifully strong and confident woman in all aspects of her life, and he does not want her to feel or behave in any other way during their intimate time together. He is so very glad that all of the fears she had in this regard on the lead up to their wedding have been put to rest so succinctly. It is no great surprise, he realises, for she has always taken most things in her stride quite easily. And, thankfully, they are now completely free to share and enjoy each other fully. Charles could not be happier.

But apart from inspiring intense pleasure in his own body and mind, having physical contact with Elsie's body is now proving to be a genuine comfort to Charles. For him, it is like being in full agreement with her again, and of course, that has always made him feel more at ease in this world full of change. And life could not have changed for Charles more decidedly than it has done in the last forty-eight hours! Living so closely with Elsie now makes Charles feel strong and vigorous enough of mind and body, and heart, to handle whatever life has in store for them. He wonders if she has any idea how she allays so many of his own fears now that they are sharing their lives in this new and very demonstrative way.

He muses on how he finds all of Elsie so utterly delightful and how he cannot seem to stop himself from reaching out to touch her all the time. It is almost as if he needs to confirm her existence in his life all over again- that it is not all just a guttering candle-like dream that will extinguish into a spiralling wisp of dissipating grey before it has had a chance to shine fully and make itself properly known to him. His whole being seems to ripple with new energy every time he is in contact with her- whether it is through the new freedom he has to cover her hand with his own as he escorts her on his arm, or the more intimate caresses to her skin that he feels compelled to use just to let her know that he will miss her as she moves away from him, even if it is only for the shortest of times. Charles never realised that he could be such a tactile person until these last two days, for so much of his adult life has been defined by restraining his actions and not actually touching anyone unduly. He feels so absolutely alive and fulfilled when he can caress Elsie's skin and can see that she revels in their new found intimacy too- the open display of their long held regard for one another. It is as if every contact they have, whether private and deeply intimate, or in public and quite chastely, makes this whole dream more real for him. It steadies him. She is his touchstone. He loves to feel her ever solid presence in his life in this brand new way.

Indeed, it is so much more than just trying to make up for lost time- or the missed moments when they might have touched in the past, Charles believes- even though he does currently house an almost insatiable need to make love with Elsie in their every waking moment. And, if he had the energy of a much younger man, he is fairly certain that he would be doing just that! However, Charles does realise that this feeling of loving and lustful need, this dream, may wane a little, especially as their day to day concerns and work routines return to them at the Abbey. But, he senses that there is still so much more to it all than that- that there are other pleasures, small and large, that they will touch upon together. For now, it is almost as if touching Elsie is a new language that he can use with her- and they both seem to have learnt its cadences so easily. If only all things learnt in life could be this rapidly attained and assimilated into what has existed before, he thinks. But through touch, it does seem to Charles that he now has far more freedom and agency in the world at large that only new knowledge can truly afford a person.

And so now, as the shapings of the plasterwork above his head hold a clearer pattern before his eyes as the light of the morning filters more sharply around the edges of the room, Charles envisions with quite some clarity the ways in which he will be able to show Elsie his affection more readily when they are together in their rooms at the Abbey, and later in their little cottage- retired and free to use their time much more as they please. Daydreams run through his head of how he might continually tell Elsie of his love through this new language of touch that they share, and not necessarily always in the highly charged manner that they have done in these last two days together.

He imagines walking into their cosy shared parlour of a winter's night and seeing Elsie snuggled on their settee in her nightwear, with her legs tucked under her as she reads by the lamplight, and with the firelight affording her smooth skin a lovely flickering and blushed glow. He looks forward to how, on top of still being able to share an evening sherry with her, as they have done so many times together over the years, he will now be able to drop a light kiss onto her delightfully soft hair as he skirts around back of her chair. And then, he will nuzzle freely near her ears after he has set the tray down on their little table and seated himself beside her- maybe making her hum happily to him. Although he imagines that Elsie may just as likely swat him away with her novel if he has interrupted her too much. He smirks happily to himself at the idea of having to work a little harder to bring Elsie undone in his arms with his tender ministrations.

Or, he envisions Elsie in their little garden as he tends to and trims some of (what he hopes will be) their prize winning roses for their table. And maybe Elsie will be hanging out linens in the crisp and bright spring air- working with the breeze to flick the corners of the sheets with a sharp and expert snap as she sets them tautly in place across the line- positioning the pegs to minimise any markings and ensuring the ease of using a smoothing iron on them later- if indeed, any will be needed at all- for, knowing her skills, often they will not require it. 'A stitch in time saves nine.' That must be part of it, Charles muses- But,… perhaps that is why the maid was dashing away with the smoothing iron in the first place- to go and hide it in the hopes of never having to use it again! Charles mind leaps upon this flippant reasoning with quite some glee.

But really, Charles has always loved the precision with which Elsie has achieved this mundane task- for he has seen her do so at the Abbey on countless occasions when she has been overseeing the new washer-girls' training, or whenever the laundry has just needed an extra set of hands. There is right and quiet pride in doing a simple job so well, Charles believes. But really, at its heart, there is just great beauty in the motion- in attending to the ordinary, in attending to the unnoticed and unthought-of things with such discreet focus. And it matches his own fastidious approach to certain, seemingly mindless, tasks- like seeing to the scratches on some silverware that are generally invisible to all others' eyes. To Charles, it truly speaks of Elsie's heart- her scrupulous care for the humble and the small, the modest and the hidden things. Her actions speak to Charles of Elsie's ability to pre-empt later difficulties, and so she acts upon the notion that smoothing out certain things in advance can prevent the development of any nasty wrinkles in the atmosphere later. And, for the most part, and insofar as other people and events can ever be relied upon to behave in the ways you might expect, Elsie has succeeded from day to day.

But unlike at the Abbey, in Charles's imaginings of their time in their little backyard, Elsie only attends to one small set of their own newly cleaned and immaculately crisp linens. And he knows he will feel silly pride about the circumstances that will have required their laundering on that day in the first place. And it is his fancy that Elsie's hair will not be quite as neat as it always is at the Abbey- that maybe it will be held only in a loose and simply caught up chignon- for they will have had no grand intentions of being seen by anyone that day within the village or on the estate… Or maybe, Charles thinks, it will be just a braid, like at night time- perhaps even the very same one from the night before - hanging long down her elegantly flexing back as she stretches up to place the sheets on the line… and wisps of her hair will float loose around he face in the breeze that will also be fluttering about her skirt, making it catch against her elongated calves. Oh Lord! Steady Charles. Breathe, old boy…

But Charles does wonder at how he might be able to surreptitiously approach Elsie if such a vision were to become a reality before his very eyes at their cosy little cottage. He imagines how he might slyly sneak up to her through the fluttering rows of linens. For, it is true that he can sometimes still manage to approach her unheeded at the Abbey when he glides silently into a room she is working in, and she has not been expecting him there. And so, it seems likely that from in amongst the flurry of linens he will be able to surprise Elsie. Perhaps he will be able to make Elsie gasp out loud and giggle in that lovely, youthful and pretty way she has- almost girlish it is- that laughter that fill his heart with pure joy and that he has been lucky enough to see so often over these last days with her. He imagines silently and quickly grasping Elsie from behind, maybe flicking his gardening gloves off at the last moment, before he folds his arms all the way around her waist and then he will fondle at her soft belly and beautiful hips that will have driven him mad with delight just hours before on same sheets she is diligently trying to smooth out- only for them to be rumpled anew, and that Elsie will grumble lightly about having to cycle through her miniature linen rota for their little home so quickly again. A small huff of gleeful laughter actually escapes Charles lips now at all of his roguish thoughts. And finally, Charles thinks, when he has her properly caught up in his arms, he will brush feather-light kisses up and down Elsie's neckline and onto her shoulder- pushing under the loosened collar of her house blouse, making her moan and shiver with delight.

Charles' mouth quirks up again as he realises that Elsie would probably tut and roll her eyes if she could hear all of his sentimental musings right now. No matter, it is a lovely dream- it is the very best of dreams- and surely not too far-fetched as to be a possibility in a not too distant reality, Charles thinks.

But mostly, Charles knows, with quite some certainty, that he will find himself brushing his fingertips to some part of Elsie- over her clothing or onto patches of her bare skin- her wrist, the back of her hand, the skin just below her hairline at the back of her neck- every time he enters a room she is frequenting, just to alert her to his presence. And, despite her generally being quite attuned to his silent comings and goings after all of these years working side by side, he wants to be able to let her know, through this added desire of his to touch and caress her, that she is the most important thing in his mind and heart at that very moment- and in every moment really. He does not want her to ever doubt his love for her. He does not ever want to be so distracted from her that he will not think to alert her of his place by her side in this way. He wants these small physical affections to remind her of his constancy, just as much as her contact with him is, and will always be his own North Star. He feels deep contentment that he can now display his love in this new language between them- to connect this way- and only with her – and Charles just hopes that it will not all just irritate her too much in the long term!

As Charles imagines these small and wordless pleasures that may mark the rest of his days upon this earth, he continues smiling up at the intricate mouldings on the ceiling from atop their love-rumpled sheets, and he knows- he knows- that he is most certainly the happiest and luckiest of men.

oOoOoOoOo

Charles finally shuffles over to the bedside and pushes himself up- a little stiff-backed. He rises slowly and wanders, warmly naked, to his own bathroom to find some much-needed refreshment. Having always shaved twice a day for work, Charles is adept at wielding his cut-throat razor with quite some speed, so he takes a moment time to quickly ensure his and Elsie's ongoing comfort for the day. As he does so, his thoughts turn to how unbelievably blessed he feels to have this wonderful woman sharing her life, and all of herself so freely and closely with him and he feels strongly driven by his want to be near Elsie once again. He decides to pull on one of the hotel's fluffy, white and oversized towelling bathrobes and loosely secures the ties it about his waist- It is rather luxurious. I may have to invest in one for Elsie- before he pads lightly across the apartment to Elsie's side of the suite, his desperately sort-after toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth.

In Elsie's dressing room once more, he stops and leans against the jamb of her open bathroom door, slowly continuing his tooth-brushing routine around the growing and loving smile that seems to be permanently gracing his lips this morning. He silently enjoys the sight of Elsie standing on a towel near her sink to bathe her skin with a cloth. She has wound her hair up and loosely tied it in a knot with its own length to keep it off her shoulders. He never dreamed he would see anything like it on her. Carefree. So very lovely. But Charles will not brush his fingertips to her just yet, as tempting as that notion is- for she has already acknowledged his presence via their reflections in the looking glass, exchanging a loving smile with him that shines all the way to her sparkling eyes.

"Oo are amabsolude vibion, my lub, jubst ike a paimting." he mumbles out around his foaming toothbrush.

"Excuse me?!" Elsie gives him a slightly perplexed look and a cheeky smile as she continues wiping the warm cloth over her calf as her foot rests elegantly on the edge of the bath.

And she has such lovely delicate arches – like a dancer's, Charles realises for the first time.

"Where is my Mr Carson and what have you done with him?" She rolls out in her bright and lilting brogue. "For it appears I may have been labouring under the misapprehension that I recently married a rather upright and distinguished English butler with an air of good manners and refinement about him." Her smile broadens somewhat wickedly as she takes in the sight of him more thoroughly, and relishes the thought of the loving jab she is about to deliver him. "But he seems to have been replaced by a rather cuddly and ruffled looking silver-haired, polar bear-type creature who lounges in doorways ogling naked women and speaking with his mouth full!"

Charles grins and almost chokes on the foam of his toothpowder as he laughs at Elsie's clever wit. Luckily he makes it in one stride to the basin in time to spit and rinse. He most pointedly plonks his toothbrush in the glass on the vanity next to Elsie's as he turns and reaches towards her, grazing his fingertips over the base of her back and feeling the fullness of her hips as she bends forward even further. Elsie chuckles lightly with him, as she sees to the cleanliness of that delightfully pale foot resting up on the edge of the bath.

Just like a painting- his mind repeats- Like a Gainsborough. And in a flash, he knows that his dream of picnicking with Elsie and lying with his head in her lap while they read poetry to one another in the dappled light of afternoon will most likely come true on this week away with her. He is overjoyed at the thought of it- courting her in reverse- as is their way it seems. And that particular notion just couples so wonderfully with the classically beautiful sight she now presents him with.

"I will have you know, pretty Elspeth, that this well-loved and somewhat rumpled 'polar bear' as you so indelicately put it, happens to retain at least some of Carson's positive attributes," Charles bends to nuzzle at the back of her neck, making Elsie hum appreciatively. "Hmm…," he concurs as he smiles against her skin, "in that he only ever ogles one particular, and eminently beautiful naked woman, whom he is lucky enough to call his lovely lady-wife. She is a most singular work of art." And with that, he guides her upright and turns her towards him to fully capture her lips in a fresh mint and warm clove flavoured kiss.

"Mmm… Wife-of-mine" he mumbles against her lips, almost possessively. He gives her another peck on the lips then looks hungrily into her eyes and speaks in low and heartfelt tones to her. "I love that you feel no need to cover yourself up in front of me Elsie-love," his voice is husky as he continues with the utmost honesty, "I love how confident you are, Mrs Carson- Elsie-Elspeth-Els- Mrs Hughes…every one of you- every version of the woman I am still learning new things about every day- every single facet," he pauses to kiss her, "mmm… and part of you." He sighs out heavily into the crook of her neck and then murmurs against her sweet and fresh smelling skin, "I love your passion and your confidence. I always have. Did you know that?- Even when it has sometimes vexed me thoroughly." Charles continues to brush kisses up to her ear, making her moan and stretch her neck to allow him greater access before she sighs disappointedly when he moves away to give her another quick peck on the lips. Then he finishes light-heartedly, "And, if I could have things all my way, pretty Elspeth, you would never wear another stitch of clothing ever again when we are all alone in our private little cottage- someday soon," kissing her deeply once more.

"Well now," she gasps out a little breathlessly as they break away. "Carson, Mr Carson, husband-o'-mine, Charles, …a chagair" she continues, rolling his names out lovingly across her tongue, " … all of you- up to and including Mr Archimedes!... It just so happens that I do feel very comfortable in my own skin when I am around you." She continues more seriously, "And your discerning and appreciative eye, as you would put it, really does mean an awful lot to me, you know that, don't you Charles?" Elsie then snakes her arms around his fluffy cotton covered belly to pull him even closer to her as she looks up into his glowing face. "Hmm…my man… I feel like… well… I am not quite sure what it is I feel like, really. … I guess I feel as if I… I do not have to be so 'trussed-up' and 'in-line' anymore- not when we are together like this, a chagair. It is a wonderfully freeing feeling, don't you think?" Elsie quirks a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Mmm-Hmm…I was only just considering the fact that I have not wandered about so freely since I was a lad swimming in the creek after working in the stables all day. I am rather pleased I get to do this sort of thing again before my time is up… and that it is with you alone, my love."

"Well, it not a liberty I have ever had, Love. It is completely new to me, I must say. I am afraid my youthful freedom was probably tempered, to a far greater degree than yours, by my feminine status … and by the Kirk's teachings of course. Gosh, even before I carried my chatelaine, I always waited until all the other girls of whichever house I worked at were in bed before I ventured to bathe more privately. It was a relief when I was finally assured of having the bathroom to myself, and I controlled all the housekeeping keys at the Abbey."

"Well then, it is no wonder you carried some fears about all these things before we married! I could never have guessed at such things, Elsie…. But… well…did you never spy yourself fully in a looking glass, my love? Surely you would have seen some positive attributes in such a way."

"Well… maybe I would have when I was younger- but really, I have rarely had access to a full-length mirror in such a way all my life… and then after a certain age, and with no recourse to have anyone notice me in such a way…and what with me only getting older and older… I guess I just sort of…stopped looking… and especially after my surgery… it just seemed to be a painful exercise that I saw no point in putting myself through… so I stopped seeing, I guess."

"That makes me very sad for you Elsie-love, for you have always deserved to feel yourself to be the beauty that you are. BUT- true to form, my darling," he adds more brightly, "you seem to have taken these new conditions all in your stride quite easily, and," he continues in a slower and more seductive tone, "I for one am mightily glad that I played a small part in opening your eyes to yourself- to the beautiful truth of you- and I will be eternally grateful for the fact that you have adapted to all of this freedom so readily, my dearest love." Charles intersperses his next words with kisses that run along Elsie well-defined collarbones and make her moan into his ear again. "…very…very…glad…indeed…Mrs…Elsie…Hughes." Delightful! He thinks dizzily as he too releases a longing moan, against her supple neck.

" … Ooo… Mr Carson" She shivers happily as she squeezes him more tightly in her arms and Charles continues lavishing her décolletage with hot kisses. "And I… Mmm…yes- right there Charles…must say… hah!... that I am very glad you-hoo. Oh! …-have specified the times and places-aah, mmm…you w-isssh to see me-hee!...oh yesss!... thus ahh- attired. Oh God, Charles!" she pulls his head up to plunder his mouth with her own, moaning hotly over his sinuously moving tongue. But all too soon she feels she just has to push him away. He looks bereft. Oh!- But, he will keep…, she thinks with happy fire in her chest and belly. But he really is far too distracting!–for Elsie has not quite finished bathing yet. "My gosh, Charles!" she pants out heavily. "Imagine if you insisted upon such a state of undress at any time we might be alone at the Abbey- what with all the interruptions we are accustomed to there!"

"And we'd neither of us ever get any work done, to be sure." he somehow stutters out after that amazing kiss she just graced him with has left him unsteady and breathless. "Besides," he growls out with darkened lust still flashing in his eyes, "I do not intend to share you when you are in this state, nor will I share any of the particular pleasures that tend to accompany it with anyone else at all- ever. You will find that I am a little possessive of you in this regard, Mrs Carson. And I am selfish too- for I am not one to share my own affections so widely, either. I do hope that you realised that when you married me, Elsie?"

"You are far from a selfish man, Charles. In fact, you are the most giving man I could hope for. But I too do not intend to share you with anyone else. Have I not already claimed you as MY man?"

"I want nothing more than to always be your man, lovely Elspeth," Charles states seriously as he kisses her lips once more.

"Well then, we are in complete agreement, for it is exactly how I would have it too, my dear Mr Carson- to be your woman." She traces her fingernail along his delightfully smooth, freshly shaven jawline and speaks huskily into the 'v' of his exposed chest. "Mmm…Well,… at least to be the woman that I can be when I am alone with you, and that only you will ever know me to be. So," she states firmly as she looks up brightly into his eyes, "I believe I can live with your slightly possessive bent in this regard- Agreed?"

"Oh yes please, Mrs Carson," he groans out as he holds her ever closer "God, how I love you, Elsie," he mumbles as he bends and nuzzles into her neck again.

"Hmm…" she hums happily as she turns his face to hers and kisses him firmly on the lips, and then on the tip of his nose before she turns away to lift her other leg to the edge of the bath to complete her ablutions.

As she moves to rinse out her washcloth in the basin, she sees the remains of Charles' foamy spittle floating on top of her soapy water. "Urr! Well, it is certainly the truth that this large grumbly polar bear-man I have married is a rather uncouth creature who still requires a little house training!" She releases the plug and proceeds to refill the sink with fresh warm water.

"Uncouth!" Charles squeaks out in an unusually high key for him "Uncouth! I will have you know that I pride myself on being the very epitome of couthness."

Elsie scoffs at him, "Are you sure 'couthness' is even a word, Charles!" and she cannot help but chuckle at his display of mock offence. "But, if I am to be completely honest, I am rather sweet on this new husband-'o-mine, and based on your recent assertions, I do believe that you, Sir, are once more decidedly overdressed in comparison to me. So come now, Mr Carson," she states firmly as she pulls him back towards her by the tie of his bathrobe, "let's get you freshened up, hmm?" Then she walks her fingers up through the small patch of chest hair she can access and presses her index finger into the cleft of his chin. How did this small gesture become my new favourite pass-time, she wonders as her free hand unties the knot at his waist and she speaks lustfully to him, "For I have plans for you this fine morning before we must leave, Mr Carson."

Charles groans audibly "Ooh…yes pleasse, Mrs Carson." As Elsie's hands slide inside his robe and move to trace lines on his lower back and then up and down the backs of his thighs. He audibly swallows the lump that has form in his throat, and he feels parched for the life-giving water of her love once more. "Shall…shall I just reach for the cloth then, Mrs Carson?" he manages to stumble out as she begins to overwhelm his senses with the feather-light movement of her fingernails over his lower spine and buttocks- actions that he had never visualised happening between them- not even in his sweetest dreams of her with him. How remiss of me! Why could I not have imagined this wonderful state of affairs? He is beginning to feel a little light-headed with it all.

"Och noh, thank you, Mr Carson." He takes in a sharp breath at the sound of her brogue thickening to that level. It is round and lush and oh, so sensuous and now he is most decidedly feeling light-headed. "I believe this is something I have to do for myself" Elsie states brightly as she pushes his robe off his shoulders and bundles it up a little to toss onto the free-standing towel warming rack that graces her bathroom. As she turns back to him, he grasps tightly to one of her wrists.

"Please don't ever say that again, Elsie," He whispers thickly to her, and his eyes show a sting of pain that he just cannot contain, and he will not hide it from her either- even in this moment filled with playful desire. Her eyes flicker and fill with uncertainty and instant tears of naked vulnerability, not yet realising what she has said that could possibly have upset him so quickly. He lifts the hand he clutched onto as he crashed out of their sensuous dream-life and into the shocking reality of the painful memories he had thought had been laid to rest already. He rests her palm over his cheek, leaning his head into it as his other hand squeezes firmly to her shoulder. "Please, Elsie," he implores her with his sad and fearful eyes drilling into hers, "do not ever feel you must do anything on your own again. I am here." And as his hand slides off her shoulder to brush over the scar on her right breast she finally remembers and understands what she has said. Charles' voice cracks when he sees the pained recognition in her eyes. "I…I was so frightened that I would never see you again, Elsie-love, and I was so very scared for you. I wanted so very much to be there for you, and to hold you through that time- once I knew that you were so ill- ….even …even though I knew that it could never have been my place to do so with such a private matter back then. But,… please know that I wanted to hold you so very much back then, a chagair,… and that I do not ever want to be shut out and left on the outside like that again." His eyes are swimming with the memories of the pain of that time. He cannot seem to stop it all as he turns his face into her hand and kisses deeply into her palm. "I want to feel these things for you, Els- with you. I do. All of it. And it scares me sometimes- just how much there is- how big it all is …but…but… we are in this together, my Elsie. Please don't ever feel you need to protect me from your pain. Promise me." A single line of his tears trickles out from under her palm and fall coldly upon his chest.

"Oh Charles," Elsie whispers through the lump that has formed in her throat. "I am sorry I hurt you so." She had no idea he still harboured so much pain from that time. "But, a chagair, I have already promised you." And she curls the hand on his cheek into a light fist so that she may brush her shiny wedding band across his grief thickened lips. Charles closes his eyes and two more tears press out from beneath his lids to fall onto the backs of her fingers as he presses his lips to their gilded promise- the only piece of clothing they currently hold between their naked bodies. "Charles, my love, I knew you wanted to help me then.… I did know. And it meant the world to me. And when I heard you singing for me after I knew my results… A Graidh, it…it was like my heart could finally start beating again after all of those grey months of waiting… waiting for some sort of release back into this world or onto the next. I hated not knowing."

"You…you heard me singing, Els?"

"Yes, a chagair. And it was bright and beautiful and happy, and I could not contain my smile. And I so wanted to throw my arms around your neck right then and there and just laugh and cry all at once with you, and to kiss you on the cheek for being such a darling man and my friend who cared so very much for me. And don't even think that I won't be doing just that right now."

And so she does. Quite thoroughly- until even Charles is laughing and crying all at once as he lifts her small frame from the ground and into a massive bear-hug. But mostly, they just dissolve into joyful laughter and increasingly deeply shared kisses in gratitude to the world and each other for the simple fact that they are alive and together fully for each other at last.

When finally Charles releases Elsie, and she has her feet firmly planted back on the bath mat, he rests his forehead against hers and sighs out long and shuddering breath.

"I don't know Elsie, you must think that you have married the most terribly sentimental and blubbering old fool. But I just cannot seem to contain anything that I feel for you at the moment- every thought and sensation and memory – they all just seem to overwhelm me…and … and they just burst out of me in the most undignified manner and at the most unexpected and inopportune moments…and then you keep having to dry my eyes and buck me up again it seems."

"Charles." She says it quietly- like a solid tethering point on a pier- from whence she can guide him back into them from inside the storm of himself. She caresses his damp cheeks. And Elsie realises that as much as she has needed Charles' appreciation and open praise to reflect back what she had long lost sight of, and to show her those things that she had never really seen within herself in the first place with regards to her physical life and sexual confidence; equally, she now needs to put to rest his lingering fears about his own emotional life and worth- to quash his terribly British reticence to claim fully his right to express the range of his feelings and to share them freely with her when he needs to.

"My love, I am so incredibly proud and humbled that I have a man in my life who feels things so very deeply. You have often shared so much of yourself with me, Charles, especially after I goaded you about Alice- and I do love you so for it. I do. And in comparison, I must appear somewhat of a hypocrite, for I have kept far too many secrets from you sometimes. I have not been nearly so open with you as I could have been… and, I…I guess at times I was trying to protect your feelings, but if I am truthful, I was generally making a grave mistake every time that I did shut you out- like with Anna and Green… My! How we fought then!… Another loathsome time in all our lives…Was it not?" she asks rhetorically. "But Charles-love, I really do feel so very proud and …and…content… I think that is what it is…content-oddly enough-… that I hold your confidence and that you feel so safe to be this way with me now- tears and all. So please do not apologise for it, anymore, Charles-love, for I want you to share your pain with me too, you should know that- just like Anteros. Remember?"

Charles just nods lightly against her head with his eyes closed as he focuses on her hands drifting gently over his face.

"Charles-love, because of your life's work, much more so than mine, and because of you being such a quintessentially British man too, I guess,… it has all kept you 'trussed-up' emotionally, so to speak. But, I do not want you to always be ashamed after you have shared your fears or any of your grief and tears with me- nor any of your other feelings that may rise up for you- no more than you want me to be ashamed of bathing openly in front of you… or of holding lengthy conversations in the bathroom stark naked with you, for that matter!"

Charles chuckles at this state of affairs and squeezes her ever more tightly about the waist.

"But Charles, this is important…" And she sighs out at the fact that she has to admit to this flaw of hers, but he deserves nothing less than her reciprocation of his complete honesty with her. "Love, I know I may have jabbed at you in the past for trying to take on the role of the poets…but I was wrong to do so. I say things sometimes, you see- flippant things in passing- when I walk in on you during work- all in a hurry- and I just catch snippets of things and sometimes I just don't know the full story, and I throw out glib words that may not respect who you are and what you are trying to deal with. Please forgive me- for I do so want you to always find the words for what you feel- just as you did now. I do want to hear you, my man…"

"There is nothing to forgive, Els. I don't mind so much your pointed jabs and you ribbing me sometimes- it is just your sharp mind sparking- which is another part of Elsie that I know and love- and besides, it does stop me from taking myself too, too seriously."

"My love," Elsie whispers as they share another slow and tender kiss. "But you know Charles, you really do have a very lovely way with words- you should know that- no matter how much I have teased you about it… And, in fact…" She finishes a little sheepishly, "…in my head these last days, I have actually started to refer to you as my 'poet-lover'."

Charles' eyes flicker in some surprise at her and then his mouth quirks into that adorable and boyishly proud closed-mouthed smile that quirks across his cheeks and reaches right to his eyes- and that Elsie so very much loves to see.

"…And Charles, I just adore how you feel and show and say what is in your heart with me now. Hmm…besides which… I… I just love your voice, my man… it…it does things to me that…that…" She sighs out a heady breath, "…well… surely you have grasped exactly what it can do to me, my poet-lover," she watches as Charles' face opens up even further with ill-contained pride and joy. "… and…well!- Let us just say that I now have many new reasons for asking you to join the choir and sing with me which that the church had best know nothing about. Charrles- my man. ….Now. … Come. …" and she seems to sing out this last directive to him as a siren would call a sailor onto the rocks of an otherwise safe harbour. But with Elsie, she guides him only into her safety and warmth.

A wicked glimmer crosses Charles eyes as he finds himself wrapped up in the reality of his desire filled visions of Elsie and her beguiling tones once more. As Elsie takes him by the hand she still holds and moves him to stand more fully on the bath mat, an idea based on her desire for his voice and his touch has planted its seed within Charles' mind and he smiles slightly at the thought of it as Elsie wrings out the washcloth in the basin of fresh warm water. And Charles knows that he must tell Elsie of his other plans soon, but then she is placing the warm cloth against his tear-stained cheeks, and she lifts his hand to cover hers as she gently guides the cloth over his face.

"Together, a chagair. I am here." she says simply.

oOoOoOoOo

Elsie takes her time carefully cleaning Charles' skin, moving from his face to his neck and his broad shoulders that have carried so much of life and his grief so quietly and steadily over the years. She moves down over his chest and belly, and all the while, she dusts loving kisses across him in all the places where the thin film of warm water on his skin is prickling, almost making him itch, as it dries in the cool air of the bathroom they now share. She intermittently refreshes the towel throughout her quiet journey across his skin, his hand always locking over the backs of her fingers each time she returns to him. And so, what Elsie's had envisioned as her chance to drive Charles wild with wanton desire just moments before, has been transformed into something slow and reverent and poignantly beautiful for them both, as together they ensure that Charles feels cleansed of any shame he has felt for ever feeling life so strongly and letting it all show. He is in awe.

Once Elsie has cleaned down each of his arms, she moves them both to the sink to refresh the washcloth once more. She stands within the circle of his arms, her back pressed to his torso and he watches, silently mesmerised, as she holds his hands in hers and slowly and methodically tends to each them- as if before a healing baptismal font- first running the floating cloth over and between each finger, then turning his palms uppermost and using her thumbs to massage and trace over each of the major lines on his palms. And when, once more, Elsie sees the silvery scar on his flexor muscle from the glass he crushed when he fretted over her health her head tilts slightly to the side, and she blinks slowly to clear the pooling water from her eyes. Then, she places a kiss to her own thumb pad and presses it firmly into their memories before she interlaces her fingers through the backs of his own and squeezes her fingertips firmly into his palms- her nails biting ever so lightly into his flesh. Then she turns his palms uppermost once more and repeatedly lifts and trickles water from her own cupped hands into his open palms, washing clear the lingering traces of his pain from that time. The scars may well remain, but the wound is now properly stitched up and healing all the better for the pain of it having been shared with her. Charles draws a shuddering tear filled breath in from the morning warmth of Elsie's hair. Such beauty- such as he has never known.

"Let's see to the rest of you now, Charles," she whispers to him as she guides him to turn his back to her. Elsie continues her steady and silent worship over his shoulders and back. Moving so slowly, Elsie feels she is able to see all sorts of wonderful secrets of her man revealed to her for the very first time. She lingers at a scar that cuts across his shoulder blade. It is obviously a very old one, for it looks to have been stretched thin over the years as he has grown in stature- almost as if he had to grow into in order to carry it well. It is delicate and shiny and smooth and baby-soft under her damp fingertips. She is surprised that she has not felt it yet when they have been together, for it is from what must have been a very deep, gouging injury. But then she sees some of the recent red crescents that her own fingernails have rent upon the skin of his back these last days, and she realises that she must have been rather too distracted to have noticed much else at all! Still, Elsie wants to know, so she quietly asks, "Charles-love, what happened here?"

"Hmm?" Charles slowly rouses himself from the trancelike state he had floated into under Elsie's tender attentions to his skin.

"This scar, Love." Elsie continues to trace a gentle fingertip back and forth over its length. "What is it from?"

"Oh, that… I'd almost forgotten I even had that. Umm…well, I must have been about seven or eight I think. I think I was distracted- probably gadding about and impatient to get to my favourite part of the day- feeding the horses some treats after I got back from morning school. I must have forgotten what my father was always harping on to me about- 'Dooant nip on lakin' ta close ta someone swingin' on eur pitchfork' - or words to that effect."

Elsie cannot hold back her laughter. She has never heard Charles drop into the broad Yorkshire accent he must have grown up around. It is completely incongruous to her.

"Good Lord, Charles! You are lucky I have spent so many years dealing with Yorkshire tradesmen, or I would never have understood a word you just said!- And I thought my accent used to be broad!"

"Well, I didn't keep speaking that way for much longer when I went to Ripon Grammar- or after I became a hall boy- not when I knew I would stay in service inside the Abbey in some form or another. I heard the ways the upper staff spoke, and I knew pretty quickly that I wouldn't get far if I always sounded like a stable hand."

"You must have been a serious and dedicated lad from a very young age then, Charles."

"Well, not so serious that I didn't lark about the stables so much that I ended up copping a decent wallop from a swinging pitchfork. Anyway, Els, I don't imagine you any less serious when you went into service so young."

"No, I guess not. But it is a wonder you weren't killed, you silly boy." And she kisses along the deep scar with mothering tenderness. "It could have gone straight through you, or been your head, … or you might have ended up with lock-jaw." *

"I guess I've never thought of it that way much. I do remember a clear moment of stillness, though- almost like I was hanging suspended in the air for a few heartbeats. It did throw me quite a ways across the barn. Must have been the shock I guess. And I recall Dad being livid with rage at me… Yes… Makes you shiver, though, doesn't it, Els?- to think how easy it is to lose all of life in just one instant, hmm?"

"Well… I would much prefer not to think about you not being here, Charles, thank you very much." And she kisses once more to the gouge on his back before moving to clean the lower half of his body- now running the cloth more firmly over his muscular thighs and down to his calves. "And your Da was just scared for you Charles, you were all he had left after your Mam died, remember that, Love. Hmm… it is funny how we have changed ourselves though isn't it, Charles."

"I guess so... But I don't think it has been in a bad way at all, do you, Els?"

"No… I don't …and I guess at least these older things aren't wholly lost to us- they are just rarely put on show, that's all" And she chuckles lightly from her position behind him, and at the view it currently affords her. Elsie takes the liberty of placing a kiss onto Charles' lily-white bottom, taking him quite by surprise and making him gasp and then giggle- if it can really be said that Charles Carson is capable of producing such a sound. Then Elsie stands and wraps her arms around his belly from behind. "But I like that the sound of Yorkshire is still a part of you, a chagair- Ha!- perhaps you could sing me some bawdy tunes!" and she laughs out loud again as she thinks about it.

Charles just groans audibly, for he can feel Elsie's breasts pressed firmly against his back and her nipples moving over his skin as she giggles. He quickly turns from within her arms and uses his thickest home-born accent, "Cüm 'eear, lüsh waife-o'-mine," before he gives in again to the desire they both felt earlier, and he kisses her thoroughly, leaving them both breathless and staring at each other with lust-darkened glee. "We'ed best be abaht thy plans for dis mornin' yüng lass, if we arunt ta be interrupted by um pesky maid wi' eur breytfast trolley."

Elsie slaps him playfully on the chest.

"Och! Stop it, Charles, I am not sure I actually find your accent that beguiling- you sound a little too much like Jos Tufton for my liking!"

"Urrk… Fair point, Lass."

"Besides," Elsie continues seductively as she moves her hand slowly down from his chest, tracing a single fingertip lower and lower and causing a shiver run across Charles' shoulders and around to his collarbones, "I haven't finished washing quite all of you yet, Mr Carson."

"Well then, Mrs Carson," Charles breathes out shakily, "Perhaps you had best be about it."

And with that, he clasps her hand in his and turns her back to the basin with the now cold cloth and works with her to rinse and wring it out again. Then he steps back and pointedly relaxes his hands, bringing them to rest near his bare thighs, much as he would if he were actually sporting his full morning livery in the breakfast room at the Abbey. And to Elsie, he still somehow manages to look incredibly stately and dignified, despite his most obvious state of naked arousal. It makes her skin feel tingly all over and she gleefully takes this chance to unsettle him a little as she ducks down with surprising speed, her hair brushing quite by accident across his hardness as she moves to wipe over the top of his right foot, before slowing down quite markedly as she draws the warm cloth firmly up the front of his leg as she rises up in front of him, holding his gaze with something that can only be described as wicked-innocence gracing her clear eyes. Charles feels slightly dizzy as the blood drains from beneath his lust reddened ears and he feels the practised half-lock of his knees that normally holds him still and to attention at work beginning to weaken. A shuddering and a delighted sigh escapes his lips as Elsie's fingers swirl with the rapidly cooling cloth around to his inner thigh and then traces to one side of his body along the v-line of the muscles that runs from the top of his leg towards his hip bone. Such a delightfully carved shaping, Elsie thinks. So very masculine. Filled with promise.

Charles' eyes widen darkly as Elsie turns to refresh the cloth once more and he realises that she will trace a similarly tortuous path over his left leg, and he also finally registers that the cloth she is using has already followed those same paths, and so very much more, over her own sweet body. The vision is one of the most intimate and erotic things he has ever imagined.

As Elsie starts the slow, warm and wet path from his toes up to his thigh this time his knees actually do start to sway, and he needs to reach for her firm shoulder to steady himself. His grip perceptibly tightens as she plays beguilingly slowly up that angled path of his muscles towards his hip, and then back down through his thick curls to the top of his manhood. His breath is escaping him in short gasps and groans. Elsie plays her fingertips lightly through his soft hair and over the top of his arousal. Her delicate touch is in such sharp contrast to the pounding hardness he feels driven towards whenever he is under Elsie's loving command of his body. They are both aware of the visible beating of his heart, moving rapidly and strongly inside his deep chest as he pants faster and his head feels that it is swimming through ether.

"Els," he somehow manages to gasp out, "Hah…ah…" He gulps audibly. "Els,.. pleasse…you need to finish so we can move this- if…if… oh God… you don't want… Wah! Ha-ah!…oh …ooh!…th-this to end with me in the hospital with my head cracked open from the tiles." He manages to rattle this last part out very quickly as he feverishly draws another gasping breath.

"Well then, Mr Carrson," she teases him with her purposely thickened brogue, still running the backs of her smooth fingernails up and down his length and dropping her hand down every so often to cup him and then brush the rounded weight of him over the back of her hand, "I suggest you partake of your butler's prerogative and seat yourself before anyone else in the room does."

Charles almost keels over then and there as he imagines Elsie seated before him in this state.

But Elsie guides him in time to the small chair the hotel has set in the bathroom, which she first covers with a fluffy towel for him. He plonks down in a rather unceremonious fashion but keeps his enraptured eyes on her every sinuous movement.

Elsie returns once more to the sink to rinse the washcloth in the warm water. Elsie kicks the floor towel in front of Charles' chair as she returns to him. Her breasts hang full and freely at his eye level, and he licks over his lips in desperate anticipation of them coming closer to his wanting tongue. But he mewls out a slightly frustrated sound as he realises Elsie has other plans. He could reach out and grasp for her, he knows that, but there is something so very much more exciting about letting Elsie come to him in her own slow and special way right now. Restraint… I can be quite good that! Use restraint, Charles old boy. Breathe…. Charles' hands grip white-knuckled onto the edges of the chair, and his hip muscles are quivering as he desperately tries to hold himself in one place for her.

Oh dear God!

She is leaning towards him, and her hair is tickling over his cheek as she whispers with hot and low breaths into his ear- "I've not ever had the pleasure of doing this before, my Charles. Please tell me how. Show me how." And there is no trace of embarrassment in her voice for her lack of experience, just an innate sense of confidence that Charles himself will find all of her actions completely acceptable and overwhelmingly seductive in this moment.

He gulps audibly and groans out against her collar bone as his head drops into the warmth of her shoulder and hair "Oh Els-ssie…" He nips and licks along her collarbone and groans even lower as he is compelled to look up again into her searching eyes when she places the warm cloth over his length and then grasps his hand to place it on top of her own so that he may guide her.

"Show me, a chagair" she whispers again.

Charles shudders and somehow manages to still his fluttering hand as it clasps over hers. He slowly starts moving her hand with the warm cloth over himself. It all feels cool in comparison to the heat surging through him in this moment of divine cleansing. His breathing is growing ever more rapid, and he gasps as he takes her hand to gently rub beneath himself to ensure his cleanliness for her there. Blood has returned to burn red across his face, but shame is the last sensation that he feels as he recognises Elsie's own, almost squirming excitement at being able to touch and hold him in this way. My wonderful wife!

"Elss.." he gulps out, "I…I…mn-not n-normally in this sort of a state w-when I d-do this m-myself."

"It does not hurt you, does it?" she asks with quiet and genuine concern.

"Oh no!… No…Oh!..." he stutters out as she takes a little more control and gently moves the cloth back to his ever hardening length before squeezing him a little more firmly in her loving grip, slowly gliding long strokes over him. "Augh.. F-far from it, Els… S-so so good-Els…But j-just be.. be careful near th-the end… Maybe without the cloth there- j-just with w-water f-from your … your ha! han! Ah!- f-fingers."

He finishes on a higher note as he shudders in anticipation at this thought and then he shakily controls her hand to pull back on his skin to show her what he means. He genuinely feels that he may pass out in light-headed bliss when he sees the look of care and understanding in Elsie's hungry eyes as she bites at her bottom lip before her tongue unconsciously flicks out to remoisten it. Oh! Thank you, God! She really does love this too!... Just breathe, Charles…Breathe…

Elsie slips away to freshen the washcloth and returns with a small amount of clear warm water scooped into her cupped hand so that she may tend to Charles's needs. Charles watches Elsie's every move with almost painful gratitude in his heart as she kneels before him on the bath rug to continue her devotions to him in the clear light of the warm summer morning.

And for her part, Elsie is completely fascinated by the striking beauty of her man. Continuing as he has shown her, Elsie delights once more in the elegant design of her man at his most natural and proudest. He appears as a wonderful and flowering and exotic fruit to her- smooth and silken to the touch as she draws him back like the freshly budded petals of a crocus- over all of that exceptional and full firmness- before he blossoms fully to reveal his deeply coloured and shining treasure beneath.

Charles growls out an almost panther-like low rumbling purr from deep within his pounding chest as Elsie carefully washes his most sensitive, lush and curved fullness- rolling and caressing him into the miniature pool she has formed in her cupped palm, before letting the remaining water drip over him like a slowing waterfall that vanishes into an engorged and misted stream- following the path of their earlier tears of pain and soaking slowly into the land beneath them. As Elsie's fine fingertips delicately swirl and eddy around him, Charles releases a long and shuddering sigh and his hands grip ever tighter to the edges of the chair. His mouth is agape and his head has lolled back onto the wall behind him. So very wonderful!

Elsie cups and rests Charles' pulsing life along her open palm as she lifts the cloth one last time to dab lightly at the sheen of water that remains upon this glorious fruit of his life and his love which is his offering to her- for her alone to enjoy with him.

"A chagair," she purrs in that seductively soft burr that drives him wild, "You are soh verry lovely, my man." Her hot breath dries across him as she finally bends to partake of this fresh and divine bounty. She lavishes sultry kisses all over his length and draws him deeply into her loving mouth until he feels his whole self being immersed and he is bathing in her fulsome love for him. Heaven! She loves me! She loves me!

God! I adore him!

And Elsie does adore him. Adores his silky, slippery and velvet lush hardness. Adores his every texture. His shape. His heat. His fullness. His sumptuous fragrance. His fervent sounds- the chanting of her name- his guttural groans and the high pitched snuffs of breath forced from his flared nostrils as he clutches with such quivering but solid strength to the chair so as to steady his powerful frame- his love for her so deeply rooted in the utmost care for her that he actually manages to restrain himself in this sultry and fevered moment. He strains against his primal instinct to thrust erratically towards her as his excitement builds and rises, thickening and surging wildly within their flourishing ardour. So beautiful. So gloriously beautiful. Such cultivated restraint- He holds. Holds! Waits for her- He actually waits! Allows her…follows her… trusts her-He trusts me! – until the cleansing rain of their fervour rushes through him- fills him entirely and in a final burgeoning blush of lush and pure life every heavy fruitful feeling he houses bursts its skin and cascades forth in an unstoppable torrent that carves through and shapes their shared inner landscapes.

oOoOoOoOo

Conscious thought returns to Charles with the sudden intake of a gasping breath he had been holding as he had watched the loving joy on Elsie's face as she took him and blessed him with her selfless love.

Elsie kisses him silently and lovingly across his soft belly before she once more takes the washcloth and cleans what needs to be cleaned. Charles feels refreshed, yet not quite as he once was.

Renewed.

Purified.

For he is still the same man- but different.

Clearer. Freed. Better. Something more.

Fulfilled.

Grateful.

Content.

oOoOoOoOo

Elsie rises to bless him with a small kiss upon his forehead.

Charles arms hug around her waist and then he buries his head into the warmth and softness of her belly.

"Oh, my love, my darling wife. Thank you, Elsie. Thank you." Charles murmurs out on a shuddering sigh as she strokes her fingers through his love and sleep-mussed hair.

"There is no need to thank me, Love. For it was most assuurredly my pleasure too, you know. I am just very glad you liked it!" she says with a smile in her voice.

" 'Like' does not even begin to describe what I feel, my darling."

Elsie is rather pleased but still more than a little surprised at her ability to do something like that and for the result to be so delightful for them both. Elsie still feels her own liquid excitement stirring warm and low within her. It certainly all feels strangely naughty to have loved Charles in this way, but it was infinitely beautiful too- like they have just shared in something quite sacred.

"I love you, Elsie. Have I told you that yet this morning?"

"Well, not in those exact words, but I did get the idea. I love you too, a chagair." And she leans down to kiss into his hair at the back of his head that still rests against her belly before she gently extricates herself from his embrace.

Charles is still far too unsure of the strength of his knees to even attempt standing. He sits there, quite literally- and indeed, figuratively- in all of his glory, and he watches Elsie as she quickly wipes over the vanity top with the freshened cloth, and then rinses and wrings it out a final time before hanging it to dry.

Then, as she takes her toothbrush from the glass, Elsie speaks to Charles, "I hope you are not offended, my love, but I think I should like to brush my teeth again after all of that." And she is helpless to prevent a proud and impish grin from twitching at her lips as she draws his robe loosely over her shoulders as she brushes. That irrepressible and foolish grin that Charles now seems to permanently house within his person rises fully breaks over his face once more.

"Not at all, Els, in fact, I rather think I should prefer it."

Charles cannot help himself either- laughter rumbles up from deep within his belly at the sight of them both- he, as naked as the day he was born, and Elsie with her hair flying away from its loose knot, her toothbrush inelegantly sticking out of her mouth, and draped to the floor in his open fronted and oversized fluffy white bathrobe. It is monstrously large and completely adorable on her.

"I believe you have something of mine, Mrs Carson." And he is close enough to be able to hook onto one of the robe's ties and reel her into his lap. He grabs her toothbrush from her mouth and flicks it with outlandish flair into the basin, wipes the excess foam from her lips with his thumb, rubbing the residue of it unceremoniously onto the robe and then kisses her soundly.

"And you, sir, still require some house training!" Elsie laughs happily as she slaps lightly at his chest when they break apart, then she motions to stand up again.

"Please stay, Elsie-love, I don't think I am ready to move yet, and there is something I need to run past you."

"Oh, I think I can be convinced to linger here for a moment longer, Mr Carson," and she ducks her head into his neck and inhales the fresh, clean manliness of him, brushing her slightly open lips back and forth over his delightfully soft and smooth shaven skin, sighing happily into his warmth "Mmm. What is it, Charles?"

"Well Els, you can say no to this if you don't want our plans to change, but I took the liberty last night when you were changing for dinner of getting Jenson, the butler, to check on our booking in Scarborough."

"How do you mean Charles? There is no problem with it I hope?"

"No, no," he reassures her quickly, "No problem. Nothing like that. It's just that, if you wanted to, Els, I rather thought we might take an extra day here instead. The room in Scarborough can be filled quickly by someone else at this time of year on the coast, and... I just saw how much you love it here, and Jenson assures me we can be accommodated for one more evening in this suite, and all train tickets can be easily transferred to tomorrow… so,... I thought we might stay in the lap of luxury for just a while longer. We may never have such a chance again, you see."

Elsie is somewhat aghast and has lifted her head from the crook of his neck to see if Charles is serious.

"But Charles how on earth would we pay for it! For I think this is an awful liberty to take of his Lordship's goodwill! Surely this room would cost much more than even the best one he may have arranged for us at the Grand Hotel in Scarborough. And what did you suppose would be so entertaining for us to stay an extra day in London for anyway?- and on a Monday at that!"

"Well, if we must speak of money, again, Mrs Carson, I can assure you I that I will be the soul of discretion when dealing with any queries from his Lordship regarding the change of plan, for I know that I can cover any shortfall, and of course I shall ensure there is no embarrassment to you at all by the suggested change of plans. ...And," he continues in a close secrecy against her ear, "in relation to that latter point, I had rather thought the scenery right here was worthy of much closer inspection and more than adequate inducement for us to stay on in London to explore." Elsie shivers slightly at his warm breath near her ear, and at his suggestiveness. "And, well...as for my ultimate intentions, I was rather hoping to not actually move at all from this suite so that we may utilise the superior facilities here in order to… well… make love together... and to do so whenever the mood should take us,… and whenever the need for food and sleep hasn't completely overwhelmed us first. I do, of course, have a more detailed proposal for how our time may be scheduled, should you require further elucidation, my dear Mrs Carson."

"Well!" She gasps out. "That would have to be the most decadent and decidedly indecent proposal I have ever heard, Mr Carson! You are making me blush!"

"Good!- for you are very pretty when you blush, Elsie. So, are you offended by, or amenable to my plans? Because I for one am not yet ready to spend half a day in train travel back to Scarborough. In fact, I do wonder that it might not have been more convenient to be installed at Brighton somewhere for our time near the seaside, but I don't think I can change all of the family's surprise gift to us without offending them.

"Most certainly not! But I am not at all sure about this, Charles. It feels scandalous!" Oh, my! But it is tempting!

Charles looks a little crestfallen; despite saying he would accept Elsie's decision.

She starts circling her fingers through his chest hair and then she peers up at him, "But…well, ...perhaps you should at least run through your proposed itinerary for the day with me, Mr Carson," walking her fingers up to press into the cleft of his chin once again, "…before I make my final decision, you see."

Charles beams. More than halfway won already! he thinks.

"Well, it is only a rough outline so far, M'lady, so there would be scope to shuffle some activities around, I am sure, but I was rather thinking that we may start with you asserting your prerogative as a married woman now, to have your breakfast in bed... with your personal butler in attendance, of course. ...And then we could maybe look at the morning papers together... or not... for perhaps said Butler could not really give a tuppence for the goings-on of the outside world today and he will be too busy returning a lovely gesture to his dear Mrs Carson that has just been afforded him in this very room. Although, now that I think on it, scheduling-wise, I think that may best be seen to before our breakfast arrives- for we have still arranged for a late delivery of that and we would still have ample time to see to those very particular needs."

"Well," Elsie breathes out heavily, "go on, please, Mr Carson. Your plan is beginning to sound verry enticing, so far."

"Mmm…." He groans happily into her neck as he nuzzles into her again. "So, Mrs Carson, after breakfast, I thought that we may catch up on those few extra moments of sleep you mentioned you may need when you awoke earlier ... and after that we could perhaps...umm, oh, I don't know," he looks at her roguishly, "maybe make love ... and then possibly stop for lunch- I could be even be convinced to dress appropriately and make it as far as the balcony for that- if it is not too hot outside... and then I have a sneaking suspicion that your personal room butler may want to return to bed to lavish more particular attention upon his ladyship ... which I imagine will lead to such a level of exhaustion that we may have to take our scheduled half day off together, Mrs Hughes, in order to sleep through until dinner time. Hmm...unless, of course, we should happen to wake and require some afternoon tea... and then we could sleep, perhaps, or we might return for another innings, so to speak, and make love and then sleep and ... And well, we could, of course, make love in there again somewhere... I think... I'm losing track a bit- the schedule does get a little bit nebulous in there really." Elsie is giggling heartily at his ridiculous speech now. "But, I suppose, we could bathe again in there somewhere, M'Lady, and maybe have dinner delivered to the room at some point- Whatever takes your fancy Mrs Carson. How will that schedule fit in with your day-plan so far, do you think?"

"You do present a very convincing, if somewhat ambitious argument, Mr Carson! My! I would say it is just as well we are still going to Scarborough after a day such as this, for surely we will both be in dire need of the restorative spa waters on offer there if we actually should survive such a heavy and... shall we say, 'strenuous' schedule! Gosh! I cannot promise that I will be able to keep up with your vision of this particular 'test-match', my love- as delightful as it all sounds."

"Well! That sounds to me that we may be in agreement, Mrs Hughes, and as I said, I don't mind adjusting the schedule throughout the day to suit my lady's particular requirements. Shall I go and inform Jenson that he can make to make all the necessary arrangements?"

"Well, I see no reason to race off to Scarborough quite so soon with such a fine day on offer right here, my dear Mr Carson, and I would hazard that, rather than the train trip tomorrow seeming such an odious way to spend four hours of our day, we may be well set to use it as time to sleep and recover before the seaside beckons! You may go and inform Jenson, thank you, Carson!"

Charles is overjoyed, and he does not hide it from Elsie, as he dots sweet kisses all over her face, before returning to those delightfully silky and love swollen lips of hers, lingering once more until they are both quite short of breath again.

"Oh, Elsie…" he breathes heavily. "We should move…" and as he lifts her off his lap and focuses on unlocking his hips so as to somehow stand without actually groaning aloud, he decides to take this as his moment to gently rib her in return for all of the loving barbs she has sent his way this morning. "But I do worry, Mrs Carson,… about how we might manage our morning schedules when we get back home, you see, for you do seem to spend an inordinately large amount of time in the bathroom of a morning." And his attempt at a dead-pan expression fails him miserably as she slaps him good-naturedly on his bare belly. "Ouch!" he hams it up with mock-pain.

"Oh! You are a devil, Charles!... and I do think it is still far too early to be negotiating the full terms of our marriage just yet!" unable to forego having the parting shot as she flounces out of the bathroom dramatically, nearly tripping on the hem of his bathrobe as it tangles about her feet as she enters the dressing room.

Charles catches up to her and grasps her firmly about the waist before she can do any damage to herself and they both giggle helplessly together.

"Perhaps you ought to hand over that stolen garment now, Mrs Carson, and wear this one instead."

And Charles reaches back around the edge of the bathroom door to retrieve one of the smaller robes on offer, whilst managing to drag his own off her petite frame, flinging it up over his shoulder to be seen to later. He drapes Elsie's own robe around her shoulders and runs his large warm hand slowly down the inside of it, tracing all of her soft curves down to her hip and feeling her skin ripple delightfully under his touch, before he lovingly wraps the sides of it around her. The desire he inspires in her flickers darkly in her eyes.

"I rather thought you were insisting upon not a stitch gracing me ever again when we are alone, Charles," she intones somewhat breathlessly.

"Oh,… I don't know," he returns softly as he lightly ties a knot at her waist. "For, I have always thought that a beautiful, classically sculpted form can also be delightfully enhanced with some carefully placed drapery. So, I will allow you at least this stitch of clothing this morning, my love." And he kisses her softly and thoroughly on the lips.

"Come, lovely wife-of-mine," he intones darkly, "Let us repair to the main boudoir."

Charles pulls his own robe around himself and then guides Elsie through the door of the dressing room with his palm pressed lightly to her lower back. But she stops quite suddenly just as she re-enters their bedroom apartment and giggles into her hand, her cheeks reddening behind her fingers.

"Oh, Lord Charles! Definitely, some house training will be required in here!"

Charles has draped his arm lightly about Elsie's shoulder and laughs fiendishly at the sight before them and the heated memories they throw up in his mind- their elegant evening clothes from the night before strewn haphazardly all across the room.

"I don't know Els, I feel strangely settled about having this particular brand of disorder surrounding me."

Elsie looks up at him to see an idiotically proud grin gracing his features and cannot help but laugh again.

"Come on now, Charles, we can't have the room looking such a mess when breakfast arrives, I will never be able to look a house-maid straight in the eye ever again! You go and call through to Jenson quickly, and then help me straighten this mess up."

"As you wish, M'lady." And he strides off to the telephone table near the foyer, bending to pick up his Arrow collar, silk tie and a brass collar pin he has managed to spy beneath the valet sideboard along the way.

Once he has set the wheels in motion for them to stay on in London for one more day, Charles turns to continue picking up oddments of their evening attire from the floor. He walks to hang Elsie's wedding gown in her dressing room. It is rather badly wrinkled! He knows she will want it seen to before they go to Scarborough and at least the Ritz Hotel can be trusted to handle the care of such a fine garment without damaging it. He runs the silk of it over the backs of his fingertips before he turns to the main room again. It is beautiful. Elsie is beautiful.

On his way back to her side, Charles sees that Elsie has made quick work of clearing up the detritus of their love-making from the night before. Charles bends to pick up his starch-fronted shirt which they had thrown off with passionate abandon last night. A single button that had been hanging by its final thread drops to the floor and rolls under the bed. He groans, but really could not be bothered trying to bend down and fossick about for it. Then he sees that several other buttons from the fixings that run down the back opening of it are already gone, and memories of Elsie's unbridled fervour for him last night make him grin fiendishly all over again.

"You know, Mrs Carson, we really are going to have to retire soon, for I am afraid that my evening livery will not withstand very many more months in good condition now that you have your hands on me every night!"

"Now that sounds like a challenge right there, Mr Carson!"

Charles' eyes have darkened with a hunters intensity as he visualises ravishing his wife again- bathing every inch of her beautiful body with his loving kisses. Dangerously low, he asks her, "And if it is,…Mrs Carson?"

"Well then, Charles…" She says pointedly as she drapes the rest of his tail-suit items neatly across the plush foot-board settee at the end of their bed, ready to be collected by the valet service later, then she holds his gaze unflinchingly, "I would suggest, Sir, that you had best be about it…"

Elsie hears a low rumbling growl and perceives a lightning-quick flash of movement. In the shocked and wide-eyed second that exists between two heartbeats, the sight of a rumpled, white-clad Mr Carson suspended momentarily in midair as he sails across their crumpled king-sized bed to capture her is a most decidedly not something that Elsie ever thought would grace her vision in this lifetime.

CECECECECE

oOoOoOoOo

The Ubiquitous BorneToFlow Chapter-length Chapter Notes for Your General Edification and/or Frustration!

*On Lock-Jaw: Main point here is that the vaccination for Tetanus was not developed/ released until 1924. So, in the 1860s, Charles would most certainly have been in quite some danger of contracting it and dying from his injury with a tool that had come in contact with it through manure and soil and the like. A deadly disease it was and still is. Death would have been painful and frightening. Wikipedia again for more basic info! wiki/Tetanus#Treatment

The Howard's End Quote I mentioned as being influential to me:

"Outwardly [Henry Wilcox] was cheerful, reliable, and brave; but within, all had reverted to chaos, ruled, so far as it was ruled at all, by an incomplete asceticism. Whether as boy, husband, or widower, he had always the sneaking belief that bodily passion is bad... And it was here that Margaret hoped to help him.

It did not seem so difficult. She need trouble him with no gift of her own. She would only point out the salvation that was latent in his own soul, and in the soul of every man. Only connect! That was her whole sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die."

oOoOo

~~Although, I quite obviously don't subscribe to the notion that Charles is as uptight about bodily passions as Henry Wilcox is! I would say that Charles is cheerful, reliable and brave, though and that he is in quite some emotional flux at this juncture in life. And again- Charles is not a complete or incomplete ascetic in my mind- just... disciplined.

However, the second part of this quote is certainly where the cleansing and renewal ritual idea of my piece came from, and the following biblical quote was also influential

3 John 1:2 - Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth.

On Baptism imagery used: If you are interested in some of the history and symbolism and beliefs around baptism/christening across denominations of the Christian faith, then - good ol' wikipedia is a reasonable place to start. Go to wiki/Baptism

My Catholic upbringing has no doubt influenced the imagery I have used. From what I gather, C of E/Protestantism probably takes a different approach, but I have no personal experience of it. Ultimately, it is the imagery and the notion of cleansing and rebirth, not so much of sin, but of pain; and not deliverance into the hands/kingdom of God as such, but into the hands and arms of human love that I was after in this fic. I think my listening to the R.E.M. version of Robyn Hitchcock's great song "The Arms of Love" played a role in what came out when I started writing this piece too!

But again, no offence to people of faith was intended by placing this adapted baptism ritual within this highly charged and sexualised context/content. I just hope it kind of worked for some people out there and suits Charles and Elsie's journey.

On word choice: What is interesting about my writing process, is that I use a dictionary and thesaurus extensively to find alternate words to paint the word pictures and soundscapes on paper/screen that I would like - and of course to avoid boredom and repetition. In doing this, can I just say that there is a total dearth of words in the English language to describe washing and cleaning/cleansing in a very elegant manner! And also, I think we all need to make an effort to invent new words for laughing and smiling and happiness! IMHO! For there seems to be a multitude of words to choose from to describe the myriad of negative emotions that humans feel, but much, much less is out there for these particular positive behaviours and feelings. So, if you can point me to any of your favourite words in this regard, it would be greatly appreciated!

On word choice re Charles:I don't want to squick too many people out here, but I feel I should mention, particularly given the generally high level of US readers I tend to have, that the way of have described Charles' 'manhood' is with the knowledge that for a lower class man born at home in the 1850s, he would almost definitely have been "intact". Upper-class births may have been a different story. But really, high rates of male circumcision at birth is mostly a strange phenomenon of the 20th century for the "Western World"- (is it still even referred to as the Western world?), and the US still maintains an incredibly high rate of male circumcision at birth when compared with other countries like the UK, where rates have been dropping for many, many years.

Short story is that the increasing medicalisation of child birth in the 20th century played a role, along with the influence of the military in the interwar years that saw the rise in adult rates of the operation as a supposed means to prevent the spread of venereal disease in the armed forces (based on less than scant medical evidence, as it was). These men then had children, who asked for, or were railroaded into having their sons 'look' the same, by doctors who believed the bunkum for whatever reason, etc etc. Go to the web- page I have listed if you really want to know more- it is a fascinating history and a major triumph of fallacies being believed above scientific research and real medical knowledge.

So, there may be readers out there with less "experience" of intact manhood, and I hope that the word choices/ imagery I used and actions described now seem to make sense/ are fitting. Of course, my aim was to describe something very beautiful and I hope that you liked it on that level.

So! Did you guess the poem I was influenced by for some of my imagery with Charles? -Let me know if you did, or what your alternate guesses were so I can go and read them. Leave it in a review if you can :)

It was:

Kubla Khan

BY SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE (1797 and published in 1816).

Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

~Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round;

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

oOoOo

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:

And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;

And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

~The shadow of the dome of pleasure

~Floated midway on the waves;

~Where was heard the mingled measure

~From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

oOoOo

~A damsel with a dulcimer

~In a vision once I saw:

~It was an Abyssinian maid

~And on her dulcimer she played,

~Singing of Mount Abora.

~Could I revive within me

~Her symphony and song,

~To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

oOoOoOoOo

So, Coleridge claimed this poem was unfinished due to an interruption at his door when he was writing it. Supposedly he had been reading about Xanadu prior to falling into an opium-induced dream state and this is how he envisioned the palace of Kubla khan and then described it upon waking. Coleridge's contemporaries thought the whole thing pretty awful at the time, but it is now of course, one of the most widely known poems going around- the sort of thing that school kids have been made to learn and recite verbatim over the years.

Spoiler Alert!

oOoOoOoOo

oOoOoOoOo

Now let me disturb you regarding school kids reciting such a thing, and potentially ruin it ALL for some of you! ;P

Coleridge's explanation aside- I actually read this poem as more of a laudanum-soaked nocturnal emission, which ends abruptly because, well- it ends for him- quite literally- so to speak!

You have to admit, there is lots of imagery of feminine domes and cavities and chasms, and then the phallic symbolism and imagery throughout it too- gushing forth etc etc. Go back and read it again if you dare- and tell me if I am barmy- or have a disturbed mind. But, bear in mind, that you too have just read through 15,000 words of something that was attempting the effect I believe can be found so much more succinctly in Coleridge's poem- just sayin'! :)

Oh!- and read poetry out aloud whenever you can. It just makes more sense :)

Final notes on the erotica I do write: I do aim for it to be somewhat poetic to read. I can only hope it succeeds at times. Also, I aim that I should not use erotic scenes in a gratuitous way- but that is, of course, a very subjective thing for each and every reader.

What I mean by non-gratuitous is that when I present Charles and Elsie engaging in this way, I do try very hard to make sure that it still explores/show who they are individually and in partnership, and what they mean to each other. But equally, the circumstances leading up to, and sometimes within the machinations of their lovemaking needs to move them to a new place personally- to a greater depth of understanding about themselves and their relationship- otherwise, I would probably partake of the 'fade-to-black' method of presentation a lot more. Also, if I should start to become repetitious with my imagery and word choice, I shall also aim to desist this style of writing!

But, I think the fact that I take this approach when I get into the writing of these Chelsie scenes can go someway to explaining why I hear the light-hearted humour between Charles and Elsie in these intimate circumstances. To me, it is who Charles and Elsie are when they are together. She is feisty and confident and ribs him, and I think now that he has this intimate space opening up to him, Charles is free to be a playful, confident, eloquent and charming lover with Elsie.

Charles, I think is also at a very reflective and emotional age in his life. I think men can often 'soften' in their latter years, for want of a better way of putting it- they can be reflective and more openly emotional sometimes- and for a multitude of reasons (wisdom of age, time to reflect, moving away from work as the defining identity, birth of grandchildren, etc etc.). So, in my mind, I think that Charles is definitely a man who is opening up more and more emotionally as he moves away from the strictures of his work 'role'- for it is a role that he has played for a very long time, and he is starting to let go of it to lead a very different life with Elsie- and that is a big transition- even without canon stuff that I refuse to acknowledge- like the S6 palsy-palaver.

Likewise, Elsie has cycled through menopause a good ten years ago, her work life is changing and new babies around the Abbey are making her reflect on her choices about motherhood and womanhood etc. She has many reasons for why she may have been afraid of her impending 'full-marriage' with Charles. I have touched on some that I think are reasonable, but I do find Elsie is more difficult to pin down than Charles is, even in a general sense. At the end of the day, though, and to me at least, Elsie is strong and confident and emotionally attuned to others needs, and I hope it scans as realistic that she finds her sexual confidence with Charles fairly quickly and embraces it easily now that they are finally there. Let me know if you think I am way off track. Any alternate insights are always fun to mull over.

On another front, there is still pleasure to be had in reading erotica just for the sake of it. So, if that is what you want, then I can only hope that my individual chapters that move into this territory are fairly well written and gratifying for some readers out there on that particular level too. I aim to avoid being too visceral, and I will never move into anything that is not loving and respectful for the characters involved, for I do not like to think on or write about these acts if they are not based on equality and liberty for each participant.

As always, reviews are wonderful to receive and help me to know if what I am doing is worthwhile to others. I endeavour to PM respond if you are signed up. But I love the guest reviews too!

Regards,

BorneToFlow :)