"How Delicious Was the Glow…" (Part Two)
by
Jodief1
Although I was beginning to ache from the wanting of her, I could not pull Sue upstairs to bed quite yet; for behind the flush of passion I still could see the pallor in her cheeks, and I knew that she must eat something soon. And so I touched her face and said, "You must be hungry — I will go fetch some food and bring it to you." I tried to speak gently, soothingly; but my voice trembled instead and caught in my throat. "I s'pose I could use a little something," she managed to say, "but I want to stay with you. …Downstairs?" Her voice quavered as well and betrayed a hint of anxiety: did she fear that I would disappear?
We walked to the stairwell, clutching one another; but as we descended, we began to feel more and more awkward, anticipating perhaps the intrusive presence of others, and an end to our reverie. And so we reached the kitchen arm in arm, evidently appearing ordinary enough to Mrs Inker, who looked up and emitted a little cry.
"Oh my good Lord, it's Miss Smith, is it, come back to Briar? Oh Miss Smith, I do hope you have come to stay with us, for poor Miss Maud — haven't I said it, often? — has seemed so lonesome, all alone in this great house. However she manages without any human company, save Mr Inker and me, I'm sure I don't know. And what terrible things to have suffered — such a young widow — and she don't even answer to her married name, it hurt her so! But here you are, and now look how my dear Miss Maud is beaming! You're just the thing, Miss Smith, you are, and what a blessing!"
I glanced sidelong at Sue just in time to see her blush, and we exchanged quick, slight smiles. I took Sue's hand firmly in mine and led her to the table, saying, "Yes, Mrs Inker, Susan has come back to us, to stay. Isn't that right, Susan?" And I hoped that Mrs Inker did not see the twinkle in my eye as I turned to Sue and gave her hand a squeeze.
Her smile broadened, and she kept looking at me as she said, "Oh yes, indeed — I will never leave again, so long as Miss Maud will have me here." I stifled a laugh but then realized I should respond, and coughed a little. "Yes, yes! … well, then, Mrs Inker, I believe that Susan would like a little supper: she's just had a long journey, and she'll be wanting to make an early evening of it."
Mrs Inker snapped to attention and began to bustle about us. "Oh, I'm sure you have, Miss Smith — of course, of course! I have soup in the pot, that I've been boiling for Miss Maud and Mr Inker and me - but there's more than enough, my dear, — I'll spoon you up a great bowlful, and don't you look as if you could use it! … Poor dear thing, just look at you …." And she continued clucking to herself in this way as she hurried through the kitchen to serve the soup. Sue and I found ourselves gazing at one another again, though it seemed to me that we had grown a little shyer. I clasped her hand, without thinking - but when I became conscious of Mrs Inker's return, I began to pat her arm instead, as a friend might; and when Sue coughed, I knew that she was suppressing a giggle.
Sue drank her soup quickly, while Mrs Inker beamed in approval — and I willed myself to be patient. My own insides felt scrambled, and I had no interest in food; in the end I had to avoid looking at Sue altogether, for my heart and stomach were tumbling so, that I was almost ill. When Mrs Inker offered me some supper as well, I could only smile wanly and shake my head — all the while thinking, there's only one thing that can satisfy me now! Sue felt it too, I know, because she thanked Mrs Inker rather breathlessly after finishing her soup, and she took her leave as quickly as she could without causing offense. But I remembered something as Sue stood to leave, and I held up my hand to check her.
"Mrs Inker," I said sweetly, "Susan is so very tired that I should like to allow her to rest undisturbed in the morning; and so I wonder, could you give me a little fruit and bread with which I can make her a little breakfast — and spare both of you the trouble of going up and down the stairs?" Sue's head jerked up; and while Mrs Inker busied herself around the kitchen yet again, Sue pinned me with a saucy stare, eyebrow arched and lip curled. Boldly I held her gaze, until Mrs Inker came to hand me a little parcel in a basket. I bowed my head slightly to my good servant and thanked her; and as an afterthought, I requested that Mr Inker leave Susan's bag outside her room at his earliest convenience. Then I extended my arm to Sue, and invited her to come with me, while Mrs Inker wished us a pleasant evening and tut-tutted happily to herself.
At the first landing of the stair, Sue spun round and very swiftly and silently pushed me against the wall; and as she held back my hands with hers, she kissed me fiercely. I gasped. My desire swelled to match hers, and I registered only the most fleeting of thoughts: thank God for her stealth!
After a few moments, we managed to resume our ascent, though we held hands as tightly as we could. When at last we reached the top of the stairs, we moved lightly across the floor to the door of my bedroom, on the tips of our toes, out of habit. I put down my basket and fumbled with the key around my neck — for I had taken to locking my room, but why, I cannot say. Sue pressed behind me, reaching around my waist, just as I had done to her in the library; and when finally I turned the lock and pushed the door open, I slipped away from her, reaching down to carry the basket through the gap. I dropped the basket on the other side and held the door while she passed through; then I shut it, and locked it with shaking hands.
When I turned round, she pressed me against the door once more and continued kissing me intently, but more slowly and deliberately than she had done before. I returned her pressure and her kisses, and I began to propel her backward, toward the bed. Our hands by now were working at clasps and buttons, moving as of their own volition; and I confess I can't remember exactly how we slipped between the cool sheets, — or how we caressed one another, until the fever broke. It is a pity, for if only I could describe that night, I might create a work of such erotic potency that — …well, I should like to think that even the late Mr Lilly would have blushed to read it!