More suggestive fluff.

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes stood in the pantry facing each other, both breathing heavily. Mr. Carson stood in his undershorts, his trousers on the floor about his ankles and his shoes still on his feet. Mrs. Hughes's eyes wandered his semi-naked form, admiring everything she saw - both what was familiar (his face, his hands) and what she had never seen before (everything else). Mr. Carson examined her dress, wondering where to start. He reached out a hesitant hand toward her belt, but Mrs. Hughes backed away. When he tried to step toward her again, his foot got caught in his trousers and he pitched forward. His hand landed heavily on Mrs. Hughes's shoulder and she braced herself against his weight, but he righted himself quickly and released her. She moved her gaze from his face to his ankles, and back again, not even trying to hide her amusement at his hobbled state. He met her laughing eyes with his most dignified stare and shuffled over to a chair, where he sat to remove his shoes and trousers. His shoes he unlaced with one hand before kicking them off and quickly removing his socks as well; standing up he simply stepped out of his trousers, leaving them pooled on the floor. Unfettered, he advanced on Mrs. Hughes once more. The smile faded from her face. Mr. Carson was not even slightly flustered; he acted as though being stripped of his evening clothes by the housekeeper were the most ordinary thing in the world. Mrs. Hughes was hot and trembling; he most certainly had the upper hand. She felt mildly apprehensive, but she reminded herself what she had been longing for just a few minutes ago - that Mr. Carson would not leave the room without touching her. It seemed likely that she was about to get her wish.

He approached her and slid his finger inside the belt of her dress. "This is new," he murmured.

Mrs. Hughes nodded, unable to speak.

"It's your morning dress."

She cleared her throat. "The laundry maids didn't have my evening dress clean in time for changing."

Mr. Carson nodded slowly in understanding. "You might have to wear your evening dress tomorrow morning." His finger was still between the belt and her dress and he used it to tug her gently closer to him. Mrs. Hughes was trapped by his gaze, but she wondered vaguely how he would manage to undress her with only one hand. When she felt her belt being quickly unbuttoned and dropped to the floor, along with the keys attached to it, she was convinced he would have very little trouble. And if he did, well, she had two perfectly sound hands of her own. For now, however, she looked into his dark eyes and waited. Her equilibrium began to return; she thought she might enjoy teasing him a little, just as he had done her. Mr. Carson was still here, barely clothed, and looking as though he might devour her. Clearly he wanted something from her, but she could keep from touching him for a little while, knowing that eventually their mutual restraint would come to an end.

Mr. Carson's restraint lasted only a few more seconds before he raised a hand to her shoulder and tried to slide his fingers between her dress and its matching jacket. When the jacket didn't fall away easily, he drew even closer and found the tiny hook-and-eye closures that held the two garments together. Mrs. Hughes was impressed, but not surprised, that his large hand had managed several tiny hooks deftly. She had watched him work; she knew what delicate tasks his hands were capable of performing. Once he had unhooked the jacket on both sides, he let it slide to the floor. His mouth fell open a little at the sight of her naked shoulders. Mrs. Hughes was startled when his hand came to rest lightly on her bare skin. She took in a swift breath and closed her eyes; she could not help it. He ran his fingers very slowly from her shoulder to her wrist and back again. Then his hand moved from the top of her arm to her upper back. Mrs. Hughes thought he was about to embrace her, but he surprised her again by walking behind her, his hand never leaving her body.

"We wouldn't want the other arm to get jealous," he murmured low in her ear, now caressing her right arm as he had her left.

Mrs. Hughes shuddered. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep from reaching for him. As long as he stood behind her, it was easier, but if she faced him again her self-control might crumble. It seemed, however, that Mr. Carson meant to stay where he was for the time being. He moved his hand to the back of her neck. He fumbled a bit with the top button of her dress, but managed to undo it one-handed. He moved to the next one and when he struggled with it, Mrs. Hughes reached behind her back. "Let me help you."

Mr. Carson used his hand to cover the button she was trying to unfasten. "Are you in a very great hurry, Mrs. Hughes?" She whimpered; he gave a low chuckle. "I think you are in a great hurry." He moved both of her arms back to rest at her sides. "Don't worry, we'll get there, m'dear." His fingers, though nimble, were still at a disadvantage when he was unfastening buttons with only one hand and his progress was slow. After the third button, he slid his hand inside her dress for a moment. She felt the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of her shift, but he withdrew his hand almost immediately and continued unbuttoning. Mrs. Hughes stood still; all she could do was savor this delicious torture. It would not last forever. That thought put a smile on her lips.

Eventually, Mr. Carson had unbuttoned enough buttons to slide the dress down her body. He placed one palm on either side of her waist and pushed the soft fabric down past her hips until it fell to the floor and she stepped out of it. Mr. Carson circled Mrs. Hughes, stopping in front of her and studying the front of her corset thoughtfully.

"Leave this to me," Mrs. Hughes said, reaching for the busk. "I really don't think you can do this with just one ha-"

"No." His voice was firm, but not harsh. Mrs. Hughes froze. "I'm sure I couldn't do it as fast as you could, but I will do it." His gaze held hers in a silent and motionless battle of wills. Mrs. Hughes gave in and let her hands fall to her sides. She didn't like to let Mr. Carson win, but she was curious how he planned to proceed. Once again, she stood and waited.

He bent to examine and then labored to unfasten the top hook. It was slow work, but he managed it. The difference in their heights, however, was forcing Mr. Carson to stand in an awkward and uncomfortable position. "Stay there," he told her. He pulled a chair over to where she stood and sat down facing her. His height positioned his eyes so he had a very clear view of the hooks that he was doing his best to unfasten one-handed. At last Mr. Carson reached the bottom, and he tossed the corset away. He paused for a second or two before wrapping his arms around her hips, pulling her against him, and resting his head against her stomach. He breathed deeply through his nose, excited by her intoxicating scent. Mrs. Hughes buried her hands in his hair.

Mr. Carson was not idle for long, however. He released her and crouched down on the floor to remove her shoes. Once he had done that, he slid his hand up each leg to unhook her stockings. They were discarded haphazardly about the room before his hand moved smoothly back up one leg and removed her knickers. He stood up now and, after staring into her face for several very long moments, he bent forward and gently kissed her shoulder once, and then her neck, before standing up straight again.

"You can take this off, I think," he told her quietly, fingering the thin material of her shift.

"Surely you can manage it, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes murmured. "Look how many hooks and buttons you've undone with just one hand." She gestured toward the clothing discarded about the room.

"Yes, I could manage it," Mr. Carson agreed. "But I want to be sure you are ready."

She looked up into his eyes.

"I think you know what will happen between us once you are naked before me." His voice was a gentle rumble.

She nodded.

"I want you to take it off. And I think you want to take it off. But I'll leave that in your hands." Mr. Carson reached out and took one of her hands and kissed it. "Such lovely hands they are."

There had been a few moments while he was undressing her that Mrs. Hughes had wished that he would lose patience with his slow pace, that he would pop some buttons from her dress and tear the thin fabric that currently separated them. But now she knew that there could be nothing more arousing than what he was doing to her at this very moment. His eyes bored into hers, but he waited for her. Mrs. Hughes let the exquisite tension build for a few more seconds before she pulled the shift over her head and flung it away. Mr. Carson mouth curved into a slight smile before he leaned down and, at last, at long last, covered her lips with his.

The end or to be continued?

I think this one is probably even more OOC than the first, but at this point you aren't reading for characterization, are you? No, I didn't think so.

It won't surprise you to know that chelsie fan had something to do with this one as well. When the first picture of Mrs. Hughes's new dress turned up on Twitter, she suggested I write a second chapter in which Mr. Carson returns the favor she did him in chapter one. Later photos of Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson together revealed that this new dress was her day dress, which she would not have been wearing at night as she stripped Mr. Carson out of his white tie and tails. However, such a trivial obstacle was easily done away with, as you see.

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