Sarah’s Playmates
By Virginia Wade
Copyright © 2012 Virginia Wade
All Rights Reserved.
Published by I Love Stacy
Smashwords Edition
Virginia Wade
http://virginia-wade-erotica.com
http://twitter.com/VirginiaErotica
Email:
[email protected]
Cover Art by Adelaide Cooper
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Chapter One
I stood on the railway platform, staring out at the gathering throng waiting to board the train. My traveling companion, Millie Doyle, waved a fan over her face, her ivory complexion marred with small red circles. The humidity at this time of year was oppressive, and the layers of clothing, the camisole, drawers, and corset were necessary, but challenging when it came to staying comfortable.
“We’ll look like wilted cabbage before the day’s out,” said Millie in a lilting Irish accent. She pointed. “There’s our man with the bags.”
I pivoted in the other direction, seeing a person dressed in a striped vest and trousers, dragging a heavy looking trunk. Another man was behind him, clutching what I recognized as my own bag. “Good morning, Ladies.” He tipped his hat. “You would be Sarah Collins, I presume?”
“Yes, I am.”
He grinned pleasingly. “We’re due to board any minute.”
“Thank St. Patrick,” muttered Millie. Wisps of strawberry blonde hair floated around her pretty face. She had been my mother’s maid, and upon arriving in America, her position in the family had improved. I was privileged to have her as my companion, and she would accompany me to California.
A whistle blew and the doors opened. “All aboard!”
Excitement raced through me because my adventure was about to begin. I held the ticket in a gloved hand, my fingers trembling. My fiancé, Edmund Lakewood, waited for me in Chicago. The engagement ring I wore held a deep blue sapphire flanked by two large diamonds. Although it was hidden under my glove, I could feel the weight of its prominence. We had been engaged for more than a year, and, within two weeks, I would be his wife.
The porter took my hand, helping me ascend the steps. “Thank you.”
I had been born in the jungles of Africa, where my mother had gone to find her father, the famous explorer Author Tennent. I’d spent my childhood in the wild and untamed beauty of the Congo. My mother, Jane Tennent Collins, was an adventurous spirit of unequaled loveliness. We had left Africa to live in England, because she wanted me to have an education and to know my family. Upon Author’s death, we crossed the Atlantic, leaving behind the gray skies and rain to begin a new life in the sunny state of California.
The porter led us to a first class compartment with its own sleeping car. We would be traveling in luxury, the gleaming wood and plush seating affording all the comforts of home. Millie rushed to open a window; a sticky breeze filled the space along with the acrid smell of burning coal.
“Come sit with me,” she said, removing her straw bonnet. “There’s a breeze here.”
I joined her on a plush, red velvet seat, as the men dragged the trunks in, placing them against a wall. “I’d wave goodbye, but there’s no one to see me off.”
“They’ll greet you on the other side.” Her smile revealed dimples.
“I can’t wait to see Chicago!” I glanced out the window at the chaos. “Do you think we’ll encounter Indians?”
“I hope not.” She looked horrified. “They’re proper heathens, mind you. They’d best stay far away or I’ll beat them with my shillelagh.” I laughed at that mental image, and the porters stared at me. “Off with you now.” She waved at them. “You’ve done your job.” They tipped their hats and left hastily. “And don’t be expecting a tip either.”
I had spent years with various African tribes, including the nefarious Azande, who filed their teeth to sharp points and practiced cannibalism. What could possibly be worse than that? “I’m starving.”
“Let’s freshen up and find the dining car.”
“That’s a capital idea, Millie.”
An hour later, we sat facing each other in a lengthy car graced with oversized windows. Green fields stretched as far as the eye could see, punctuated by the occasional farm. The top portions of the windows were open, creating a delightful breeze. Sipping my tea, I stared happily at the scenery, knowing that with each passing mile, we drew nearer to Chicago, where my fiancé was waiting to accompany me to California.
A porter approached. “You have a telegram, Ms. Collins.”
I took the small piece of paper. “Thank you.”
“Must I ask from whom?”
I smiled. “No, you mustn’t. You know, Millie.” The message was from Edmund.
DARLING SARAH STOP MY ANTICIPATION OF YOUR ARRIVAL GROWS BY THE HOUR STOP MAY YOU HAVE A SAFE AND FELICITOUS JOURNEY STOP YOU ARE ALWAYS IN MY THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS STOP- EDMUND.
“He’s besotted with you, and why wouldn’t he be?”
Edmund hailed from a wealthy family; his father was a prominent Senator. I had met him in New York, while vising my parents before they decided to relocate west. I had delayed the trip because I had hoped that he would ask for my hand in marriage, and he had! It was my proudest achievement to date, despite earning a diploma from Girton College. I relished the idea of maintaining my own home and having children. Millie was kind enough to offer me “special” instruction on the intimacies between men and women, which she was versed in. Her husband had died of tuberculosis three years after they had been married. Thinking about our nightly lessons, the tiniest hint of a blush mantled my cheeks.
“What shall we eat for supper?” Millie held a menu. “The Macaronied Beef sounds good.” The child across from us had his napkin tucked into his shirt. He swung his legs happily, until his mother made him stop. “Sarah?”
“Hm?”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
I glanced at the menu. “Of course.”
That evening, as the train rocked and swayed, I dressed for bed in a white cotton nightgown with a high neckline. I sat in a chair and held a novel, while Millie used the facilities. She returned a few minutes later.
“What are you reading?”
“One of your books by Lady Morgan.”
“Which one?”
“The Wild Irish Girl.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes. Put it away.”
“But it’s good.” She hated it when I went through her things.
“Your time would be better spent learning all the little ways you can please your husband.”
I inhaled a long, shuddering breath. “Is a lesson in my future?”
“It is indeed.”
“Is the door locked?”
“Of course.”
“What’s on the agenda tonight?”
/> She turned down the lamp. “Something slightly unorthodox, but highly stimulating. I’ll perform it on you, and then you’ll know how to do it for Edmund.”
“How will I know if he’ll like it?” She had removed her basque, dropping the fitted bodice on a chair. Her fingers deftly worked the tiny buttons on the shirt.
I slid from the bed. “I’ll help.” I began to untie her corset.
“Oh, don’t bother with the laces. I’ll unfasten it at the front.” She seemed slightly impatient tonight.
“Then my work is done.”
I snatched a wine glass off a table and had a sip, eyeing her. She had removed her skirt and bustle, which were now draped over the back of a chair. Petticoats were next, then her camisole and drawers. At last, her pale, creamy skin was revealed. I shivered, remembering the first time she had approached me with the idea for “special instructions”. This was all in the vein of learning how to please my husband, of course. How knowing a woman intimately would accomplish this feat was beyond me, and, perhaps, it didn’t matter. That first lesson had produced such extraordinary pleasure, I was more than willing to continue and learn for as long as Millie deemed it necessary.
She released her hair, the lustrous strawberry locks falling down her back. Her breasts were wonderfully full and contoured, with rosy tips that hardened to stiff peaks. Knowing that the evening would end with us entwined, moaning, and perspiring left me suddenly weak. I held the table, as the train rocked, the repetitive sound of the running gear moving over the tracks.
She sat on the bed, holding out her hand. “Come here.”
I left the glass on the table and approached, while little crickets jumped in my tummy. “What’s the lesson tonight?”
“Something wonderful.”
I shivered at the husky tone in her voice. “It’s always wonderful.”
“Take your nightgown off.” The garment went over my head and landed at my feet. Her breath hissed through her teeth. “You’re always so lovely, Sarah. Your body is sheer perfection.” She touched my breasts, which were nearly as large as hers. “These are sinful, my dear. You’ve been blessed with such beauty.”
“So have you.” I stroked the side of her face, feeling the softness of her skin. “I don’t know why you haven’t remarried. I see the way men look at you.”
“Come sit.” She patted the bed. “My husband, as the saying goes, was always in the field when the luck was on the road.” She touched my hair. “He was sick when I married him, but I didn’t know how bad it was. Then there was the drinking.”
“I’m sorry, Millie.”
She sighed. “He preferred whiskey to sex anyway. Oh, it doesn’t matter. It was long ago.”
“I can’t wait to be married.”
“Men are wondrous creatures, but…they’re not Gods. They aren’t perfect. They drink and they fight and they…” She shrugged.
“What?”
“They have all the power. When you’re married, you’ll not be able to do as you please.” She noted my expression. “I won’t lie to you, Sarah. It’s not all wine and roses. You must choose carefully.”
“You don’t think Edmund is the right choice? But I’m fond of him.”
“He’s…a respectable man from a good family. You…you’ve made your parents proud.”
I sensed her reservation. “But…?”
“Oh, my dear. He’s a fine gentleman. I just wonder…”
“What?”
“Well, he’s quite domineering. You’ve such a gentle spirit. I worry that he might crush it.”
She’d never spoken like this before. “Really?” It occurred to me that I should be angry that she was finding fault with my betrothed. She wasn’t a family member. She was essentially an employee. Her job was to be my chaperone.
“I’ve said too much.” She looked contrite. “You’re such a lovely young woman.” Her attention was on my lips. “What a luscious mouth. I should kiss it.”
A lightning bolt of tremors erupted in my tummy. “I need to practice, Millie. My husband deserves a wife who knows how to please him.”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed. “He does.”
Chapter Two
Her lips met mine, igniting a burst of sensation that reverberated through my nerve endings like the scorched grass of a burning field. As her tongue slid into my mouth, my fingers gripped her shoulders, feeling the thinness of her frame. She held my face, deepening the kiss and leaning further into me.
“Attack me with your tongue, Sarah. Don’t hold back.” I drove in, sliding against her soft wetness. “Um…yes…that’s it.”
Her hands followed the line of my neck to my shoulders, where she gently massaged me. From there they roamed to my breasts, the weight of the globes filling her palms. A nipple was suddenly caught between her thumb and forefinger, gently compressed.
“Oh!” I gasped, feeling a rush of heat. “Oh, Millie.” Her kisses descended to my throat, and I tilted my head back to allow her better access. “Will my husband do this?” I sounded breathless.
“Yes.”
“I can’t wait to be married.”
“You can have your fun now, my dear. You needn’t wait.”
“Oh, yes, Millie. I won’t tell a soul about this. It’s…too good.”
“No, Edmund mustn’t know. These are things women can do together, and they…are private. Lay down.”
I fell to the thin mattress. “What now?”
Her gaze rested on my breasts. “Indulge me for a moment.”
“Of course.”
She rubbed her face against my breasts, which she had pressed together. Her touch was softness personified and feathery light, forcing my hips off the bed, my body instinctively wanting more. I hadn’t meant to react this way, but I wasn’t in control. A shocking dampness had developed between my legs, and, as she sucked a nipple into her mouth, a rather loud and unladylike moan escaped me.
“Millie!” Both nipples were toyed with and suckled; the tips were wet and hard. “What other plans do you have?” I needed so much more.
“Someone’s impatient.”
“No…I…well…maybe…” I smiled, staring at the inlay ceiling. The train continued on, the car shaking gently. “I…you should do what you did to me the other night.” Just thinking about her tongue in my pussy brought a rosy flush to my face.
“I have something else in mind.”
I swallowed my disappointment. “All right.”
“You’ll like it, Sarah,” she chuckled. “Lay on your stomach.” Something unidentifiable sparked in her green eyes.
“On my stomach?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.” I turned over, offering her by backside. “Now what?”
Her hand touched the indentation in my lower back. “You’ve such beautiful skin.” Fingers grazed a rounded cheek. “Your bottom is…delicious looking. So round and firm.”
Her words had me trembling with anticipation. “What will you do?”
“Some men enjoy it when women play with them.”
“How do you mean?”
Her finger drifted to the crack of my ass. “They like to feel a tongue in here.”
I gasped, “No!”
“I’ll show you, and you can decide.”
I turned to look at her. “But…that’s perverse.”
“Not at all.”
“It’s dirty. Oh, truly, Millie. It’s filthy.”
“It’s sensual.” She patted my back. “Now close your eyes and relax. Let me do all the work. All you have to do is feel.”
“Oh, my goodness. You’re not really serious about this?”
“Of course.”
I groaned, partially out of embarrassment, but mostly because I throbbed, thinking about how naughty it would be. What she suggested was shocking, yet I was far too intrigued to stop her.
Her lips were on my cheek. “I love the way this curves. It’s so round and beautiful.” She massaged me, pressing my flesh together and apart,
exposing my little hole. “I don’t mind slightly smelly places. I’ll clean you with my tongue.”
“Millie!” I was profoundly stunned, but far too aroused to do anything about it. I couldn’t believe that she was actually going to…lick that part of me. It was wonderful being touched here; the feel of her kneading my flesh was pleasurable. Hot breath lingered near my entrance, and I buried my face in a pillow, stiffening.
“Relax,” she purred.
“But I must smell horrible. It’s such a dirty place.”
“No, my dear. I can’t wait to taste you.” Kisses fell while her fingers massaged my cheeks, hiding and exposing my hole. She shifted on the bed, separating my thighs.
“Oh!” She blew air against my crack, and I felt the effects lower, in my pussy, which I knew was dripping with the cream of my excitement. “Oh, my.” Her nose rubbed my skin, and I cringed thinking of how smelly I must be.
Her tongue flicked out, wetting me. “Now, Sarah. Some men do like this.”
“Did your husband?” My voice sounded muffled in the pillow.
“I’d never done it to him.”
“Oh.” Then how did she know men enjoyed this? Her tongue lapped against me, nearing the puckered edges. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation. She stroked that unmentionable place, and I gasped.
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No.”
“Of course not.” She settled in, her body was between my legs, and her hands held my cheeks apart, exposing me entirely. “Now I’m going to eat you, Sarah. I’m going to fuck you with my tongue.”
“Millie!” I’d never heard her talk like this before.
“Men like it when their prim and proper wives turn into whores in the bedroom.”
“Oh, now that’s ridiculous.” I glanced over my shoulder.
“Lay down. We’ve had enough talking.”
My forehead was on the pillow. “I won’t like it.”
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