A Lady or a Cock Whore? Ch. 04

Arya panted, her eyes closed as she stroked herself fervently. One hand blurred on her clit, the other twisted her nipples in turn. In her head she replayed her kiss with Eric, throbbing as she remembered the way his cock had felt as it pressed against her. Her breathing hitched as she felt his hands on her hips and his lips on her neck. She imagined that he had fulfilled his threat and bent her over and fucked her, and she squirted like a fountain.

As Arya came down from her climax she rested back against her pillows, breathing in the cool night air. There was a silly grin plastered on her face for a moment, enjoying the high. But after a moment she stood and walked to her window for some air, looking out over the bright city. I wonder what he's doing, she thought. I wonder if he thinks of me. She blushed. I wonder if he thinks of me when he touches himself.

Arya fantasized for a minute about that, almost ready to begin masturbating again as images of Eric touching himself flashed through her mind. She took some deep breaths and watched the streets below, trying to distract herself. It was late and she knew she needed to sleep. But despite the late hour it was still busy down below, and Arya watched the people scurry past from her second story window, marveling at how many people must live here.

She suddenly stilled, a horrifying thought coming into her mind. What if I am one of many? He was so confident, so talented, those were surely not the actions of a virgin. She paled at the realization that he was the first man she had kissed and therefore special, but to him their kiss could mean nothing.

Arya cringed, turning away from the window. I am such a fool! I bet he has bed many women, how could he not have? Oh lord, he must think I am some common slut fishing for a husband!

Or perhaps he could tell I am inexperienced... if he thought that I was ignorant enough to become enamored with him because of it, or think that our foolish kiss meant anything he would surely scorn me, she thought unhappily.

I must endeavor, then, to put it behind me and make him see that I am unaffected.

She squared her shoulders, determined. The picnic is only two days away, I must put him out of my mind until then.

When Arya awoke she realized that in all the excitement she had forgotten to tell her aunt and uncle about the picnic invitation. After she had kissed Eric and run away, she had wandered through the garden panicking. She knew she was a wreck and there absolutely was no way she could return to the party. She eventually slinked to her carriage, waiting until there was no one around to see her before leaping inside, surprising the coachman when he returned to his post a half hour later. She peeked out the window at him but stayed in the shadows, telling him she felt very ill and requesting him to please fetch her uncle.

He did so with a suspicious glance, but brought her uncle back in only a few minutes.

"Arya, what is the meaning of this?" her uncle had asked as he climbed into the carriage. "I had to make some very hasty and rude excuses to our hosts, and-" he stopped, noticing her appearance.

"What on earth happened, child?" His anger vanished as he gazed at her in shock. He instantly motioning for the coachman to depart.

Arya was on the verge of tears as they began to drive away, and stared out at the passing houses to hide her face. "I felt ill so I went out to the balcony for some fresh air. I must have fainted and spilled my wine all over myself, and I was too embarrassed to return to the party," she lied, her wavering voice lending credence to her story.

Her uncle draped his coat over her and put an arm around her. "There, there, everything is alright. You did well to not return, I can't imagine how they would have reacted to the sight of you," he said with a weak chuckle. Arya began to giggle in response, her nerves spent and the image of the horror-struck faces she would have faced finally sending her into gales of laughter. Her uncle began to chuckle as well, perfectly understanding her laughter, and Arya felt much better as they reached the house.

"Thank you for understanding, Uncle," she quietly thanked him.

He turned a bit pink, clearly pleased but unused to compliments or expressions of gratitude. "I will always be on your side, Arya, don't worry about that. I hate it here as much as you do," he confessed.

"How did you know?" she asked, startled. "I thought I was doing a good job of pretending that I was having fun."

Her uncle grinned. "You need to keep practicing your control over your expressions, my dear niece. Perhaps not everyone would recognize your pain, but I do," he concluded softly. Arya felt a moment of deep kinship, and hugged him impulsively, apologizing after she realized that he, too, had wine on his clothes now.

Her appearance at the front door had caused much speculation and gossip among the servants, but Aunt Agatha was adept at managing them and no harm came out of Arya's escapades.

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"Aunt Agatha?" Arya asked as she sat down to breakfast. "I was invited to a picnic tomorrow and I wondered if I might go?"

Her aunt looked up, smiling at her. "Of course, my dear. Who invited you?"

"Lord Eric," Arya replied, spreading jam on her toast.

"Huh," her aunt said, looking at her niece with renewed interest. "And how did you manage to get invited to one of his gatherings?"

Arya glanced up in surprise. "He just asked me. I was sitting with Ladies Isabella and Chantal, so perhaps he didn't want to be rude by excluding me?"

Her aunt widely smiled in satisfaction. "No, my dear. I think they were lucky to have been sitting with you."

A thrum of pleasure pulsed through Arya. "What do you mean?" she asked, blushing.

Her aunt paused, thinking about how to express what she knew of the man in a way that wouldn't turn Arya off - since he was an excellent catch - but in a way that would also be honest. She settled on, "Well, he is a bit of an odd duck. He doesn't approach ladies often. If there are ever invitations being offered for one of 'his' parties, it is his mother's doing, not Lord Eric's. You see, he is the youngest son of a very rich family and everyone thought he would become a distinguished general, or lawyer, or some such, like his brothers before him. Instead, he spends his days almost entirely on his country estate down in Langton, reading or hunting or God knows what."

"Oh," Arya replied, stifling a wide grin. I was right: he isn't like the others. He must hate court as much as I do. It was a comforting thought. "And you said he has a country estate?"

"Yes, he inherited it from his grandfather several years ago. Since then he has been largely absent from Veras. The only time he comes to court is when there is a fresh batch of debutantes his mother wishes to parade in front of him."

Arya took a bite of her toast, munching thoughtfully. "But why would you think that he noticed me rather than the others?" she asked.

"Don't talk with your mouth full dear, it's not ladylike," her aunt chided her automatically. "And it's odd because he hardly ever invites anyone anywhere. And Lady Isabella has been out one season already, and Lady Chantal three. If he was interested in them he would have made it clear sooner. Unless something happened to change his mind of course," she continued.

Arya could hardly contain her glee as she realized how jealous Isabella must have been. And then scowled as she realized that Isabella's betrayal in letting Arya leave with Lord Edgar was undoubtedly catalyzed by that jealousy.

"Oh wait, I forgot he didn't come to court last season, so perhaps it is Isabella he is interested in," her aunt said absently. She saw Arya's change in expression and hurried to reassure the girl. "Either way, you must do your best to be on good terms with him. He has a good position, a good family and reputation, and I dare say Lady Isabella will be trying her best to ensnare him. She is prettier than you, that is for sure." She smiled as she saw Arya's face fall further, adding, "but you are her superior in every other way, and if he is a decent sort of fellow at all he will see it."

Arya smiled back, "Thank you Aunt. However, I am not trying to 'win' anyone." She shrugged. "He seems nice enough, but I don't want to fall in love and get married and all that nonsense. I'd rather just finish this season as quickly as possible and return home."

Her aunt smiled knowingly, and went back to her breakfast.

Arya hardly slept that night. She was nervous to face Lord Eric again, especially after her aunt raised the possibility of his interest in her. But she did say that he might fancy Isabella...

She felt a twinge of jealousy as she imagined him kissing Lady Isabella, and growled softly.

You are silly to think that his invitation means he likes you. Or her. His mother probably made him do it, just like she makes him go to dances and parties elsewhere, Arya thought to herself, trying to calm her mind, to reassure herself with such logical conclusions. But her thoughts were racing and sleep was a long time coming.

Eventually the sun rose and Arya with it. She had a few hours before she was to leave (she had received a lovely little note the day before informing her of the location and hour) and every moment was spent being primped under the hands of her aunt's minions. Her nails were trimmed and filed, her hair done, her makeup done, her clothing chosen and altered to fit her perfectly, etc. etc. She spent most of this time yawning and ignoring the flurry around her, remembering fondly the days when she could wake up and stroll down to breakfast without even combing her hair.

At exactly ten o'clock she was arriving at a stately manor surrounded by manicured fields and neat streams whose flow was controlled by strategically placed rocks and man-made banks. They were about an hour outside of Veras and the respite from the city made Arya smile more widely with every passing mile.

Arya stepped out of the carriage and breathed the country air in deeply, her soft green dress billowing around her as a soft breeze blew. She smoothed it down, inwardly thanking her maid for picking it out. It brought out the flecks of green in her eyes, and offset her chestnut hair beautifully. It was full and flared away from her hips, a white sash accentuating her waist. Her breasts were pushed up by her corset, showing a tantalizing amount of creamy skin while still maintaining a semblance of modesty.

A servant approached, offering to lead Arya and her aunt to the lawn where the mistress of the house - Eric's mother - would greet them. Arya's heart began to flutter once more, hoping that this introduction would go smoothly.

They crossed through the manor to an enormous lawn overlooking a small lake. There were trees dotting the grass, and a giant white tent stood proudly a short distance from the house. Laughter and the sound of music were carried on the breeze, and Arya's nervousness increased with every step.

She was both yearning to see Eric and dreading it, her eyes searching for him as they approached the crowd. She was startled out of her surveillance when her aunt stopped, nodding her head graciously to their host who suddenly stood before them. She was a short woman, with a pleasant face and intelligent eyes.

"Welcome. It is lovely to see you, Agatha. It has been too long."

Arya was surprised by the familiar greeting and her aunt's genuine smile as she replied, "Thank you Sarah. I agree, I miss the days when our boys played together as children." She gazed fondly out over the water. "We had some pleasant days by the lake, did we not?"

Fuck! Arya swore to herself, feeling a surge of indignation rise in her chest. Her aunt had never mentioned this connection before! If Arya had known that her aunt had a direct relationship with Eric's mother she would have had a perfect reason to see him more often, and Aunt Agatha could have brought Arya here anytime!

She composed her face, though, as Sarah smiled back at Aunt Agatha, her eyes a bit sad. "Yes. Those were some of the best days I have known." Her wistful glance was swept away as she turned with a smile to Arya. "And this is your niece, Lady Arya?"

Arya was touched by the pride that was immediately evident on her aunt's face as Agatha introduced them. "Yes, of course. Lady Arya, I am pleased to introduce you to Countess DeSilva."

Arya blushed, unable to keep her mind from imagining how Eric's mother would react if she knew what Arya had done only a few nights prior. "I am honored to meet you," Arya said, dropping into a deep curtsey.

"I met your mother many years ago," Lady DeSilva told her, her voice lyrical. "She was several years my junior so we were never well acquainted, but I always wish we had had the chance. She seemed like a charming young woman... and not in the usual way."

Arya smiled, instantly recognizing from whom Eric had inherited his preference for sincerity. She replied earnestly, "Yes, ma'am. I was blessed with good fortune in my parentage, as Lord Eric clearly is as well."

"It is refreshing to meet a young woman who is respectful of her elders," the Countess replied. "Ah, here come to Tunstens. I hope you enjoy yourself, Lady Arya, it was nice to meet you."

Arya curtsied again and her aunt led her away. She was immediately accosted by several young women of her acquaintance and they led her away, giggling.

"It was so naughty!" Lady Chantal breathed, basking in the attention of the girls around her.

"It was disgusting," Lady Isabella sniffed, brushing her long hair off her shoulder.

"What?" Arya asked, curious.

The other girls eyed her, then broke into giggles again. Lady Isabella rolled her eyes, "Chantal and I caught some maid and her lover rutting when we went looking for a washroom. They probably thought that with everyone outside they could find some privacy... idiots."

The other girls gasped, then broke out into laughter again at the crude word "rutting," one of them exclaiming, "Isabella! That is a horrid word, certainly not one a lady would use."

Arya was taken aback by their reaction. Lady Isabella noticed and smirked at her, "Ladies, it seems as though Arya agrees. We must restrain ourselves, I think we are traumatizing the poor, innocent girl."

Arya blushed as the girls laughed. There was no suitable reply she could make so she smiled and shrugged, trying to blend in. "I came across two farmers once, doing it in a field! Disgusting."

"Oh remember that time we caught Fanny with the footman? She was so cross at being interrupted, she threw her shoe at me!" one girl whispered, referring to her maid.

Another replied, "That was nothing compared to this time I saw Anna come home with her skirts bloody from losing her virginity to Lord Brennan. She was half beaten to death when her father found out."

Arya winced, careful to control the horror she felt.

The stories continued on in this manner as the girls meandered down to the lake. They sat on the grass talking, and from their language it was clear that these girls were not nearly as innocent as Arya had previously suspected.

She took a gamble and asked quietly, "Surely none of you have done anything like that... have you?"

Immediately their eyes turned towards her, and one girl huffed loudly.

"How could you even ask something so dreadful?" Lady Chantal demanded.

"Of course not!" another exclaimed. "Those girls were inferiors, not ladies. None of us would act like such a harlot."

"And few would be bold enough to even suggest that we might be," another sniped.

"I don't suppose Lady Arya is asking because she has done anything like that herself, though, right?" Lady Isabella asked with a sly look.

The chatter paused, and their eyes once again riveted on poor Arya. "Of course not!" she cried, trying to hide her embarrassment. "But there was this one time I walked in on a maid doing something incredibly perverted to a servant of ours," she whispered conspiratorially. "She was on her hands and knees, and he had his... well, you know... in her mouth!" The girls all gasped and began talking amongst themselves.

Lady Isabella leaned back in disappointment, realizing that her audience was well and truly distracted. Arya let out a breath of relief, ignoring the suspicious glance Lady Isabella threw her way.

They sat by the water for another hour, and Arya grew more and more irritated by the absence of Eric's form among the groups of men. He had better not be avoiding me, she thought petulantly. It's not like I came here for any reason except to see him. She winced at the thought. That is a dangerous way to start thinking, Arya, she warned herself.

Eric didn't make an appearance till noon. She saw him exit the house and instantly moved to grab some food, choosing to eat in a place where she would be alone in case he decided to join her. He walked directly towards the tent she was in, wearing a crisp white outfit, his dark hair falling in silky waves around his face as he smiled and laughed, speaking intimately with a beautiful young woman by his side. Arya's heart immediately constricted.

She lowered her head as they walked by, angry at herself for being disappointed. He noticed her standing alone by a table as she picked at a small meat pie, and if Arya had been looking she would have noticed the gleam in his eye as he approached.

"Lady Arya!" he cried, walking towards her. He kissed the lady at his side on the cheek as she turned to leave, and Arya immediately hated the woman for her perfect skin and curvy body.

Arya's breathing increased as Eric separated from the lady and began walking towards her. His eyes were intent and he strode with eager, confident steps, holding out his hand. She took it gingerly, curtsying. He bowed back, lingering as he kissed her hand. Her eyes flitted up and he smiled cheekily, releasing her when she blushed.

"How are you enjoying the morning?" he asked amiably.

"Your home is lovely," she replied, but he waved her comment off.

"Yes, yes, the lake is gorgeous, the house is modern, our footmen are very exact, I have heard it all before. I asked how you are enjoying the morning?" he raised an eyebrow, and she took it as a challenge.

She smiled despite herself. "I am enjoying being out of Verass, that's for sure. I'm not sure I find the company any different, though."

He smiled at her, his teeth flashing in the sun. "Not many people would admit that there is anything that compares with our fair city of Veras," he replied, watching to see how she would react. He smiled inwardly as her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to find an appropriate response, knowing that she was desperately trying to straddle the line between civility and sincerity.

I wonder if she knows how cute that is.

"I know you dislike niceties, so I will not bore you with false praise," she began cautiously, continuing more readily when he smiled in approval, "but I vastly prefer the outdoors, and I prefer quality, rather than quantity, when it comes to friendship."

He raised a glass in salute, "I can drink to that."

She smiled and clinked her glass against his and they drank, silent for a moment as they eyed each other over their drinks.

Arya picked at her pie once more as the silence grew tense.

"Arya-"

"Lord Eric," she interrupted, her voice firm but her eyes staring resolutely at her plate.

"Eric," he corrected, his voice low.

"Eric," she conceded.

He felt a thrill hearing his name on her lips - it was so naughty for her to leave out the "Lord", and he loved it.