Elizabeth 05: Christmas Troubles

"Oh, Irene, no one deserves that at this time of year," Elizabeth said. "And we do understand you are in a very bad place just now."

"Yes, well, if I should ever wish to get out of that place – and I do – it will hardly do to stand my friends up and drink myself into a stupor, I should think," Irene went on. "That's why I've come by to apologize to you both, and to see if you mightn't be interested in the baths this afternoon? We do have so much to catch up on."

I found I did not care for the idea of going downtown on such a frigid afternoon. Fortunately, Elizabeth concurred for her own reasons: "Oh, I'm sorry, Irene, but I'm afraid I am not in a good place for the baths myself today. I had a bit of a fight with Jonathan last night after we visited you."

"Oh dear, not my fault, I hope?" Irene asked.

"Not at all. Our own – his and mine – for failing to handle a minor problem better. But I must confess the incident has robbed me of my Christmas spirit for the moment. That is why I bear you no ill will for last night; I now see all too well what you were experiencing!"

"I see," Irene said, not unkindly. Then, turning to me, she asked, "Shall we make it a twosome instead?"

"I find I am more inclined to stay safe and warm indoors," I said. "But you are more than welcome to stay the afternoon. Elizabeth, shall we have a girls' night in?"

"Oh, thank you, but I think I ought to take a nap," Elizabeth said, and in her eyes I knew I detected that she sensed Irene would prefer to be alone with me. I allowed a naughty smile to slip, at which point Elizabeth spoke up again quite hastily. "I do apologize, Irene, but I slept rather poorly last night myself. Perhaps we can all meet for dinner?"

"Perfect," Irene said, and I had little doubt she and I were of one mind as to what would happen next.

Elizabeth kissed Irene's cheek and then took her leave with uncharacteristic discretion, the swishing of her skirts making more noise than her feet as she tiptoed quickly up the stairs. As soon as she had vanished beyond the landing, Irene and I swept one another up in a passionate embrace that surely would have raised Aunt and Uncle's eyebrows had they happened out into the foyer (which, fortunately, they did not). The risk of that embarrassment was entirely worth it in my mind at that moment, for her now-familiar body so close against mine was perfectly delicious. I longed to kiss her, but that was a bridge too far in the foyer.

"I do hope Elizabeth does not feel left-out," I murmured.

"She could have joined us had she wished," Irene pointed out.

"I doubt Jonathan would approve."

"Jonathan who took your virginity while engaged to Elizabeth?" Irene needled.

"Shhhh!" But I was laughing as I said it. Brazenly I took her hand, and we rushed happily up the stairs and off to my room.

I had no Christmas decorations in my room, but the entire wing smelled vaguely of spruce needles and spice thanks to the decorations and cooking that were then pervading the entire downstairs. It was one of the few advantages of my humble quarters, which offered more proximity to the public portion of the mansion and less privacy than Elizabeth's. Eschewing the electric lights, I lit an oil lamp on my dresser, and drew the curtains against the miserable outdoors. The resulting scene was cosy and private and absolutely safe.

Irene locked the door behind us and turned to me. Across the bed, she asked, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked. "Now we are both free to play with whomever we want to, aren't we?"

"I just should never want us to think we have only one another to fall back upon because we cannot find a man of our own."

"Is a man really what you want this afternoon, Irene?" I rubbed my still-clothed breasts enticingly as I asked.

She burst into gentle laughter. "Hardly!" With that she reached back and untied the sash of her dress in one fluid, experienced motion; I could not help wondering how many times she had teased Benjamin thusly. "This shall certainly top an afternoon at the baths!" She gathered up her skirt to pull it over her head. I followed suit, and by the time I had my dress off she was in her brassiere and panties and had bounded onto the bed.

Her underclothes were the same bright shade of red as her dress. "You planned on this all along, didn't you, dear?" I asked, setting my dress on the chair by the window. I opted to get all of my clothing out of the way before I joined her on the bed, and she eyed me hungrily as I continued undressing.

"Hoped for it, I suppose," Irene confessed. "But I really did suppose an afternoon at the baths with you and Elizabeth was all I could hope for."

"Let's not mention Elizabeth again for now," I said, fluffing out my ladygarden as best I could with all my fingers. "I can't compete with her in certain respects, after all."

"You've certainly got me beat in that regard," Irene reminded me. "And fear not; it is you I wished to encounter. We are quite good at this, after all!"

I certainly felt beautiful in the warmth of Irene's gaze as I climbed onto the bed and into her waiting arms. As I slipped my own arms around her, the kiss on which we had been compelled to hold off back downstairs was forthcoming at last. The reluctance of our first encounter was now but an inconvenient memory; the mild awkwardness of the second (in front of our friends) was no longer an issue either, and we caressed one another with the knowing and loving confidence of the experienced couple we now were.

Irene's fingers lost no time in finding their way between my thighs and tickling my vulva as only she could do. I shuddered in pleasure and felt an involuntary groan of joy as I fell back upon the pillows on my side of the bed. Grinning, Irene knelt over me and eased first one, then two of her fingers inside. "Ohhhh God!" I thrust my hips up and savoured the beautiful sensation as her fingers glided in and out. Irene's brassiere looked most itchy and confining compared to my own unconfined breasts, and I longed to free her from her harness. But she was bobbing a bit too far above me for me to reach behind her back, and so I contented myself with kneading her breasts gently through the soft red fabric while she flicked me into orgasm with her wonderful fingers.

"Oh, that feels lovely," Irene reassured me, evidently not minding her breasts' confinement. "But you sound even lovelier, dear. Come for me!" And in very little more time, I did.

"God, Irene, you're amazing!" I said breathlessly as she slowly, teasingly withdrew her fingers from my pussy. I groped for something else to say that would not bring to mind either Benjamin or my role in running him off. But I could think of nothing, and so as soon as I had my wits about me again, I scrambled to my knees and swept Irene up in my arms once again. "You're amazing, but you're wearing entirely too many clothes, dear," I teased, nearly tearing the clasp of her brassiere away in my hurry to undo it.

"Well, I hardly felt I should have to undress myself in your presence, Agnes!" Irene shot back with a wicked grin just before I buried my face in her breasts. Her nipples were rock-hard thanks to my prior fondling, and I teased one with my tongue and the other with my fingers. Irene yelped in joy as I did, and her body seemed to melt around mine, both of us kneeling together in the centre of the bed now.

When I had her worked up into a full lather of arousal, I gave her a gentle push back onto the pillows, and made quick work of her panties. They were moist with her arousal, and her plump, prominent vulva seemed to be looking expectantly up at me. Once as much a cause for insecurity as Elizabeth's bush had been, Irene's big lips no longer caused her any embarrassment – at least not in my presence, since she knew how I adored her unique beauty. In that sultry moment, I told her just how much I adored it, not with words but with gentle strokes with both of my thumbs, up and down each side and never quite touching her clitoris but, I was sure, creating an itch to be touched there.

It would appear I was right, for Irene let out a lusty yelp as my touch grew firmer and faster. "Oh, wonderful, Agnes, wonderful! More, please!" And so 'more' was just what I gave her. Flopping down on the far end of the bed, I teased at her modest bush with my fingers while teasing her pussy with gentle kisses and licks all around, once or twice inside, but avoiding the sweetest spot for the moment.

"Unnnnngggghhhhhhhh...such sweet torture, Agnesssss!"

At the sound of her menacing pronunciation of my name, I at last planted a tender kiss and a gentle swipe of the tongue on her clitoris. This drew her loudest screech of approval yet, and I was grateful Aunt and Uncle had not seen me escort Irene upstairs, for it seemed all too plausible that they would hear Irene. Putting that from my mind, I rubbed hard at her hips with both my hands while I continued my loving assault on her clitoris. The ice being broken, my sucking and licking grew harder with each stroke, and Irene was now writhing every which way as I pushed her to the edge.

There was no missing it when I got her there. Amidst her lusty screams, she pushed my head gently but firmly off her and beckoned me with both her hands. As soon as I could scoot up to meet her, she threw her arms around me. "Thank you!" she whispered. "Just what the doctor ordered!"

"What are friends for?" I joked, returning her embrace. Irene laughed and squeezed me more tightly. Once again I felt a twinge of guilt at how our discovery of this attraction had carried such a tragic cost for Irene. But with Benjamin now gone for good, there was little harm in us continuing with our occasional trysts, after all. With the oil lamp still burning, soon we were both wrapped in a warm midwinter slumber.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was paying a visit to Christmas. Not the Christmas that was then just days away, mind you, but another one at some time and place unknown to her. Dressed in a nightgown and robe she did not recognize, she found herself descending a staircase in a lovely but unfamiliar house. Smaller than Uncle's mansion but still quite spacious, the downstairs into which she emerged was decorated with tinsel and baubles nearly everywhere she looked, while the picture window revealed an elegant drift of snow and the promise of children frolicking about not far away.

"Mummy!" a little boy Elizabeth did not recognize appeared in the kitchen doorway and hurtled towards her. He leapt into her arms and felt just right there, though she did not even know his name. "Merry Christmas, Mummy!"

"Merry Christmas," Elizabeth replied with a smile belying her bewilderment. "I hope you've been good for your father while I was sleeping in."

"Of course he was," Jonathan said, appearing in the doorway with two steaming cups of tea in his hand. He looked a few years older, and for the first time Elizabeth realized she had no idea as to her own appearance. "They both were – for once."

Both?

A girl, a year or two older than the boy from the look of it, slunk into the living room behind Jonathan. "Yes, Mummy, he was good for once. Probably afraid Father Christmas would leave him coal if he wasn't, the little brat."

"That's enough of that!" Jonathan told her. "Can't we have no fights today of all days?"

"He's right, dear," Elizabeth added, the boy still snuggling up to her. "It's Christmas morning. Let's all open our gifts and enjoy the occasion, shall we?"

"Let's all open our gifts," the girl mimicked. "You always say that, and you never put a stop to the little brat's –"

"That's enough!" Jonathan snapped, in a tone Elizabeth had rarely heard him use. "It's Christmas, goddammit! None of that!"

"But he's been getting at me all week, and you haven't done anything 'because it's Christmas'! Why should he get away with murder because of that?"

"He shouldn't," Elizabeth allowed, and with that she pulled back to look the little boy in the eye. "What have you done to your sister?"

"We were only playing," he mumbled nervously.

"Only playing?!" the girl piped up again.

"SHUT. UP!" Jonathan was livid. "Not now! Let's open our presents, and –"

"You open your presents!" the girl screeched. "You can throw mine away for all I care, Daddy!" She burst into tears and raced up the stairs.

Jonathan heaved a disappointed sigh. "Well, I suppose we can't open them all now, can we?"

"Yes we can, Daddy!" the boy protested. "Leave her up there if that's what she wants!"

"If that's what she wants?" Elizabeth set the boy firmly down on the floor and glared down at him. "You've been tormenting your sister and now you think this is only her problem? Why don't you go upstairs as well!"

"Elizabeth!" Jonathan snapped, as the boy crumpled onto the floor and began to cry. "He's only three! What do you expect?"

"I expect you and me to teach him to have some respect for his sister!" Elizabeth shot back, though it occurred to her now that she hadn't a clue as to what the children had actually been fighting over.

"But you know she is always like that nowadays!" Jonathan said.

"I can see why, with him picking on her all the time! Why haven't you done anything to put a stop to that?"

"Why haven't I?! This is your fault too, you know!" By now they were standing toe-to-toe and glaring in one another's eyes, and their son had followed his sister's lead up the stairs. The cheerful blinking lights from the Christmas tree were now a perverse irony amidst the tension and rage that held sway as Jonathan and Elizabeth stared each other down.

"Did we have to go over this again?" Jonathan asked, somewhat more calmly now. "At Christmas of all times?"

"Why should Christmas be any different?" Elizabeth asked.

"What on earth do you mean?" Jonathan demanded. "Peace on earth, goodwill to men...you know the song by heart."

"Goodwill to men whose behaviour would get them sent to their room without any supper at any other time of year?" Elizabeth asked. "Jonathan, perhaps you are right that I am equally to blame with regards to the children. But either way, it is clear that he has been mistreating her and one or both of us should have done something! But all either of us has done, I gather, is tell her to grin and bear it because it's Christmas. What sort of message is that sending her?!"

Jonathan backed down and looked thoughtful. "It is only that...they fight all the time anyway! I only thought this ought to be one time we ought to be able to set it aside and just enjoy the holiday season as a family."

"Do you expect him to see it that way, though?" Elizabeth asked. "I don't. I expect him to see that as an excuse to have all the fun he wants at his sister's expense, and treating her like a Scrooge if she doesn't put up with it."

"Christ, Elizabeth, why does this always bubble up at Christmas? Even before we were married..."

"Even before we were married, Jonathan, there was tremendous pressure everywhere to pretend you were having a good day at this time of year, even if you were miserable in reality. It will likely always be that way, too. It's a cold, nasty time of year, but at the very same time we're being bombarded constantly with all these messages of joy and peace and love, and anyone who betrays any lack of those things is treated like a villain. It's hard work to keep up that charade sometimes, and our own home is one place where we should not have to keep up appearances at all times, don't you think?"

Jonathan nodded. "Well said. How did you think of all that anyway?"

"I did not only just think of it," Elizabeth told him. "It's something I've been acutely aware of since my first term at boarding school. You know how miserable that was, and yet the very people who were causing that misery were also criticizing me for not being bright and happy at Christmastime. It was murderous, and I will not have any part in forcing that attitude upon my children."

"Indeed," Jonathan agreed. "So many life lessons you took from those horrible days. I wonder where Tamara is now, anyway?"

The words, "Hell, I hope," were forming upon Elizabeth's lips when she sprung awake. It took a few angst-ridden moments before she realized she had been dreaming of her future. Or was it only a future she feared? Lying in the dark with the fire dying down at the foot of her bed, she found her relief only reached so far. Was that what she and Jonathan had to look forward to: a lovely house and two lovely kids and hearts full of anger and resentment all around?

"Not if I can help it," Elizabeth said to herself, swinging out of her bed and standing up to stretch. "Not if we can help it," she corrected herself. And in that moment, she knew what she had to do.

Elizabeth turned on the electric lights and sat down at her desk, and scribbled down a note to Irene and me. After folding it over, she grabbed up her cloak and purse and made her way downstairs, with only a detour to slip the note under my door. (Irene and I were still fast asleep at that point, but we would find it in plenty of time; and we had a good laugh over how she knew we would be together in my room.) With only a cordial good-day to the doorman, she rushed out into the chilly late afternoon and walked as quickly as she could to the streetcar stop near the foot of Uncle's property.

On the ride into town, she had to fend off a number of invitations to the baths from a few of our friends, always with the concession that, yes, it was perfect weather for that; but she had more urgent business to attend to. She was nearly to Jonathan's stop before the possibility occurred to her that he might not be home; but she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

A knock at his door revealed that Elizabeth had in fact arrived at that bridge. As she waited in vain for an answer, she also became aware of an unsubtle reminder that she had left the house in a terrible hurry. Our morning's tea binge was once again catching up with her, and there was no water closet readily available. As that was among the things she and Jonathan often bonded over so well, he would surely have a good laugh about that predicament once they did reconnect! But where was she likely to find him? It took but a moment of fidgeting outside his door to conclude that there was no choice but to explore the likeliest places one by one.

Jonathan's office was three blocks away, and the cold air and her full bladder ensured that Elizabeth made the walk quite briskly. She did not allow herself the luxury of wondering where Jonathan might be if not at the office; first things first! Arriving at the office building, she lost no time in rushing up to our floor, where to her delight she found the light on in the office. Eagerly she rapped at the door; but there was no response. Perhaps he was back in Mr. Thompson's suite. She knocked again, and once again received no response. Now she was left to wonder where else he might be...shopping at Miles? The pub? There was nothing stopping Elizabeth from checking them one by one.

But first, a more pressing problem occurred to her: where was the ladies' room? (I, of course, could have told her it was at the far end of the hallway; but I was still very much asleep back home.) Elizabeth had drunk even more tea than usual that morning, she had neglected to attend to such things before leaving as she was normally so very careful to do, and the ride into the city was always a long one. The gentlemen's water closet was conveniently located right by the stairwell, and it was exceedingly unlikely that she would be invading anyone's privacy on a week-end day...Elizabeth bit her lip and resolved to simply get in, make water and get out as quickly as possible.