Elizabeth 06: The Honeymoon

"I'm on my honeymoon, actually." Elizabeth said it with real regret knowing how it would disappoint the poor young man, whose attention was causing her no small amount of arousal; she counted herself lucky that her bathing suit was already wet.

However, he took the news quite well. "How lovely! But your husband isn't joining you for a swim?"

"He's off reading some silly novel in the café, I believe," Elizabeth said. "No need for us to spend every waking moment together, after all, now that we've got our whole lives for that. And honestly," she leaned in closer to Ronald and lowered her voice, "I don't think he cares to watch when I put myself on display as I have here."

"I'm...sorry!" Ronald looked nonplussed. "I don't wish to cause any trouble..."

"You are causing no trouble!" Elizabeth reassured him, touching him for the first time on his shoulder. "It is only that my husband, well, he knows how I like to put my body on display in certain ways, and it is not so much fun for him because he is rather more modest than I am. That is all."

"I see," Ronald said, although it did not sound to Elizabeth as though he did. "I do hope he appreciates your beauty." With a self-conscious look down at his bulging trunks, he added, "You can see that I do."

"Yes, and I am tremendously flattered," Elizabeth told him.

"Well, thank you!" He stood a bit taller, his chest thrust out and, beneath the waterline, his bulge as well. "I suppose it is safe to ask if you are aroused as well, looking at it so."

"I am," Elizabeth admitted, "But then, that state is quite normal for me. There is a saying where I come from: the hairy ones are the horny ones!"

Ronald looked titillated. "They certainly do make me horny. I can only hope the reverse is also true! Your husband is a very lucky man, in any event."

"I'll tell you a secret," she added, "Being frank about your taste in such things is a good way to discover women like me. That's how my husband came to meet me. After all, you cannot spot us when we are fully clothed."

"Too true. I am ever so grateful to have spotted you, then, even if only to look at you."

"I assure you, Ronald, you may look all you want!" With that, she sprung into a backstroke, spreading her legs wide just before she landed in the water so that Ronald had a brief but unimpeded look at the wild curls that seemed poised to swallow up the gusset of her bathing suit. He was still looking awestruck when she completed her lap a few minutes later.

Upon joining Jonathan for a late lunch in the ship's café that afternoon, Elizabeth was still giddy from the show she had put on for Ronald. (She had, she later told me, also rubbed herself to two orgasms back in their cabin after drying off.) "Jonathan, I've made a decision," she announced after kissing him in greeting. "When we get to France, I want to purchase at least one of those bathing suits like the ladies at the pool wear."

Jonathan grinned, but was surprised. "You know those will never cover everything with you," he said.

"Of course I do," Elizabeth let a laugh slip out just before taking her first sip of tea.

"And I know you've always said you don't like the way your bush looks half-in, half-out like that," he said.

"True, I prefer to surprise people with the whole thing," Elizabeth agreed. "But I just prefer that modern style so much to my old fashioned suit, which doesn't even hide anything when I'm wading in the water anyway. You know how it always floats up."

"I see you've put on a show for someone at the pool and enjoyed it, then." Jonathan did not look or sound upset at this, as he once would have.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth felt she had to tread gently. "Well, yes, Jonathan, I did. And I shan't apologize, for you know none but you are allowed to touch me regardless of what anyone else sees -"

"Yes, dear, I do know," Jonathan said, taking her hand reassuringly. "I know I have reacted badly to such things in the past, but that is over. If I had any lingering difficulties with your occasional need to put yourself on display for others, I shouldn't have married you, should I?"

"Oh, Jonathan!" Elizabeth leaned across the table and kissed him, drawing scandalous looks from some of the older passengers, whom they both ignored.

"Auntie Agnes, you look like a princess!" Joy announced when I came down the stairs the following night, just as her mother was ushering her and her brother into the sitting room. Thomas gawked at me but said nothing.

"I do?!" I exclaimed. I did not, of course, but with my hair up and in the ornate blue dress I had purchased on my lunch break that day, I felt a bit the part.

"None of that, Joy," her mother admonished her, and both children found themselves shooed into the sitting room without another word, but each with a long last glance at me as I descended the stairs. "Agnes, I trust you shall be quiet upon your return," Aunt told me. "The children shall be asleep by then, I hope."

"I shall be quite certain not to make enough noise to awaken them from two floors and a wing away," I promised, not at all sure how I could make such a racket even if I cared to.

"I can do without your sarcasm at this hour, Agnes," Aunt said crisply just before slamming the door behind her. I was not at all surprised at her grouchiness; with Elizabeth now both an honest woman and absent for some time, Aunt simply needed a new target. And she had always resented me just as much as she did Elizabeth, at least since Edward had left me on my own to be my own woman in a way she had never had the opportunity to be.

The rain having finally taken its leave that morning, I walked out into the dusk of a pleasant summer day to find the cab I had chartered waiting for me; the streetcar into town simply would not do for a first date! Within fifteen minutes I was at the door of Claridge's, which of course looked nothing like my memory of my prior visit with Edward. Such memories always are embellished beyond all true recognition when they are played over and over again in the absence of a true sighting, something I had avoided quite assiduously over the elapsed year.

I had just enough time on the settee just outside the ladies' lounge to reacquaint myself with the lobby's ornate décor, and to wonder if James was the sort who liked to keep a lady waiting, before he appeared in the doorway. "Terribly sorry, Agnes," he said, greeting me with a kiss on the hand as he helped me back to my feet. "Haven't worn this tie in ages and I had to steam and iron it." He ran his free hand over the emerald green tie that was tucked perfectly into his vest.

"It did clean up nicely," I said, and indeed both it and he had! "I'm ever so glad you made it, James." I hooked my arm through his and we entered the dining room. There were only a few other parties there, one of whom was Maggie from the baths with a fellow I did not recognize; I could now be certain James and I would be the talk of the baths on the morrow, but I found I did not mind that in the least.

If the restaurant was little like that of my memory, I was at least correct in recalling that it was a remarkably romantic setting. As the maitre d'hotel showed us to a candlelit booth at the far end of the room, I reflected that my staying away until now had been a good choice. The quiet intimacy of the little tables and the pleasantly dim lighting were meant for those with full hearts, as I had had myself convinced I was on my previous visit with Edward. Engaged to the man I thought I loved and with a holiday in Westfordshire City to look forward to before our wedding, I had thought the world was at my fingertips on that evening. I had in fact had a brilliant future before me, but in virtually the exact opposite of every way in which I had imagined! Reliving that gilded memory alone, even once I was over Edward, would have been a certain recipe for misery. Not so tonight, as I smiled across the table at James, enjoying the easy silence that can only come with having already shared the intimacy we had.

"To what do I owe that smile?" James asked.

"I'm simply very happy to be here," I said. "The last time I was here was just after I arrived in town, and here I am a completely different woman. It's a lovely change."

"Well now, I'm sure you were lovely then as well, Agnes, but I'll agree that your changes seem to have been for the better."

"Thank you; and they were!" Lowering my voice, I added, "I assure you, the shrinking violet I was a year ago would never have lured you upstairs at the wedding."

"Few women would, I think," James agreed. "But that's one reason why I invited you out tonight. Only one reason, I assure you! But for a man like myself who is no good at flirting, there is a great deal to be said for having already been through all we have."

"No good at flirting!" I replied in surprise. "James, don't you know why I invited you to the wedding in the first place? It was because of how charming you have always been at our meetings, always so quick with a joke and a smile, yet you take me seriously as well. Hardly any men can claim either of those things, and you are both!" It was all quite true: his quietly respectful and low-key personality had always been immensely inviting.

"Well, I am very gratified to hear that from you, Agnes," he said. "But that was simply me being me. I assure you I was not flirting! Not intentionally in any event. I hope you can believe that."

"I do, James." And I did. Though I was not so naïve as to rule out the possibility that it was all an elaborate way of flirting, I quickly concluded that there was no need for him to deny it when I had expressed my own interest in him in no uncertain terms. "Of course I do. I know nothing about flirting myself, in any event."

"You certainly could have fooled me the other day," he observed drily.

"That was not flirting! That was simply a young woman who was ready for a bit of fun, and who had a willing partner."

"I certainly am that," James agreed. As the waiter arrived with our wine at that moment, we drank to his willingness.

There was, thank heavens, no small talk for us. Once dinner arrived, the companionship was quiet and agreeable, and I was remarkably comfortable getting to know this young man whom I had known better with his clothes off than on. We finished off a bottle of wine during and after dinner as the conversation lingered on, and decided against a second. There was no talk of our going home together to jump back into bed just yet; but as we said our fond good nights on the corner afterward and I kissed him goodbye on the lips, I knew it was but a matter of time. Yet another advantage, I suppose, of having already had our bit of fun at the wedding was that there was no sense of urgency or uncertainty on the matter now. We already knew we were wonderfully compatible in that regard!

It was only as I thought of these things on my walk to the streetcar stop that I remembered: he still was not aware of his mistake with regards to my appearance. But, I promptly concluded, what of it? With no chance at all of him ever seeing Elizabeth in the nude, there was no need for me to advise him of her differences with me. And on that note, I realized with surprise for the second evening in a row that I had spent no time at all pining for Elizabeth or the bonds I had feared lost. And so it was with genuine joy that I arrived back home and found my way to my room without awakening the children. It was with even greater joy that I caressed myself to three orgasms before falling fast asleep, the lovely memory of James in that very bed and the anticipation of the same in the future accompanying me for each step of the way.

Irene, it seems, was rather less inhibited than I about moving quickly on her first date with Gregory. Alas, Gregory was not.

While James and I were indulging one another at Claridge's, they were enjoying a show at the theatre two blocks up the high street. It was an enjoyable farce, and an evening that began with the occasional shy look over at one another gave way to laughing together and brushing hands against thighs now and again. When the curtain fell, Irene was feeling thoroughly comfortable with her companion, who was looking as meticulously groomed as ever in a linen suit - rather more casual than he ever dressed for the bank, but still every inch the well-bred professional with whom we ladies of Westfordshire City were ever so spoiled for choice. Irene, already feeling half naked in a short skirt whereas she was now well accustomed to trousers, longed to tear his suit off and see for herself just how deep Gregory's grooming went.

"Well, that was a lovely show, Gregory," she said as they filed out. "Thank you."

"Thank me?" Gregory asked. "You are the one who invited me, and I do thank you for that. I do need to get out more in the evenings, work keeps me so very occupied. I am so very glad you asked!"

"Well now, the evening is still young, you know," Irene said, slipping her hand in his as they milled through the crowd to the stairwell.

"I could do with another round of drinks, now that you mention it," Gregory agreed. "Join me? This time it's on me."

"Certainly," Irene said, wondering if he mightn't be playing at some silly game. A drink with Gregory certainly was not a disagreeable proposition, in any event.

He led her around the corner to a whiskey bar that she knew by name only. "They mostly cater to an older crowd," he explained. "But that makes it perfect for a nice quiet chat if that's what you're looking for."

"I am always up for that," Irene said. Looking around, she concluded quickly that she did like the dark oaken décor, though Gregory was all too correct that the clientele appeared to be largely older and male. When the barmaid appeared just after they had settled themselves in a booth, Irene surprised Gregory by ordering a well-respected brand by name; he followed suit with a me-too.

"You know your liquor," Gregory said once they were alone again.

"Rather too well," Irene admitted. "Drinking one's troubles away is no longer a man's game alone, I am afraid. But one does learn what dulls the pain rather quickly."

"What's to be dulled tonight?" Gregory asked.

"Absolutely nothing, I hope!" Irene replied with a grin, grazing his hand playfully as she did. "You look lovely in that suit, incidentally. Very summery."

"Why, thank you," he said. "I confess, Irene, I had half-expected you to wear one as well. Pleasant to be wrong, I must say."

"What?!" Irene masked her irritation with a smile, hoping he might be joking. "Can't a girl wear pants from time to time without it meaning anything beyond enjoying a diverse wardrobe?"

"A man can't very well wear a dress from time to time and enjoy such mundane expectations," Gregory pointed out.

"And more's the pity," Irene said. "I am a bit radical, I suppose, but I believe anyone ought to be able to wear a dress or not. I am simply doing my part to that end, nothing more."

"You do that well," Gregory said. "I do admire how progressive you are in that regard, Irene. I always have. It is only that you do look lovely tonight, and I shouldn't have wanted to miss that."

"Thank you!" The crisis having passed, Irene basked in his admiration as their glasses arrived and she enjoyed a first taste of the bitter beverage.

For an awkward moment she feared she was opening herself up to accusations of drinking a man's drink like a woman; but to her relief she noted that Gregory also began with a tentative sip. As if reading her mind, he explained, "I prefer to take these slowly. So many men just belt them down, and what's the point but to get drunk as quickly as possible?"

"I couldn't agree more," Irene said. "A bit of this goes such a long way." At that moment she rather hoped Gregory's drink would go a bit faster in lowering his inhibitions; but for the moment she resolved to enjoy her own whiskey and the view across the table.

Irene made her drink last at least ten minutes, interspersed with pub talk of everything and nothing. Even at that pace, the undiluted spirit had her feeling rather tipsy. When at last she polished off the last drop, she set her glass down and said, "Well, that will keep me for the night, I think. And you, Gregory?"

"Most definitely," he agreed, having finished his some moments before. "Working early and all that, you know." He pulled out his billfold and set down the money, waving to the barmaid. "Well then, thank you ever so much for inviting me out tonight, Irene. We ought to do it again one of these nights."

"I'd like that very much indeed," Irene said, smiling through her disappointment. Not willing to let the ball drop just yet, she added, "When would you like to do that?"

"Perhaps Friday? Then we needn't worry about working early after all. Dinner and then we'll see how we feel about some more drinks?"

"I'd love that," Irene said, somewhat relieved. "Thanks."

"Thank you," Gregory said as they took their leave of the bar. "Can't tell you what a pleasure it is to have a woman do the asking for a change." Stopping on the sidewalk before he turned homeward, he regarded her with a smile, and for a wonderful moment Irene thought she might at least have a good night kiss. "It's..." he began tentatively. "It's been a great evening, Irene. I'll look forward to Friday."

"Indeed," Irene said, clasping her hands absentmindedly before her in her nervousness. She opened them as if to welcome him into an embrace, but he took no notice as he nodded and put his hat on. "I'll be seeing you then, I suppose," she stammered.

"That you will! Good night!"

Irene walked home and, she later confided in me, ended her evening much as I was ending mine at around the same time. But whereas my self-pleasuring was in celebration of the loveliness I now knew was sure to come, hers was out of frustration. Still and all, Gregory had looked beautiful in his linen suit and he had told Irene she was beautiful as well, and he had proven himself open to a next time. Irene did her best to focus on the possibilities of that next time as she fingered herself into pleasant exhaustion.

Elizabeth had lost none of her resolve when the ship docked. After regaining her land legs and enjoying a mellow evening with Jonathan, the next morning found her at a boutique not far from the beach. In the privacy of the fitting area, she admired herself in the glass in an elegant turquoise bathing suit, which of course betrayed her ladygarden in every way possible. "Wonderful," she declared to her reflection. "I feel positively royal in this. I shall buy it!"

The sales lady stood aside, looking embarrassed on Elizabeth's behalf and wondering how to address the unmentionable issue that she could not ignore. "Would madame not prefer something with..." she struggled and failed to recall the English word 'skirt'. "...avec une jupe?"

"That will not be necessary," Elizabeth told her in her own clumsy university French. "I like it very much just as it is."

As if to prove her point, she pulled the suit off and stood naked but for her brassiere before the sales lady without a hint of shame because, of course, she felt none. She handed the bathing suit to her and set about putting her dress back on without another word, and the sales lady retreated to the counter to fold and box the suit. She had seen many a tourist with a poor eye for what was and was not attractive, but never anything quite like this! With a vivacious smile but no more words in either language, Elizabeth paid for her purchase and left with the parcel clutched in her eager right hand. As the sales lady watched her take her leave, she was still rather disbelieving of what she had just witnessed. But the hirsute young foreigner had seemed perfectly delighted with her choice, so there seemed to be no cause for complaint whether she understood or not.