Northanger Abbey: The Lost Chapter

(from a scrap of foolscap discovered hidden under the floorboard of an apartment said to have once been a residence of Jane Austen. Indeed, the authenticity of the document is questionable, but the content is, nonetheless, amusing)

"Oh, Mrs. Allen, you must think me ever so childish, but both Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Tilney have asked me to accompany them to the ball. I would so much rather be with Mr. Tilney and his sister, but Elizabeth is ever so insistent that I join them for the evening. Whatever do you think I should do?" Catherine was mortified at her own inability to be decisive, but had finally learned that she must not allow Elizabeth to make up her mind for her.

"You should not wear the sprigged muslin, whichever you do, dear," Mrs. Allen was rarely much help in this sort of quandary. Catherine, coming to the realization that she would have to make up her own mind, retired to her bedchamber and sat in the window, watching the cold rain outside while she considered.

Mr. Thorpe was brash and had a most abrasive personality, but... she shivered as she thought about the size of the lump in his pants. Knowing Mr. Thorpe's tendency to brag about that which did not exist however, she could not be at all certain that it was not a potato he carried about so splendidly displayed.

Mr. Tilney, on the other hand, was quiet and gentle. He did little to excite fancy in her, but there was something that smouldered in his eyes that made her suspect there was an undisplayed fire, possibly with the potential to consume her in burning passion. But that could be mere imagination on her part.

Catherine, try as she might, had made no decision by the time she was dressed. Then the bell rang. It was Mr. Tilney and his beautiful sister come to collect her to the ball. Atypical as it was, it was Mr. Tilney and not Mr. Thorpe who had stolen a march on her. She smiled as she entered the room, all happiness and cheer now that her predicament was settled.

Miss Tilney was dressed in the most exquisite gown, though she was certain that Mrs. Allen must be having silent fits at the fact that it did not quite cover her ankles. But Mrs. Allen was used to young people going about things in their own way. When Catherine sneaked a look at her, the older woman appeared totally oblivious to any deviation from cultured taste or social standard.

"We've been so looking forward to spending the evening in your company," Miss Tilney offered. I've told my brother on more than one occasion that he could do far worse than be seen in your company," she added later in an aside for Catherine's ear only.

"It is not far to the Pump Room," Mr. Tilney announced, "but I have brought around the brougham nonetheless. We may as well travel even so short a distance in comfort and out of this chill breeze." Catherine studied him covertly, noticing that, though he did very little to call attention to it, the lump in his trousers was every bit as impressive as that in Mr. Thorpe's. The three young people bid good evening to Mrs. Allen and set off to the ball.

As he handed her up into the carriage, Catherine made certain to hoist her skirts a little higher than absolutely necessary that Mr. Tilney might apprise himself of the shape of her legs and the daring lack of pants underneath. From Miss Tilney's appraising look, Catherine understood that she would be a topic of conversation whenever the brother and sister were next alone together.

Presently, Catherine found herself seated between the Tilneys. The seat seemed somewhat smaller than she would have expected. Her legs wer firmly pressed against those of both Tilneys. Something about the restriction of movement thrilled her, and she sneaked a look at Mr. Tilney. His eyes lifted to meet hers, and she felt her breast heave a bit as she realized that it was precisely that part of her person on which his attention had been focused. She blushed furiously when his hand dropped to her thigh and opened her mouth to object to this impropriety, but for some reason no sound would come forth.

Her body, traitor to her best intentions, enjoyed the touch. Her female parts were warming and calling for her attention, and she could feel her nipples hardening in the confines of her bodice until she was certain they must be pressing through her gown for all to see. She looked at Mr. Tilney's hand, uncertain whether she should wish for him to squeeze her tenderley before moving farther up her leg or remove his hand so that she could regain her composure. She was contemplating this rather difficult quandary when a cool hand cupped the back of her neck and warm lips were applied to her left ear. It was not Mr. Tilney, he was seated to her right. Catherine could do little but moan as she turned to address the young woman. Her mind was awhirl from the assault on her sensuality.

Catherine had not planned very well. The sudden rotation of her head placed her lips where, moments earlier, her ear had been. Any protestation she might have made was muffled by the presence of another mouth over her own. As her own tongue sought the invader, she felt Mr. Tilney's hand creep up to the very junction of her thighs, his hand pressing down between her thighs seeking the button at the top of her cunny. A wonderful thrill of sexual need rushed through her, coursing like lightning from the contact of his finger with her clit and his sister's tongue with her own. She sagged in total sexual surrender just as the carriage stopped in front of the Pump Room.

Miss Tilney assisted her in putting herself in presentable order as Mr. Tilney descended the carriage. By the time he offered his hand for her descent, she was ready to face the world in spite of the confusion that raged in her head. Brother and sister were so composed that it might all never have happened, might have occurred only in her mind. But her body was still responding to stimulae which had ceased. Her nipples ached with their hardness and her female parts felt moist and warm between her thighs. Her arousal was such that each step caused the insides of her thighs to rub against the swollen lips of that most private treasure and amplify the voluptuous sensations. She felt absolutely certain that her state was manifest to any who cared to take notice.

By the time they had gained their places by the dance floor, Catherine had managed to compose her mind well enough that she could carry on sensible conversation, though her blush was far from faded. When Mr. Thorpe presented himself and allowed that he was most put out at her failure to be at home when he called for her and accused her of caring nothing for his feelings, Catherine merely looked at him, inwardly thanking herself for not allowing herself to be on his arm this evening.

Presently, Mr. Thorpe's voice grew a little louder in complaint, and Mr. Tilney grasped his shoulder and took him away to a corner to explain things to him. Mr. Thorpe did not return to Catherine's presence for the remaining part of the evening.

But Catherine did not want for attention. Mr. Tilney danced with her several times, though that was cause for conversation among the general society attending the ball. More than a couple of dances with one man was, as far as many were concerned, either indication of very serious commitment or just plain improper behaviour (dependent upon the age and social demeanor of the observer).

Catherine, feeling Mr. Tilney's presence so close, sensitive to the closeness of his chest to her breast and the fact that the fulcrums of their beings were mere inches apart, was oblivious to the musings of others. He spoke to her, too softly for others to hear, saying things which no proper gentleman would ever repeat to the tender ears of a woman, but each word was an electric thrill, causing her knees to become progressively weaker until she felt she must surely stumble and fall on the dance floor.

(the paper, being torn here, reveals no more content. I hope that the reader will consent to apply his or her imagination to discover what might happen next. -ed)