The Old Brass Bed

"Uh huh, but he's the last man on earth I'd go walking with. Not handsome enough. Not rich enough. About as smooth as a gravel road."

The two women laughed as if some great comedy had just played out in front of them.

And maybe it had. Geneva had always considered herself above the crass Connecticut aristocracy she was born into. After all she had spent the last four years in Zurich at one of the finest all-girls finishing schools and had rubbed elbows with true royalty so she knew what the upper class was all about. She even had an actual princess from Tavolara as a roommate. But the men and women that lived in Belle Haven were only pretenders like Stanley. Mostly they inherited their money from parents who amassed fortunes working in mills and manufacturing plants of the industrial north. Even Geneva's father had made his fortune building railroads throughout the states. They were a spoiled lot. And most of them were there to annoy Geneva.

But two things set Geneva apart from everybody else, her razor-sharp wit and the ability to use her looks to get what she wanted. Men would do anything she asked and women just wanted to throw her in front of a train. Some would describe her as frail but she was anything but delicate. Small doesn't always mean frail. She was a few inches above five feet tall but she could punch and kick and pull the hair of an adversary with the best of them. She rarely fought but when she did she always won. The long wavy red hair that cascaded over her shoulders gave her the appearance of a Greek goddess. The sharp angular features of her face gave her a haughty look but they could turn soft and alluring in a heartbeat, if she wanted to woo somebody. She was beautiful outside but devious and cunning inside.

Nonchalantly looking around surveying her domain, Geneva commanded the room. She pointed at a clutch of men in the corner. "Now there's someone I could take for a ride in the Dusey. Who is he?"

Rolling her head to the side and looking across the room, the seated woman replied, "That's Bryson Pitt, Howard Pitt's son. He's just back from overseas. Just got some decoration from the president for something he did in France during the war. He's due to take over his father's company in a couple weeks. Quite a good looking man and I've had my share of good looking men so I should know."

"I think I'll introduce myself," purred Geneva as she marched in a straight line from the couch to the group of people the handsome man was standing with.

"Hello and welcome to our home. I'm Geneva Michaels. Have you met your host yet? He's just over there at the bar."

"Hello yourself. I'm Bryson, Bryson Pitt. It's a pleasure to meet you Geneva. And no I haven't met our host. Would you care to introduce us?"

With a sly smile Geneva hooked her arm with his and led him across the room to the bar.

Geneva peeked up at the beautiful man she escorted and smiled her sweetest little-girl smile. He didn't know it but he was on display for all to see, and he was hers to show off. His pomade slicked black hair sparkled with reflected light and his haunting brown eyes absorbed every detail of every person they passed. He would smile and nod the acquaintance of the partygoers. Geneva especially liked the simple coat and tie he wore. It was different from the tuxedos that the pretend-wealthy men wore. It set him apart from the rabble. It set them apart.

"Daddy, this Bryson Pitt, Howard Pitt's son. You remember Howard don't you?"

It's been many years since anybody called Daddy handsome. But he was still an imposing figure and having rooms full of money can make even the meekest man good looking. Although he looked old and besotted he was a most formidable opponent, in and out of the boardroom, most of the time. Squinting one eye he sized up the man entwined in Geneva's arm. He must have approved because a great smile lit up his face.

"Of course I remember Howard. And I remember this little squirt trying to ride one his daddy's polo ponies and falling into the horse trough. Geneva honey, I'm not as feeble minded as you think. It's a pleasure to see you again my boy. How are you enjoying our little summerhouse?"

"It's quite magnificent, from what I've seen. If you don't mind I'd like to take a stroll around and look at the rest of the house and maybe the gardens."

"Of course, make yourself at home. Maybe my cantankerous daughter would show you around."

"I'd like that sir. Thank you."

"Want something to drink to carry with you?"

"No thank you. Just having a beautiful woman on my arm is intoxicating enough."

"Ha ha, yeah yeah, mumble mumble..." The senior Mister Michaels turned back to the bar and threw back another shot.

Geneva led Bryson out to the veranda, the moonlight guiding the path as they walked.

"He actually had no idea who you were, don't you know?" She said turning and leaning against the limestone railing. "He's lost a lot of his faculties since mother died."

"I didn't want to say anything. I never fell off a polo pony or any kind of horse ever in my life. He must have me mixed up with another of your many beaus."

"Mister Pitt, contrary to what you may have heard I don't have a stable full of boyfriends. As a matter of fact at the moment I don't have any. Most of the men I meet only want one thing, well maybe two if you count daddy's money. I'm pretty careful about who I'm seen with. I don't want people to think that I'm some sort of floozy. I have a reputation to maintain and I wouldn't sully our family name with a lot of tawdry folderol. Men are always asking me to take a walk around the lake with them. I know what that means. They want to get me alone so they can take advantage of me. I'm not that kind of girl."

"I'm sorry if I implied anything Miss Michaels. I've been away for a long time with school in Europe and the war in France and all so I've kind of lost touch with the social graces here at home. I wouldn't do anything to take advantage of you. I'll wager that most men only see you as a beautiful young woman to conquer and overlook the keen mind inside. I like a woman with a head on her shoulders. It's intriguing and down right sexy. I'm sure that whatever man you choose would be delighted to have you beside him."

"Why Mister Pitt, how backward of you. This is 1923 not 1823. Women these days know what they want and don't have to rely on men to get it for them. If I want to go with a man and let him take advantage of my virtue then I will do just that. I'm no different than you. I have wants and desires. I can look at something beautiful and appreciate it for what it is. And I can plan and scheme as well as anybody. No Mister Pitt I'm no old fashion Victorian prude. If I see something I want I go out and get it."

"And do you see anything you want?" He asked looking deeply into her emerald green eyes.

"Yes I do. He's standing right in front of me looking into my eyes with a silly little grin on his perfectly kissable mouth. Mister Pitt, how would you like to escort me around the lake?"

"It would be my pleasure Miss Michaels."

He held out his arm and she linked hers in. They slowly strolled along the path between the large hedges and around the edge of the lake. The moon's reflection off the water gave the warm summer evening an eerie feeling as it created jumping shadows all around. The path twisted and turned through the lawn as it led toward a white gazebo at the edge of the water.

Geneva walked to the water's-edge side of the little wooden building and leaned back against the rail. The moonlit water shimmering behind her produced a twinkling aura all about her flowing red hair. It looked as though she were standing among the stars.

"You look absolutely stunning in the moonlight," Bryson uttered as he put his hands on the rail on either side and leaned forward to kiss her ear. "You might just be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and at the same time you might be the most frightening. I'm afraid that I won't be able to control myself. I could very easily lose control and make love to you right here."

"Ummm, that sounds wonderful. I want you to lose control. I didn't walk in the moonlight around the lake with you to discuss politics. I want you to touch me and kiss me and make mad passionate love to me. I need to feel you inside me."

Her head turned slightly so her lips met his. The two lovers kissed long and hard without ever moving. Their bodies remained still but their mouths joined and their tongues intertwined.

"Ummm," a moan boiled up from Geneva's throat and she reached out with her hands and encircled his waist. She pulled his body to hers and they melted into one. The kissing continued uninterrupted as hands rubbed up and down arms and backs. Another moan escaped from her throat as he squeezed her backside gently and pulled her pelvis into his. She could feel his hardness. She wanted it inside her. She was boiling.

His coat fell to the floor behind him and her gold shoulder coat fell off into the water.

She pulled back to take a breath and looked deeply in his eyes. "Mister Pitt, I'm not going to make love to you here on this gazebo."

His eyes widened and a little pouting frown appeared.

"I intend to make love to you in the grass under that chestnut tree," she said pointing behind him.

His frown disappeared as he stepped back and took her by the hand. Her shoes disappeared as they walked in the grass and so did his tie. When they stopped Bryson turned her around to face him and leaned forward for another kiss.

"Wait, silly, I don't want to ruin this dress. It just came in from France yesterday. I don't want grass stains all over it, not yet at least." She reached around back and unbuttoned the calf length gown and let it fall to the ground around her feet. Bryson's eyes widened as he looked down at the beauty standing in front of him wearing thigh high stockings, a short white chemise, and a smile. "Now you can kiss me," she purred.

Again their mouths merged into one and their tongues fought each other for supremacy. Skillfully she unbuttoned and peeled his stylish Arrow shirt off without ever breaking their deep kiss. When she reached for his belt the kiss broke and he stepped back.

"Ladies first," he whispered, smiling from ear to ear.

"Of course," she said smiling as she slipped the thin shoulder straps off of each shoulder and let the silky garment drop around her feet. Her breasts were small but had pert dark nipples that he could see even in the dim moonlight. They looked up at him as he looked down at them. Leaning forward he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it inside to meet his swirling tongue.

"Oh, my God!" She moaned as he suckled her. Her head fell back and her arms went limp underneath his powerful arms. One of her hands found the strength to reach out and press his hard cock in her palm. Now he was the one to let out a little moan around her tit.

When they separated her pastel colored panties were around her feet. As though she had done it a million times she unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and bent down pulling them down on top of his shoes. As she stood up she blew a little air at the tented underwear bulge in front.

They embraced and kissed with hands roving all over each other's naked body, squeezing her breasts and his bottom. Bryson pulled Geneva down on top of his glistening body as he lay back in the grass and squeezed her into him. They rolled over and over each other on the moist lawn. During the spinning his shoes, socks and underpants disappeared. At one turn they stopped with him on top and he held her gaze intently.

"Make love to me now," she pleaded as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

Both bodies were wet with sweat. Both bodies were hot with passion. Both bodies were poised and ready. Slowly he leaned forward and placed his lips softly on hers. Only at the last did their eyes close. Their tongues intertwined again. She could feel the pressure between her legs as his cock reached the entrance. Her juices aided in his entry. He slid deep inside the folds of her hot pussy in a slow, single thrust. A moan mingled with their tongues, coming this time from both lovers. For an eternity they lay with their arms and legs intertwined and his cock impaled between her legs. Nobody moved. Each felt the heartbeat of the other. Their kiss continued.

Almost without feeling it he withdrew from her and then slid back to the depths. As if to tease her, he paused. She pulled her legs tighter on his hips and he very slowly pulled out and slid back in again. Slowly out and slowly back in again. Over and over he plunged her depths until she couldn't take the agony any more.

She broke their kiss and panted, "harder, deeper, please oh please, faster." Her eyes pleaded with him. His stroke sped up but only a little. His smile told the story that he was taunting her but she didn't want to be taunted, she wanted to be pounded into the ground by his cock. Digging her fingernails into his back she again gasped, "Harder damn it!" and drove her tongue deeply into his mouth. The pain in his back spurred him on and soon his hips stabbed downward as her legs wantonly pulled him back inside.

The two bodies, twisted together in a sweaty tangled heap, bounced up and down under the tree in the pale moonlight. A guttural, animal like growling emanated from the knot sounding like one was trying to consume the other.

Between the savage thrusts the half crazy woman underneath gasped,

"Mister... Pitt... I don't... have to... ask you... to be... a gentleman... and pull out... before you flood... my insides... with your seed.... I don't want.. . to get... pregnant."

The words she just spoke may have fallen on deaf ears because his response was to thrust harder and faster. Shortly his plunging cock started her shaking and she dug her nails deeper into his skin and yanked his hips with her legs faster. "Dear God! I'm almost... I'm going to... Oh my God... OH!... OH!... OH!" There was silence from the bottom of the pile as she just held on and convulsed, mouth agape.

His pounding continued unabated when suddenly he pushed up from the ground and pulled out of her red hot pussy. He knelt between her legs and squirted his hot cum all over her stomach as he spoke in another language, "Ug... Oh... Umh... Ahhh!" after which time he fell in a heap on top of the ecstasy wracked beauty below. The two bodies breathed as though it were to be their last. They lay spent in each other's arms, neither had enough energy to say anything nor to turn to kiss the other. Every last ounce of strength was gone.

What started with a simple walk around the lake ended with a mighty explosion of ecstasy. The two lovers moved to hold each other lying in the grass in the moonlight.

She saw Ashford's face in her mind as a tear fell onto her cheek.

********

The first thought that entered Frankie's mind was that the room was awfully warm. A beam of sunlight peeked through one corner of the window shade lighting up the flowery print of the quilt lying in a heap beside the bed. Frankie herself was lying on her back with her pajama top unbuttoned and lying at her sides. Her pajama bottoms were a tangled mess around one ankle.

"Damn it's hot in here."

With only one eye partly open she looked down at her naked body.

"Wow, what a mess. How did I get like this?"

She rubbed one hand between her breasts and felt the pool of sweat between the mounds. Continuing downward she felt the heat of her belly and more sweat pooling in her navel. Still further down she felt the heat emanating from between her legs and moved to investigate with her fingers.

"Oh my," she moaned as her fingers slid over the hair and down in between the moist swollen folds below. The index finger touched her clit causing her to jump back as though burned with a hot poker. "OW!"

She pulled her hand back and looked at it in amazement. A slimy, creamy white fluid dripped from her fingers and sweat glistened on her palm. Sitting up she looked between her thighs and saw that the hair was matted and sticky looking and the lips on both sides were red and swollen. There was even a wet spot on the bed between her legs.

"Noooo, I didn't do that while I slept, did I?"

Frankie had never been with a man before but that didn't mean she didn't understand the mechanics of sex. She read about it a lot. As a matter of fact she was quite a fan of reading about it. Her collection of graphic romance novels was quite extensive and she knew how to masturbate. So she knew what it felt like to have an orgasm. But what she didn't know was how it felt to have a man's cock deep insider her or how it felt to wrap her arms and legs around a hot sweaty man and hold on for dear life or how it felt when a load of hot cum leaked out of her womb and onto the bed. But as she looked back and forth between her hand and her pussy she had a good idea now what some of those feelings were all about.

Then she turned and looked at the shiny brass headboard.

"It must be you. Are you haunted or something? Did I buy a bed possessed with the lusty memories of that society woman? I've never, ever had a dream as erotic as that! WOW! And it was so incredibly real. It was almost as though I was back in 1923 at the lake with... well, him. I can still smell his sweet hair. I'll bet I've even got grass stains on my back."

She fell back on the bed and laughed out loud.

When her laughter subsided she moved her fingers to her nose and smelled the sex that wasn't part of any dream, the sticky goo was real. Everything seemed exactly like the dream. Her pussy was tender, there was liquid dripping from the slit, there was sweat all over her body and the sheets, when she woke her breathing was labored, even the way her clothes were thrown about all matched the dream.

Frankie threw her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. The heap of pajama bottoms fell to the floor as she shimmied out of the top and threw it next to the bottoms. For once she started the day with a smile.

On her walk to work Frankie looked around at the people and the buildings. For the first time she actually saw the faces of the people she passed. As she waited in line to go into the subway she saw a face that she recognized. It was the man in the dream; the one that Geneva loved -- Ashford. She stopped and stared at him as people walked around her frozen body and said nothing. His head slowly turned and he looked straight into Frankie's eyes. He smiled at her then turned and went into the subway car.

Nothing exciting happened in Frankie's day, as usual, except that everywhere she looked she saw Ashford's face. Needless to say, she got very little work done. During the evening commute back home she looked everywhere for the man on the subway but didn't see him.

That night Frankie watched an old movie on TV, a love story of course. Halfway through her mind started to wander and she started thinking about the dream from the night before and the man from the subway. She saw the man in the subway standing on the veranda of the dream. Again he smiled at her. She saw their hot bodies intertwined next to the lake. She dreamed that the woman was her and not Geneva. Without thinking she slid her hand into her pajama bottoms and found that her hairy mound was hot and moist. Using one finger she probed inside the lips and found the little button of pleasure. The finger circled around and around until her legs started to quiver. Now using her two middle fingers she sped up the stroking and circular motions. Her other hand pinched her nipples through the fabric of her top. When the world faded out and her ecstasy began she threw her head back and let out a deep, loud moan. She twitched and convulsed and cried until her hand fell limp in her pants. Frankie faded out and slept until morning.