The ball was full of lights, shadows, glitter, and boring people of high station. Sure, some of them were even related to me, but that doesn't mean I like them. There were ladies clutching masks to their faces, stuffed inside dresses made of cloths that I could care less about. The men, I reflected jealously, were forced to wear no more than a suit and waistcoat, which included pants. What would I give, I wondered, to be at home, wearing britches and reading a romance novel?
I wove my way through the crowd, a warm mass of people chattering and mingling, filled with the scent of clashing perfumes and colognes, the textures of various dresses and suits. I ducked around a woman in a frilly chartreuse dress and a wobbling hairdo and climbed a set of polished marble steps up to the balustrade. The balustrade had a view of the ballroom floor, angled carefully so that observers upon it could not see the orchestra pit. I frowned, the effort of climbing up the steps had left me unable to catch my breath in this stuffy room.
Looking around, I espied a large set of ornate French doors that led to a balcony. I tried the handle, and found it operational. I opened the door, with a little bit of effort from my heaving bosom, and stepped out into the night; the cool, fresh air a relief from the stale indoors I had just abandoned. I took my fan out of the sash of my garish dress, and used it to fan the cool air towards me.
The balcony had a view of the Thames, which was beautiful by night, the moon and stars reflecting clearly off its gilded surface. I would have stared at it for hours, had the damned dress not been too tight, and had the stiff whalebone corset I was wearing below it not forbidden me from breathing. I tried taking short, shallow breaths, but they left me more lightheaded than before. Taking deep breaths hurt to the eighth Hell, so I resigned myself to struggling to breathe.
I felt a strong pair of hands grab my waist, and froze a bit in surprise as a husky male voice whispered in my ear, "you look uncomfortable, m'lady." I recognized the accent, and it wasn't hard to place the scent of the cologne that Sir Jacob Frye wore. He pressed me closer to him, and I leaned back into his warmth, realizing only then that I had been cold.
"I can't breathe, or move," I admitted, suddenly feeling even more constricted by the dress I was wearing, by the corset that accompanied it.
"If that's the case, m'lady, let's run away from here." He hadn't let go, and his voice was making me melt into his arms. There was no way I'd say no. Not to a former "dance" partner that I had shared such delightful experiences with before. "Run away with me."
"You know," I responded, coyly, "I gave my maid a day off, and now I need someone to help me with my corset." I broke his embrace, and turned to look up at him. "Are you interested?"
Jacob smiled, and wrapped his arms around me again, kissing me on my nose and tracing an idle finger along the curve of one of my breasts. "For you, m'lady, certainly." He took my hand and squeezed it firmly, lifting it to his lips before brushing his lips against it. "Meet me outside, in the black and green carriage," he whispered as he lifted his head winking. He vanished inside, disappearing into the crowd.
My pain, and the aching tightness of the corset near forgotten, I stepped inside and once again took the polished marble steps, darting through the crowd and their glitter and their perfume. I passed over the coatroom where I had left my coat and my parasol, and nearly tripped over my own feet as I ran out past the footman. At the moment I regained my balance, I saw the black and green carriage. Jacob threw open the door, and I trotted up to it, unceremoniously gathering my skirts into a bunch with one hand while Jacob helped me up with the other. He closed the door behind me, and the carriage took off.
Jacob wasted no time in trying to undo my corset. He fumbled a bit with the knots, and got impatient. Using a blade he kept at his wrist, he sliced through the cords that had kept me from breathing this whole time. While he allowed me time to breathe, he did me the courtesy of "unlacing" my shoes in the same manner, giving my feet a chance to rest as well.
"So, m'lady, what will you have tonight from your humble suitor?" Jacob teased me, leaning in for a kiss while at the same time massaging my aching breasts. We kissed, and the fire that burned throughout each and every one of our stolen nights together burned red-hot and brighter than before. "Your dashing knight has a little... business to attend to before the night is over, but for the moment, m'lady, I'm yours."
It didn't take me long to decide what I wanted. I whispered my request into his ear, and he smirked, lifting up my skirt and tearing away my undergarments. He felt my warm opening, wet and inviting, and dove right in, licking and teasing me with alternating speeds, fast-slow-fast-achingly slow. He inserted some of his fingers, and found that one spot the both of us knew all too well as I gripped his hair with my hands, shuddering with pleasure each time that he teased my sensitive spots.
I started moaning, and I could feel Jacob smile while he was eating me out, his facial hair ticking the insides of my thighs. He came up, once, smiling, his face dripping from the wetness of my womanhood. He smirked at me again, and went back down, working hard to please me, his face buried between my legs until I came, screaming his name, all over his face. He resurfaced just as the carriage driver (who, I'm sure, heard everything-- something just as exciting as what Jacob and I had just been doing) announced that we were at my estate.
Jacob threw open the door and carried me, princess-style, inside through the back door, letting himself in with the key I had given him months ago. He carried me to my bed, and set me down gently and kissed me good-night on the mouth before I fell asleep, spent.