Fireworks?

Fireworks..

I saw her across the crowded ball room. Gliding effortlessly around the floor, like a bird of paradise. Delectable. A Swan like neck, perfect bosoms, sparkling blue eyes, perfection in human form. Dressed in an exquisitely tailored gown of a vivid green hue with ermine trimmings, my heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly my whole being yearned to reach out to her, to unwrap her swirling ball gown, to extract her perfect bosoms to feel their firm softness to slip off her underthings and unlace her corsets, to run my fingers around her softness, to stroke her silky inner thighs and to take her for my pleasure.

But how to make her acquaintance? One can not after all merely walk up to a young and very eligable lady to whom one has not been introduced and suggest a spot of lewd and rampant fornication. Not in polite society.

Bunty Burlingham was at my shoulder as always and his sister Mary was as usual hovering nearby, they seemed almost joined at hip. Bunty was an amiable enough cove and often we found our way to the same parties and balls, quite likely because I often dived into my own pocket when bills were to be paid whereas Bunty ah, did not.

Mary was such a common companion that I generally failed to take account of the fact that she was actually a girl, I generally treated her as one of the chaps.

Thus it was that I quite cruelly asked the question, “Dear god who is that delectable creature?” in Mary’s presence whilst pointing at the vision of lovliness.

Mary followed my gaze, in her raised heels she was near my own height, “That,” she averred, “Is Lady Eliza Crawford. Her father owns half of Bradford or some such provincial town.”

“Cor, out of your league old boy,” Bunty joked.

“Never,” I replied, “If I can face up to Bonaparte I can defeat any fair ladies defenses.”

“Charles, your entire regiment spent the whole of the battle of Waterloo in reserve,” Mary reminded me.

She was always belittling me, 23 years of age and still unmarried, only two years younger than I in fact, I only put up with it so as not to upset Bunty.

“The girl, get me an introduction,” I ordered.

“Work your magic old girl,” Bunty suggested.

Mary sighed and ventured forth.

I watched her make her way through the throng, her funny red fascinator hat like a ships sail threading hither and thither.

I had no doubt Mary would fetch the vision of loveliness, my own status was well known as my father had wisely drunk himself to oblivion to insulate himself from mothers barbed tongue and compounded it by driving his own coach and four into the river Mersey at full gallop, apparently mistaking it for the Manchester turnpike. Fortunately the horses survived, though he did not.

Mary returned alone, “Her card is full,” she explained.

“Did you not explain who was asking?” I demanded

“But of course,” Mary declared.

My member was stiffened by thoughts of poling the wench, even the thought of kissing her sweet lips was rousing me. Rousing me in a most uncomfortable manner as space to extend within my breeches was most severely limited.

I sought to rearrange my underthings.

Mary saw my discomfiture. “Charles please!” she hissed, and then taking pity on me she added, “Outside, now!”

“Oh, yes, I thank you,” I blustered.

We stepped through the “Fench Window,” one of many glazed doors leading on to the raised walkway which ran around the outside of the building some several feet above street level.