Thread: An Indecent Correspondence (AlluringEnigma x Dane Stalling)

My Dearest Elizabeth, You are correct in thinking that I could have made use of your wiles on the voyage. We'd have made short work of my neighbouring cabin, you and I, but one must use ingenuity when one lacks ideal resources. I did manage to keep both of my itching hands on your letter as I read your account of Kelsey's introduction into your bed, but I was in a state of such desire as I completed it that I called on a pretty that you will meet in these pages. We made a riot that will not be soon forgotten among the household staff, but I have every confidence that unless my lady friend speaks of it herself, none will hear of it. There have been a number of developments that have made these last weeks notable. Most are only business transactions and local political manoeuvring and I would not bore you with their recounting except that some lascivious interest has come of them which I will spin out for you presently. A principle of trade is to buy cheap and sell dear, as you know, of course. And any good trader seeks value where none else see it. I only mention the idea because my father is blind to a resource that I have come to value very much, and that is the acquisition of information. In particular, the information that flows freely through channels that he has ignored heretofore. The native servants on the estate, contrary to your guess, possess a network of facts that is both very accurate and extremely fast. I have been quick to promise substantial rewards among the household staff--and some of the servants in neighboring estates-- for both the delivery of news from surrounding holdings and for discretion from our own. As I am aware of none of my peers that possess similar views on the flow of information, I feel confident that I have, as they attempted to teach me in my business lectures, a monopoly on informal communications between the servants of European estates in the city. Using this method I have compiled a tantalizing list of female prospects, their estates, and sometimes their habits. As for the cultivation of my reputation, I have a small story for you that will illustrate my stratagem. Last week I was struck with a phrase repeated often by the lads at the Club when speaking of a stuck door or an overtight bolt. Tight as Moll Poulsens knees, they said, and seemed to share forlorn grins upon using the phrase. I was acquainted with a girl so named before I shipped off to England to learn business at the university and dissipation between your thighs. I was a better scholar of the latter, though the former soaked a small part of my brain, much as I tried to prevent it. Moll was of no account then, a coltish girl, all knees and elbows, her teeth too large for her blond head, and dominated by a pair of grey protestant parents. So she was, from the time her breasts began to grow, covered from ankle to neck in drab dresses that made her a paradox of angles and shapelessness. I was myself barely more than a schoolboy in shorts and long socks, more interested in fishing and cricket than the mystery of where her long legs met. We climbed trees together and chased rabbits as playmates, and nothing more. So to hear her name spoken thus was surprising, for I had every expectation that she should be long absent from the minds of the local dandies. I discerned by the work of my careful listeners that her family attended the Scandinavian Lutheran Church, and so I made a plan to attend the next Sunday, wearing my best, and with your book of saints under my arm to keep me company. I reflected during the sermon that were you to confess, you would taint the confessor and find, maybe, a lively romp in a cloistered garden. But confession is not a fashionable doctrine among the Lutherans so you would needs resort to subtler methods. I also reflected that Scandinavians must have the cold of their homelands in their bones because they kept both windows and doors tight shut though the morning was hot enough to melt their horses into glue during the proceedings. Indeed I perspired a great deal, but it seemed so with all who attended. Now we come to Moll. She sat in the third row next to her parents and I sat across the aisle and one pew behind so as to be able to observe her without her marking me. Her hair, which had been tangled with twigs from exploring a hedge when last I saw her was glossy gold and full, though covered with a stringed bonnet. I could not see her face in the bonnet, but I did see what my friends had also seen. She kept her knees tight together. But I marked something that my friends had not. She made a rhythmical rocking so slow that none but the most observant would make note of it. Indeed it would have escaped my notice if she were not my sole reason for attendance. It put me in mind of the evening you and I were at the opera and I whispered every delicious thing I would do to you after the last note. You rocked thus that evening. Consequently, while my friends saw prudish abstinence in her demeanour, I saw barely contained lust. Her forehead was dewed with perspiration and the hair at her temples was dampened, I saw, not just from the overpowering warmth of the air, but also from the heat of some as yet undiscovered desire. Naturally I contrived to remember myself to her parents after the service as I knew they would recall me as a harmless boy and occasional playmate to their daughter. What I was surprised to discover was that every awkwardness, every defect in her proportion, every spot on her skin had been smoothed over with a most fetching and delicious femininity. Her mother seized upon me immediately, remembering the wealth and supposed good name of my family, and suggested herself that I take Moll for an afternoon stroll along the beach side promenade. In any other situation I would have dug in the heels at such a suggestion on a sweltering day, but I knew that chances for entry into her affections would abound on such an outing, so I agreed, and after luncheon I set out with Moll on a walk along the docks. Now it happened that we passed my father's ice making factory as we strolled, and, not one to miss an opportunity, I suggested that we take a tour of the premises, not least because of the pervasive discomfort of the day. As it happened, there were unforeseen advantages. It would seem at first that an ice factory would be the ideal destination on a hellish day, but remember that our clothes were already in various stages of dampness from long hours of baking in the weather, so while we initially relished the cool of the storage warehouse, very soon it became uncomfortably chilly. Moll's summer church dress, modest as it was, was no match for the frigid atmospheres of the factory, and she soon found herself in the difficult position of having to decide whether to ask me to cut our tour short or to find solace in the closest source of heat, namely your own Tom Greenacre. With Moll chattering her teeth and clinging to my arm, all but pressing her breast against me, I took my time, though truth be told, I was nearly as much in a state of discomfort as she, though perhaps I had her advantage in finding the heat of her hands a double warmth. I have often observed that a woman who is recently escaped from an awkward youth into beauty still has the behaviours and thinking of the homely girl she has recently ceased to be. In this, Moll was an eminent example. She had no idea of her beauty, of its effect on men in general, and me in particular. It was in this refreshing state of affairs that an unguarded honesty broke out between us. We stood between walls made of great blocks of ice and she clung to me, careless of the intimate contact of our bodies. While I confessed I found her form appealing, she confessed her desire to break free of her life, to do rash and irresponsible things. I don't have a care if I get caught, she said, shivering charmingly into my chest, I can't stop thinking of fleeing into some adventure or other, far from the oversight of my parents. I have an idea, then, I said, because I could see that this was an opportunity I should seize upon without delay. Come to Greenacre estate to-night when it is dark. There is a stair at the back of the manse that leads to the balcony outside my rooms. We can speak freely there of any adventure you can imagine. Oh, would you? she said. I can tell, given your seduction of the most exquisite Kelsey, that you know my feelings at that very moment. What thrill is like it? Nothing that I can express in written words. Yet I feel that you understand my mind in this, as we are predators, you and I, though I am undecided on who is the more ruthless. You, I am inclined to believe, though the proof is yet lacking. I cannot guess what you would have done given this state of affairs, but I will report as faithfully as possible for your enjoyment, the recall of that evening. I gave the watch boy a crown and I instructed him to apprehend the girl as a thief when she appeared at my stairs, for I doubted not that she would make every effort to fulfil her adventure once I had encouraged the action. And, it happened thus. She was apprehended as she stole along the edges of the garden and brought directly to me. I waited at my writing desk, and I observed the whole affair as it happened. The watch boy had her arm in a firm grip as he dragged her before me and I looked up at her as though this were a common occurrence. What is it, Sipho, I said, putting my fountain pen in its case. Another thief? Yes, Baas, he said, She made a plan to steal your diamonds, Baas. She got a bag for carrying them away. Of course, this was the fiction we had agreed upon and Sipho produced a canvas sack just then, one with the crest of my family imprinted on it. He shook the sack a few times and threw it on the floor in front of me. She a thief, Baas. I'll call the constables. Thank you, Sipho, I said, But leave me with her for a time and I will see if I can find what further plans she has. Perhaps this is but the first of many trespasses. Let the constables sleep a little while yet. Yes Baas. Sipho scowled at her and left, his outrage clear. It was a pity he could not read, for he would have made a fine actor in the theatre. I noted this and wondered briefly how to get a tutor for the boy. He was a bright one, and a promising future befitted him. Moll, I said once the boy was gone. What do you have to say for yourself? I did not know if she would protest innocence, burst into tears, or flee immediately, but what she said next surprised me. I'd have stolen your diamonds, Tom, if your infernal boy hadn't happened by at just the time I was most vulnerable. I must say that her reply gave me pause, but I detected that she was joining the fiction Sipho and I had devised. I wondered at her ambitions for the evening, for I had my own, of course, and did not desire to be thwarted. My diamonds? I said, in as doubtful a voice as I could muster, And you were to spirit them away in this sack as Sipho has charged? She snorted then in disgust as though I had insulted her in some way. I'd have swallowed your diamonds and carried them safe to the assayer's office two days hence in the morning with the aid of a bottle of castor oil and a sieve. You know that I am not easily shocked, dear Elizabeth, but you will be amused to know that my face blanched at this last. I did research in the next days along the lines of Moll's odd fiction and it proved to be a common, if distateful, method of diamond theft in the mines of Kimberley and Cullinan. That she should invoke the story so quickly and under a sort of duress left me with a renewed impression of her thwarted desires. I answered quick, as I knew the initiatve lay with me at this juncture. I cannot trust the confessions of a thief, I said, warming to the situation, and I am certain that even your confession is a wide path to a false conclusion. I believe that you were not en route to commit the theft when Sipho apprehended you, but that you have already acquired my jewels, secreted them in some devious fashion, and were, in fact, in the process of withdrawing with the stones when you came to his attention. Pff, what if I had? she said, her cheeks pink with emotion. I moved close to her and whispered in her ear, my cheek touching hers. Under that suspicion, I'd have to search you thoroughly, I said, Extremely thoroughly. Her knees were tight together during this exchange. I was keenly aware of every posture and shift of her body. Indeed, at this moment, my thigh was against hers. At my last utterance, her knees separated a little, an inch, maybe, but it was as though she had invited me to ravish her on the spot. I've no fear of your inspection, she said, though I felt her tremble. I put my hand above her ankle then, slid it up, lifting her dress all the while. She fixed me with a most desirous gaze then and I warmed to the moment, and hardened too. Will you not deny the charge laid against you? I said, lifting her dress over her head. Her underclothes showed her shape a little more, but not more than would be proper on a public beach. And lose the chance of an intimate inspection? There are things more precious to me than diamonds I'd like to press into secret places, Tom. I wonder if you can conjure my meaning with your imagination? She spoke boldly, and pressed my hands against her body. Don't waste time, Tom. Your dandy friends are useless for a woman with needs. I searched her most thoroughly, a bedside lamp throwing light on her glistening quim as I slipped a finger in and tasted her, tart and heady. Deeper, she said then, I've a hunger that will take solid food to satisfy. I gave her something solid then, my lips against the pulse in her neck as I slid my length inside her. Then she showed me the advantages of her habit of pressing her knees together, for she had most muscular thighs that gripped me tight. I was merged with a ravenous beast, and my joy of it was evident. I pounded her across my bed, onto the floor, our fall broken only by a rich rug of India, and I spent with her as she sat astride my waist, her breasts swinging in the low light of my room. That was the first night. I had weeks of voyage time and lust gathered in my jewels, and her lust was not the less, for she lived cloistered and guarded except in the hours of night. She makes use of my back stair most nights, though I have given her a key to the ice factory for use in her own future conquests. I cannot claim her as a trophy, for I cannot say whether she caught me or I caught her, and to my mind it scarcely makes a difference, for we are slowly slaking each other's thirst I see her eye straying to fresh conquests though and I will find it entertaining to observe her when she snares her own first prey. There's my tale for you, Elizabeth. Other than this adventure, it is all business--the native Zulus shaking their spears at the northern Shona tribe for some insult, and it all makes raids on our cargo trains more likely. My father is at a loss to solve any problem that does not involve making an appeasing deposit in a bank account, so this new trouble he will likely shuffle off on me, interrupting Moll's scientific attempt, no doubt, to find out if she can cause me to spend more than six times in a single day. I have not told her of your exploits along the same lines, so as not to discourage her. So, until I taste your tongue again, I remain thirsty, and Sometime Yours, Tom Greenacre P.S. The photograph of Kelsey I have placed in an oval frame on my writing desk. It was only on an impulse, but it amuses the staff to imagine that I have a fiance on whom they believe I cheat without shame, and it amuses me to know that she is yours, not mine. I have no photograph or portrait of Moll, though she has pressed her painted lips against the inside of the front cover of the book.