Thread: Asking for Directions {darkangel76 & Alan23}

Galvie was surprised to realize that he was experiencing a certain sympathy for Miss Hammond. For himself, he was suffering no embarrassment whatsoever - plenty of females had seen him bare-chested or worse and he was not a person overburdened with modesty. For her, however, he guessed the situation must have been excruciatingly awkward. He doubted she had even seen Harry Smythe in such a state of undress, never mind a stranger! The shiftiness of her eyes, the involuntary licking of her lips, her look of obvious discomfort - all of this seemed to confirm this opinion. And the way that various members of the 7th were nudging each other and stifling laughter told him that her discomfiture had not gone unnoticed. It was all he could do not to look at her too hard when she curtsied. He did, in fact, appreciate the gesture - haughty and proud as she was, it was the sign of a true aristocrat to show respect to all, even to a known murderer and prisoner. The inclination of his head that he made in return contained no irony, which was rare for him. At her inquiry as to how he had enjoyed his night, he decided immediately and for obvious reasons against telling the truth. The problem was, coming up with a lie was not as easy as he usually found it. For her behavior was distracting in the extreme. She seemed to be wriggling and shuffling, as if suffering an itch in a place not polite to scratch, trying to discreetly comfort herself without relapsing into an attitude unbecoming to a lady. She was gyrating with her elbows at her side, as if performing some new kind of dance. He had, truth be told, to stifle a laugh. The problem was, how should he respond? He could hardly mention it. Got a bit of an itch there, Ma'am? seemed gauche in the extreme. On the other hand, since despite her efforts her scratching and groping were so noticeable, to not notice it was obviously a wholly artificial oversight, making it patent that he was being deliberately gentlemanly. To turn away, too, was so obviously a reaction to her plight that it could only bring home to her more stringently that he had noticed! Should he pretend to scratch himself, so as to at least lessen her mortification by appearing to share her plight? Or would that make things worse? He decided upon simply answering her question as dead-pan as he could, while stifling both his amusement and his sympathy. Thank you for asking, Ma'am, he replied. I spent as pleasant a night as could be arranged for me, and I'm grateful for the civilized treatment I'm receiving. I apologize for my state of dishabille , but trust you understand it's the needs of hygiene and not prurience that cause you to find me thus. While he was speaking, he saw her eyes suddenly widen, and her lips open as if to draw in a sharp intake of breath. At first, he wondered if he had left the fly of his pants unzipped, but he specifically recalled fastening them when he'd put them on. In any case, if he had been in such a state, she'd have noticed before now. Yet she suddenly looked extremely disconcerted, suggesting that whatever had caused her panic was a thing that had just manifested itself. Her pale face had suddenly reddened, and thre was a look of consternation in her beautiful eyes. Without meaning to, he found his gaze flickering down to her calves, suspecting that her stocking issue of the say before had not been resolved, but the hosiery was still fitting snugly on both of her slim legs. As his eyes returned to their normal position, he noticed a subtle change in her form. She was still slim and lithe, yet something was... ...different. And then it struck him just what had happened. It was not the first time he's noticed this phenomenon. Her small, though perky breasts were... perhaps slightly smaller, and subtly less perky. As if - and he had to repress a smile at the thought - her corsetry had suddenly ceased to perform its intended duty. Had it, he wondered, managed to somehow slip down, causing her to, as it were, pop out of it? Well, all a gentleman might do, in such circumstances, was to simply continue with the conversation as if nothing had happened. And you, Ma'am, he went on, without, apparently, missing a beat, I trust you have enjoyed the scenery through which we have passed. I understand it flattens out as we go further South... perhaps, he thought, flattened out was an unfortunate phrase, since Miss Hammond seemed, to some extent, to have flattened out herself! I must own that despite my circumstances, I'm certainly enjoying some beautiful scenery. Damn it, would she take that as a double-entendre too, the thought struck him... And I do appreciate you popping out to see me. Damn, damn, damn. Worse choice of words possible! And then, a thought struck him as how he might bring some succor to her plight. He pointed to the small canvas shower that had been set up for him. But I realize I mustn't delay you, Ma'am. I am told it is part of your duty to inspect the shower arrangement that has been made for me, to ensure I am being properly treated. Perhaps you wish to perform that act now, while I continue dressing? He hoped she'd take the hint and insist on going right inside the shower - where she would have the blessed privacy to adjust herself, under cover of making a thorough inspection of the facility!