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Elizabeth 05: Christmas Troubles

By: YDB95



The snowflakes were drifting beautifully to the street below as the workday wound down. I was grateful for the electric lights Mr. Thompson had had installed shortly before I had come to work in his office, for their warm glow was marvellous against the slate-grey afternoon sky outside. It was just one of a hundred delights I found in being a working woman in those days when that was still quite unusual. The grey would of course have faded to black by the time I took my leave in an hour or so; but then the wonderful flashy Christmas lights would have taken over and Main Street would be a wonderland out of my childhood dreams of the city. That thought pushed me over the edge into one of my still-frequent reveries about how remarkable it was that those dreams had come true. All except marrying my Edward, of course, but that had proven just as well. 

Admiring the view just beyond the window, I wondered about Edward. I wondered what the weather was like in Paris, and if he was in the arms of some other man at just that moment, or hard at work on his painting as I should have been on my legal briefs. Was he painting another nude, I wondered? If so, a woman or a man this time?

I heard Mr. Thompson's office door open just in time to rein my mind back in to my work. Finding some excuse to visit the filing cabinet, I stood up and strode purposefully across the carpet. Jonathan came bounding just behind him. "Snowing again!" he said. "Lovely, isn't it?"

"Too lovely," I agreed. "What I wouldn't give to be out there playing in it!"

"You kids," Mr. Thompson said, his stern tone belying a certain amusement. "Just as well I'm too old to join you, I suppose." He poured some tea from the service by the door. "How is the brief coming, Agnes?"

"I am working on the final draft now," I assured him, rifling through the files in the drawer for nothing in particular. "I'm only checking my sources now."

"Remarkable," he said, checking his watch. "You are nothing if not efficient, Agnes." Turning back to his office, he went on. "I suppose you already know how I had reservations about hiring a lady lawyer. But you have proven me wrong, I must confess. Ever so quick and thorough with every task, and I must say having a female form around here adds some spice to the day."

As usual, he never looked back as he made his patronizing comments while retreating to his office. And so he did not see me flip up my skirt and flash him just before he shut the door behind him. 

Jonathan, of course, did see it. He struggled to stifle his laughter until the door was safely shut. "Heavens, Agnes, you're wonderful!" he exclaimed in a loud husky whisper. "You put up with his sexism so well, and now that too!"

"Thank you," I said, not at all uncomfortable with having given him a glimpse at my panties. Jonathan and I, despite his being engaged to my dearest friend, knew one another in the conjugal sense by then, after all. "I do hope I did not make you uncomfortable."

"Not in the least!" he replied. "You know I regret nothing of our weekend in the country, after all."

"Nor I," I agreed. "I learned so very much from both you and Elizabeth, after all."

"Speaking of whom, will you be joining her at the baths this evening?"

"Yes, and I can't wait! Her and Irene."

"Ah, poor Irene," Jonathan said. Her relationship with Benjamin had been the one casualty of our late summer orgy. "I hope she is holding up well?"

"Getting better all the time," I assured him. "But I must admit I am thinking Christmas on her own could be rough."

"Well, she won't really be on her own, will she?" Jonathan asked. "We're all here for one another."

"Of course, but it's hardly the same as what you and Elizabeth have, is it?" I passed over in silence the fact that I did not have any such intimacy with anyone either. 

"This is true," Jonathan admitted. "I'm sorry."

I hardly blamed Jonathan for his oversight. I knew all too well – even then, when I was still a bit naïve – how easy it is for those in love to take that wonderful gift for granted. I was, of course, a great deal less naïve by then thanks in large part to Jonathan, Elizabeth and Irene. Our late summer adventure at the seaside had opened a number of doors for me, and four months later I was more comfortable than ever in my single working woman's life back in Westfordshire City. The oppressive support of my family back on the farm, though a pleasant memory, was a lifetime gone from me by now, and with the help of my friends I had put my lingering regrets about my lost fiancé Edward to bed. Quite literally, at that. 

For all the fun I had enjoyed in the ensuing months, though, true love had continued to elude me. That was perhaps just as well, for I had been able to empathise with Irene when she needed it the most that fall. After all she and Elizabeth had done to help me through the dark days of the previous spring, I was very relieved, in a sense, to be able to return the favour. 

None of us were terribly surprised that Irene and Benjamin's relationship had failed to survive. It had clearly been in trouble prior to our weekend at the seashore, and the shock of all that had transpired had simply been a bridge too far. "He and I both admitted to one another that we wanted something a bit different," Irene had explained to us, dry-eyed but in a rather halting tone, over lunch at Miles several days later. "Neither of us is quite sure what that something is, but we know now we will not find it with one another. We shall always be the best of friends, of course."

Elizabeth and I had both voiced our agreement with that sentiment; but privately I had suspected we would be seeing little of Benjamin from then on. Elizabeth had confirmed her agreement with me later on that evening when we were on our own at home; and sure enough, a month or so later we heard through friends that Benjamin had accepted an overseas transfer from his company. Eerily similar to my loss of Edward, that turn of events had inspired Irene to observe that our exes always seemed to feel compelled to leave the country. "I guess we are truly irresistible, aren't we?" she had asked with the first genuine laugh I had heard from her in some time. 

That light hearted poke notwithstanding, the encroachment of autumn and now winter had taken its toll on my mood and, I suspected, Irene's as well. With the impending marriage of Jonathan and Elizabeth in the spring, our circle of friends was due for radical changes already; and the loss of Benjamin had served as both a harbinger and a shock in its own right. While I was now more than capable of standing on my own two feet in the big city, I was not yet persuaded that I cared to do so. The gloomy weather was the perfect analogy for that uncertainty; and it also exacerbated it in the worst way.

Jonathan evidently had been able to see through my giddy defiance of Mr. Thompson that afternoon, for he came to my desk and touched my hand affectionately. "Agnes," he said gently. "I truly am sorry. I know this time of year is a difficult one to be on one's own – I've been there! So has Elizabeth; she can tell you all about that."

I sat back and forced a smile. "I know, Jonathan. That's just the thing, though: soon you and Elizabeth will be wed, and the loss of Benjamin as well...Just when I felt my life had come together in the most wonderful way, now everything is about to change again, just like it did last spring. I do not look forward to going through that again!"

"It can hardly be as bad as last spring, Agnes," Jonathan said; and I had to admit tacitly that he was right. "Besides, what if last spring had never happened? If you had married Edward and never come to know Elizabeth and Irene?"

"And you," I reminded him. "Do not sell yourself short, Jonathan; you're one of us just as much as I am."

"Thank you."

"And you're right." I stood up, wanting to stretch my legs and clear my head. "Change was for the best then; it surely is now. I guess I just get so very tired of all the joy and cheer in the air when I'm not feeling it deep down."

"I'm with you there," Jonathan said. "Wish I could offer you a solution, but I haven't found one for myself. Not except for lots and lots of wine in any case!"

"That does sound delightful," I admitted. "Thank you, Jonathan." I wanted to kiss his cheek, but Mr. Thompson could have emerged from his office at any moment. 

My mood had improved somewhat when I stepped out into the frigid air, in the way only the end of the work day can lighten one's mood. The cutting chill in the air only raised my spirits, for it meant the warm water in the baths would be all the more delightful. As always, I was tickled by the thought of how demure and innocent I looked all bundled up in my winter coat over my work clothes, when soon I would bare all for a dozen or more of my friends in the baths. I only hoped they would not be overly crowded on this chilly evening; but that seemed all too likely. 

Though I was well accustomed by then to the intense intimacy of the baths, I never failed to feel an intense forbidden thrill deep in my body at the moment when I turned the corner into the alley where the entrance was located. If nothing else, my direction made it clear to anyone who happened to take notice of me that I was on my way to that controversial feminine sanctum. Once again I wondered what my family and friends back on the farm would think of shy, demure Agnes taking part in such a racy pastime. Then again, "shy, demure Agnes" was largely a thing of the past even then! On this occasion the alley was decorated in festive red and green electric lights guiding my way to the lobby; the innocence and chaste joy they implied only further whetted my appetite for the intimacy that awaited within!

"Agnes, welcome!" said the young woman at the counter, whose name I had forgotten; she was one of a few quite young staffers who joined us occasionally when not on duty. "I thought we might be seeing you this evening."

"I take it Elizabeth has arrived, then?" I asked. That, of course was always an unforgettable event; beautiful Elizabeth carried herself like no one else in the baths. 

"You only just missed her," she said, handing me a locker key. "I am ever so envious of you; she is such fun to share the baths with!"

"Indeed," I said with a smile that was only slightly forced, before taking my leave. She was quite right, of course; but those of you who have read my other tales of Elizabeth shall recall that her majestic presence in the baths was a bit frustrating to Irene on occasion. Of late, I had come to share in that frustration. Irene and I could be great fun as well, after all, even if we did not stand out as uniquely as Elizabeth and her immense, remarkable ladygarden did. All too frequently we did find ourselves feeling a bit overshadowed in her presence, majestic as that presence was. 

Of course, Irene and I did both understand that it was not Elizabeth's appearance alone that set her apart. It was also her attitude about that appearance, forged in a nightmare of locker-room teasing and tormenting when she was younger, and her determination to overcome those demons, and most of all the hard-won knowledge that she had succeeded in doing so. It was not simply that she had a very hairy pussy; rather, it was her shameless embrace of her unusual adornment, her tacit proclamation that she was a hairy lady and utterly unabashed to be so, that commanded the respect and admiration of us all. Knowing all that our friend had been through to achieve her breath-taking poise, Irene and I did resent it very much. 

But we did envy it on occasion.

Fighting hard to obtain and retain my Christmas spirit, I put that envy from my mind as I strode into the locker room, where I was greeted with the wonderful sight of a dozen women or more coming and going. Many, it appeared, were going, having finished their baths earlier in the afternoon. I was as grateful for that as I was titillated by the sight of so many beautiful bodies in nearly every state of dress and undress. My nervous inhibition of outdoors now wonderfully dissipated, I opened an empty locker and set about undressing as well. 

Maggie, a frequent visitor to the baths like myself, appeared just to my left as I was hanging up my winter coat. "Hello, Agnes," she said. "Terribly sorry we just missed each other." She had clearly just emerged from the baths, and was swathed in a modesty cloak, a courtesy I had followed Elizabeth and Irene's lead in never using. "The water is perfectly delightful today," she added, peeling off the cloak. 

"I had thought it must be," I agreed, welcoming the glimpse at her bare body as she retrieved her brassiere from the locker. "I've been longing for it all day, I must confess."

"No Elizabeth today?" The disappointment in Maggie's voice was palpable; she was one of many of our friends who never missed an opportunity to admire Elizabeth's body. 

"Oh, she's here," I said. "I had assumed she was already in the water. But if not..." I looked over my shoulder at the water closet door; there was little doubt my tea-loving friend had been drinking it by the gallon on a cold day like today. As if on cue, the door open and Elizabeth emerged, wearing her ultra-confident smile and absolutely nothing else. As always, she weathered the fascinated and curious looks at her robust triangle with her practiced indifference, which of course belay a secret delight at being so admired for such a previously troublesome quirk of nature. 

"Oh, of course," Maggie said, her face breaking into a grin. "Heavens, I wish I had her confidence. And that bush..."

I thought of telling Maggie gently that she most certainly did not wish she had gone through all that Elizabeth had to gain that confidence; but I quickly concluded that it was all none of her concern in any event. Even had I wished to share, Elizabeth arrived presently with a welcoming embrace that would have silenced any conversation. "Hello, Agnes darling!" she said. "So glad you made it through the cold!" To Maggie she also said a polite hello. She did not offer Maggie a hug, but Maggie showed no sign of objecting given the opportunity to admire her nude body. "I take it Irene has not arrived yet?" she asked me.

"I haven't seen her," I said. "Good for you for getting that" – I pointed at the water closet – "out of the way before she could tease you about it."

Elizabeth laughed. "Thank you, yes. I just remember Iron Bladder Irene has her own problems to cope with at the moment, after all. I do hope she's coming, though; the poor girl still seemed so gloomy at lunch the other day."

"What's become of Irene?" Maggie piped up; she was now nearly dressed but in no hurry to take her leave while Elizabeth was there to gaze upon.

"True love gone wrong, Maggie," Elizabeth said. "I am sure you have heard all the scuttlebutt there is, right here in the baths." She topped off her response with a slightly curt look that indicated the subject was to be dropped. 

"Oh, I am quite sure she will be joining us," I said. I had hurried off most of my clothes and was now down to my underwear; and I turned around to face them both as I slid my panties off and reached back to unhook my brassiere; the unspoken thrill of sharing everything with friends was all the greater when one participated actively in it! Nude at last, I shut my locker. "Shall we, Elizabeth?"

"Certainly. We'll be seeing you, Maggie."

We made our way through the throng of other women. Once again it occurred to me that there was at least one good thing about my relative invisibility in Elizabeth's presence: no one took special notice of my own nudity. This had enabled me to grow remarkably comfortable with a state I had never once imagined myself in prior to arriving in Westfordshire City all those months before. Indeed, I had come to thirst for the vulnerability and camaraderie the baths offered. 

The bath chamber was one of the few places I had seen of late that were devoid of Christmas decorations, presumably because the steam would wilt them. But the Christmas spirit was just as palpable inside as anywhere. The evidently-large crowds of earlier in the afternoon had dissipated somewhat with dinner hour approaching, and fewer than a dozen of our fellow ladies of the baths turned to see Elizabeth enter with her usual flair and me as usual a step behind her. 

"Elizabeth! Agnes! Welcome," called Colleen, a floor-manager at Miles Department Store who had only recently overcome the same shyness I had defeated in joining this insular community. "So glad to see you both on a night like this!"

"I'm surprised to see you here, Colleen," I said as Elizabeth said a quiet hello of her own. "Aren't you buried in shoppers from now to the twenty-fourth?"

"I was lucky enough to get the early shift today," Colleen said as we slid into the blissful warm water beside her. "I mentioned to Mr. Miles that I hoped to get away to the baths this evening, and I think the idea of me lounging about naked in company appealed to him!" She laughed, and was joined by most of her listeners, including myself and Elizabeth. "You're so right, though, horribly busy every day. That's why I needed this!"

"Don't we all, though," Elizabeth said. "Such horrid weather out there, and the usual drama to cope with at home as well."

"Oh, that's right," I said. To the others I explained, "My cousin will be home from school tomorrow for the first time. Alexandria. She was an absolute terror just before she left, and..."

"And we've got every reason to assume she will be the worse for wear tomorrow," Elizabeth said. 

"Well, that doesn't seem fair," Colleen suggested. "Perhaps she has matured – didn't you, Elizabeth, when you went away to school? Besides, it is Christmas after all."

"Oh, dear, Colleen..." I began; and in that moment I could not look at Elizabeth at all. 

"That will do, Agnes," Elizabeth said with a polite but firm squeeze of my arm. "I think we all forget sometimes that the secrets of the baths were new to all of us at one time or another. In any event, Colleen, my own first term at school was an absolute nightmare of teasing and bullying. I suppose Agnes and I are both concerned that Alex may well have fallen victim to such treatment or, perhaps worse, subjected some other poor girl to it. Either way, we are faced with the prospect of a most unpleasant reunion with a girl we both used to love when she was younger and sweeter. I will of course be delighted if we are proven wrong, but there is little cause for hope of that."

"I am terribly sorry to hear that, then," Colleen said. "I hope you are both pleasantly surprised, in that case."

"Thank you," we said in unison. 

"Forgive my curiosity, Elizabeth," Coleen continued, "But you have always struck me as so poised and confident and mature; what on earth did the girls find to bully you over?"

Elizabeth, to her credit and to my astonishment, laughed rather than expressing any irritation. "Colleen," she said in a gentle tone, "When I enter the bath chamber, what is the first thing your eyes are always drawn to?"

"Good heavens, the girls found fault with that?" Colleen looked genuinely shocked. "How absolutely bizarre."

"Bullies will find fault with anyone who is different in any way," I pointed out.

"And you don't need me to tell you I am different in that regard," Elizabeth said. 

"Indeed," Colleen admitted. "It is only that I have only ever regarded you as beautiful in that regard, Elizabeth."

"Thank you; but the other girls did not, and that is putting it mildly."

"Or perhaps they did," I suggested. "I mean, Elizabeth, I have heard your stories so many times, it occurred to me early on that perhaps they were simply jealous of how grown-up and sensuous you looked."


Elizabeth 05: Christmas Troubles



Elizabeth was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Do you know, I never considered that!" she said at last. "Thank you, Agnes; that's lovely." 

From there, the talk turned to the other ladies' bad experiences in adolescence and young adulthood, many of which were just as surprising to us as Elizabeth's difficulties had been to Colleen. It is, I suppose, true that bullies will attack anyone different from them. We ultimately spent well over two hours in the water, far longer than our usual sojourn; but the intimacy and comfort we felt was the very definition of what made the baths so special. The awful weather outside did nothing to discourage us from lingering either. I felt positively coddled and pampered in the warm water and the warm glow of friendship as the evening wore onward. 

It was only as Elizabeth and I were finally climbing out of the water, having excused ourselves for a late dinner, that one of the younger women asked the question we had quite forgotten by then: "Say, where is Irene tonight?"

Elizabeth and I looked at one another and, perched on the edge of the pool, I for one felt naked rather than nude at that moment. "I cannot believe we forgot!" I exclaimed. 

"Nor I," Elizabeth admitted. Turning to our nosy friends, she said, "I'm sure I don't know; she was supposed to join us tonight!"

After hurrying on our clothes and stepping out into the winter evening, there was no need for debate. Rather than retiring to the café for dinner as we had planned, we walked briskly to Irene's flat. She was home; that much we could see by the light in her window from the cold dark street. The normally cheerful beacon of a brightly lit parlour somehow seemed devoid of such comfort in light of what we were likely to find when we arrived at her door. 

Regrettably, we were correct. Irene answered our rap promptly with a forced smile and a tired look to her face and her clothes. She was still dressed in what I supposed was her dress from class that day; it was wrinkled and a bit askew, but she showed no sign of caring. Clearly she had been drinking for most of the evening, evidently alone. "I know, I forgot all about the baths," she said in lieu of a welcome, though she did stand aside to admit us. Her usually-neat and clean flat was most unkempt; clothing and newspapers and plates were strewn about the room, which betrayed not a single indication of Christmas – or for that matter of our dear friend as we knew her. "Terribly sorry; I've had so very much else on my mind, and I'm afraid I'd have been rather poor company tonight."

Elizabeth looked as disappointed and concerned as I felt. "Heavens, Irene, you're in a state. Surely you know you could have reached out to either or both of us."

"I have, haven't I?" she demanded. "And thank you very much for that; but there comes a point when a girl has to stand on her own two feet in this world. Besides, I had no wish to burden you with my misery at the baths of all places, where one goes to escape from all that. I didn't care to endure all the cheer and joy in the high street just now, either."

"I can certainly understand that," I admitted. "But Irene, drinking yourself into a stupor is hardly the answer to all that, now is it?"

"It is the one comfort I have found this week," Irene said, flopping down atop a cast-off newspaper on her sofa. "The children are in such a state with Christmas just around the corner, cheer here and joy there, and all this peace and goodwill nonsense in the street; what else is a broken-hearted lady to do? Certainly not burden her friends with her misery!"

"But you have done that, Irene," Elizabeth said, looking around the filthy room. 

"I hardly asked either of you to visit me, now did I?" Irene demanded; now she sounded more angry than sad.

"Indeed you did not," Elizabeth admitted. "Come, Agnes, clearly she would rather wallow in her own misery."

"We shall be there if you do decide you'd like some support from your friends, Irene," I reassured her. I lingered by the door, thinking she might invite me to stay and even hoping a bit, for our recent history had forged a bond between the two of us that even Elizabeth did not share. But she only bid us both a curt thank-you and lay down on the sofa, her back turned to us. Reluctantly I followed Elizabeth out into the hallway and shut the door behind me. 

When I emerged into the hallway, Elizabeth was looking quizzically at me. "Forgive me, Elizabeth," I began, "But I had hoped..."

"Yes, I can guess what you hoped," Elizabeth said, not unkindly. "But clearly she is interested in neither a friend nor a lover tonight."

We walked in silence down to the street, where I hailed a passing cab. Elizabeth stood back when I stepped to the curb. "Oh, Agnes, I'm sorry, but I think I need to visit Jonathan. Have you the money for the cab?"

"Of course," I said, and I turned to kiss her good night before I got inside. I felt no jealousy of the delights that awaited her in Jonathan's arms, for she looked positively miserable at that moment.

And miserable, indeed, she was. Jonathan was pleasantly surprised when she let herself in several minutes later; he set down his book on the side table and leapt up to greet her. "Well, then! I had thought you and the girls would be out late or maybe sleeping over at the mansion!" But his smile faded as he took in Elizabeth's ashen face and the half-hearted manner in which she removed her cloak and tossed it carelessly over a dining room chair. "Darling, what is the matter?" he asked, taking her chilly self in his arms. 

"Just hold me, please."

And so he did, for how long neither of them knew, as the fire slowly warmed her body but not her disposition. Jonathan, sensing she would open up when ready, said nothing. At long last he was aware of her gentle weeping. He held his tongue and tightened his embrace, and in good time the tears subsided. 

"What happened?" he asked her at last. 

"This is such a wretched time of year to be nursing a broken heart," Elizabeth finally said. "And I can't help feeling guilty that I am so very fortunate with you."

"Irene?" 

"Yes. She never arrived at the baths, and so we visited her at home and she is living like a vile creature. A vile drunk creature. I wanted so to help her, but how could I do anything?"

"I suppose you cannot," Jonathan concurred. 

"Jonathan!" Now Elizabeth was angry rather than sad of a sudden. "What a horrible thing to say! How like a man to give up so easily!"

"Pardon me?" Jonathan asked. "I love my cousin and I would love dearly to help her through this difficult time; but you tell me, what can we do? Particularly if, as it sounds from your description, she does not care to help herself except with a bottle? You said yourself you felt helpless!"

"Indeed I did, Jonathan, but I had rather hoped you would have a suggestion or two of your own!"

Now feeling as irritated as she was, Jonathan sat back down in his armchair. "Well, I do not," he said. "How on earth could I? Irene is lonely and her heart is broken. Exactly what good will it do her to receive any unsolicited advice from you or me when we are so blissfully in love?"

"Well, there must be something!" Elizabeth countered. "You could have at least tried to think of something!"

"For your information, I have tried," Jonathan told her. "Agnes and I discussed it at the office this afternoon, if you must know; and it has been at the back of my mind ever since."

"Why didn't you tell me that, then?"

"The same reason why you did not tell me straight away what was ailing you when you arrived."

Elizabeth pondered his point in silence. The warm fire and its sensuous glow on her beloved and his cosy sitting room were enticing as her anger receded, and in no time at all she was feeling the urgent erotic tickle that was never far beneath the surface for her, particularly where Jonathan was concerned. His quiet presence in the chair by the fire was, if not quite sexual, at least conciliatory; and it was not as though a prolonged fight with Jonathan would help Irene in any way...

Elizabeth kicked off her shoes and walked through the darkened dining room. "Jonathan, I'm sorry," she said. 

"Thank you. So am I, and I hope you appreciate that I do wish to help Irene in any way we can."

"Of course you do! You are all too right; there is little either of us can do just now." Standing before him now, she gathered up her skirts and climbed atop his lap, straddling him. "Let us forget all that for the moment, shall we?" she asked sweetly, rubbing his chest with both hands and leaning in to kiss him.

"Not tonight, Elizabeth." 

Elizabeth drew back, withdrawing her hands to her hips. "Excuse me?"

"I said not tonight," Jonathan repeated. 

"Jonathan, I said I was sorry!" Now she stood up, still facing him but no longer touching. 

"And I accepted your apology and returned it. But I am in no mood to make love to you tonight."

This was familiar territory to Elizabeth, as she was a good deal hornier than Jonathan nearly all the time. But tonight was not just any night, and she was not so easily dissuaded. "Jonathan, it is Christmas! And as we both know so painfully well, so many people have no one special in their lives and are so terribly lonely in this season of joy and love. And should we not try to put an unpleasant episode like just now behind us?"

"Sex is not the way to do that," Jonathan said, looking past her and out the window. "I forgive you, but I am in no frame of mind for all that just now."

Though hurt, Elizabeth forced a smile and made one final effort. "You would not be so cold as to leave me in a state like this, now would you? The hairy ones are the horny ones!"

"The hairy one has two good hands to do her business with," Jonathan replied, picking up his book to resume his reading. "And she has a bed of her own." 

Elizabeth felt more tears coming, but she succeeded in tamping them down. She strode back to the dining room in silence, collected up her coat and took her leave without a word, a treatment Jonathan returned. 

Her eyes remained dry through a belated cab ride home, through the brightly decorated streets that now irritated her as much as they had Irene. The danger had passed by the time she let herself back in at the front door of the mansion, where Uncle's huge and ornately decorated Christmas tree awaited her, aglow with coloured electric lights for perhaps the second or third year. She was spared the unpleasant challenge of exchanging any niceties with Uncle or Aunt in her delicate state, for they were engaged in a boisterous private fete with a few friends in the parlour, with the door shut against the chill from the foyer. I had retired to my chamber and was not to know until morning that Elizabeth had returned; I was more than likely already in my bed when she did arrive. 

And so Elizabeth was blissfully alone in her angst and sexual frustration when she stepped into her dark and lonely room. Her evening having progressed from plans for a juicy evening with the girls to a wonderful encounter with Jonathan in his bed to a sad night alone in her own bed, Elizabeth gave no consideration to trying to sleep just yet. There was no chance of success in that. Instead, she lit a fire in the fireplace and switched on the electric lights and, Irene's cautionary example notwithstanding, she poured herself a strong drink. As the first flames warmed the chilly air, Elizabeth set the glass down on her bedside table. A visit to the water closet was in order, and she walked to the door. 

Just before she opened the door, Elizabeth got a pleasant idea. She was the only permanent boarder on that wing of her floor, and there had been no word of guests in the other rooms between hers and the water closet. Jonathan had been quite right, after all, the horny one was most certainly capable of her own fun; and he would never know what he was missing! There was nothing to be gained in following her friends' unhealthy examples. Elizabeth pulled off her dress, brassiere, panties and stockings, and welcomed the bracing air and the naughty thrill as she opened her bedroom door and strode down the hallway in the nude. 

The other rooms were indeed empty, and so there were no embarrassing surprises as Elizabeth made her way to the water closet and back. This did nothing to lessen the pleasant nervousness she felt until safely locked back in her own room; she almost hoped a door would open and present the opportunity for a naughty memory of some sort. Life in Westfordshire City had given her so many delightfully naughty memories over the years, after all; but all that was mostly in the past now that she was betrothed to Jonathan – lovely Jonathan, whom she loved to distraction, but who was ever so much more straight laced than she. Such thoughts rarely crossed her mind when they were on good terms, since in his arms she never missed her wild days; but a certain longing for those times was not unknown to her in times of strife with Jonathan. As her wedding day drew ever closer, and with it a definitive end once and for all to any chance of those memories coming to pass again, they grew more bittersweet with every journey through the past. 

As she reached the promising light and warmth of her own doorway, Elizabeth paused and stood gloriously naked in the hallway. She looked straight ahead, at the doorway opening onto the stairwell and the window beyond, from which she knew that a person standing in just the right spot on the hill beyond the garden would be able to see her in all her bare glory, of which she remained wonderfully unabashed. She turned and looked down at the dark end of the hallway, where a portrait of some ancestor of mine seemed to be looking approvingly at her body. She found both voyeuristic ideas positively titillating as she reflected on the several years of her life in that room and all that had transpired there, all of it to be over with quite soon. For the first time since their engagement months before, Elizabeth felt a twinge of regret that the era was coming to an end. 

A footfall somewhere upon the stairwell drove her to retreat into her room, although the prospect of putting on a show for the visitor, whoever he or she might be, did have a certain appeal in her current state of wistful arousal. Safe but alone again in her private domain, Elizabeth exulted in the refreshing warmth and gave in to the pleasant memories that had taken over back in the hallway. As she locked the door with her right hand, she reached down with her left to caress her vulva. Her own all-too-familiar fingers were manna for her hungry vagina, and she was not at all surprised to find herself as wet as if she had just emerged from the bath. Poor old Jonathan would never know what he was missing! And on that thought, she put Jonathan from her mind for the moment, and Irene and her self-pity with him; tonight was for her alone. 

Still caressing herself gently, Elizabeth collected her drink from the bedside table, and wandered aimlessly about the lonely but warm room. The curtains were drawn tight. Elizabeth gave some thought to throwing them all wide open, as she was fairly certain no one would be out and about at this hour and in such cold. She ultimately decided against that, but did part one pair of curtains just enough to admit a sliver of the black December night into her sanctuary. The tiny self-imposed violation of her privacy fuelled her libido more still as Elizabeth sipped the bitter liquor with one hand and drew sweet strokes with the other. 

She gazed into the fire and let a favourite memory erase the cares of today. Her first Christmas in Westfordshire City had been a chilly, snowy one, much like this. Just twenty years of age and still a university student, she had been a trainee through the autumn and winter at the publishing house where she now made her career. Such great potential for a young lady in the big city – and it had all been so very fully realized! As with most country girls and boys in the city for the first time, the joys and bombasts of that Christmas season were to attain a rose-coloured memory as the most wonderful holiday of her youth and perhaps her life, even though she had been forced to take her leave and return home two days before Christmas itself. 

Or had she in fact been "forced" to do so? Elizabeth had a vague recollection that perhaps the early departure had in fact been by choice...but why would she have done that? 

Roger, her fellow trainee that term, was part and parcel of that lovely memory. Unlike Elizabeth, he had found the publishing business was not for him, and he had set off after university never to be heard from again. That was just as well, though, for it had helped to ensure that their one and only encounter was an exquisitely unique chapter in her then-brief adult life. They had flirted now and again throughout the prior three months, Elizabeth complimenting Roger on his always-immaculate suits and he flashing her that wonderfully guilty smile every time she sensed his gaze while stretching to reach a book on a high shelf. When that happened one time too many, Elizabeth finally saw fit to ask him: "Rather than admire my prowess in reaching those shelves, why do you not help me?"

"Because you do not strike me as the type who wants a man to help you when you can do it yourself," Roger replied without missing a beat. 

"Excellent answer, Roger," Elizabeth allowed. "I should love to see if you are such a gentleman after hours."

She was soon to learn that he was. All through October and November, not a week went by without the young couple enjoying a late evening out at some café or other. They lost little time in moving past the demure small talk of the day into far more intimate territory indeed. Elizabeth was already a veteran of the baths and had lately been divested of her naïveté about any secrets being kept beyond the bath chamber (courtesy of the first of a hundred incidences of an inebriated young man at the pub inquiring about her gigantic bush), and she established early on that Roger would never embarrass her with his inquiries about her experience there. 

Despite such emotional intimacy, he made no overtures beyond their friendship until their final week in the city. Their supervisor having treated them to an evening on the town, Elizabeth finally cornered Roger at a corner table on their last stop of the evening, in a café just off the high street where a rare bookstore now stood. Her memory of the moment was fairly hazy as she had had rather a lot to drink; but she recalled vividly the flirtation that had drawn the young man out of his shell. 

"Ah, Elizabeth, hello!" All the rose colouring in the world could not obscure his tired, alcohol-soaked appearance when she took her seat demurely by his side in the booth, smoothing her skirt out gracefully and flashing him a pert grin...although now it occurred to her that her entrance had likely not been so well-executed; she had, after all, been just as drunk as he had been. 

Never the matter, though, she thought now, tickling herself a bit harder in the firelight as she half-remembered, half-imagined her brilliant response to his lackadaisical greeting. "Roger, I can scarcely believe you intend to go home tonight without taking this opportunity!" It may or may not have been real; she could not be sure of either at this late date. 

"Opportunity? What opportunity, Elizabeth? Have you found a proper girl for me?"

"I am a proper girl for you!" Hands on her hips, she put on her best girlish pout and awaited his response.

His response was one of delighted shock, or at least that was what Elizabeth envisioned now. "You mean you..."

"Don't you dare tell me you never knew I had any interest in you, Roger!"




Elizabeth 05: Christmas Troubles



"Well...I mean...you spend so much time at the baths with the other naked women...I assumed you preferred women, is all."

She couldn't be certain now that he had actually said that...was it her imagination running wild over years of recitations of that alcohol-addled conversation? Likely as not he had, Elizabeth concluded. She also had little doubt that she had thrown herself brazenly at him at that point to demonstrate just how much she preferred men, and him in particular at that moment.

The silver and green and red decorations on every tree and lamppost outside, and the heavy snow that was still falling as they raced together through the deserted streets to the boarding house where she'd been staying, and the thrilling slides on the thin ice and the satisfying crunch when her boots had broken through it to the concrete, and the joyful clutch of her arm through his, and the nervous laughter that always preceded sex for her in those days, and his mystified pontifications on just what she was laughing about, and the delicious intimacy when he asked if she wasn't awfully cold in a dress and she explained that she was wearing tights...all those memories certainly were real. Elizabeth exulted in the lovely imagery as she finished off her drink and sprawled in her armchair to get down to business on conjuring up the truly juicy part of the memory. The chill from the glass was a pleasant jolt to her clitoris as her right hand brushed it for the first time, and then it was back down memory lane...

The lady of the house had her rules, but she also had a back door. "All the girls know she never keeps an eye out there," Elizabeth explained as they trudged together through the deep snow around the house. Her aforementioned tights were drenched by the time they reached the kitchen door, a condition that would make it all the more delightful when Roger would peel them off her shortly!

"So you've done this before, have you?" he needled her.

"Don't be absurd, I've been holding out for you!"

"Guess I ought to be honoured, then." That fairly nasty line jolted Elizabeth now; but surely he had not actually said it...had he?

Whether he had or not, his disposition had sweetened greatly once she had ushered him into the dark kitchen and up the back steps, both of them giggling in their inebriated nervousness at the taboo of his being there. Next, Elizabeth remembered a plain, drab room for just a moment, quickly superseded by the vision of a palatial chamber with ornate wallpaper and thick, lush carpeting and a king-sized bed with a ruffled canopy, and Roger undressing her slowly and elegantly before he laid her back gently upon the satin bedspread, gazing adoringly upon her body as he tore off his own clothes...

Elizabeth closed her eyes and intensified her rubbing, trying to recall just what it was Roger had said that had made the moment so wonderfully magical. 

"Oh, good heavens, Elizabeth. I'm sorry...I can't."

That wasn't it; but as the image of her real room crowded out the idealized one, Elizabeth recalled all too clearly that that was indeed what he had said. 

The encounter had started off promisingly enough. As soon as she had the door shut behind them and the lamp lit on the dresser, she turned to Roger and gathered up her skirt with a smile. "Help me off with my tights? They're absolutely soaking after the walk through the yard out there."

"My pleasure!" As he reached underneath and pulled them down gently, and her short pants with them, Elizabeth was certain her pussy was already delightfully wet with anticipation. She shivered in pleasure as his hands pulled the fabric down past her knees, and she sat back on the bed to let him pull the damp undergarments all the way off. "I hope you'll let me warm you up again where the snow got to you," he cooed. 

"I hope so too," Elizabeth whispered, and enticingly she leaned back on the mattress and pulled her skirt all the way up to reveal her unique lush ladygarden. 

"Oh, good heavens, Elizabeth. I'm sorry...I can't."

Tears came to Elizabeth's eyes, and she sat up and yanked her skirt back down. "Excuse me?!"

Roger looked as though he had seen a ghost, and he stood up uncertainly at the foot of the bed. "I'm sorry. I guess I should have asked you if it was true."

"If what was true?"

"About you being as hairy as they say. I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but word gets around at the pubs, you know, and I'd heard you had a big bush, and I didn't think that would be a problem, really. But I figured the guys were exaggerating, about just how big it was, you know, they hadn't actually seen it or anything. But that...I'm sorry, it's just...too much."

Elizabeth was weeping openly by the time he stammered to a close "Get out!" she shrieked through her tears, as the horrors of the school gymnasium washed afresh over her.

"Elizabeth, I –"

"GET OUT! Or I will scream, and if the landlady finds you here, you'll be spending the night in gaol, Roger, is that what you want?!"

And he had left, never to return.

Elizabeth had not thought of the real outcome of that evening in years, yet of a sudden she recalled all too well exactly what had really transpired: an absolutely miserable ending to what had been a lovely term in the city. Fortunately, Elizabeth had already discovered by then that there were men out there who appreciated her unique intimate ornamentation – a fling with her French tutor the summer before had endowed her with a great deal of flattery in both languages – and so the old despair so long inspired by her former nemeses at school had not been allowed to regain a hold over her restored spirit. But such a harsh reaction to her natural beauty had never become less painful, nor would it ever. Little wonder, she realized now, that she had created the lovely fiction that had taken over her memory. 

Feeling frustrated rather than aroused now, Elizabeth stood up and poured another drink. Just what had inspired the terrible reality to bubble up in her memory tonight? She had no idea. She did recall all too well what had followed: a melancholy final day in the office, in which she resisted the temptation to educate her boss as to the mystery of why Roger had failed to appear, and a depressing train ride home, rather earlier than she had planned. (A telegram to her parents explaining that she had changed her mind about being on her own in the city at Christmas had raised no suspicions; they were only too happy to have her home after all.) Once she was safe and sober back in the cocoon of her childhood bedroom, there had been some deeply reluctant consideration of resorting to the same failed efforts of years before to tame her bush and "look like a woman was supposed to look underneath" (as her arch-nemesis Tamara had once encouraged her to do). It had taken every ounce of resolve – and the memory of the miserable discomfort that had come with every round of shaving or any other remedy, coupled with the many admiring looks she had received that autumn in the baths – to once again embrace her natural body. She had succeeded, but it had still been a fairly bittersweet Christmas. 

Then perhaps the good old days weren't all that good, Elizabeth conceded now. Of course, some of them really were as lovely as she recalled. Like the first time Jonathan had seen her in the nude, just over a year before; the way he had gazed almost reverently upon her full bush as if he were unworthy of it, then the first tentative, gentle caresses of his fingers, growing in confidence and tenderness as he played merrily in her hair, and the deeply satisfying intimacy that had ensued right there in that very bed, where she now lay back and once again set about rubbing herself to joyful oblivion as she exulted in the bond she and Jonathan had formed that night, and which remained with them to this day. 

Bobbing just below the point of no return, Elizabeth replayed again and again the look of awe and wonder on Jonathan's face the first time he had touched her down below, and the gentle caresses that had followed. Soon the recurring memory of his finger stroking so pleasantly within her was irresistible, and Elizabeth came with a husky, satisfied grunt. 

She exhaled triumphantly and pulled back the covers, and switched off the light. Though she remained a bit upset about the harsh parting with Jonathan, the nasty memory of Roger did not keep her awake that night. 

The next morning, a Saturday, found Elizabeth and myself lingering over a second and then a third pot of tea in the parlour until it was nearly time for luncheon. Alexandria's imminent return was on both our minds; but we spoke of nearly everything save that, for we both feared what we might find of the little beast upon her entry. The talk was mostly of Jonathan, of course, and I welcomed the opportunity to comfort Elizabeth as she had so often done for me. After a lengthy silence on that topic, marked by Elizabeth looking out the window at the snow-covered meadow and the cloudy sky beyond, she turned to admire the majestic Christmas tree that was partially visible out in the foyer from our perch by the window. "Isn't it queer, Agnes, how we are told to be joyous and happy throughout December when the weather inspires the opposite emotion?"

"Indeed!" I agreed. "Nearly every Christmas I can remember has inspired just that contradiction in me. But I have learned never to say so in public lest I be called a Scrooge."

"Perhaps all that oppressive cheer is for the benefit of us all in coping with the dead of winter," Elizabeth mused. "I must confess, though, it all has a way of exacerbating any unhappiness I do feel at this time of year. If last night's spat with Jonathan had occurred in spring or summer, it would have seemed but a minor unpleasantness. But with all the calls for joy and love and giving..." her voice trailed away and she curled her legs up under her on the sofa, and once again she gazed out at the frozen landscape. 

"I know," I said. "I'm afraid I have no answer to that problem, though."

Elizabeth looked at me and her eyes brightened. "You know, that is exactly what caused the dispute with Jonathan last night. I wanted to help Irene and I came down awfully hard on him for having no idea as to how we could help her. But I had no ideas either. Sometimes commiseration is all we can offer our friends, is it not?"

"Sad but true," I told her, and was rewarded with her first smile in some time. 

"Thank you, Agnes!" Elizabeth leaned over and squeezed my hand, and for a wonderful moment I thought we might be on our way to a reprise of our lovely tryst at the seaside the previous summer. But that moment was burst by the report of the big front door of the mansion opening, followed by the unmistakeable prattle of none other than Alexandria. To both Elizabeth's and my surprise, she sounded unreservedly happy as she finished relating a story to her parents about some adventure she and her friends had enjoyed just before examination week. "Emily will surely have some explaining to do with her mother, but she'll still be the hero of the hour when we return in January!" she declared just as the party turned into the parlour to find Elizabeth and myself scrambling to our feet. 

"Agnes! Auntie Elizabeth!" 

Alexandria looked the slightest bit older and bigger as she appeared in the doorway. But Elizabeth and I had little time to assess that before she set off towards us in a most unladylike manner and threw her arms around us both. Her mother's disapproving cluck notwithstanding, the moment offered me the first true sense of the Christmas spirit of the season. A glance at Elizabeth confirmed that she was as surprised and delighted as I was. 

"Daddy, Mother, may I have some time alone with them for some girl talk?" Alexandria asked. "We have ever so much to catch up on!"

"Certainly, dear," Uncle said with a knowing smile. Aunt gave but a curt nod, but did not argue the matter. Uncle had the presence of mind to close the door behind him, and we were alone in the pale electric light with the roaring fire.

Alexandria lost no time in getting to the point as soon as the door was closed. "I'm sorry," she said, looking back and forth at Elizabeth and me with a contrite smile. 

"Sorry for what, Alex?" I asked. 

"Alexandria, please. 'Alex' is so boyish now that I'm out of the nursery, isn't it? And I meant I'm sorry for the horrid way I treated you both last summer. Eavesdropping on you and Father and making you think I knew all your business and needling you about it all. You told me I was a bully, and you were all too correct. I thought about it constantly on the train to school, even as I met up with some of the other girls who were also bound there, and I saw if I brought that attitude to school then I would be very lonely there."

"Oh, Alexandria," Elizabeth began.

"Wait, please," Alexandria said, now looking at the floor as if in shame, which perhaps she was. "I also realized if I saw any of the other girls treating each other that way and I didn't let them know it was wrong, I would be allowing someone else to be miserable for no reason. I would be the bully in a way, even if I wasn't, if you understand what I mean."

"I believe we do," I said. 

"I know I do," Elizabeth added. "I cannot even tell you how many times I wished someone else had stood up for me when I was being teased and tormented."

"I thought of exactly that!" Alexandria said, now looking only at Elizabeth. "I thought again and again of what you told Father – I'm sorry I eavesdropped on you, but now that you know I did, you know what I heard – and how you were bullied when you were my age. And all I could recall was how I had loved you when I was younger, how I looked forward to your days in the nursery and the games and the stories and your hugs; and I hated knowing someone I loved so much had been abused. But what I hated most of all was that she now expected me to do the same to other girls! And so I resolved – I swore up and down, Elizabeth – I would prove you wrong. I suppose I cannot prove to you that I have done that, but I sincerely hope you believe me."

"I do," Elizabeth said, and she gathered Alexandria into a conciliatory embrace which the younger girl returned most eagerly. 

"Thank you, but I feel I must tell you just how I have lived up to that promise, if you don't mind."

"That's really not necessary, Alexandria."

"Begging your pardon, Auntie Elizabeth, but I feel it is. One girl in my suite, Caroline, has the most pungent working-class accent I have ever heard, and within the first week I heard Katherine – that's the big girl in our suite, the one everyone looks up to, I'm sure you know the type – well, she was mimicking Caroline's accent while the poor dear was in the toilet, and encouraging all her minions to try it as well and goading them about how they couldn't ape it nearly as well as she could, and I stood up and told her to knock it off! I said we should all try to be friends and not pick on one another like that. Katherine shoved me into the wall and I had the worst headache that evening, but the next time she picked on Caroline, the others all told her to leave her alone! Caroline even heard all about it afterward and thanked me."

"That's lovely," Elizabeth told her while I nodded my silent concurrence.

"Some of the others have even thanked me as well for other reasons. Sophia was getting funny looks in the gymnasium because she has the biggest breasts, Ellen was getting pitiful looks because she has the smallest, tall Joyce was getting jokes about how no one could see over her in class...but once word got out about me standing up to Katherine, some of the others have done the same. It's wonderful!"

"It certainly is, Alexandria," I said. 

"I do wonder if Katherine and her friends had something about me that they were picking on behind my back, though," Alexandria mused. 

"That hardly matters now, does it?" Elizabeth asked. 

"Oh, I know. Only curious is all. Speaking of curious, Elizabeth, there is one thing I never gleaned from all I heard last summer. What did the girls pick on you for?"

I looked nervously at Elizabeth, but I could see she was prepared. "Alexandria, we're impressed with your transformation, but that is still none of your business."

"I suppose it isn't," Alexandria conceded. "It is only that I am growing older and I hope we can be friends now..."

"We can," Elizabeth said. "And when that day comes – when you are ready – I shall tell you."

"It might help me if I see someone who is vulnerable to bullying for the same reason," Alexandria pointed out.

"I assure you, Alexandria, if you do see someone who shares my...unusual trait, you shall be aware of it. You will also surely be aware of any bullying that results from it, and I now trust you completely to put a stop to it."

Alexandria nodded and smiled, conceding the matter. But I am quite sure I saw her look Elizabeth up and down, scrutinizing her body for clues. In truth there were clues, in the form of her thick and prominent eyebrows, which never ceased to amuse me when I saw Elizabeth fully clothed in the presence of others who did not know her secret; but so far as I could see, Alexandria failed to put two and two together. 

"Will you be joining Mother and the others for afternoon tea?" the poor girl asked, finally giving up on Elizabeth's secret. 

"Oh, I don't know that your mother wants a crowd for her reunion with you," Elizabeth pointed out.

"She most likely doesn't, but I do!" Alexandria had a pleading look in her eyes, and neither Elizabeth nor I could blame her. 

With few other options for the afternoon, we did join her. During a detour to the water closet beforehand (we had both had a great deal of tea already prior to Alexandria's arrival), we did share an awkward laugh from our side-by-side stalls. "Good heavens, I guess your secret is perfectly safe from her after all!" I said with relief. 

"I don't know that I would say 'perfectly' safe," Elizabeth said. "The cynic in me wonders if she does in fact know and only wished to see if I would entrust her with the information."

"But you don't really care who knows, do you?" I asked. 

"Not at all," Elizabeth said. "Those days are over, thank heavens!"

Elizabeth had been correct that Aunt did not welcome her company; and for that matter it appeared that she cared little for mine either. But Alexandria smiled gratefully when she saw us appear in the sitting room to share her burden. Though neither Elizabeth nor I had much tolerance for more tea by then, we did enjoy the delightful gingerbread biscuits and assorted other treats that appeared from the kitchen. We also enjoyed Alexandria's happy prattle about her adventures at school, particularly in contrast to her mother's vague but pervasive disapproval of it all over the rim of her teacup. Elizabeth nearly glowed with pride and relief at her former charge's transformation, though her consternation over the spat with Jonathan was still palpable in her eyes. 

We only found ourselves subjected to two or three of Alexandria's earnest but dull tales of life on her own before the doorman appeared over my shoulder and announced that Elizabeth and I had a visitor. Elizabeth's eyes lit up in hope that it was Jonathan; there was no need for me to confirm that with her. Quickly we excused ourselves, exchanging knowing and apologetic looks with Alexandria, and followed the doorman out to the foyer. 

There by the tree, looking gay as Christmas itself in a red frock, was Irene. 

Elizabeth hid her disappointment remarkably well as she swept our friend up in her arms. "So good to see you out and about, darling!" she said. 

"And it's great to be out, too," Irene agreed as I followed suit in embracing her. "I've come to apologize for my horrible behaviour last night. I woke up this morning feeling absolutely wretched, and feeling as though I deserved it besides."




Elizabeth 05: Christmas Troubles



"Oh, Irene, no one deserves that at this time of year," Elizabeth said. "And we do understand you are in a very bad place just now."

"Yes, well, if I should ever wish to get out of that place – and I do – it will hardly do to stand my friends up and drink myself into a stupor, I should think," Irene went on. "That's why I've come by to apologize to you both, and to see if you mightn't be interested in the baths this afternoon? We do have so much to catch up on."

I found I did not care for the idea of going downtown on such a frigid afternoon. Fortunately, Elizabeth concurred for her own reasons: "Oh, I'm sorry, Irene, but I'm afraid I am not in a good place for the baths myself today. I had a bit of a fight with Jonathan last night after we visited you."

"Oh dear, not my fault, I hope?" Irene asked. 

"Not at all. Our own – his and mine – for failing to handle a minor problem better. But I must confess the incident has robbed me of my Christmas spirit for the moment. That is why I bear you no ill will for last night; I now see all too well what you were experiencing!"

"I see," Irene said, not unkindly. Then, turning to me, she asked, "Shall we make it a twosome instead?"

"I find I am more inclined to stay safe and warm indoors," I said. "But you are more than welcome to stay the afternoon. Elizabeth, shall we have a girls' night in?"

"Oh, thank you, but I think I ought to take a nap," Elizabeth said, and in her eyes I knew I detected that she sensed Irene would prefer to be alone with me. I allowed a naughty smile to slip, at which point Elizabeth spoke up again quite hastily. "I do apologize, Irene, but I slept rather poorly last night myself. Perhaps we can all meet for dinner?"

"Perfect," Irene said, and I had little doubt she and I were of one mind as to what would happen next.

Elizabeth kissed Irene's cheek and then took her leave with uncharacteristic discretion, the swishing of her skirts making more noise than her feet as she tiptoed quickly up the stairs. As soon as she had vanished beyond the landing, Irene and I swept one another up in a passionate embrace that surely would have raised Aunt and Uncle's eyebrows had they happened out into the foyer (which, fortunately, they did not). The risk of that embarrassment was entirely worth it in my mind at that moment, for her now-familiar body so close against mine was perfectly delicious. I longed to kiss her, but that was a bridge too far in the foyer. 

"I do hope Elizabeth does not feel left-out," I murmured. 

"She could have joined us had she wished," Irene pointed out. 

"I doubt Jonathan would approve."

"Jonathan who took your virginity while engaged to Elizabeth?" Irene needled. 

"Shhhh!" But I was laughing as I said it. Brazenly I took her hand, and we rushed happily up the stairs and off to my room. 

I had no Christmas decorations in my room, but the entire wing smelled vaguely of spruce needles and spice thanks to the decorations and cooking that were then pervading the entire downstairs. It was one of the few advantages of my humble quarters, which offered more proximity to the public portion of the mansion and less privacy than Elizabeth's. Eschewing the electric lights, I lit an oil lamp on my dresser, and drew the curtains against the miserable outdoors. The resulting scene was cosy and private and absolutely safe. 

Irene locked the door behind us and turned to me. Across the bed, she asked, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked. "Now we are both free to play with whomever we want to, aren't we?"

"I just should never want us to think we have only one another to fall back upon because we cannot find a man of our own."

"Is a man really what you want this afternoon, Irene?" I rubbed my still-clothed breasts enticingly as I asked. 

She burst into gentle laughter. "Hardly!" With that she reached back and untied the sash of her dress in one fluid, experienced motion; I could not help wondering how many times she had teased Benjamin thusly. "This shall certainly top an afternoon at the baths!" She gathered up her skirt to pull it over her head. I followed suit, and by the time I had my dress off she was in her brassiere and panties and had bounded onto the bed. 

Her underclothes were the same bright shade of red as her dress. "You planned on this all along, didn't you, dear?" I asked, setting my dress on the chair by the window. I opted to get all of my clothing out of the way before I joined her on the bed, and she eyed me hungrily as I continued undressing. 

"Hoped for it, I suppose," Irene confessed. "But I really did suppose an afternoon at the baths with you and Elizabeth was all I could hope for."

"Let's not mention Elizabeth again for now," I said, fluffing out my ladygarden as best I could with all my fingers. "I can't compete with her in certain respects, after all."

"You've certainly got me beat in that regard," Irene reminded me. "And fear not; it is you I wished to encounter. We are quite good at this, after all!"

I certainly felt beautiful in the warmth of Irene's gaze as I climbed onto the bed and into her waiting arms. As I slipped my own arms around her, the kiss on which we had been compelled to hold off back downstairs was forthcoming at last. The reluctance of our first encounter was now but an inconvenient memory; the mild awkwardness of the second (in front of our friends) was no longer an issue either, and we caressed one another with the knowing and loving confidence of the experienced couple we now were. 

Irene's fingers lost no time in finding their way between my thighs and tickling my vulva as only she could do. I shuddered in pleasure and felt an involuntary groan of joy as I fell back upon the pillows on my side of the bed. Grinning, Irene knelt over me and eased first one, then two of her fingers inside. "Ohhhh God!" I thrust my hips up and savoured the beautiful sensation as her fingers glided in and out. Irene's brassiere looked most itchy and confining compared to my own unconfined breasts, and I longed to free her from her harness. But she was bobbing a bit too far above me for me to reach behind her back, and so I contented myself with kneading her breasts gently through the soft red fabric while she flicked me into orgasm with her wonderful fingers. 

"Oh, that feels lovely," Irene reassured me, evidently not minding her breasts' confinement. "But you sound even lovelier, dear. Come for me!" And in very little more time, I did. 

"God, Irene, you're amazing!" I said breathlessly as she slowly, teasingly withdrew her fingers from my pussy. I groped for something else to say that would not bring to mind either Benjamin or my role in running him off. But I could think of nothing, and so as soon as I had my wits about me again, I scrambled to my knees and swept Irene up in my arms once again. "You're amazing, but you're wearing entirely too many clothes, dear," I teased, nearly tearing the clasp of her brassiere away in my hurry to undo it. 

"Well, I hardly felt I should have to undress myself in your presence, Agnes!" Irene shot back with a wicked grin just before I buried my face in her breasts. Her nipples were rock-hard thanks to my prior fondling, and I teased one with my tongue and the other with my fingers. Irene yelped in joy as I did, and her body seemed to melt around mine, both of us kneeling together in the centre of the bed now. 

When I had her worked up into a full lather of arousal, I gave her a gentle push back onto the pillows, and made quick work of her panties. They were moist with her arousal, and her plump, prominent vulva seemed to be looking expectantly up at me. Once as much a cause for insecurity as Elizabeth's bush had been, Irene's big lips no longer caused her any embarrassment – at least not in my presence, since she knew how I adored her unique beauty. In that sultry moment, I told her just how much I adored it, not with words but with gentle strokes with both of my thumbs, up and down each side and never quite touching her clitoris but, I was sure, creating an itch to be touched there. 

It would appear I was right, for Irene let out a lusty yelp as my touch grew firmer and faster. "Oh, wonderful, Agnes, wonderful! More, please!" And so 'more' was just what I gave her. Flopping down on the far end of the bed, I teased at her modest bush with my fingers while teasing her pussy with gentle kisses and licks all around, once or twice inside, but avoiding the sweetest spot for the moment. 

"Unnnnngggghhhhhhhh...such sweet torture, Agnesssss!"

At the sound of her menacing pronunciation of my name, I at last planted a tender kiss and a gentle swipe of the tongue on her clitoris. This drew her loudest screech of approval yet, and I was grateful Aunt and Uncle had not seen me escort Irene upstairs, for it seemed all too plausible that they would hear Irene. Putting that from my mind, I rubbed hard at her hips with both my hands while I continued my loving assault on her clitoris. The ice being broken, my sucking and licking grew harder with each stroke, and Irene was now writhing every which way as I pushed her to the edge. 

There was no missing it when I got her there. Amidst her lusty screams, she pushed my head gently but firmly off her and beckoned me with both her hands. As soon as I could scoot up to meet her, she threw her arms around me. "Thank you!" she whispered. "Just what the doctor ordered!" 

"What are friends for?" I joked, returning her embrace. Irene laughed and squeezed me more tightly. Once again I felt a twinge of guilt at how our discovery of this attraction had carried such a tragic cost for Irene. But with Benjamin now gone for good, there was little harm in us continuing with our occasional trysts, after all. With the oil lamp still burning, soon we were both wrapped in a warm midwinter slumber. 

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was paying a visit to Christmas. Not the Christmas that was then just days away, mind you, but another one at some time and place unknown to her. Dressed in a nightgown and robe she did not recognize, she found herself descending a staircase in a lovely but unfamiliar house. Smaller than Uncle's mansion but still quite spacious, the downstairs into which she emerged was decorated with tinsel and baubles nearly everywhere she looked, while the picture window revealed an elegant drift of snow and the promise of children frolicking about not far away. 

"Mummy!" a little boy Elizabeth did not recognize appeared in the kitchen doorway and hurtled towards her. He leapt into her arms and felt just right there, though she did not even know his name. "Merry Christmas, Mummy!"

"Merry Christmas," Elizabeth replied with a smile belying her bewilderment. "I hope you've been good for your father while I was sleeping in."

"Of course he was," Jonathan said, appearing in the doorway with two steaming cups of tea in his hand. He looked a few years older, and for the first time Elizabeth realized she had no idea as to her own appearance. "They both were – for once."

Both?

A girl, a year or two older than the boy from the look of it, slunk into the living room behind Jonathan. "Yes, Mummy, he was good for once. Probably afraid Father Christmas would leave him coal if he wasn't, the little brat."

"That's enough of that!" Jonathan told her. "Can't we have no fights today of all days?"

"He's right, dear," Elizabeth added, the boy still snuggling up to her. "It's Christmas morning. Let's all open our gifts and enjoy the occasion, shall we?"

"Let's all open our gifts," the girl mimicked. "You always say that, and you never put a stop to the little brat's –"

"That's enough!" Jonathan snapped, in a tone Elizabeth had rarely heard him use. "It's Christmas, goddammit! None of that!"

"But he's been getting at me all week, and you haven't done anything 'because it's Christmas'! Why should he get away with murder because of that?"

"He shouldn't," Elizabeth allowed, and with that she pulled back to look the little boy in the eye. "What have you done to your sister?"

"We were only playing," he mumbled nervously.

"Only playing?!" the girl piped up again.

"SHUT. UP!" Jonathan was livid. "Not now! Let's open our presents, and –"

"You open your presents!" the girl screeched. "You can throw mine away for all I care, Daddy!" She burst into tears and raced up the stairs. 

Jonathan heaved a disappointed sigh. "Well, I suppose we can't open them all now, can we?"

"Yes we can, Daddy!" the boy protested. "Leave her up there if that's what she wants!"

"If that's what she wants?" Elizabeth set the boy firmly down on the floor and glared down at him. "You've been tormenting your sister and now you think this is only her problem? Why don't you go upstairs as well!"

"Elizabeth!" Jonathan snapped, as the boy crumpled onto the floor and began to cry. "He's only three! What do you expect?"

"I expect you and me to teach him to have some respect for his sister!" Elizabeth shot back, though it occurred to her now that she hadn't a clue as to what the children had actually been fighting over. 

"But you know she is always like that nowadays!" Jonathan said. 

"I can see why, with him picking on her all the time! Why haven't you done anything to put a stop to that?"

"Why haven't I?! This is your fault too, you know!" By now they were standing toe-to-toe and glaring in one another's eyes, and their son had followed his sister's lead up the stairs. The cheerful blinking lights from the Christmas tree were now a perverse irony amidst the tension and rage that held sway as Jonathan and Elizabeth stared each other down. 

"Did we have to go over this again?" Jonathan asked, somewhat more calmly now. "At Christmas of all times?"

"Why should Christmas be any different?" Elizabeth asked. 

"What on earth do you mean?" Jonathan demanded. "Peace on earth, goodwill to men...you know the song by heart."

"Goodwill to men whose behaviour would get them sent to their room without any supper at any other time of year?" Elizabeth asked. "Jonathan, perhaps you are right that I am equally to blame with regards to the children. But either way, it is clear that he has been mistreating her and one or both of us should have done something! But all either of us has done, I gather, is tell her to grin and bear it because it's Christmas. What sort of message is that sending her?!"

Jonathan backed down and looked thoughtful. "It is only that...they fight all the time anyway! I only thought this ought to be one time we ought to be able to set it aside and just enjoy the holiday season as a family."

"Do you expect him to see it that way, though?" Elizabeth asked. "I don't. I expect him to see that as an excuse to have all the fun he wants at his sister's expense, and treating her like a Scrooge if she doesn't put up with it."

"Christ, Elizabeth, why does this always bubble up at Christmas? Even before we were married..."

"Even before we were married, Jonathan, there was tremendous pressure everywhere to pretend you were having a good day at this time of year, even if you were miserable in reality. It will likely always be that way, too. It's a cold, nasty time of year, but at the very same time we're being bombarded constantly with all these messages of joy and peace and love, and anyone who betrays any lack of those things is treated like a villain. It's hard work to keep up that charade sometimes, and our own home is one place where we should not have to keep up appearances at all times, don't you think?"

Jonathan nodded. "Well said. How did you think of all that anyway?"

"I did not only just think of it," Elizabeth told him. "It's something I've been acutely aware of since my first term at boarding school. You know how miserable that was, and yet the very people who were causing that misery were also criticizing me for not being bright and happy at Christmastime. It was murderous, and I will not have any part in forcing that attitude upon my children."

"Indeed," Jonathan agreed. "So many life lessons you took from those horrible days. I wonder where Tamara is now, anyway?"

The words, "Hell, I hope," were forming upon Elizabeth's lips when she sprung awake. It took a few angst-ridden moments before she realized she had been dreaming of her future. Or was it only a future she feared? Lying in the dark with the fire dying down at the foot of her bed, she found her relief only reached so far. Was that what she and Jonathan had to look forward to: a lovely house and two lovely kids and hearts full of anger and resentment all around?

"Not if I can help it," Elizabeth said to herself, swinging out of her bed and standing up to stretch. "Not if we can help it," she corrected herself. And in that moment, she knew what she had to do. 

Elizabeth turned on the electric lights and sat down at her desk, and scribbled down a note to Irene and me. After folding it over, she grabbed up her cloak and purse and made her way downstairs, with only a detour to slip the note under my door. (Irene and I were still fast asleep at that point, but we would find it in plenty of time; and we had a good laugh over how she knew we would be together in my room.) With only a cordial good-day to the doorman, she rushed out into the chilly late afternoon and walked as quickly as she could to the streetcar stop near the foot of Uncle's property. 

On the ride into town, she had to fend off a number of invitations to the baths from a few of our friends, always with the concession that, yes, it was perfect weather for that; but she had more urgent business to attend to. She was nearly to Jonathan's stop before the possibility occurred to her that he might not be home; but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. 

A knock at his door revealed that Elizabeth had in fact arrived at that bridge. As she waited in vain for an answer, she also became aware of an unsubtle reminder that she had left the house in a terrible hurry. Our morning's tea binge was once again catching up with her, and there was no water closet readily available. As that was among the things she and Jonathan often bonded over so well, he would surely have a good laugh about that predicament once they did reconnect! But where was she likely to find him? It took but a moment of fidgeting outside his door to conclude that there was no choice but to explore the likeliest places one by one. 

Jonathan's office was three blocks away, and the cold air and her full bladder ensured that Elizabeth made the walk quite briskly. She did not allow herself the luxury of wondering where Jonathan might be if not at the office; first things first! Arriving at the office building, she lost no time in rushing up to our floor, where to her delight she found the light on in the office. Eagerly she rapped at the door; but there was no response. Perhaps he was back in Mr. Thompson's suite. She knocked again, and once again received no response. Now she was left to wonder where else he might be...shopping at Miles? The pub? There was nothing stopping Elizabeth from checking them one by one. 

But first, a more pressing problem occurred to her: where was the ladies' room? (I, of course, could have told her it was at the far end of the hallway; but I was still very much asleep back home.) Elizabeth had drunk even more tea than usual that morning, she had neglected to attend to such things before leaving as she was normally so very careful to do, and the ride into the city was always a long one. The gentlemen's water closet was conveniently located right by the stairwell, and it was exceedingly unlikely that she would be invading anyone's privacy on a week-end day...Elizabeth bit her lip and resolved to simply get in, make water and get out as quickly as possible. 





Elizabeth 05: Christmas Troubles



Pushing the door forcefully inward in her nervousness and urgent need, she was utterly humiliated to be greeted with the sight of a man standing at the urinal. That humiliation melted into relief and amusement as she realized the man was Jonathan. Why on earth had she failed to anticipate that she would find him there of all places? 

In lieu of a greeting, they both dissolved into laughter. "So it's come to us even weeing together, has it?" Jonathan grinned. 

"Isn't it wonderful!" Elizabeth laughed along with him as she stepped into the lone stall. "After all, we've done that once before, haven't we?"

"Indeed, why not again?" Jonathan admitted.

"I will explain everything in just a moment, I promise!" Elizabeth called out as she latched the door and gathered up her skirt. 

"I hardly think you need to explain," Jonathan called back from the sink, where he was washing his hands. "You drank gallons of tea this morning and you don't know where the ladies' room in this building is. Not to worry, Elizabeth; I don't know where it is either."

"You have undoubtedly been drinking it all day yourself to stay awake while catching up on your work," Elizabeth concurred. 

"Of course I have," Jonathan acknowledged; she could hear the water running as he washed his hands. "Both due to the dull work and because I slept rather poorly last night. I am sure I don't need to tell you why."

"You do not," Elizabeth said. "That is why I rushed out to meet you this afternoon, darling. To apologize for my selfishness last night."

"Your selfishness?" Jonathan sounded astonished. 

"Yes," Elizabeth said, pulling her panties back up; she gave some thought to removing them instead, but quickly reasoned that was how she had stirred up so much trouble the night before. "I fairly stood the Christmas spirit on its ear last night, and after some unpleasant memories and dreams, I see all too well that I acted terribly." She emerged from the stall as she said it, and after a cursory rinse of her hands at the sink, she threw her arms around Jonathan. "Our love is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and making love with you is wonderful but it is not the be all and end all of anything. I should never have treated it as such."

"I suppose I should have been more diplomatic about Irene given that it is Christmas," Jonathan said. He had just enough presence of mind to peer out into the hallway to ensure that no one would see Elizabeth emerging from the gents' with him. 

"No, that's just it!" Elizabeth said. "What you said about her last night was all only too fair and reasonable! Any time of year but this, I'd have found no fault with it, and I now see that should have been no different now than then."

"I'm impressed," Jonathan admitted, unlocking the office door and ushering her into the empty but warm office. "That is just what I have always detested about this time of year: the idea that no one is ever allowed to have a bad day or to complain about bad behaviour. Forgive me, Elizabeth, but I had the impression you were among the crowd who subscribed to all that."

"I was," Elizabeth admitted. "But...oh, this is going to sound absurd, but I had a nightmare about our children, if you can believe that."

"The ghost of Christmas future paid a visit, is that it?" Jonathan sat down at his desk chair, his legs spread enticingly, making Elizabeth wish she had done away with her panties after all. But she said nothing to that effect as she stood before him. 

"Something like that. Past and present as well, but never mind all that. What I see now is that this is a time of year like any other in some ways. Things still go wrong, and things still sometimes go very, very right."

"And what we have is still one of those things, I should hope?" Jonathan asked. 

"Precisely. More so than I had bothered to remember of late, and that was my mistake. And we don't need sex to make it so. I promise I understand that, even if I do not always act as though I do."

"Pity," Jonathan said with a grin, flicking at the button of his trousers. "I had rather hoped you might be here for a bit of make-up play."

Elizabeth could not stop her face from breaking into a ravenous smile. "Only if you truly wish to do so, darling," she said. But she was already gathering her skirt up with both hands before Jonathan could offer a verbal reply. He did, however, offer a non-verbal reply in the form of unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down to reveal his robust, hard willingness. He looked down at it and back up at Elizabeth, who was losing no time in sliding her panties off. 

She kicked them over towards my deserted desk and leaned over Jonathan. Taking his cock in a gentle grip with her right hand, she slipped her left around his shoulders and kissed him deep and long just before climbing atop his lap, facing him. The outdoor chill and their initially tentative reconciliation meant Elizabeth required more foreplay than she normally did; but there was no shortage of opportunity for all that. Perched on his lap, she ran one hand playfully about his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, and grazed her other thumb lightly over the tip of his eager erection. "A nice healthy cock in search of a bush to nestle in!" she cooed. 

"And I do believe it has found one," Jonathan added. By then he had all ten fingers exploring Elizabeth's robust bush. "My god, Elizabeth, your bush is just as amazing as the first time, every time I get lost in it!"

"May you never stop getting lost in there!" she replied, thrilling to his expert gentle caresses under her skirt. A last fleeting memory of Roger flashed through her mind, compelling her to add, "You will never know how happy I am that you embrace that part of me."

"Nor you how happy I am about the part of me that it embraces so well!" Jonathan quipped between heavy breaths. "A delightful, natural evening gown you wear under your clothes, keeping your greatest secret from everyone but me!"

"Good heavens, you're going to give me a mental orgasm along with the real one!" It was the last thing Elizabeth said before his first tentative stroke on her clitoris, which elicited a delightfully cathartic yelp that Jonathan knew as a plea for more. He lost no time in giving her more, easing his thumb carefully inside to Elizabeth's delight. Despite the awkward angle, he was able to flail about enough to confirm that she was wet and ready – and to give her fleeting jolts of pleasure that made her long for more. To that end, Elizabeth pushed up hungrily against his body as if willing his thumb to reach magically further in. That being impossible, Jonathan withdrew it but kept it pressed neatly against her clitoris and drew wet circles around it in the way he knew she loved. 

And love it she did. Words giving way to grunts, Elizabeth leaned back and ground her hips into his, welcoming the lovely teasing from his expert touch. She wiggled her legs intently against him, awaiting his entry even as she knew it was unlikely before he had rubbed her to her first orgasm. That was not long in coming, and she threw herself tightly against him with a kiss masking her scream at the big moment. With that accomplished, he soon had his eager cock set between her damp thighs, and together they guided it inside. Now joyfully full of the only Christmas present she truly coveted, Elizabeth bobbed and rocked in delicious rhythm and enjoyed Jonathan's heavenly moans blending with hers. Despite – or perhaps because of – the pale glare of electric light, they both kept their eyes open and gazed at one another in intimate wonder as one minute, then two, then five or six or more passed. Elizabeth felt her second orgasm bobbing just beneath the surface for some time, but did her best to hold it at bay as she savoured the sensation. 

"Coming," Jonathan whispered at last. And with that, Elizabeth lay down her last defence and allowed the final, intense release to rush through every inch of her still-mostly-clothed body, just as she felt Jonathan spurt within her and heard him yowl with the release. She went limp with a satisfied sigh in his arms, and clamped his receding hardness tightly within her like a last drop of wine.

"Merry Christmas, Elizabeth."

"Merry Christmas, Jonathan. Let's make certain they are always this wonderful for us both."

"How could they possibly not be?"

"Indeed."

As they cleaned up as best they could after their adventure, Jonathan was concerned about the tell-tale scent that would surely linger for some time. "I certainly hope Mr. Thompson doesn't turn up before Monday," he mused as he blotted at the damp stains on his trousers and waited for the dry air to take its toll. 

"Well, if he does, how will he know whether it was you or Agnes?" Elizabeth quipped. 

"Oh, I'm sure he thinks she is marvellously chaste," Jonathan said. "If only he knew how many times she has flipped up her skirt at him when his back was turned."

Elizabeth laughed and made a mental note to query me about that practice. "If that is the sort of office he is running, whether he is aware of it or not, I believe we are safe!"

Indeed they were; as with their previous tryst on Mr. Thompson's office couch, he was never the wiser. 

It was some time before Jonathan deemed himself presentable in public; this gave Elizabeth time to find the ladies' and primp a bit for our dinner date. I was none the wiser as to Jonathan's concerns about his trousers at the time, for they were both looking resplendent and radiant when they arrived at the pub. Irene and I had arrived a quarter of an hour earlier and were still enjoying our first glass of wine when they appeared at our table. (Having put any and all shame about our relationship to bed, we had held hands in the cab on the ride into town; but we did keep our hands to ourselves in the pub. Westfordshire City was progressive, but not yet that progressive!) 

"Jonathan!" Irene burst out gratefully, standing up to embrace her cousin. "I am so very sorry for..."

"No need, Irene," Jonathan assured her. "You are coping with a broken heart, and that can only ever be so easy to do."

"Yes, but at Christmas," Irene mused sadly, sitting back down. 

"At Christmas it is all the worse, is it not?" Elizabeth asked. "Everyone is always telling us to be of good cheer all the time, no matter how far that is from our true feelings. It is most unfair, and your true friends will never judge you for being honest about yourself."

"Why, that is perfectly lovely," Irene said. "I wish I had thought of that last night."

"I wish I had, too," Elizabeth said. "But I am afraid I thought of it because of last night."

"How is that?" Irene asked. 

"Yes," I added, "I appreciated all you said to me this morning, Elizabeth, but just where did this come to you where it was ever so lacking yesterday?"

"She had a Scrooge moment," Jonathan quipped. 

"Why, that makes no sense at all!" I exclaimed. 

"Yes, is that not the opposite of what has happened?" Irene chimed in. 

"No, he is quite right," Elizabeth confirmed. "I relived some unpleasant holidays in my own past, and dreamt of some future trouble, and now I see all too well how tempting it is to handle one's problems just as Irene has been doing. But it was Alexandria who saved the day, truly."

"Oh, yes!" I added. "That girl has rediscovered her decency to a greater extent than any of us had dared hope."

"A lovely surprise at any time of year," Elizabeth concurred. "I am sure it would have restored my faith in humanity at any other time as well, but it was especially well-timed while we were all going through a bad patch with one another."

Irene looked at Jonathan and then at Elizabeth. "You two as well? Not because of me, I hope."

"No," Jonathan reassured her. "Because we were each expecting something the other couldn't have offered. But that no longer matters."

"Well, you do both look like you have had a delightful afternoon," Irene said with a twinkle in her eye.

"As do the pair of you," Elizabeth retorted. Irene took my hand under the table, and we burst into nervous laughter together. Jonathan joined in, while Elizabeth raised her glass to us. With the chilly bluster just outside, I felt as safe and content as I could ever recall feeling in my life. 

The pub, already more than half full upon our arrival, grew outright crowded as our dinner and drinks progressed. It made no difference to us, as the thrill of intimacy and the comfort of friendship held the world at bay throughout the evening. We talked of Elizabeth's unpleasant memories and dreams and the much more positive present, and the progress of Irene's recovery, and our hopes and fears for after the wedding in the spring. Although not all of our concerns had easy answers, we did find addressing it all together helped. While none dared say it in Irene's presence, I am quite sure the absence of Benjamin served as proof that no one's world would come to an end when a circle of friends was disrupted by such a thing as a wedding. In any event, this evening was not for fretting over what might or might not come to an end but for celebrating what we had and what could never be lost. 

If nothing would be quite the same after that day in May, the joy of December made it all worthwhile!