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Turning around, they went back and stood at threshold of the couple's room. The woman, dressed only in her shift and stays, was lying upon the bed. The man, in only his shirt, hovered above her, kissing her lips, her throat, the top of her bosom. The woman arched her back, trying to press her body closer to his.
“Pray, tease me no longer. I must have you,” she murmured.
Mildred stood as still and as quiet as she could, hoping they would not notice her. Her mind screamed that what she did was wrong. Nevertheless, warmth stirred in her belly.
The man straddled the woman, laying his hips over hers. There was a familiar thrusting motion, a sigh from the woman. Mildred felt the heat travel up her cheeks. Was she truly watching this? The man rolled his hips at the woman, who grasped his arms and alternated between grunting and gasping. Their brows furrowed, their cheeks flushed. A mix of emotions churned inside Mildred. She knew their pleasure, new the corporal cravings that were being simultaneously stoked and satisfied. Thus, she felt as if she were sharing in their interaction. It was naughty to bear witness to such an intimate act, but it was a titillating sight.
The woman's gasps quickened, as did his grunting. His hips hammered into her ferociously. She gave a gasping cry. Seconds later, he roared as he spent before collapsing atop her. They lay, still entwined, breathing hard, their mission complete. Mildred did not move, but she did not know if she ought to stay. For certain, if they saw her, her face would ripen into a tomato.
Sensing her unease, Madame quietly withdrew and Mildred followed. They continued down the corridor. Mildred was silent as she tried to calm the tumult inside her. She had enjoyed the scene, had envied the woman upon the bed. Would she herself ever be so bold?
"You are much like Lady Katherine," Madame said. "She, too, is possessed of an adventurous spirit."
Glancing at Madame, Mildred was filled with a sort of gratitude. For years, until that fateful encounter with Lady Katherine, she had thought herself a most depraved young woman. She knew no one she could talk to. Nothing seemed to stymie the wicked urges within her—not attending church, not reading the Bible over and over, not filling her days with mundane activities, nothing. It was truly a strange affliction because the satiation of it was ever only temporary. In the quiet of her own chambers, she would attend that craving by hand. But, time and time again, the yearning would return. And when that stable hand had put paddle to rear, it had ignited a perverse but superior excitement. The harder the paddling, the more fulfilling it had been.
“Here are your chambers,” Madame said, showing Mildred into a nicely appointed and perfectly respectable anteroom.
No one would suspect anything untoward occurred between its walls. Even the pastoral painting upon the wall, of a woman entertaining the attentions of a man on either side of her, seemed tame. Mildred took in the rose-colored, printed silk and golden candelabras upon the walls, and how the late afternoon sun filled the entire room with light. The mahogany furnishings were finer than any in the Abbott house, but it was the general cheerfulness of the room that Mildred found delightful.
“I thought these chambers would suit you.” Madame smiled. “As you have no maid of your own, I will have one of mine attend you. Her name is Bhadra. Supper will be at six o’clock. Till then, you are free to roam the château as if it were your own.”
Madame gave her a parting smile. Mildred would have liked her hostess to stay. She would have liked to acquaint herself more with the woman, and how the Château Debauchery had come into being, but she would not keep Madame Follet from the other guests.
Alone, she opened the door to the bedroom to see a beautiful post bed clothed in fine linen. She grazed the back of her hand over the soft bedclothes before sitting down.
“Oh!” she exclaimed upon seeing her reflection in a large gilded looking glass above the fireplace. The glass was tilted toward the bed.
How very lecherous, she thought to herself with a smile. Giddiness percolated. She could hardly believe she was to spend the night here. Alone. A part of her wished Lady Katherine would have stayed but perhaps it was, as her ladyship suggested, better this way. Without reminders of her present life, she might lose herself more readily in the world of Château Follet.
She did worry what would happen if she should somehow be discovered here, but Madame Follet assured her that only the most discreet persons were permitted within the château’s walls. Any breach of confidence resulted in a permanent ban, and the guests were too devoted to the freedom and opportunities afforded by Château Follet to risk expulsion.
“Some guests come as a couple,” Madame had explained. “Others may find their partners upon arrival. I have many individuals who are unattached, and I know there will be a gentleman—or lady, if that is your persuasion—who would suit you well.”
Mildred was not as confident as Madame Follet, though the hostess had named more men than women. If she were not selected, should she take her leave?
“Nonsense,” Lady Katherine had replied. “I do not intend to return to collect you till noon the morrow. And I expect, when I return, to receive a rousing account of your time here.”
Mildred was, therefore, stuck. It had even seemed to her that Lady Katherine had been in some hurry to leave the château.
Unbuttoning her spencer, Mildred lay back upon the bed and looked at the painted ceiling. Naked cherubs gazed down at her. Her mind wandered back to that other room, to the man rutting atop the woman. The heat between her legs had not completely dissipated.
Slowly, she pulled up her skirts and reached between her thighs to find that little bud of sensation. Replaying the memory of the couple, she sighed as she stroked herself. Yes, she would have liked to be the woman below his bucking hips.
The sound of the door opening made Mildred jump off the bed.
“Miss Abbott?”
It was the maid. Composing herself, Mildred entered the anteroom to find a lovely young Indian with hair of ebony and large almond-shaped eyes.
“You must be Bhadra.”
“Yes, miss. Your effects are being brought—ah, here they are.”
A groom came up behind her and set down a trunk and portmanteau. He was rather a handsome fellow, Mildred thought to herself, wondering if the servants took part in the château’s activities. If she could not find a partner among the guests…
“Shall I dress you for supper, miss?” Bhadra asked.
Mildred marveled at the peaks and valleys of the maid’s intonations as she spoke.
