She was a beautiful thing, this girl, all rosy and bright and full of the kind of curves a man could enjoy getting lost in. She would taste fabulous, he could tell. She had a lot of life in her, and if he were to drain her, he’d not need another meal for a month. But no, he must not even think like that. His brows wrinkled as he mentally scolded himself. He did not feed on random girls. No, he only sucked those who wanted to be sucked at the club. No one else, nowhere else. It was the rules. His rules and he would not break them.
He opened the wardrobe and took a moment to steady himself. All of his mother’s clothes hung there, as pristine as they’d always been with only the dust of ages to sully them. He pulled out the first that came to hand, shook it then laid it across his arm. His mother would not mind him using her clothes. She had always been a charitable soul. Thinking about his mother made his heart ache, so he shook his head and purposefully strode down the landing to the stairs.
When he walked back into the warm sitting room, the girl did not look immediately to him. He walked closer and realised as he glanced down that she was sleeping. Her face was peaceful, and he wished he could leave her like that, but she was still a little damp and a lot cold. He would have to disturb her.
“Erm, hello?” he called, and her eyes fluttered open.
“Oh, yes, sorry. I must have dozed off.” She smiled in her disorientation then took the towel he proffered for her use.
“I’m sorry I had to wake you, dear lady, but I do not want you to catch your death of cold.”
He laid the dress down over a single chair close to the fire and went to help her with the towel.
“Oh, gosh, I couldn’t possibly wear that, I mean, it’s antique, isn’t it? It’s like that beautiful dress in the portrait, and I really don’t think I’d fit in it anyway.” She flustered, waving her hands, her cheeks flushed red.
“It will fit you perfectly,” he replied, “and you could not wear any clothes of mine. This is all I have in the way of suitable clothing for a lady. Now we need to get you out of those wet things.” He knelt at her feet and started to untie the one trainer she still had on.
“I can undress myself,” she screeched.
“I know you can, dear woman, but you have a twisted ankle. You cannot do this without aid today. Do not worry for I will not force myself upon you. I will aid you and nothing more.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I know. I’m a little sensitive about anyone seeing me, you know, unclothed. I’m not particularly beautiful with my clothes on, and with them off, I look considerably worse.”
“I cannot believe that is true,” he said. “You are more than pretty as you are.”
He put the trainer to one side and delicately plucked off her sock, gently smoothing his hands down her soft skin. “Do you need help with your top?”
Before she could answer, he stood and reached down to her waist. Her hand hovered just around her stomach for a moment then she raised her arms. Hugh lifted the clinging, damp material up and over her head.
“What’s your name?” she blurted out. “I mean, you’re undressing me, and I don’t even know who you are.”
“I am Hugh Jacobson,” he replied then picked up the towel and draped it around her shoulders, his gaze concentrated on the luscious mounds of her breasts as he did so. They were like scoops of cold, tempting ice cream in their lacy shells.
“And I’m Elizabeth Chapman,” she said. “Doctor Elizabeth Chapman.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said as he rubbed the towel up and down her arms. “Although, I am sorry our meeting was under such circumstances.”
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Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author.
She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut
Alfresco, Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.
Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut events, days and nights dedicated to
erotica, fun and prizes. Check out http://ilovesmut.uk for more details.
She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and
biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English
quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.
Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.
You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook http://facebook.com/victoriablisse ,
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To find out more check out http://victoriablisse.co.uk