I scattered slow kisses down her cheek and along her jawline and she purred and shivered a little. I popped open the little pearl buttons down the back of her blouse one at a time as we continued to move in our unhurried dance. She wore no bra and when the blouse fell open I smoothed my hands over her soft, sleek skin, enjoying the shifting of muscles under my fingers. She stepped back almost bashfully and let the blouse slide off her arms. As I covered her breasts with my open hands, she unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off my shoulders. Both garments were tossed in a chair in the corner and we went back to dancing, pressed breast to breast, four hands caressing two bodies. Alex took the initiative next, unhooking my slacks and sliding down the zipper down far enough to allow them to fall to the floor. I pushed down my briefs, stepped out of my loafers, and kicked the whole mass to one side. We embraced and our hands continued to move over each other, as if exploring for the first. ComWhen I think of Alice the image that flashes through my mind is of her naked and tied to the long low butchers table in the barn, her legs wide apart and the wood stove being lit. However, I’m getting ahead of myself here. Writing about events of the distant past can be difficult, the passage of time dulls one’s recollections and details become lost. There are of course, certain things that seem to become etched on our minds. Alice, a pretty but otherwise ordinary girl tied on that butchers table is etched on mine. When much younger I was employed in the service of a Lord and Lady Colville on a modest estate in the North of England. This was of course before the days of much education and I’d worked there since the age of 15, this was not unusual. I was neither one thing nor the other in terms of my position, helping in the gardens mainly and the main house as I was needed. Houses of that sort took many people to run, although Colville Hall was neither huge nor overly grand. Among.
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