Her Ladyship Undone

“Are you listening to me, Reginald?”

Lady Threlfall was talking to the back of her husband’s head. A tall and athletic woman with shoulder length mousey hair, Georgina Fipps-Lackett strode round to where her husband was sat reading the Financial Times. Barely offering a response, the man simply cleared his throat and shook his newspaper a little more upright.

“Hello. I’m speaking to you, Reginald.”

“Yes, I know, darling, but you seem to be in a vile strop at the moment and I’m not sure if my talking to you will help.”

They were in the drawing room of their Elizabethan manor house. Surrounded by mullioned windows, the large, oblong shaped room was airy and full of expensive furnishings and rare antiques. Reginald Fipps-Lackett, aged fifty-six, was wedged in a Jacobean flamestich chair, trying to avoid his wife Georgina’s relentless badgering. A paunchy, grey-haired man, he sat stubbornly adrift of her apparent irritability. It was normally a time of the day when he scoured the Financial Times for news of the London Stock Market.

“Why should someone like me have to put up with being bored?” she asked.

“You should try get yourself a decent hobby,” her husband answered in a mild southern counties drawl.

“I’m thirty years old now and I need an outlet of some kind.”

“Why don’t you go for a drive?”

“There, you see,” she said, with obvious impatience, “you’ve gone and done it again. I am here talking about the need to live a more fulfilling life and all you can suggest is that I go for a drive. How is going for a drive likely to help? I am talking about an absence of fun. I lack fun, Reginald. Here I am void of distraction - and yet all you think I need is to head out into the countryside and take in a few fields.”

“Well, it might help to calm you down,” her husband said from his sedentary position and with an apathetic drawl. He cleared his throat, and shaking the newspaper into place, still refused to meet her eye.

“Shall I ask Mrs Rainsworth to fetch you in some tea?” he said, attempting to seem helpful.

The suggestion irked Georgina and she paced up and down in front of the fireplace. She felt like raking the rare china plates from off the mantelpiece so that they crashed to the floor. At least then, her husband might take to his feet - even if it was just to shout rude things at her. Georgina fought shy of doing something so rash and instead placed herself before him.

“I’m not interested in drinking tea,” she said, her voice cracking slightly under the hopelessness of talking to this man.

“Not interested in tea either, eh?” he replied, with an airy disregard.

Georgina felt her irritation mount to new levels. “Do you realize that I’ve been in this room for over twenty minutes and I still haven’t seen your face?”

She could hear but not see her husband’s slack-eyed yawn from behind the newspaper. Finally, in what seemed like a concession to her aggrieved state, he asked, “So, would you like me to put down the newspaper?”

Georgina bit down on the impulse to rip the specious pink rag from his grasp and fling it on the fire anyway.

“No, on second thoughts, leave your face where it is,” she said, acerbically.

“I thought you were planning to go out anyway?”

“I am. In fact, I am going to join a gym,” she stated aloud.

“Jolly good. Give you something to do on the days when you’re not at home.”

“I’m wearing my sports togs right now. You’d have noticed that if you could shift yourself away from that appalling news rag.”

“Jolly good, darling,” he said, not seeming to have heard the biting conclusion to her remark, “Joining that spa place up in the Cotswolds, are you? Meant to be quite the thing. It’s all rather exclusive, or so I’m told.”

“No, I’m joining a different sort of gym. It is on the outskirts of Oxford. Alicia told me about it. It’s not quite as exclusive but it does have other compensating factors.”

“More rigged out with the equipment you fine ladies need,” he said, shifting to a more comfortable position in the chair (while still talking to her in a vague and slightly disconnected sort of way).

“You could say that,” Georgina said, musing on what her friend Alicia had said. She had told her of the many Alpha males frequenting the gym. Alicia talked of the place being full of muscular types (all of whom she happily ogled from afar). These men mostly seemed to congregate in the free weights area, where they applied themselves to heavy lifting. Alicia talked of how they would stick to arduous routines and then strut and preen, gorging on their quite incredible physiques in the long line of mirrors.

“Are you sure a place like that is to your taste?” her husband asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, it sounds like a run-of-the-mill sort of place. That is the impression I am getting. You have exclusive tastes. You are used to a bit of pampering. Does this gym of yours have all the sort of stuff you normally require? Cocktail bars and steam rooms, that sort of thing?”

“No, it’s just a gym. But the people who go there seem to take fitness very seriously.”

Her husband chortled from behind the newspaper. “I’m not sure you are cut out for a normal gym, my darling. Just think about it: all those sweaty men mooching about the place.”

“That’s the sort of comment I despise. As if a few sweaty men are anything to put a girl off. If anything, it makes me even more determined to go.”

“I’m not against such places. In fact, I am all for the working-classes having a bit of fun. But you have breeding and pedigree, my love. The place is probably awash with all these body-worshipping types. I am picturing you having to share the same piece of apparatus with a muscular yokel. I mean, what would you do with some great hulking fellow?”

Wouldn’t you like to know, Georgina mused to herself?

“Reginald, I’m bored with what I am. I am in sore need of excitement. It is frustrating to always feel so bogged down in social functions. That is what the gym might help me overcome. Another thing: I don’t much care for our friendship group anymore.”

“But I thought you liked Ponsonby?”

“Ponsonby is your friend - but not mine. He’s perfectly decent but a bit dull - like you.”

He almost seemed not to hear the last remark and said, chirpily, “the derivatives market is on the up. I must speak to my broker soon.”

“Did you just hear a word I said?” Georgina asked, tetchily.

Her husband shook his newspaper upright again and tried to sound sympathetic, “Just pick your chin up from the floor, darling, and do what you think is best. You always muster a good show.”

“I wish you wouldn’t use the word ‘muster’ like that. It’s another one of your annoying idiosyncrasies of speech.”

“Whatever you say, darling.”

Georgina wanted to pick up the coal-tongs and hurl them forcibly at the man she called her husband. In that one moment, she despised her life and what it now amounted to.

Lady Threlfell stormed out of the room and crossed the lobby. Everything about their grand house seemed insufferably trite these days. She remembered being carried over the threshold on her wedding day and thinking of the house as something magical. Now it was just a bore. It reeked of complacency and a lack of fun. The statuary and the marble busts could all go to hell, she thought. Even the painting by Fragonard – it was all perfectly miserable and not worth anything at all.

Georgina was still fizzing with anger as she pulled open the door of the Bentley. Turning on the sleek motor, she headed off down the long gravel drive. The fact is, she was sick to the back teeth with the nonsense that came with being a Fipps-Lackett. She could not – she simply could not - take another toe-curling conversation on the proper way to hold a croquet mallet. Nor did she want to know why tweed suits are better for being washed in sheep’s piddle. It was not her fault that her husband’s friends were so deplorably dull. These were men who came together under a gazebo and talked of game bags and binoculars. They valued rubber chest waders and reversible hunt vests. Georgina was sick of having to socialize with these ultra-posh types. Every function she went to was full of the same old nonsense. The only way she could endure such was to walk around with a politician’s perma-grin.

“Atrocious people – the whole wretched lot of them,” she said, driving past the wrought iron gates and out onto the main road.

She was fed up with the banalities which seemed to fill her life. She was most definitely fed up with that pompous oaf she called a husband. He could not even get her birthday right. It had been two weeks since the day itself- a day she looked forward to for ages - but it had all gone to hell. Turning thirty is an important milestone in the life of any woman. Why didn’t he understand that? The damned fool had made a total hash of her presents.

Ideally, she was hoping for something that might assuage her restlessness a little. What she craved was an expensive phial of perfume; something to augment her femininity and make her feel cherished. Instead, he bought her a 12-bore shotgun. There was, in addition to the shotgun: a tweed ruched collar coat (presumably to keep her warm while she was using it). Throwing in a cashmere cable knit scarf for good measure, he – that man - then waited like a fool to be congratulated on his thoughtfulness.

Not only that, but he droned on about how appropriate the weapon was for a so-called ’lady shooter.’ He bored her to pieces with facts about the Damascus steel barrels and how the gun came with a pistol grip handle; emphasizing that its stock was from the finest Turkish walnut.

Georgina had looked at him in a bewildered fashion. All the time, she was thinking: ‘Why do I need to know this?’ and ‘What just happened to my birthday?’ He was about to launch into some peroration on the trigger settings when she screamed: “Enough!”

Her husband scanned her face for an explanation as to why he had been stopped in mid-speech.

“What happened to my Risque Pour Femme perfume?”

“Your what?” he said, genuinely perplexed.

“My Roja perfume. I thought you were buying me perfume.”

“I thought I was – until I saw the gun. And then, I thought, well, that trumps perfume on any given day of the week. And it being your thirtieth birthday, well, I thought the gun would be a good way of buttering you up. It would help you through a difficult time. And the most wonderful thing is, now that you have the gun, you can come shooting with Ponsonby and me.”

“But I don’t want to go shooting with you. I always go shopping when you go shooting. Shooting is your thing and shopping is mine. I thought that was our agreement.”

“But, darling, you would love shooting, if only you gave it a chance.”

“Reginald, let us get one thing absolutely straight. I do not want to associate with you and your shooting buddies. Your so-called hobby is only that in name. Realistically, it is more of a ‘grim obsession.’ You and Ponsonby could practically live off the smell of cordite.”

The memory of her birthday still rankled even now. She thought about his gift of the gun and how, finally, she would like to put it to some practical use. Most of all, she would like to blow holes in his Loden jacket. In fact, she would like to give both barrels to his Tyrolean hat with its ridiculously tiny spray of feathers.

Just the very thought of her husband made her want to step on the accelerator in a bid to escape their lustreless life together. Nowadays, there was so much the man did that seemed to annoy her. The fact that he had taken to pipe smoking was especially galling. She loathed – and had always loathed – the smell of pipe tobacco. Only now it filled the house from one wing to the other. And trust Reginald to go for some blend that would linger on the damask curtains. She could even smell the deuced stuff on his lovely Derek Rose dressing gown. And yet, he wreathed himself in his odious new hobby four-times-a-day. Georgina had asked him to stop, but he refused. How could she be plainer than to say what she had? She told him to his face that it was wrong – and that the suffocating blend was to pipe tobacco what powdered wine was to oenophilia.

She could not deny it any longer. Georgina loathed what her husband of five years had now turned into. His life was reading The Financial Times and fieldcraft. He only ever left his chair to shoot at things.

Georgina reached the gym using the instructions which her friend Alicia emailed to her the previous night. The 1980 Bentley T2 looked preposterously out of place in the scruffy little car park, even though the place itself seemed oddly empty. She regretted for a moment not having taken the Punto instead.

Georgina pulled open the main doors to the gym and approached the front office. Inside the small oblong room were a woman sat at a computer and a man leant on a filing cabinet. Both were wearing gym gear and had badges pinned to their perforated sweat tops. The girl’s badge stated her name as Rebekah Lewis while the man was registered as Thad Courtenay.

Georgina felt a trickle of awe poke up through her gaze as she took in the man’s extraordinary physique. Close to six-foot tall, Thad Courtenay was a mass of sheer muscle. One felt diminished just in looking at him, she thought.

Imagining the strength tethered within that huge frame stopped her from announcing her presence just yet. And yet, an electric trickle of pleasure nipped across her abdomen and she felt herself go moist.

The outward bearing of this man could not be more bluntly masculine. And yet he seemed quite personable and tactile in his dealings with the young girl. He patted her shoulder at one point, directing her attention to a misfile on the system. They shared a joke about such, and both laughed.

At last, she cleared her throat and the two employees glanced towards her. It was Thad who headed over to the door by way of greeting.

“Hello. How can we help?”

“My name’s Georgina Fipps-Lackett and I booked an appointment earlier this afternoon. I want to join the gym and was told I needed an induction session to work the equipment.”

Thad looked confusedly back in the direction of Rebekah, who threw up her hands and sighed.

“I’m so sorry about this. I was the one who took your call, but I completely forgot that the gym is closing early today. We shut in ten minutes time. There’s work which needs to be done on the fire safety system. The technicians want to drop off their equipment tonight and start work early in the morning. Like I say, I’m so sorry.”

“But I’ve driven twenty miles just to get here.”

Thad, eager to seem helpful, made a suggestion: “Rebekah, can you drag out the lady’s name and see who she was booked with.”

“How do you spell your name again?” asked Rebekah, with her hands hovering over the keyboard.

“When I made the call, I gave another name. There wasn’t much of a signal and the name is shorter and easier to set down.”

“So, what name was that?”

“Lady Threlfall.”

Georgina had her gaze fixed on Rebekah as the latter scoured the database. But at the same time, she could feel Thad’s eyes roaming all over her body. He could not seem to help himself. The man wanted to gorge on her lithe and supple figure – but do so surreptitiously.

“It was a bad line and I put you down as Sadie Threffle.”

Thad groaned as Rebekah keyed in the correct name, coloring slightly at her obvious mistake.

“I’m sorry about the mix-up.” Thad said, and mischievously arched an eyebrow in the direction of his co-worker.

“I’ve apologized to the lady, haven’t I.” Rebekah said, with a defensive air.

“Yeah, only she really is a lady this time.”

“Give me a break,” Rebekah muttered under her breath, and continued at the keyboard.

Turning to Georgina, Thad said, “Would you mind if we dropped your title though. It might ruffle a few feathers and get you talked about. Can we call you, Georgy?”

“You can’t take liberties with people’s names like that,” Rebekah protested, “You should call her Georgina unless she states that Georgy is acceptable.”

Thad turned on Rebekah in a mock show of annoyance, “Hey, and I’m going to start calling you ‘Useless.’”

“Why not,” she said, “I’ve been calling you that for ages.”

Thad did not bat an eyelid but said to Georgina, “You see what I have to put up with,” and then added, “Such an attitude on her.” Georgina felt herself warm to the pair for their easy-going badinage.

“Okay, I’ve got it. I booked her in at five with Thad-brackets-bite-me.”

Thad narrowed his eyes at Rebekah, forcing her to smile. He then turned to Georgina with a warmly, inquisitive grin and asked, “Well, if you’re not too fussed, Georgina, we can still do the induction. I am prepared to stay on for a 40-minute session after Rebekah shuts up shop. It would be just the two of us up there. Everybody else will have gone home.” He turned to Rebekah, “What time are the technicians coming in?”

“They won’t be here for another two hours at least.”

“Well, Georgina, now it’s all down to you.”

Georgina could not help but redden at the prospect. She said, “Well, I’m happy with that, as long as the owner doesn’t mind.”

“He doesn’t,” Thad said, with a sly grin.

“You’re the owner?”

“I am.”

Rebekah started to rearrange the things on her desk and threw out another playful jibe. “Hard to credit that he could be in charge of anything, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you have socks to darn, girl?” Thad said, with a jokey sense of abandon. Rebekah hooted with laughter and began to search her handbag for car keys.

“I see that you’re togged up and ready to go, Georgina. Well, your fitness suite awaits you. Shall I show you the way?”

“Thank you, that would be lovely.”

Thad escorted her to the staircase leading up to the fitness suite on the first floor.

“You look as if you work out anyway,” he said, admiring her svelte contours.

“Not really. I do a little jogging with some female friends of mine. But that’s only once a week.”

“And that would be what - pounding the pavements? Perhaps a bit of road running every now and then?”

“No, we tend to stay off the roads.”

“So, where do you and your friends go running?”

“Round the estate,” she answered, trying not to seem arrogant.

“You live on an estate? A council estate? A sink estate?” he said, joshing with her in a way she found both charming and unsettling.

“No, around the grounds of the estate. We own several hundred acres of land. There’s a path around its circumference and we tend to run there.”

“So, you and your friends keep in trim?”

“We’re all of a like age and one should make an effort to look good, I suppose.”

“Well, job done, girl,” he asserted with a rather lewd grin and gave her a friendly once-over. There was a pause as Georgina tried to collect her thoughts. The way he treated her was not too different to how he treated Rebekah. Indeed, she liked the fact that she was not fussed over, for once. Everything seemed so natural in the way Thad Courtenay went about his job. There was a mischievous, boyish charm to his whole manner which was unmistakably alluring. He seemed so comfortable in his skin. There was no artifice to the man whatsoever. Thad Courtenay spent his entire day being the person that he happened to be. She wondered if he realized how darned lucky that was.

“And are these all ladies too? I mean, with a license to call themselves ‘ladies?’” he asked.

She laughed at his peculiar wording of such. “No, but they are good friends of mine. I was at public school with two of them. Of the five of us, I’m the only one with a title.”

“But they’ve got your air of refinement?” he said, seeming a trifle more earnest than he had been so far.

“Well, we all went to Finishing School. Although, I’m happy to have drawn a veil over that particular chapter of my life.”

They stopped on the landing, as he said, “Not so much the Ladies-who-lunch as the Ladies-who-crunch.” She gave him a wan smile at the weakness of the joke. Now why, she thought, could not her husband have a line in completely useless stuff like that - it would make him so much more attractive. If Reginald could trot out lines like that, then sex might run to more than once every change of season.

Thad Courtenay pushed open the door to the fitness suite and ushered her through. It was now empty but for themselves.

“So, bear with me a moment and I’ll give you a rundown of the apparatus. The lay-out is much as you’ll find in any other gym” He now adopted a less informal tone and had switched to being as informative as he could.

He turned to face her and widened his stance for a moment. Once again, she took in the magnificent bronzed bulk that was Thad Courtenay. She noticed that there was a slight sheen to his short-cropped hair - the like of which she assumed was some exotic hair oil. His lusciously hard body also carried over the scent of an expensive body cream. She detected the trace of Night Flowering Jasmine.

“The apparatus is all relatively new and is inspected every month or so. Some working parts of it get a bit of grease every now-and-then and we get a school kid to come in on two Sundays a month to polish up the chrome. So, what we have is a Chest Press Machine, a Pec or Pectoral Fly Machine, a Shoulder Press Machine, a Bicep Curl Bench, a Triceps Extension Bar, a Leg Press Machine and a Leg Extension Machine. And over on the far wall, we have all the cardio-vascular equipment: Cross Trainers and Rowing Machines etc. Right next to you is the Free Weights area. This is not a designated space for the guys, even if it might look like that sometimes. Any woman – or lady – can have access to this area at whatever time. If you need help with working out which set of dumbbells to use, then please ask one of the assistants or come downstairs and ask me. Sometimes you might need help in doing stuff like the Military Press and that is fine. Just ask one of the team and they’d be happy to help.”

“What’s a Military Press?” Georgina asked, hoping the question was not too simplistic.

“It’s a very powerful exercise we do with the bar. A simple lift and hold.” He quickly demonstrated the move using a bar from the rack, but which was not attached to any weights. “It’s very good for the deltoids. Especially for the anterior medial deltoid.”

Georgina loved the perfunctory ease with which he raced through the Latin terms. He fixed her with a steady, no-nonsense gaze and said, “So, let’s give ourselves a quick overview of some of the muscle groups we want to develop. There are the Traps or what are called the Trapezius. These are large important muscled groups linking the head, neck and shoulders. Then we have the deltoids here on the shoulder itself. The upper arm has both the biceps and triceps. Here on the chest are the pectorals, and from that we move down to the abdominals. I’m skipping over stuff here, but I just want to give you the basics. So next we come to the thighs or the quadriceps. Some of the important muscle groups within the quadriceps are the vastus lateralis and vastus medialis.”

Georgina loved the way he broached such details. She was unused to such a purposeful delivery or, indeed, the like of someone paying her this much attention. His gift for ploughing through the words of a foreign language was a treat-in-itself. The only thought running through her head the whole time was: why had Latin had never been this much fun before? But then when matched to that amazing body, Thad Courteney could have been reading from the telephone directory and the effect would probably have been the same.

“I’ve forgotten one muscle group,” he said, “and it’s the gluteals. Any idea as to where it is or even what it is?” She shook her head and blushed.

“It’s your butt,” he said, “not that your Ladyship’s gluteals don’t look fine from any angle. But we still need to work them over in good time,” he said, flashing her a loaded smile.

“There’s going to be all sorts of stuff we can do. Reverse crunches and crossover crunches for your abs. When it comes to your gluteals, then something like repeated pelvic raises. Under my careful guidance, of course,” he said, with a lascivious grin. “I think we should work your Ladyship hard right from the git-go. You are already of-a-piece physically, that’s for sure. In fact, you’re what we fitness coaches call: a lean queen.” Thad gave her another bracing smile, and said, “There you go, you’ve barely been in the joint for ten minutes and already you’ve gone from a Duchess to a Queen.”

Georgina laughed at the threadbare comicality of such. “There’s a lot we can do to get you fixed, your Ladyship and I’m not busting your chops when I say that. Your upper arms could do with a tad more honing. It will all work out. See if after a few weeks we don’t have doing parallel bar dips.” He dealt her another luminous grin and walked away to the far side, where he proceeded to shut some of the windows which had been left open.

He called across to her, “Georgina, you need to warm up first. Do some of the stretching exercises you do before you run around that land mass you call a garden.”

Georgina acceded to the request and started to go through some of the stretches she was familiar with. Try as she might, she found herself unable to take her eyes off him. She watched him lithely squeeze between the apparatus to pull in each window and snap it shut. Sometimes being so broad shouldered, he had to turn on his side to fit through the small gap. After the windows, he walked over to the Trainers Office, where he pulled down the grey blinds and then eased the door shut.

As he was heading back to where Georgina was now gingerly stretching her calf muscles, the main door to the stairs opened and Rebekah popped her head through.

“Thad, everything’s been shut off downstairs. I’ve activated the timer on the alarm system. Can I go now?”

“Yes, you can, my love. Have a wonderful evening.”

“Thanks,” she said and disappeared round the door only to then reappear a second later. With a mercurial smile, she said, “Oh, and one more thing. I’ve turned the security cameras off.”

“Good idea,” Thad said, smiling back at her. He waved his co-worker goodbye and Georgina was at last properly alone with Thad Courtenay.

“Think you’re done with stretching?” he asked, with a smile.

“I think so,” Georgina said, once more feeling her curiosity shift from his personable character to the outrageously bunched muscles on his upper arms.

“Well, let’s see if we can stretch you in all sorts of other ways too,” he said, and gave her a meaty wink.

He pointed to the nearest apparatus. “This is the Leg Press machine. It seems as good a place as any to start us off.”

He watched as she took up a seated position and placed her feet on the push board. He fished for the key to the stacked weights and yanked it out. Then he fumbled for a new lighter setting and rammed it forcibly home.

“Your stance is too wide so just ease your feet closer together. We’re going to do what we call a Narrow Stance Leg Press. This is especially going to help your abductors.”

“And where are they,” she asked.

“Right here,” he said, stroking her outer thigh. He had his left arm placed behind the backrest and was closer now than at any time during their encounter. Georgina could smell the last vestiges of some cologne upon his lightly perspiring thorax. She recognized the scent at once. It was Acqua di Parma. Her love of its amazing structural complexities seemed to clasp her to the moment still more. It was leeching away her inhibitions. She dearly wanted him to touch her again.

“Where, exactly?”

“Right here,” he said, tenderly drawing his finger along her outer thigh again. Her sense of arousal kicked up a gear and her mouth felt weirdly dry. A niggle of anticipation seemed to cross between her shoulder blades and suddenly she felt her breastbone grow hot.

“The abductors are here on the outer edge of your thigh. Do you know what we call the stuff on the inner part of your thigh?”

“I have no idea, but I’d be pleased if you show me.”

He placed his large hand on the inside of her thigh halfway between the knee and hip. “These are your adductors,” he said, letting his fingers ride slowly up her leggings all the way to her crotch. The pleasure suddenly swarmed in and followed the glide of his fingers upwards. His face came down and he kissed her fully on the lips. Thad’s hand left her thigh and found its way under her crop top. He placed the hand under her sports bra and started to toy with the swollen, heavy nipples - rocking them side-to-side between his thumb and forefinger.

Closing her eyes, she felt how the pleasure sucked at her face and neck. His huge hulking mass seemed to blot out the light from the room as he edged closer and then lifted her from the apparatus with a consummate ease. He did so as if she was a paper lantern. The strength of the man was uncanny. Georgina felt like a puppet being taken from its lacquered box and laid upon a velvet cushion.

He took her to the free weights area where he delicately set her down on a padded floor mat. She looked up at his pulsating mass of muscle and saw an expression of lust to match her own. There was a bronze sheen to his arms and across his chest as he started to strip her where she lay. Her training shoes were plucked off and tossed in the direction of the door. Next, he drew the crop top over her head and slung it on a nearby pommel horse. He then picked at the underside of her tight-fitting sports bra and started to wrestle it over her head. A sense of expectancy coursed through her frame as she anticipated a moment of unpardonable nakedness. Soon, her breasts would be exposed to this enormous, honed creature. The way the sports bra stretched and clung brought on another wave of keen-edged excitement. At last it was wrenched free, and he stared down at the soft, palpitating flesh of her naked breasts. She reveled in his sharply carnal gaze as he soaked up her unresisting form. She was almost like a gift laid at his feet. Then, finally, he took hold of her skin-tight leggings and peeled them off with a bluntness which made her gasp. She was at last completely and utterly naked. Georgina Fipps-Lackett was lying in the shadow of a man mountain.

Thad stood solidly upright and peered down at the woman gazing indolently up at him. His breath was accelerating with the privilege of seeing her stretched out figure.

After a moment or two taking in her nude, expectant loveliness he then started to strip off himself. Georgina watched his nakedness emerge through the fog of her own excitement. His upper body on being fully revealed was contoured in a way that almost seemed unreal. It was as if he had stepped from a plinth or from some highly stylized painting of the Baroque era. And yet everything about his hugely developed figure seemed pin sharp in her imagination.

When finally, he stripped off his shorts and was naked, Georgina felt her mouth sag at the size of his erect penis. The thing stood forbiddingly up and was of a size to knock at his navel. ‘It was almost fit to bang nails into,’ she thought - as she lay there staring at its wild, preponderant beauty. Thad Courtenay was, indeed, lavishly proportioned.

Right there amongst the churn of her thoughts, Georgina could not help herself, as she sought out one last favour of the man. “Please, would you mind going through your muscle groups in Latin for me,” she said.

A lavish smile spread across his face. “Why, certainly, your Ladyship.”

He pointed to the various parts of his body and reeled off the Latin designations. “Here are my deltoids and across from them are the pectorals. The biceps and the triceps are located here. And here are my abdominals and below them the quadriceps.”

He stroked his penis and toyed delicately with his scrotum while staring down at the scruff of dark hair embellishing the soft, inviting folds of her labia.

“And what you are looking at right, now, Thad Courtenay, is the product of a public-school education for which my father paid a ton of money. I have all the gifts one might suppose. Pedigree and beauty, charm, and intelligence. And yet, everything about me is in need of a reset. Thad, I want you to take your fill of me and show me something of what I missed along the way. There is a privilege to be had in looking at my genitalia, I hope you realize that. My lower parts – what you would doubtless call my muff – is hewn from a world of endless privilege. It is a prize piece of muff - I am sure you will agree. Only - and rather tantalizingly for both of us – it belongs to another man.”

Thad gave a fierce grunt and placed himself on top of her. His hands fiercely kneaded her buttocks and pawed at her breasts. Nibbling harshly at her ear, Georgina cried rapturously out and pushed her hands over the hard ridges of his back. She grasped his buttocks and squeezed away at their smooth and twitchy firmness. Georgina wanted to swoop down on all the taut surfaces of his body and bathe in his unwavering masculinity. His penis knocked on her thigh as she fondly spread her legs wide willing him to enter. She felt it sweetly rake against her sides as he pushed himself firmly home. The length of it made her gasp with delight. She clasped his endlessly rippling shoulders and neck, as he poured himself into the act of taking her. He pushed willfully on, staking out his claim to her body in a way that made her yelp with pleasure.

For twenty minutes, Georgina was snagged on the sheer, intoxicating beauty of this man. She wanted him to take his fill of her and never stop.

At one point, he dragged her into a kneeling position and forced her head down. The pleasure flared up as he re-entered her, gyrating restlessly while bunching her hair tight upon her scalp.

After placing Georgina on her back again and forcing her legs still wider, Thad ejaculated into her. The glutinous seed swarmed up her insides and she dug her fingers into the tight, pulsating mass of his lower back. The sweat which had formed there teetered on her fingernails as his muscles flexed and contracted one last time. Breathing hard, and with the sweet and earthy smell of his body heavy about her, she rolled off to the side.

Feeling sharply aglow she caught a reflection of herself in the long line of mirrors. It was amazing just how happy and fulfilled she looked. Her face and thorax were puckered red. Her matted hair would need a little work if she was to make herself presentable. However, she could always do that on the journey home.

It had been an eventful day, she decided. The reset had worked wonders for her wayward mood. She felt more like her old self. The most important thing was that she had at last found a guaranteed way to stave off the intolerable boredom.

When Georgina strode into the drawing room just an hour later, she found Reginald still glued to his chair. He had foregone the Financial Times and was now perusing Country Life.

“And how was your drive, darling?” he said, without looking up.

“Oh, it was pretty much as I hoped for. I feel a lot perkier now.”

“Jolly good. I daresay you needed something to waylay your little mood. And your jaunt did that, did it? You did look terribly glum for one so young. Well, everything is now back to how it was and thank goodness for that.”

Georgina sat in one of the flamestich chairs opposite her husband. She found that she enjoyed gazing at his slightly corpulent frame for once. But this, she reckoned, was only because she could still feel Thad’s Courtenay’s sticky wad of seed inside her.