“Oh dear me,” said Rue into the silence of her empty quarters.
It was a very informative evening, as it turned out.
NINE
In Which Freckles Go on the Rampage
They arrived in Egypt before Quesnel’s week’s delay was over. Not that Quesnel avoided Rue. One morning, after days of increased teasing, he finally followed her into her quarters once everyone else was abed and declared it kisses time – no tongue, no hands.
Rue discovered she enjoyed having her neck kissed. And lower down. Quesnel clearly felt the same. They stopped at the waist but the book had reliably informed her that they could keep going. Since Quesnel had indicated he would welcome questions, she asked him about that.
He said he’d show her but that it would be necessary for the next lesson to be slightly delayed. He’d require twenty minutes in his own quarters first, and then they could proceed without, as he put it, containment problems. After the book, Rue had a tolerably good idea what he meant.
The next session, twenty minutes later than normal, they worked on kissing further.
It was about the best wheeze Rue had ever enjoyed, which she told Quesnel, because he ought to know these things, too. He was flustered by her praise.
He slid back from her. They were sitting on the bed. Not under the covers. He had declared that, unless they were cold, lessons were better conducted with the gas on low, grey light filtering in through the porthole, and everything out in the open – for the sake of a superior education.
Rue was still fully dressed, although she had opted for a tea-gown: better ease of access. Quesnel was stripped down to his trousers, because, as he explained, he was prepared for her to do most of the kissing this evening.
He jumped off the bed and removed the last of his clothing. He gritted his teeth and blushed, more self-conscious than the werewolves of Rue’s acquaintance. Perhaps this was more an obligation rather than a pleasure?
“You don’t have to.” Rue didn’t want him to feel forced.
“It’s only a little embarrassment. You’ve seen pictures. It’s time for you to do a little of that exploring you’re so fond of.”
“Goodie!” Rue clapped her hands only a tiny bit.
He grinned. “Standing or lying down?”
Rue pursed her lips and wandered over to him, letting her gaze and then her hands drift.
She wasn’t taken with the idea of kneeling at his feet. The book was fond of depicting this dynamic but Rue had decided early on that it didn’t appeal. She informed Quesnel of this.
He seemed oddly pleased. “Not that I don’t think we can try it eventually – you shouldn’t rule anything completely out – but I agree it’s a little servile.”
“Exactly!” replied Rue. “I’m a lady. We don’t kneel.” Since she had one hand on his posterior at the time in a completely unladylike manner, this comment came off as hilarious to the both of them.
“To the bed!” Quesnel lay back, utterly nude and looking only a little uncomfortable under Rue’s interested gaze. He put both hands behind his head, as though they needed to be trapped there.
“Lady Prudence, I am at your disposal.”
“Are we still on the only kissing part of the lesson plan?”
“For this, I think you should be allowed to do your worst. Hopefully matters won’t get too ungovernable.”
“Is that why?” Rue gestured, indicating that, unlike their previous encounters, not all of him was interested in these proceedings.
“Yes. Plus, I’m a little cold.”
“A challenge.” Rue was hesitant at first, using only a few fingers. She experimented with pressure, curious about the different textures of his skin. Unlike the werewolf uncles, Quesnel had very little hair on his chest, only a sprinkling that arrowed in and trailed lower down. Rue followed it, stopping when he sucked in his breath.
“Too rough?”
“Just ticklish.”
All in all, it proved a most enjoyable evening.
Quesnel’s prior preparations notwithstanding, Rue got to see about everything a girl could wish to see – a most instructive experience.
When he left her, it must have been almost noon, and they both were anticipating very little sleep.
It was entirely worth it.
“Tomorrow,” Quesnel said, kissing her into slumber, “it’s your turn.” He let himself quietly out.
Rue didn’t say, “Oh, goodie,” this time. But she certainly thought it.