This is an outtake from The Duchess, Her Maid, The Groom and Their Lover. It’s the beginning of a substantial menage scene which was cut mostly for pacing reasons; it involved the Duchess Camille, Henri, and Lord Maxime. I later auctioned a single, signed printout of the scene to benefit marriage equality in the United States.
This version has been altered to fit your television set, ummm, the age rating on my blog.
After Camille’s bath and meal, one of the blue-garbed manservants escorted her into the depths of the castle, to a door carved with sea creatures who writhed across panels and wrapped around the handle. The door had no lock or bar, and when Camille pushed it open, it swung heavily but silently, revealing a tableau out of sybaritic fantasy.
Steam rose in lazy coils from the pools, blurring the outlines of the two men who sprawled naked on the hot floor. Maxime’s head was cushioned by a crumpled towel. Henri’s rested on Maxime’s hairy thigh. His lean muscularity seemed slender and youthful next to Maxime’s heavier, more massive build. He was idly stroking himself, his eyes half-lidded, his skin rosy in the heat.
Maxime had seduced Henri. Camille pondered this fact as she gazed silently at Henri and what he was doing. She flicked her gaze to his face and met his eyes. He’d been waiting for her to look at him. He wanted her, not Maxime. Maxime had seduced Henri, but had not won him.
Henri licked his other hand, slowly, and lowered it to grasp himself. He glanced down, back at her, then down again, until her eyes followed his hands.
Maxime stirred, and Camille held up her hand. He subsided, except for reaching down to flutter his fingers through Henri’s hair.
She would draw this, when next she had the chance to sit down with her sketchbook. She could see the charcoal shadings in her mind, the hard outlines of male bodies in the indirect light of colored lamps, the whole softened by steam. Henri rested one hand on his belly now. The other hand teased himself. His chest rose and fell as he sucked in a quick breath. Droplets of water on his skin caught the light.
There was a bench near them, holding a stack of towels. Camille sat and leaned over Henri, close enough to see fine details. He met her eyes, his gaze so open she almost had to look away. She clenched her fingers in her skirt’s folds. She could hear the heavy silk crush, and remembered Henri’s hands snagging on another skirt, at another time. He’d smelled of horses, and she’d wanted to bury her nose in his clothing just for the memories of freedom and love that scent brought her.
Henri asked, “Would you like to join me?”
“Or us?” Maxime said. He thumped his fingers lightly against Henri’s skull. “Though I think you and Henri, here, have taken all I have to give for now. I don’t think I could get it up even for a roomful of scarf dancers.”
Perhaps it took a roomful of scarf dancers to wear him out, Camille thought. Where had he found the energy for Henri, after the afternoon they’d had together?
Henri sat up and said to Maxime, “You may join us if Her Grace wishes. Isn’t that right?”
Camille straightened, furling her skirts across her lap. “Absolutely. Though this is his home, I hold the highest rank. When Maxime is restored to his position, of course, he will be my equal. But for now, I can do whatever I like. And I think I should. Don’t you?”
“If it would please you, I would be glad to do as you command,” Henri said.
He smiled and ran his hand over himself, stroking lazily. “Tithing to you will be such a pleasure,” he said. “Please, direct me as you will. Shall I lick Henri? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? There are delicate places I could lick. It might be interesting to see him feel my tongue in places he’s kept hidden. I didn’t get that far earlier.”
Camille looked to Henri with a question on her face. He said, “I’d like to touch you, but before that, I remember how you enjoyed what Sylvie and I did for you.”
“You are experienced with men?” Camille asked, trying not to show her surprise. Of course, Henri was a man himself, and it looked as if he’d been successful with Maxime earlier.
Henri’s face went red. “I had hoped you would tell me what to do.”
Maxime chortled. “What a mind he has, Camille!”
He sounded intrigued, and she knew him well enough to catch a hint of arousal in his voice, as well. She caught his eye and crooked a finger for him to sit up. “Then you are willing to help provide him with experience?”
Maxime’s grin widened. “I don’t mind in the least. It would be a waste to discard so many years of practice without passing it on to such a fine pupil.”
c. Victoria Janssen 2009
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