I now had invested some five days and was back at square one not knowing when this idyll might suddenly end. So I visited the young lady, knuckled my forehead, and said, "Mistress Rogers, I don't expect you remember me, but..."She looked at me with china-blue eyes, cocked her head to the side, put her finger to her lips and smiled. "But I do," she said musically, "those two ruffians a few weeks back, in the market." Indeed," I said. "You've a good memory." Have you heard anything about my poor husband?" she said, taking my elbow. She was, she said to my question, Major Cornelius Rogers' true and faithful wife of some eight months. I winced at the "faithful." He had wed her in New York and accepted her dowry happily. She was nineteen, had never seen the inside of a school, could neither read nor write, and, I suspect, was sure the world was flat. But she was pretty and lively."If you don't read," I asked carefully, "what do you do for pleasure?"She looked down at her feet with her. I looked at her clingy thongs noticing that in my hedonistic haze I liked how they accentuated her lips which I knew were hiding under the scant fabric. I placed my hand between her legs again rubbling her with a firmer stroke feeling the heat and a faint moistness as her breath took on a different pattern. She retreated further onto the bed shimmying out of the thongs on her way. I crawled towards her as her had rose quickly to help me out of my own pants. I wondered for a moment if she had done this before as her hand worked its way down parting my lips, finding me already turned on she smiled. Still on my hands and knees I got lost for a moment in the sensations she was creating. The tip of her finger was sliding easily around the opening as she kept pulling her hand backwards dragging it across my clit. I had forgotten for the moment this was reciprocal but glanced down to find her legs parted wide open for me. My heart was racing a million miles a minute as I.
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