Page 75 of Frankly, My Dear

Me, either. Unfortunately.

“Do you suppose you could ask her about that ‘Perfect Fit’ thing?”

“Are you demented?”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask,” Fergus countered defensively.

“Ask her yourself,” James snapped, turning his horse. Sacrebleu! Time-travel, popping eyeballs, aliens from another world, attacking ghosts…now the world’s most perfect sexual position.

As he neared the house, he saw Rufus on the second-floor gallery near the parlor window, peering inside in a clandestine fashion. What the hell? Sliding from his horse, James tied the reins to a rail and moved quietly up the outside stairs.

Then he heard the train whistle. Train whistle? He knocked the side of his head with the heel of his hand to clear it.

“Whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo.”

There it was again, but it wasn’t a train whistle. It sounded like female voices imitating a train whistle. The whistles alternated with loud caterwauling. Some strange, rhythmic song about…huh?…achy, breaky hearts.

James tapped Rufus on the shoulder and the slave almost jumped out of his skin. “Oh, Lordy. You skeered me somethin’ fierce, Mastah James.”

“Whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo,” a group of shrill voices sang out again.

In between the train whistles and the achy breaky song strains, he heard Selene’s voice calling out, “Thrust, up, hold, release. Thrust, up, hold, release.”

“Rufus, what are you doing here peeping in windows?” James demanded sternly. The black man cupped a hand to his ear, barely able to hear him over the screeching voices in the background.

“Watchin’ the arrow-backs,” Rufus answered, jerking his chin over his shoulders in the direction of the parlor. “Mam’zelle Selene is holdin’ an arrow-backs class. Right now they’s doin’ tush crunches. That be another name for pelvic thrusts,” he informed James as if imparting some great wisdom. “Lordy, I tell you, Master James, that Iris can do pelvic thrusts in my bed anytime. Yessirree.” He rolled his eyes in emphasis.

James pushed Rufus aside and looked through the window …a very clean window, he noted idly…and his mouth almost dropped to the gallery floor. Eight women were lying on their backs on Blossom’s best rag throw rugs spread about on the bare floor. Selene, Reba, and six servants. Wearing form-fitting men’s trousers and thin cotton shirts, they were all singing louder than bullfrogs during the mating season and moving their bodies in a most scandalous way.

“Thrust, up, hold, release. Come on, ladies, we’re working for buns of steel here, not cinnamon buns. Thrust, up, hold, release….”

James grinned. “Hurry,” he whispered to Rufus, “go get Fergus. Tell him he has to see this. Tell him…tell him you’ve got something better than the Perfect Fit to show him.”

Then James turned back to the window. His eyes homed in on Selene, whose thick, dark hair was pulled back off her face with a ribbon into a long queue, accenting the fine bones of her cheeks and jaw, her straight nose, her full, sensual lips.

“Thrust, up, hold, release….”

Oh, merde!

Lying on her back, she had both hands folded behind her neck. Her legs were spread wide, knees bent, and bare feet planted firmly on the floor. To the tempo of the singing, she thrust her hips upward, almost in imitation of the sex act, held that pose, then lowered herself. Over and over, she repeated the enticing exercise.

“Thrust, up, hold, release….”

Oh, merde!

James leaned against the window frame lazily, fearing that his suddenly weak body couldn’t withstand much more of this teasing of the senses. Not surprisingly, he felt himself grow hard, and with each rhythmic thrust, he imagined Selene was moving against him thus. Naked. Pulling him inside her warm folds, then almost out. Up, down. In, out.

“Thrust, up, hold, release….”

Oh, merde!

He wiped his hand across his upper lip, not knowing how much more of this he could stand. Not knowing if he could walk away. Not caring.

He felt as if he’d stepped into the middle of the ocean and was sinking fast. A heavy lassitude pulled at his limbs, but he couldn’t fight the delicious lethargy. Reflexively he placed a hand against his arousal, then jerked it back despite the throbbing need.

Forget about the Perfect Fit. He could think of a hundred sexual positions he would like to try with this seductive witch, and all of them would be perfect. He just knew it.

Like a robot, Selene called out the exercise chants, pleased with the enthusiasm of her “students” thus far. Her eyes swept the room, then came to a halt as she noticed James leaning against the frame of the tall window.