We both in disarray, her dress torn, my breeches discarded. She had to adjust her position a number of times but finally she was poised above my rigid pole. “You fell Sir John, I only meant to push you away,” she admitted. I held her and tore the dress wide as she fell. “Don’t be a pillock, advertise for a Governess!” she suggested. She arrived on Monday forenoon, a slender person riding in a two wheel trap with the Blacksmiths’ lad from Froxby. “And what do you offer,” she enquired, “Slavery or is it to be a modest salary until I fall for a child and then the workhouse?”
“Marriage,” I suggested, “If we suit.”
“Then we have an accord,” she agreed, “Shall I lay for you now or wait until this evening?”
“Excuse me?” I exclaimed. She wriggled her buttocks delightfully, “Oh well if you cannot oblige I shall seek an Ostler or gardener or some such to serve me.”
“No, I will serve you, have no fear,” I asserted as I approached her, my member rigid in my
