Cinderellas Moment Of Doubt

He grasped my foot with a firm but gentle touch. I hoped it didn't smell as I suspected it did because today was Tuesday.

On Tuesdays, I was on my feet all day. I stripped all the beds, washed the sheets and hung them out to dry. I ground flour to bake 12 loaves of bread. Then after I prepared and served the three-course noon meal, I dusted all of my stepsisters' shoes and ironed their gowns, just in case they wrinkled in the closet since I ironed them last week. I kept the fire burning, which involved splitting the wood and bringing it in from the woodshed. I just finished ironing the dried sheets and remaking all of the beds when it was time to start dinner. My stepmother and sisters liked a former affair each night with at least five courses with proper wine pairings. Washing the dishes took over an hour. I had just wiped my red, wrinkled hands on the dishtowel when a royal delegate announced that we had a visit from the Grand Duke representing the Prince.

I sat on a dining room chair with my stockinged foot thrust unceremoniously in front of me, as per his request. The other women in the house had tried to hide my presence, after their failed fittings, but as the Grand Duke prepared to leave, he sent his footman back in to find the young maid looking through the kitchen window.

The ruggedly handsome man held my calf with one hand while he smoothly slipped the familiar glass slipper on my foot with the other.

One of my step-sisters swooned and the other caught her. There was a lot of cackling and lamenting accompanied by tears and snarling faces. But I blocked it all out as I looked into the chocolate brown eyes before me.

Yes, the slipper fit. It was mine. But did the fact that it fit me guarantee that the prince would want me for his wife? How preposterous!

What would we talk about? The best brand of orange oil to restore antique furniture? Which type of bristle worked best on the stone floor? We had absolutely nothing in common. I knew nothing about how to behave in a palace unless I was washing the prince's clothes or ironing his cravats.

But the man in front of me looked into my eyes and saw something mirrored in them. He was a man who took orders like me. He knew that he deserved something better, but wasn't sure how to extract himself from his life to get it. So he quietly went about serving.

A strange tingle moved up my leg from the spot where he still held my calf. I could tell he felt it too.

My step-family had all fled the room in horror and disappointment and we were alone with the crackling fire and the flickering candles on the mantelpiece.

The footman's hand moved slowly up my leg as his eyes locked with mine. He silently dared me to stop him, but I instinctively knew he would if I asked.

I didn't ask.

His fingers burnt a trail as they moved above my knee to slip under my hemline and stop abruptly at the edge of my apron.

He let go of the foot now wearing the beautiful glass pump and the shoe fell with a crash to the floor.

That's when my gaze fell on his mouth. His lips were inching toward mine as he leant over me. They were wet and inviting.

He smelled faintly of horse but mainly of forest and a spicy male scent that made my nostrils flare.

The only close interactions I had had with boys before this involved a quick peck on the cheek by the stable hand and a squeeze of my buttocks by a cook that had been into the sherry he was supposed to add to his sauce. Both of them felt the heat of my fury as I reprimanded them for their boldness with a young lady.

But now I felt boldness. I wanted his mouth on mine. I wanted his rough, warm hand to rid me of my stockings and caress my bare flesh. My body ached for something it had never experienced. I held his gaze shamelessly as his head finally reached mine. His eyes closed as his lips made their final descent.

I closed mine too so I could focus on the contact of our bodies in that one area. At first, it was a regular kiss like I had given my father before bedtime when he was still alive. But this felt nothing like those kisses. This touch caused reverberations throughout my entire body. Every nerve ending cried out for more.

His large hand was now touching my face and grasping my chin to angle my head so he could deepen the kiss. He gently forced my mouth open with his tongue and taught me how to kiss like a brothel maiden. I was a quick learner and met his thrusts with my own. My nipples had hardened and scraped painfully against my corset. There was an ache in my lower body that was unfamiliar but undeniably needing attention.

The footman pulled me to my feet and switched places with me, sitting on the chair and pulling me onto his lap. He continued to kiss me until I believed I might melt into a pile of liquid amber on the stone floor.

"Where are your men?" I asked quietly into his mouth.

His answer was a jerk of his head toward the front door. They would wait outside for him.

The noise in the house had quieted suggesting that everyone was settling in for the night, resigned to live without the prince's affection or wealth. There was always a chance that one of my sisters would pass through here to get a drink of water in the kitchen. The thought made my pulse race even more.

The footman untied my apron and threw it in the fire. I gave a squeak of protest which he smothered with his smooth lips. His hands deftly peeled my stockings down and slipped them off my feet. He massaged my tender arches as he released each one. He knew my life of servitude because he lived it too.

He ran his hand up my leg again like before, except this time his callused skin had no barrier to mine. His touch created a liquid fire that caused a wetness in my undergarments. My face burned with embarrassment, but his groan when he touched there communicated his pleasure with what he felt. I kissed him feverishly knowing that he had something I needed and I would not let him leave here without giving it to me.

He adjusted me on his lap to rid me of my undergarments. The corset was a nightmare to remove and would have to stay. The ache from below my skirt was akin to pain as my body longed for him to connect with me in a new way.

He untied the belt at his waist and pulled his trousers down until his large member sprung out. I had never seen anything like it and I couldn't look away. I had seen animals mate and wasn't completely naïve, but I wondered if my body could take this hard male part inside of me that way.

The footman ran his hands up and down my legs. One hand ventured higher and its path curved inward to touch me where my ache was strongest. My body leant into his hand of its own accord. He slowly inserted a finger inside me and began to move it in and out causing another wave of moisture and desire for what was to follow.

He pulled me to my feet and awkwardly moved us to the head of the long wooden dining room table with his trousers pooled around his ankles. He pressed my buttocks against the smooth wood and eased himself into me. I felt my body stretch and pull him in. He moved slowly at first and wrapped his hands around my bottom to shield me from the hardwood as his thrusts quickened. He continued to kiss me passionately as he pounded into me.

My desire ascended an invisible wave and grew more and more insistent on riding the wave to its peak and crashing spent on the shoreline. I was panting and no longer able to keep up with his kisses. I needed more.

Now.

Again he knew. He looked into my eyes and didn't look away again until I rode him with abandonment and threw my head back as a burst of coloured light seemed to blind me. He forced my gaze back to his and watched me as he continued to thrust into me. His breath was more uneven now and he struggled to keep his groans silent.

With a final deep push, he claimed my mouth again to smother his exultation.

Seconds later, he pulled out and redressed. He helped me back into my clothes and smoothed my hair which had fallen from my bun. He bent to collect the fragments of the shoe and slipped them into his pocket. I gripped the edge of the table as I silently watched.

With his hand on the door, he turned and spoke the only words I heard him utter, "I'll be by in the morning to take you to the palace." He nodded once and left without a backwards glance.

I didn't even know his name.

I smothered the fire and headed to my room to pack my meagre things for my move in the morning. Questions circled around in my head. Would the prince know that I was not pure? Would he risk the embarrassment to admit it if he did? Or would this be one of the burning secrets kept inside the palace gates?