The family of Hannard had for many generations resided in a pleasant corner of Hampshire, formerly in relative splendour in the ancestral seat of Morton Hall, but now, owing to a steady decline in fortune, in the smaller but nonetheless adequate surroundings of Morton Lodge. While the Hannard family fortune was reduced, its respectability was beyond doubt, which ensured that their presence was requested at any and all local entertainments.
The family comprised Mr and Mrs Hannard, their elder daughter, Katherine, and her younger sister Anne who had only recently come of age. Neither of the Misses Hannard were of the frivolous type whose entire lives are centred around balls and dances, and whose sole occupation in life is to prepare themselves and their wardrobes for such entertainments. This said, neither were they too solemn to enjoy lively company when the opportunity was presented.
An invitation from the recently installed tenant of Morton Hall, a Mr Blackwood, so far unknown in the district had brought the family the short distance to their ancestral seat for an evening of merriment and dancing. In addition to the usual entertainments, the Misses Hannard were eager to satisfy their natural curiosity about their new neighbour, for enquiries in the village had produced no information as to his appearance, manner or background.
At the ball, it was easy to identify Mr Blackwood. There were a number of new faces in addition to those familiar in the area, presumably Mr Blackwood's friends visiting from London, but in the midst of these unfamiliar personages, one clearly held court, with all eyes on him as he discussed politics, hunting, art and any other subject suggested to him. He broke off from conversation when he observed Katherine, and, with great civility, requested that she dance with him.
Katherine was glad of the opportunity to examine this mysterious stranger more closely. He was tall and well formed; Katherine suspected he rode as well as he talked. His eyes were dark but with an air of fun that was complemented by a half-smile that never seemed to leave his mouth. While focusing on Mr Blackwood during their dance, for clues of more intimate knowledge than his appearance, Katherine was fully conscious that her sister's eyes never left them, aware that she would later be subject to an intense interrogation of everything that passed.
Mr Blackwood danced as well as any gentleman should, afterwards accompanying Katherine back to her seat. "You dance beautifully, Miss Hannard," he told her.
"You're too kind, Mr Blackwood, but I'm afraid my feet are hardly designed for graceful movement."
"On the contrary, your feet seem to me to be perfectly formed...much as the rest of you." Katherine was suddenly aware of Mr Blackwood's gaze slowly roving over her body. Despite the discourtesy, Katherine found it hard to take offence. Perhaps it was that his eyes were so warm, perhaps it was that the dancing had raised her blood, but instead of correcting his insolence, Katherine found herself not only excited by it, but also prepared to encourage it.
"How can you possibly comment on how well formed I am, Mr Blackwood, when you can barely see any of my body which you profess to admire so much?"
Mr Blackwood was momentarily taken aback by Katherine's forwardness, but he quickly regained his composure. "I beg your pardon, Miss Hannard, I merely meant that in the little I see, I can discern no imperfection. I would be most gratified if you could enlighten me as to the nature of that which is hidden from me."
"Mr Blackwood, do you really suppose that I should be so brazen as to describe my body to you?"
"Well...I,"
Katherine smiled at Mr Blackwood's sudden loss of composure in the face of her apparent opposition. "Shall we start with my breasts? As you can tell, they are not large, though there is still time for them to grow further. They are soft to the touch, yet firm enough that they can be made to bounce in a way that I consider becoming...perhaps you'd like to see it some time?"
Mr Blackwood's expression left Katherine in no doubt that he would, indeed, like to see it some time, though he was, for the moment, robbed of the power of confirming so in speech. Katherine therefore chose to continue with her description:
"The skin is milky white and smooth, with nipples of...how should I describe it...? A coral pink. When I become aroused, they harden into hard little nuggets...perhaps you can see through my dress? I am most embarrassed to admit that the simple act of describing my breasts to you has aroused my desires already." It was true: in addition to her nipples hardening, Katherine could feel the warmth growing between her legs which she knew meant that if she reached her fingers down she would feel her honey starting to leak from her valley of pleasure.
Katherine was pleased to note by Mr Blackwood's uncomfortable shifting that she was not the only one to be aroused by their conversation. She began to wonder what his body looked like under his clothes, but for the moment she was revelling in her role as narrator.
"But perhaps you are interested in how my body is slightly lower? Well my derrière has a similar white complexion to my breasts, also smooth with just that hint of plumpness which makes it luxurious to the touch and allows it to flow smoothly into my legs. I have to say my legs are probably larger than is the fashion as I not only ride frequently, but also I choose to walk to the village two or three times a week. They are, therefore, not plump, but rather strong and lithe.
