Chapter 2: Mina
Night after night I hear her. Her soft voice moaning in what I first took to be pain. I remember the first night I heard it, two weeks ago. I left my bed and ran to her door. I knocked softly, calling her name. When she didn't answer, I pushed it open and peeked inside. Lucy was naked on her bed. Her hands were moving all over her body, touching herself. I still feel the heat that turned my face so red. I knew I should have left, but something made me stay and watch. I couldn't take my eyes away from her or her fingers. She was sliding them between her spread thighs, her fingers rubbing, stoking, caressing the flesh between them. Her moans and gaspings grew louder. I was shocked, embarrassed, but also I felt something I had never felt before. I felt a warm feeling spreading between my own thighs.
I wanted to slide my own hand down to find out what it was, but modesty held me back. I was a proper lady, and proper ladies didn't do things like that. Like what Lucy was doing to herself. She looked like a wanton whore, not the respectable woman she was. How could she....? Why was she....? And what was making her scream like that? Her screams were so loud it was a wonder the servants didn't come running. I thought she would kill herself the way she was thrashing around on her bed. Her whole body was shaking and quivering. I had no idea what was happening to her, but I was enthralled watching her. Whatever it was that was making her scream out with such pleasure was something I wanted too.
I left her door and returned to my own bedroom. I was confused and yet I felt something new. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I wanted to feel, to experience what she had. I wanted to know what had caused such a reaction from her. I lay back under my covers and slowly moved my hands down over my nightclothes. I was shocked to find my nipples standing up hard and pressing against my nightdress. I remember how I moaned when my fingers stroked them. My whole body arched up. I felt the fire spread through my entire body. It seemed to centre between my legs. Every time I squeezed a nipple, I felt the wet warmness spreading there, between my thighs. It was so different from the way I felt when Jonathon kissed me.
His kisses were so unsure, so timid. I felt a brief rush of something, but it was nothing compared to this. His hands always stayed on mine. He was a perfect gentleman. But I wanted more. I wanted to feel what Lucy felt. I wanted to be the whore moaning and begging. I wanted lust and passion, not chaste kisses and poems of love. Could my Jonathon give me that? I was unsure, but I doubted it.