Bernard and the Queen

The genesis of the story is rooted in a classic novel with a similar scene that just didn't go far enough, in my opinion. Consider this story to be set in France or a France-like nation, sometime around the 17th century. That will help explain some of the style choices. It is an initial pass at what could become a longer story.

*

Bernard was entering the Queen's chambers. He was a tall, reasonably handsome young man, but so retiring in manner his pleasing appearance was subsumed by his diffidence. However, despite an aspect of timidity, this young man had risen far in the service of the Cardinal. A meticulous devotion to duty had stamped him out as man who could be trusted to attain his goal, provided the directions were clear and the duties well marked.

On this day, his duty was somewhat unusual. A trusted associate of the king, a dashing and handsome gentleman of the guard, and one in whom the king placed great trust and to whose hands were entrusted many delicate affairs, had approached Bernard with instructions which he was to follow to the letter. Meticulous observation of the rules came easy to Bernard, but on this case he was tasked with no less a duty than to call on the queen herself. The queen, Bernard was informed, may have concealed a letter somewhere in her chamber which, if found, would implicate her in the most profound scandals and plots. Bernard, as a trusted and loyal servant, was given this delicate task of finding the concealed missive, if it existed. He was, it was stressed, to leave no stone unturned. No nook or cranny unsearched.

The Queen was occupied in reading a small book as Bernard entered. The queen herself was a woman a great beauty. Not a native of France, her beauty was made up from ancestors that hailed from all the noblest lands of Europe. Her Swedish grandfather had passed along keen and glittering eyes; she shared a proud tilt of the chin and nose with a Venetian uncle; dark, curled tresses bespoke her Spanish connections on her father's side; her lips had the exact hue of an English rose, courtesy of her mother. Somewhat darker in complexion than was the fashion, the queen nevertheless commanded the attention of all, and that not merely because of her position. When she entered a room, she gathered and kept the breath of each person therein.

The lady which led Bernard in was herself not unattractive. Marguerite bloomed like a pale, golden flower. Indeed, next to the queen, Marguerite seemed crafted of porcelain. Golden hair was coiffed about her head, with one curl twisting down beside her neck, artfully drawing attention to it's graceful curve. The other two ladies in the room, both faithful companions of the queen, were Collette and Josefina. Collette had brown hair and less noble features, but had a round and beaming smile. Josefina looked far more southern - Spanish, in fact, with dusky skin and dark, nearly black hair, but a flashing smile and keen eyes.

Marguerite announced Bernard briefly, and disappeared unobtrusively to the side of the room, where the other two ladies remained, awaited their queen's pleasure. The queen looked up from her book and addressed him.

"With what purpose do you come here, monsieur?"

"Forgive me, madame, I come in the name of the king, and I must, without prejudice to the respect which I have the honor to owe your majesty, make a close examination into all your papers."

"What, monsieur, to make an investigation of my papers - my own papers! This is an indignity!"

Bernard blanched, but remained resolute. "It is on the orders of the his own majesty that I am here. I am but the instrument of his use. Surely you are not wholly unaware of his...attitude, in this case?"

The queen waved a delicate hand. "Go on, then. Search, if you must. I am merely a common criminal, it seems."

At a word from the queen, the maid Collette produced a key which served to open the many desks, drawers, and chests in the room. Bernard was reasonably sure of finding an absence of the object he was tasked to acquire, and he was not disappointed. A great lady would never carelessly leave an important letter in an obvious place. It did, however, leave him with a rather more challenging task.

Having finished his search, the queen spoke in a tone both indignant and triumphant. "Well? You have searched the chamber, you have found nothing which it is not my right to have. Will you be on your way?"

Bernard coughed feebly. "There is yet..." He found himself having difficulty finishing the sentence. His throat seemed to have closed, and his mouth gone dry.

"Impudent man!" uttered the queen. "You mean to say that you would search my royal vestments? You think that I have concealed something here?" And as she spoke the last words, she touched a gentle hand to her chest.

"I am a servant of the king, madame, and it is his will I must obey," Bernard said. Had the queen remained silent, it is possible Bernard would have had trouble putting words to what must be done, but faced with familiar resistance, Bernard was on firmer ground. His duty was his duty, and he could not shy away now.

"You would not dare!" said the queen. She stood proudly, as if daring Bernard to act. Bernard, turn with an inner turmoil, took a step forward. The queen paled, stepped back, and held up her hand.

"Very well! I yield. Let me retire with my ladies into the inner chamber, and you may have my things, so that you may search them thoroughly."

A part of Bernard yearned to allow this, to avoid any further awkwardness or danger. But, his fear of the king and his commitment to his orders would not allow it. "I fear, madame, that I cannot allow you out of this room."

"'Sblood! Am I to have nothing concealed from this man! Very well. Collette, Josefina, draw the screen, there, and I shall undress behind it. We are beset, ladies," the queen said, as she gave Bernard a firm stare, "with a man of considerable obstinacy."

The queen stepped behind the screen, which was drawn across the far corner of the room. Despite a delicate, oriental pattern, the screen was not wholly opaque. When placed in front of a source of light - here, a curtained window which brought a dusty glow the room - the screen allowed a clear shadow to be cast, visible to those on the other side. As all three of the queen's ladies-in-waiting had joined her to assist, they seemed unaware of the profile presented to Bernard.

Half of a mind to say something, Bernard found his voice trapped in his throat. Shadows of arms flicked about the queen, as the laces of her bodice were undone. In a few moments, Marguerite brought it out for his inspection. Bernard bowed slightly, and buried his hands in its numerous folds and ruffles. It was still warm in the interior, and Bernard's breath caught at the thought that he was feeling the warmth of the queen herself.

Satisfied that the bodice concealed nothing, Bernard handed it back to Marguerite. The lady curtsied, and turned to bring the it back behind the screen.

"Ah!" ejaculated Bernard. "I cannot allow..."

He trailed off again. Marguerite merely nodded in submission, and carried the bodice across the room to drape it across a small couch, before returning to collect the skirt. And so with each new garment, as Bernard searched every last item - petticoat, corset, and chemise, blushing all the while. The last items, when removed, cast a shadow most disturbing to Bernard, though he could not tear his eyes away. No longer a magnificently adorned and padded figure, the queen's profile looked decidedly slim and girlish.

"Are you now satisfied, monsieur?" asked the queen. Bernard had obviously found nothing, and she knew it.

"I am most satisfied that the item is not in madame's clothing," uttered Bernard. "But my duty compels me..."

"Yes?" asked the queen. "Say it, my noble churchman. Must my ladies disrobe for your searches as well?"

Bernard, to his embarrassment, had been so focused on the queen he had forgotten the possibility. It was indeed necessary to search the queen's attendants. The queen could easily have asked one of them to conceal the letter, and so hoped to escape. He was lucky that he had not allowed any of the three ladies to retire, else his duty might have been left forever unfulfilled.

Bernard managed to utter some word or other of confirmation, and the queen heaved a dramatic sigh, her entire profile behind the screen heaving and sagging with the sound. Bernard could not help but notice a certain buoyancy to her majesty's chest as she did so. Never had the churchman been driven to temptation by a shadow before. His breathing grew shallow and rapid, as he contemplated the possibility of not one, but four similar profiles behind the screen.

"Josefina," the queen commanded firmly. "Give monsieur your vestments. He must be utterly convinced of our innocence."

Josefina, who had been watching Bernard from around the side of the screen, suddenly smiled coyly at Bernard, and slipped behind the screen, turning into a profile once again; a mere shadow that taunted and tempted the man like nothing he had ever experienced. She wore fewer layers than the queen, and quickly divested herself of robes, petticoats, and the like. Bernard tried to hold himself back, to retain his dignity rather than to paw ravenously through the garments like a starving cur. He managed to retain an exterior appearance of placid calm, but inside was naught but turmoil and typhoons of temptation.

Josefina had drawn close to the queen, and each of her generous curves was backlit and cast upon the screen for Bernard to behold. Marguerite smiled shyly at him, a blush coloring her pale chest above the neckline, and she, too, became another tempting shadow. Collette brought out each and every item that Marguerite removed, and Bernard passed these through his hands, too. Again, he found nothing.

Dropping Marguerite's still warm chemise to the floor, Bernard looked at Collette. She smiled as they made eye contact, then she also disappeared behind the screen. Three shadows already taunted him there: the queen's, slim, girlish, but a pert bounce and curve to her chest and hip; Josefina's, round, full, more robust than the queen's; and Marguerite's, smaller and slimmer than the queen's, with barely a quivering bud at the chest and a slight roundness at the hip. Collette, meanwhile, had already removed bodice and skirt, and was draping each item over the top of the drawing screen, inviting Bernard to step even closer to inspect them.

Unable to find a choice, Bernard did so. His nostrils, too, were now filled with the aroma of temptation, as he had stepped close enough to breathe in the distinctive and priceless royal perfumes. As with each before, Bernard found no letter whatsoever in Collette's clothing. Throughout his search the queen had uttered occasional oaths or mutterings of indignation, and now she addressed Bernard directly once again.

"At last, monsieur, you must be satisfied."

Bernard longed to say so, but his mind recalled the stern and unrelenting words of the king's man that had given him the order.

**

"You must NOT fail," the man had said, a hand draped casually on the hilt of his sword, "as the king is absolutely certain that the missive has not left the room. Do not overlook any hiding place, monsieur, else you may find this promising career of yours...less than promising."

**

"I..." he managed to utter, then paused. Where else indeed could it have been concealed? He had search every corner of the room and their clothing. Surely there was nothing left to search? He began to steel himself to drain the bitter dregs of failure, when the queen spoke again.

"Mon dieu! This man is unrelenting! You surely cannot think we still conceal this missive upon our persons! What? Do you suppose I have chosen colored paper and strapped it to myself or my ladies? This is too far, monsieur! I shall summon my guards and you shall be drawn and quartered this very day!" the queen fairly spluttered in indignation.

Bernard was dumbfounded. He had never considered the possibility, but now he had to concede the queen's proposed tactic of tying the letter to her body, tight upon the skin, would thus allow them to conceal it without his knowledge. A visual inspection was, in fact, the only thing that would rule out this hiding place.

"The....the king, madame..." he managed to get out.

"We cannot cross the king, your majesty" added Collette. "And he is here at the king's command. Should the king remain passive if his servant is treated harshly? Besides, this is a man of piety. We are as good as alone in his presence. I myself will lead the way, and we can pray that God deliver us from this false accusation in time."

The air had gone out of the room, or so it seemed to Bernard. He staggered back from the screen until his calves found a chair for him, and he folded weakly into it. "Come," he croaked as he sat. His eyes bored into the screen, as if he could see straight through it. He saw Collette's shadow approach the edge. Taller by half a head than the others, Collette's hair was barely visible above the screen as she walked. The shadows of her arms wrapped themselves around her as the only sound in the room now was shallow breathing, bare, quiet steps, and an almost silent rustle of skin brushing skin.

First, a long, slender leg. Bare, it slipped around the corner of the screen. Calf and knee, then pale thigh. Bernard's eyes drank in every inch, visually caressing up the thigh, then, as it slipped around the corner, the curve of the buttock. Collette's shoulder emerged at the same time, also bare and vulnerable.

The entire side of her body slipped into view, a delicate and shy expanse of skin from heel to shoulder. All bare.

Collette then stepped around the corner, turned. One hand poised carefully above her mons, concealing the joining of her legs and it's treasure. The other arm curled across her breast, trapping and covering their roundness and the color of her nipples. Otherwise, Collette was naked.

Bernard was slumped on the edge of his chair, barely able to hold himself in place. His eyes devoured Collette's appearance, lingering on everything that had hitherto been forbidden territory for Bernard. His eyes raked back and forth, resting on the hip, stomach, shoulder, and all the skin in between. Collette walked toward him with downcast eyes.Quickly, quietly, and then she was mere inches from him. Any closer, and she would have tumbled into his lap.

"Your servant, monsieur," Collette said quietly, and turned around. Bernard simply gaped at the way her bare shoulders and back tapered to the rounded curve of her bottom, perfectly smooth on symmetrical except for a hint of roundness from the sides of her breasts. It was the first ladies' bottom he had ever seen, and he stared, fixedly, in spite of himself.

"Must monsieur check with his hands?" Collette asked, interrupting his reverie. "In case the letter is colored the same as my...as the...as skin?"

Bernard was dumbstruck. None of this had gone as expected. No letter to be found, and now a lady in waiting of the queen herself quivered, naked, in front of him, practically asking him to probe her bare body with his hands! Bernard managed to clear his throat and mutter a barely audible, "It is my duty, madame."

Standing, Bernard was painfully aware of the way he stiffened within his breeches, and how close this stiffness was to the curve of her rear. Lifting his hands, he paused. Where does one start when passing your hands over a lady to see what might be concealed on her person?

He decided to begin at her shoulders, and she started and gasped quietly at his touch. Then there was naught but the sound of breathing, as Bernard ran his hands lightly across her shoulders, then the nape of her neck, then down, back and forth across her back. His breath caught as he ran his hands down, down, to the small of her back, and across the firm, smooth roundness below. Almost involuntary, he squeezed gently at the fullest portion of her backside, and she jumped slightly. Had he but known, a slight smile crossed her face at the same time.

He hesitated, then dropped to a knee to feel down her long, tapering legs. This brought his face directly next to her rounded bottom, and his breath puffed across it, raising goosebumps, as he felt along the thigh and down the calf.

Finished with that search, he stood again. Still mere inches in front of him, Collette turned round. Again he was confronted with her absolute nakedness, concealed only by her hands, clutching at a mere modicum of modesty. From this angle, he could see right down the front of her chest, and the pleasing plumpness her own arm had created with her breasts as she cradled them to herself. His eyes fixed themselves of their own free will upon the upper slope of her breasts and the cleavage she had created.

Taking his gaze for a signal or order, Collette began to slowly draw her hand aside. Bernard's breath caught. Slowly, achingly, her arm slid across her breasts until the left breast was scarely concealed beneath her fingers. All at once, the arm dropped, and Bernard was gazing directly at buoyant pair of young breasts topped by brown, crinkled nipples that budded out from large round areolas - the first pair the devout young man had ever seen. For long seconds, he stared, unable to move.

At last, he tore his gaze upward, and looked directly at Collette. Her brown eyes had a merry gleam, which he mistook for apprehension. Her breath mingled with his, and her breasts heaved and jiggled slightly with each breath she took. Bernard restrained the fleshly instinct that urged him to close the distance, to press his lips onto hers. Instead, he took a half step back, bumping again into the chair he had risen from to begin his search.

Surprised, he tumbled back, sitting once again, his eyes now at a level with her breasts. Seeming to take this as further direction, Collette stepped closer, putting herself within easy reach. Bernard acted almost without conscious thought, as his hands rose and placed themselves over her breasts. Nearly involuntarily, but not without churning inward desire, Bernard squeezed and rubbed, hefting them in his palm, and running his fingers over the nipples.

Collette's breath quickened, and Bernard started. He felt he had been caught in an impropriety, and removed his hands. Not hearing any shout of defiance or complaint from the silent servant, Bernard regathered his courage, and extended his hands once more. Shoulders, arms, across the breasts briefly again, across the taut abdomen and down to the hips. Again, he stopped. Collette's hand was still draped there, concealing one last vestige of virgin shyness. He had no earthly idea of how to continue, only that he might trespass into heavenly territory if he did.

Taking his pause as a signal to adjust, Collette lifted and placed a knee on each side of Bernard, rising above him on the chair. Her breasts rested, tantalizing, inches from his face. Despite not being in direct contact, he felt as if his cheeks were warmed evenly by the dangling orbs. Slowly, incrementally, she drew her hand aside. Bernard, involuntary thrusting slightly upward with his hips, as if his midsection desired contact all on its own, was staring directly at a divine mystery. Concealed by a thick, curly patch of brown hair was the Mount of Venus. Sacred, and hitherto unscaled by the bookish young man. He sternly reminded himself of duty, and reached forward.

Brushing his fingers through the coarse brown hair, he poked and prodded, at one point rubbing the tips of his fingers through fleshly wetness. Collette shuddered and gasped. Bernard jerked his hand away, and looked guilty. Quickly he passed his hands over her thighs, and then stopped. Collette, reluctantly rose (not that Bernard perceived the reluctance), and stood in front of him, for the first time fully exposed to his hungry gaze. Bernard walked his eyes up and down her frame for a long moment, then dropped to his knees in front of her and quickly felt down her calves and feet.