Miss Havisham and myself, and three of the most beautiful specimens of male humans ever to exist (did I mention how cute they were?) headed towards the seating at the back of the entrance hall to await the arrival of Miss Havisham's guest. Miss Havisham introduced me to Darcy and Rhett, both of whom were just spectacular boys, and I was surrounded by them all, crisply starched shirts and waistcoats, impeccably pressed trousers, and warm, friendly eyes. They were all taller than I, so there I was, the diminutive, fragile feminine figure amidst these monuments to masculinity.
My left elbow was throbbing, because of course I apparently bashed it as part of my tumble, being an idiot as I am. I didn't let on, though. I maintained my bright smile, bubbly small talk, and an impervious mental shield so that underneath it I could be the giddy teenager I felt like, walking along next to these three absolute stunners as though I belonged there.
As we were arranging ourselves in the seats, Miss Havisham motioned Angelo to sit nearest me, saying, "Would you be happy to be chaperoned this evening by Angelo, dear?" She said it as if it really didn't matter much either way.
My brain sprang in nine directions at once, and I struggled to contain my excitement. I barely managed to respond with a composed, "That would be delightful, thank you Angelo."
She continued, "Very good. The two of you have met twice now, in a manner of speaking, so I think that's lovely. Rhett, I'd like you to chaperone Miss Buchanan, and Darcy you will accompany her assistant Josie." Both men instantly agreed, accepting their assignments cheerfully.
Just at that moment, a bell rang, and Miss Havisham stood, and it was implied that we all ought to do likewise. "Well, that's good timing. They've arrived," she announced superfluously as she bustled out from between the seating and led us to the huge front doors. Angelo offered me his arm (I know, right?!?), and I slipped my small hand in and hooked it around his bicep, partially flexed as it was because his arm was bent. He started chattering to me but I honestly don't remember anything from that moment to when we got out the front door. All I remember is the bicep. Don't judge me.
We reached the front landing just as the large black town car came crunching sedately around the corner on the gravel driveway. I don't know much about cars, but it wasn't like the stretch limos in Los Angeles. More like the US President's "Beast", only perhaps a little taller. It looked like it would have room for the passengers to move around in the back, but all the windows were completely blacked out, of course. It also wasn't a gloss finish, but a matte charcoal, and the wheels were those flashy ones people put on sports cars. If you're a car enthusiast, I hope that helps.
Angelo stayed dutifully by my side with Miss Havisham while the other boys stepped down to meet the car and to open the doors on both sides. Bicep. Hmmm.
On the far side, a well dressed middle aged woman emerged promptly. She was chattering away to Darcy with what sounded like arrangements for the luggage and other practical matters, so I picked her as Josie straight away. At the same time, the driver, another of these perfectly delicious young men, hopped out and went to the back of the car to retrieve a sports bag. At that moment, Miss Buchanan burst forth from the nearest passenger door where Rhett was attending, with a loud, "Darling!" directed at Miss Havisham.
Miss Buchanan was around Miss Havisham's age, and they seemed to me two peas in a pod. She had dressed in something like early 20th Century formal traveling clothes, as if she had traveled by Zepplin or something. She had a wonderful gown, clearly with a corset, ankle length made from satin, with generous trimming of lace and embroidery. She had a pure white fur stole, long earrings, high-heeled boots, and was altogether like a scene from a movie. She held her large, wide-brimmed dress hat in one hand, and I noticed her hair, uncharacteristic for her entire outfit, was a little disheveled.
Miss Buchanan and Miss Havisham exchanged a familiar hug, with Miss Buchanan excusing herself from kissing, "Do pardon me for not offering a little kiss, my dear, but the lovely young man you sent to ride with me was quite the, er, mouthful." She made sure to catch my eye as she said this, and gave me a wink.
On the surface of her mind was the very recent, very vivid memory of fellatio with an outrageously handsome man less than half her age, in the back of the car. In her memory he was completely naked, and she was drinking his fluid. I'll admit that, although I managed, barely, to maintain my mental shield as I had been learning all day, I most certainly did blush. Miss Buchanan seemed to notice, and to enjoy my response.
"And who is this lovely young lady?" she turned to me, extending her hand.
