Margaret with the Red Book pt 44

Margaret-Red-Book-250x375-250x372

John pulled away suddenly, never taking his eyes off of what he could see of her. He pulled off his boots and waistcoat and laid down beside her. “Margaret, the jury is out. What verdict shall they render?” He pulled her on top of him. His erection was straining against his clothes and he wanted the feeling of her body pressing on him.

Margaret felt heady. “Where am I, again?” She asked almost in a stupor.

“I think you were falling in love.” John responded, pulling her face to his.

Margaret had a glimpse of the right verdict. She said, “I think I am guilty. Do you think I shall be hung?”

That almost broke John’s concentration. “I sure hope so and I am just the man to do it.”

“Tell me,” she said, “would you rather be hung or off with your head? You know, the one without the brain?”

That did it, John flipped her over and laughed while rolling partly on top of her. “I shall certainly go for the former and I think you shall too. At least that is my life’s wish.”

Margaret gasped as John sought her breasts with his tongue. She hoped he would never stop. They seemed to be aching for his attention.

John swept her back up to a sitting position and started to unbutton her clothing. But then he let his arms fall. Reality came back to him and wondered where her fears may lie having been raped. “Margaret, I love you. I love you like I have loved no one ever in my life. I want you. I want all of you. I want every piece of you and not for just a night. I want you forever. I am so anxious to pleasure you that I had momentarily forgotten what fears may be lingering. I know I am probably too rough or too fast because I want to love you so much. But most of all, I do not want to compound any doubts or bring back bad memories to ruin what we have. Tell me what to do.” John said in a very sincere voice.

“John, I am guilty as charged. I am ready for whatever the court deems necessary to pleasure me.” Margaret was glad for the dark. She was blushing shamelessly.

John kissed her tenderly. How could he say thank you for the gift he was about to receive and bestow. He calmed himself and returned to all of her buttons and snaps and laces. He could feel Margaret struggle for the buttons on his shirt. He helped her and just pulled it over his head.

Margret found herself staring at his magnificent chest with its fine light coating of hair. The moon had moved enough and was beginning to fill the room. She paid no attention to his struggles with her clothing; she just wanted to run her hands across his very male breast and abdomen. She was dazed. She saw John smiling. He was happy that she found great approval in his body. Becoming conscious of his efforts, she rolled out of the bed and stood on the floor finishing where John left off. Suddenly everything but her underwear pooled to the floor. She closed her eyes and held her breath while she pulled the rest off. She stood there in the moonlight with her eyes closed afraid of what she might see on John’s face. He had had so many women she felt she could easily be a disappointment or even . . . compared to Lucia. When she opened her eyes finally, John was naked standing just about in front of her. He put his arms on her shoulders and stood her away from him and looked her all over her. He sighed with such delight Margaret felt she could expel her breath.

“I did not know God made such beauty,” he said. “I have been with many women and knew what to expect, but I did not expect this . . . this stunning gift that you give me tonight and I hope forever. You take my breath away.”

Margaret could do nothing but look John straight in the eyes. She was so worried about pleasing him that she did not think to look at her gift, but she knew he would be perfect anyway.

John pulled her to him, letting her acquaint herself with his body while he pulled the pins from her hair. He kissed her tenderly while pulling her buttocks tightly against him. She moaned and John felt her knees begin to waver. He picked her up and gently laid her on the bed.

Take me, she silently pleaded to herself, too ashamed to speak the words of her body.

He did not do that right away. He moved down her body while holding her wrists and met the crevice of her breasts. She

arched. He smiled. He started licking the top rounding of her breasts and her little gasps started. He knew he would not torture her this first time. Those wonderful times would come when she was fully aware of all the feelings she could have and then he would have more to give her. He circled each nipple and then suckled from her. John could feel her breasts lifting up and down from her rapid breathing. John knew he not only had the woman of spirit but the woman of passion. All his prayers were answered. After nibbling her breasts, he slid back up for more sweet deep kisses. He pulled one of her hands away from his hair and encouraged her to touch him.

“Oh my God,” he heard her whisper.” He kissed her deeply and ran his hand down to the center of her legs. She stiffened which he expected and gently and ever so slowly nudged them apart. He felt her moistness and he knew they were there. He left his palm covering her and slowly messaged her womanly folds.

Margaret was on fire. Holding John’s penis in her hand was extraordinary, she thought, but then her mind would run back to where he was engaged. She felt herself starting to build into some crazed desire. The red book went out of her mind, she did not know what to do now.

John kissed her breasts again and then continued down. He raised up and slid between her legs and returned to kissing all of her. Margaret was starting to writhe and arch.

Without warning, she felt his tongue feeding from her most private parts. The sensation overwhelmed her embarrassment. “John, what are you doing to me?”

“John lifted his head and said, “It is not what I am doing to you but what I am doing for you.” “And myself,” he added. “Please just relax and allow me this pleasure for both of us. Do not hold back on anything, just let everything flow over and through you. I said I wanted to love all of you and I meant it.”

With the next suckle and lick, Margaret strangled out a small sob. She arched and gasped and moaned. John could tell she was far from finding the end of her orgasm. He positioned himself for entry and found she wanted to assist. He readied himself for her reaction to his size and took his time.

“John, please.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, please take me. I need you to fill me. I need something and I know you must know what it is.” Margaret tried to arch up to him.

John worked his stroke slowly ensuring her moisture was enough for him . . . and it was.

“Oh John!” she cried.

He loved her calling his name. He thrust into her soft warm sheath. Her contractions that held him from pulling out where heaven sent. He wanted it to last and last but he knew he was at the end of his control and his Margaret was too. She was at the brink of her climax; everything within her was tensing for the eruption. As John took them over the edge he felt her legs quivering.

“John,” she shouted. God how he loved her and her love sounds. The shouting was replaced with softer moans that just continued and her descent lasted a long time. John felt his chest swell again from the pride in his ability to make her pleasured the way he seemed to be doing. He could not withdraw for a long time as she was struggling to come back to consciousness. He thought to himself how incredible lovemaking was when you were in love. It far surpassed anything other sensual feelings he had ever experienced.

John rose up and looked into her face but held back his kiss because of the smile she had. She was smiling with her eyes closed, rolling her head from side to side.

“John, there are no words.”

“I know, Margaret. I know . . . but not until tonight with you.” He leaned down and kissed her and she pulled him hard to her.

“I love you, Mr. John Thornton.”

“And I love you, Miss Margaret Hale.”

“When did you think you were falling in love with me?” Margaret asked as she rolled onto her side and looked into his face.

“Oh, I am fairly certain it was when I met you and Tawl outside the courthouse. I was quite interested in your from our first introduction and even inquired to Miss Leeds for more information about you. She did not give me much, just so you know. But I think when I met you outside the courthouse that seemed to solidify all my thoughts of you. I feared for the first time in my life that you would not let me try to win you. Your secrets at that point were keeping you from living and you would not let me break the shell. Well, I think you heart is out of the closet. What do you say?”

“I think she is out in the bright full day and wanting more sun.”

“More?” John smiled, rolled her over on her back and kissed her deeply again. “Surely, all those books You are reading have told you that we men need a little bit of time to gather more sun.”

“John, how can I thank you for bringing me this incredible pleasure and bringing my life back to me?”

“I only know one way you can thank me.”

“Whatever it is, I shall do it,” Margaret said.

“Will you marry me and make my life complete?” John stroked her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes as he spoke.

“If you would not mind a small private ceremony?”

“Small and private or anyway you want as long as you say ‘I do’ at the right place.”

“I love you Master Thornton.”

“I love you Madam Hale,” John said laughing as he felt a pillow slam into his face.

Stephen Mangan to play Conan Doyle in new ITV drama Houdini & Doyle | Media | The Guardian

Sherlock Holmes creator teams up with master illusionist to form mismatched detective team in 10-part series


Stephen Mangan
Elementary … Stephen Mangan, star of Episodes, is to play Sherlock Holmes creator Arthur Conan Doyle in ITV’s new drama Houdini and Doyle. Photograph: Everett/REX Shutterstock/Everett/REX Shutterstock

John Plunkett
@johnplunkett149

Stephen Mangan will play Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in a new ITV drama, Houdini & Doyle, in which the Sherlock Holmes creator will be joined by Harry Houdini as an odd couple pair of super sleuths.Mangan, star of Episodes and Green Wing, will be joined by Michael Weston (House, Six Feet Under) as the master illusionist in the 10-part series that will premiere on ITV’s sister channel, ITV Encore.

A story of “real life friends, real life adversaries and real life crime solvers”, the drama pitches them as a mismatched detective duo, Conan Doyle a passionate believer in the paranormal, Houdini refusing to believe that there is anything supernatural about magic.

“This fundamental difference between the two men leads to conflict, humour and competition,” said ITV on Wednesday.

“High-minded competition in the pursuit of the truth, and ridiculous petty competition – because they’re guys. But despite all this, they need each other. Doyle needs Houdini because he is gullible. Houdini needs Doyle because he is wrong.”

It is the latest sign of our enduring fascination with Sherlock Holmes, from BBC1’s update starring Benedict Cumberbatch (and subsequent US reboot with Johnny Lee Miller) to BBC Films’ Mr Holmes, starring Ian McKellan.

Earlier this year ITV also showed an adaptation of Julian Barnes’ Arthur and George, in which Conan Doyle took a central role, played by Martin Clunes.

Houdini & Doyle, which will air next year, is executive produced by David Shore, creator of House, the long-running Hugh Laurie medical drama, which ended three years ago.

A UK/Canada co-production made by Big Talk Productions (Rev, Shaun of the Dead) in the UK and Shaftesbury in Canada, it is written and created by Shore’s long-time collaborator David Hoselton and Canadian screenwriter David Titcher.
Advertisement

ITV said the drama would “draw heavily on the rich history of the period”.

“At the turn of the 20th century the Metropolitan police, mired in the ways of the 19th century, were overwhelmed with bizarre and often inexplicable cases so they turned to outsiders, including, believe it or not, Houdini and Doyle, who collaborated with New Scotland Yard on some unsolved and inexplicable crimes,” it said.

“What can we believe? What should we believe? Is cynicism to be admired or is it what makes us human? Is reason the antithesis of hope?”

The series will co-star Canadian newcomer Rebecca Liddiard as constable Adelaide Stratton, the first female PC ever to work for the Met police, and Tim McInnerny as inspector Horace Merring.

Source: Stephen Mangan to play Conan Doyle in new ITV drama Houdini & Doyle | Media | The Guardian

Between Boredom and Brilliance – Part Eleven

luceslines-300x150

Chapter Eleven – Miss Bates or Uncertainty Personified

 

The Bates ladies occupied rooms above Mr Ford’s boutique on Highbury’s marketplace. These rooms were small and dismal, and a far cry from the luxurious, stately house Mrs Bates had inhabited while her husband, a former vicar, had been alive.

As Emma stepped into the lively marketplace – as it happened, it was Market Day – she looked up at the tiny, first storey windows behind which lived the two ladies. Not for the first time did Emma reflect upon the daily life of Mrs and Miss Bates.

How terrible it must have been for Mrs Bates to leave the vicarage and be forced to move into cramped and gloomy rooms that lacked the barest of comforts. She and her daughter were condemned to be on the outskirts of society, not quite belonging in it and yet too educated to be equal to farmers and servants. The  Bates ladies were invited to the parties of the gentry but had to attend in clothes that were old-fashioned and threadbare because there was no money to buy new ones. They always had to beg for a ride in someone else’s carriage, and they were always obliged to agree with whatever the hostess decreed, because their status in society was unsure.

Moreover – Emma recalled in shame – some people like herself, who ought to know better, sometimes embarrassed them for no reason. That would never happen again, Emma vowed. From now on, she would see that Mrs and Miss Bates had their rightful place amongst Highbury’s society.

With a hard shove, Emma pushed open the small door next to the boutique’s shop window. It led to a rickety wooden staircase. Every step cracked when she gingerly mounted it. Rightful indignation rose in her chest at the shameful neglect of this place. She would have a word with Mr Ford about it, Emma promised herself.

Miss Bates answered Emma’s discrete knock and bade her come in. The elderly spinster looked even more haggard than usual, in her threadbare black broadcloth dress, and her greying curls escaping her mob cap. Her benign face, ridden with tiny wrinkles, was pale and drawn, and her gentle grey eyes were moist with unshed tears.

“Dear Miss Bates,” Emma whispered, “how is your dear mother? Maud told me this morning she was unwell, and I came as soon as I could free myself. I will send Maud, later today, with some chicken broth and other necessities to fortify your poor mother.”

“Thank you, Mrs Knightley,” Miss Bates replied, answering Emma’s embrace, “but your Papa has already seen to our needs, bless his soul. He is paying his respects to mother as we speak. Please,  come and sit by the fire. The wind is quite chilly, today.”

The wind, as Emma just experienced, was a mild, agreeable summer breeze that barely ruffled the leaves on this hot June day, but she understood that nothing seemed normal to Miss Bates on this day. Her perception of things might be a bit distorted by her sorrow.

What surprised Emma most, was to find her father here. She knew Mrs Bates was a long-time friend of him since the time her husband had been ordered a vicar in Highbury. Papa and the vicar had both been fervent collectors of old and rare books, and they had gone book-hunting together many times when Emma was a child. When Mr Bates died, Mr Woodhouse had purchased the vicar’s collection from his widow and – as Emma suspected – paid far too much for it, just to help his friend’s wife and daughter. Her father had frequently tried to endow Mrs Bates with a regular income, but the old lady, unflinchingly proud, had always refused.

Emma had to stoop a little to fit under the low lintel of the tiny bedchamber where Mrs Bates’ small cot stood. Her father looked up at her with tears in his eyes. He lifted a finger to his lips.

“She is finely asleep, poor soul, ” he whispered. “It is hopeless, dear Emma. She won’t be of this world for long.”

Mrs Bates’ face was terribly thin, almost emaciated, and her skin was dry as parchment, her lips cracked and withered. Her breath came in rasping gasps, as if it brought her pain instead of relief.

Beside Emma, Miss Bates stood silently sobbing. Emma took the slender, far too thin woman in her arms and shushed her. Miss Bates only sobbed harder.

“Should not Jane know of your mother’s illness, Miss Bates? Shall I send word to her?”

It occurred only then to Emma that she had no inkling where Jane and her husband Frank Churchill lived. No one had bothered to find out after the couple so hastily married and departed for Yorkshire.

“The matter … has … been taken … care of,” Miss Bates hiccupped, between sobs. “We are … expecting Jane … any day now.”

A tiny flame jumped in Emma’s chest at the thought that Frank would return to Highbury. It was but a very small one. Emma had fancied herself in love with Franck Churchill, the year before, but she had quickly grasped the true meaning of the words when she kissed her George for the first time. Love was what she felt for George, infatuation what she had felt for Frank. The latter was a puff of smoke, the former lasted a lifetime.

A knock on the rickety door sent Miss Bates in a flurry. “Oh, dear, dear … so many kind visitors we have today!” Emma followed her outside into the small sitting room while Miss Bates rushed to open the door and let George Knightley in. He was accompanied by his physician, Dr Hargraves.

“Oh, Mr Knightley, how very thoughtful and kind of you to bring your own personal doctor to see my poor Mama!”

“It is the least I can do, Miss Bates. Please, make nothing of it.”

Dr Hargraves disappeared into the bedroom and George bent over to Emma and whispered,                 “How is poor Mrs Bates?”

“Not good, I’m afraid, dearest. She has considerable difficulty breathing, and she does not take food anymore.”

“Well, my love, we must do whatever we can and help Miss Bates through this ordeal. I fear she might take it terribly hard if her mother should pass on.”

“I shall stay here tonight and watch over the old lady so that Miss Bates can get some rest.”

“Excellent, my dearest Emma. That is how I know you.”