ThePleasureDevice (4 page)

Bereft of Charlotte’s distracting ebullience, Sophia found
herself suddenly self-conscious in the presence of the alarmingly magnetic Dr.
Christopher. Tentatively she caught his eye, and he smiled familiarly, almost
seductively, with a charisma that instantly filled the weighty emptiness,
wrapping around her, willing her to step ever so slightly nearer to him. His
breath seemed to quicken at their closeness, the heat of him penetrated her,
fanning the fire already smoldering in her core. She shifted her weight in an
attempt to create a touch of distance and flushed at the arousal heavy between
her thighs.

“As I was saying, Mrs. Phillips, I offer services to calm
the nerves such as water therapies, massage, even conversation.”

“Conversation?” Her lungs tightened against the word with a
dizzying constriction.

He offered an alluring expression of gentle assurance. “You
would be amazed at how many women simply need someone to talk to.”

Sophia laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly. “I think not, Dr.
Christopher. It is often very difficult to find someone who will listen,
especially when one’s woes seem so mundane.”

The doctor smiled again, his face beaming with a glow that
lit up his exquisite eyes, which she suddenly decided were a pale Egyptian
blue, then wondered what it would be like to see those eyes the first thing in
the morning. The smoldering heat within sparked and flared, threatening to
consume her on the spot.

Sophia licked her lips and swallowed.

Helena shifted on her feet.

“Oh my,” Sophia exhaled with mortification. “We’re really
here for my daughter. It’s her first Season.”

“My congratulations, Miss Phillips.”

Helena batted her lashes shyly in response.

“And I must congratulate the young men who will have a
chance to dance with so magnificent a young woman.”

Helena colored demurely.

Charlotte approached the trio with a slight huff and puff. “My
dear,” she said to Sophia, “I have not forgotten my duty.” She wrapped Helena’s
arm around hers. “I have some very nice gentlemen to introduce you to.” She
nodded politely to the doctor. “If you will please excuse us, Dr. Christopher.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Sophia caught the doctor’s eye and offered a smile infused
with subtle promise. He smiled back graciously. As Charlotte whisked her and
Helena deeper into the fray, Sophia cast a last glance at Dr. Christopher, once
again feeling a touch of envy as the exquisitely beautiful Lady
Foxley-Graham—her dress the very same color blue as his mesmerizing eyes—approached
him accompanied by the brown-haired object of Helena’s desires.

* * * * *

“That woman!” Lavinia huffed.

Nicholas chuckled.

Lavinia sneered at her lover. “Don’t laugh. One really has
to know her if one is to survive in London Society. Charlotte knows absolutely
everybody—”

“Including, it seems now, even me.”

Lavinia ignored his sarcasm. “But she’s so overbearing! I
think she plays the distracted, fashionable old lady a bit too much, really.”

Nicholas sipped at his champagne as his gaze wandered to
Charlotte and her companions. “Who’s she with now?”

His voice held far too much interest and Lavinia saw
immediately why. With her striking copper-colored curls framing her angelic
face, a perfect figure swathed tightly in pale-purple silk, draped tulle
accentuating her hips, and richly decorated silver brocade underskirts
distracting attention from her décolletage, Helena Phillips was possibly the
most eye-catching debutante at the Wrexham ball. Nicholas gawked at the
beguiling girl with a faraway expression, one Lavinia rarely saw but
immediately understood. He was head-over-heels smitten. More than that, he was
fantasizing an erotic scenario at that very moment, as evidenced by the slight
bulge in his trousers.

Upon looking back at the Phillipses and Charlotte, Lavinia
was surprised to see Dr. Julius Christopher with them, being very charming—as
he always was—to the ladies in question. Despite his status as a baronet and
having a clientele among the families in the big houses, grand social occasions
were not his usual milieu.

“Vinny,” came Nicholas’ entreaty to break her thoughts. “Who’s
the girl in lavender?” Mere interest had turned into earnestness.

“Ah, there’s a scandal there.” Lavinia sipped her champagne.
“That’s Sophia Phillips and her daughter. Mrs. Phillips was formerly Lady Sophia
Harwell—well, I suppose she could still use her title if she wanted—until she
went and fell in love with an American. Some sort of industrialist. Builds
machines and such. She was more than three months gone when they ran away
together.”

“Outrageous!” Nicholas hissed sardonically.

“Yes, dear, you may well mock, but that puts the daughter
Helena far out of your league. In order to redeem her twig on the family tree,
she must marry a man high in the ranks of society.” Lavinia brought her glass
to her lips. “Someone like your brother.”

That got a rise out of him. “My brother wouldn’t know what
to do with her.”

“He knows how to fuck a woman, Nicky darling. And he only
needs to do it until he’s made an heir.”

“Funny how he hasn’t figured that out yet.”

“Well, dear, Jack being childless and dissipated puts you in
direct line to be Earl of St. Albans, and,” Lavinia gave him a sidelong glance,
“available to the likes of Helena Phillips.”

“I left that life behind, Vinny.”

Lavinia was afraid of that answer. Perhaps Nicholas wasn’t
as interested in the lovely Helena as she had guessed. Or he might need some
prodding. “Then you will have to admire from afar.”

Nicholas harrumphed just as Charlotte dragged the girl away
into the crowd to find a dance partner.

That left Julius standing alone, although his attractive,
composed elegance would draw a curious female fairly quickly. “To take your
mind off her, I’ll introduce you to a very dear friend of mine.” Lavinia took
his arm and walked to where Helena had stood mere seconds before.

As Lavinia had expected, Julius beamed at her warmly,
lifting one eyebrow provocatively.

“Lady Foxley-Graham,” he said, bending over her outstretched
hand. “How absolutely wonderful to see you.”

“Julius.” She indicated her companion. “May I introduce a
longtime friend, Dr. Nicholas Ramsay. Nicky, Dr. Julius Christopher.”

The men shook hands and mumbled pleasantries.

“And what sort of doctor are you, Ramsay?”

“I haven’t settled on a specialty, sir.”

“Nicky’s only just returned from having been abroad for
several years.” Lavinia cast a proud glance at her protégé. “He’s been learning
about medical practices in the Near East.”

“Well, I initially read medicine at Cambridge, sir,”
Nicholas added, “and I was in Edinburgh for some additional studies this past
winter.”

“Rather cold that time of year, isn’t it?” Julius shuddered.
“And with whom did you study?”

“Dr. Henry MacFarland.”

“Marvelous! I know Hank from years back. He suggested I go
into family practice. I’ve been doing that for over twenty years.”

“Well then, I suppose you must enjoy it, sir.”

“It has its benefits, yes.”

Lavinia squelched a giggle as Julius gave her a warning
glare over his glass.

“Are you working with anyone in particular? Perhaps I know
him?” Julius queried most solicitously.

“Not yet, sir. I had hoped to find a situation in London.”

“Well, if you are at all interested in family medicine, you
are welcome to join me—”

Lavinia gasped in excitement. “Really? Oh Julius!”

“I’ve two consulting rooms and more clients than I can
handle, really.”

Nicholas was profoundly impressed. “I would be very honored,
sir.”

“Come by the office Tuesday for luncheon, Ramsay.” Julius
handed his card to Nicholas. “You can have a look around and tell me more about
your adventures.” He made a slight bow to Lavinia. “My lady. I hear the music
starting and I know how much you like to dance.”

“And how much you hate it,” Lavinia said nostalgically.

“Hate is a strong word, my dear.” His smile shot a familiar
heat through her that still tingled as she watched him walk away.

“You’ve slept with him,” grumbled Nicholas.

Lavinia was slightly taken aback by the remark. Nicholas
never cared about such things. “It was a long time ago, Nicky.” She took a
swallow of champagne. Julius had a unique understanding of women’s pleasure,
which made him a very good lover. Seeing him again filled her with giddy
memories. “I think I need a dance now, darling. Are you going to ask me?”

That put Nicholas in a better mood. “Yes, love,” he
murmured. “Lady Foxley-Graham, may I have this dance?” Nicholas offered his
arm.

Lavinia grinned. “Afterward, I promise, we’ll find you a
wife.”

* * * * *

Julius could not wait to extricate himself from his social
obligations. The second he had laid eyes on Miss Helena Phillips his cock had
jolted to full stand. He could barely maintain his composure around the girl, a
maddening feeling so very much unlike him. However, the mother proved to be a
good diversion, allowing him to show off his usual charming self in front of
the object of his desires.

With her auburn hair, hazel eyes, creamy flesh and just a
hint of a rosy hue on her cheeks, Helena was certainly the most beautiful woman
in the world. But even better, she had that distinction of perfection…

She was a virgin.

Just the thought of her innocence made him once again
achingly hard.

And he could not stop thinking about her, or him and her
together. And Lavinia’s appearance did not make things easier. Her perfume, the
sway of her hips, her ample bosom straining against the deeply cut neckline
just reminded him of coition, and then, of course, he could only think about
the act…

With a virgin.

Julius dug his nails into his palms as he maneuvered his way
through the throng of party guests to the coat-room. He’d get past this
obsession. He always did. He’d move on to something more practical, something
more obtainable, something less virginal.

He’d have to settle for a whore tonight. It was obvious
Lavinia was sleeping with the young Ramsay—a fine choice, he had to admit, a
good-looking lad, dark hair, tall, slim build—just like he himself had been
when he had bedded her.

Julius took his coat politely from the attending servant and
hurried out to his usual brothel.

At precisely three-ought-four in the afternoon on Monday,
there was a knock on the front door to Dr. Christopher’s office.

“Grace Danby. How punctual,” Julius said cordially to the
slightly befuddled girl.

“I walked from the King’s Road. You want yer bob back?”

Julius let the disbelief linger only for a second. “No, my
dear girl. You keep the money.” Most likely she had walked all the way from the
East End and still held on to every penny he had given her. Dirty and
disheveled, her appearance spoke volumes about the poverty she lived in. She wore
the same tired coat and hat as the last time he’d seen her, although she had on
a different dress, certainly not new, a little worn, a little too big, a
hand-me-down probably given to her by Dr. Waddington’s housemaid. Julius hoped
the poor waif had at least spent some of his money on food.

“Grace, come into my examination room.”

She followed obediently.

Julius pulled the bell cord and, despite her debilities and
deafness, the ever-dependable housekeeper appeared directly. “Mrs. Jennings,
draw up a bath for our guest. Here, if you please. Use the medicinal tub.”

“And the douching device, sir?”

He paused for a moment. It was why the girl was there, wasn’t
it? A hypothesis that needed to be proved? “Yes.”

Mrs. Jennings shuffled out.

“Grace, please take off your coat and have a seat. Let’s
discuss my plans for you.”

The girl shed her tattered wool sacque and gently untied the
frayed ribbons of her faded velvet bonnet, then sat primly in the leather
office chair. Not properly pinned, her brown hair sagged to her shoulders.

Julius began to pace, organizing his thoughts. “I am a
doctor, a scientist. I treat patients. But sometimes I have ideas about
ailments and I wish to study these, to see if my hypothesis is correct.”

“’ipe—what?” She stared up at him with wide eyes the color
of dark amber, the color of a memory.

Julius smiled. “Hypothesis. It is like an idea about
something. You have the idea, but you don’t know if it is the correct way of
looking at things, so you need to test it.”

Grace watched in fascination as Mrs. Jennings returned with
a kettle and began boiling water on the small stove while the tub filled with
tepid water from the pipes.

“Have you ever seen running water in a house before, my
dear?”

“No, sir,” Grace said with wonder.

“Well, before you get into the bath, I will need you to
answer a few questions.”

“Yes, sir.” Grace dutifully returned her attention to him.

“Are you a virgin?”

The girl was utterly taken aback. She blushed and looked
around confusedly. She lifted her head and bit her lip. “No, sir.”

“And when you were with a man, did you find the experience
pleasurable?”

Her face flushed beet red. She glanced over at Mrs.
Jennings, who was, as usual, unconcerned about the interview and far more
concerned with the temperature of the bathwater.

“I reckon.”

“So, you would say ‘yes’?”

“Yes.”

“Think back to when you were last with a man and it was
pleasurable. Was it as nice as the experience with Dr. Waddington’s machine?”

Grace looked bewildered but then began to consider the
question put to her. “I think the machine was nicer.”

Julius grinned.

“Dr. Christopher, the bath is ready. I’ll take my leave now.”
Mrs. Jennings padded slowly across the wooden floor and creaked out, closing
the door behind her.

“Take off your clothes, Grace.”

The girl gave him the most enchanting look of astonishment,
then slowly began to disrobe. She knew he was watching, he did not pretend he
was not. It seemed she liked the attention, and why wouldn’t she? He was not an
unattractive man, although perhaps twice her age. Somehow, she made the act of
divesting herself of her shabby clothing in a medical office profoundly erotic.

And when she was utterly nude, she stood unabashed before
him, a magnificent specimen of young womanhood in her physical prime.

“Step into the bath.” His voice was unwittingly hoarse with
desire. He stripped off his frock coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves, then
drew up a chair alongside the tub, adjusting the fullness in his crotch before
he sat down.

With the water gently lapping around her beautiful figure,
caressing her breasts and startling her nipples to excitation, Grace looked as
if she were in sensual heaven. “I never ’ad such a treat before.” She sighed
artlessly.

She did not, could not know how intensely she was affecting
Julius with her alluring blend of inexperience and experience enhancing her
youthful nudity. He ran his hand along her thigh under the water, softly
stroking the pale skin back and forth. When she adjusted her hips, he knew she
had succumbed to his touch.

He reached between her legs and found her plump with desire,
sticky with arousal. He inserted a finger, then two, slowly pulling them in and
out, feeling her muscles react. She gasped, then exhaled a little mewl.

“Grace, when a man is inside you it is very pleasing, is it
not?” His tone was as gentle as his ministrations.

“Yes,” she breathed, gazing up at him with those bewitching
yet innocent eyes.

“And can you spend like this? If I were to continue to do
this, would you reach your sensual climax?”

Her head fell back to rest on the small pillow hooked to the
edge of the tub. “Yes.”

Julius moved his fingers to caress her stunningly erect
clitoris. “And if I were to continue to stroke you here, would you also spend?”

“Yes, oh, yes,” was the euphoric answer.

Julius withdrew his hand. “And would the two experiences be
the same?”

The look of annoyance from Grace was fleeting before she suddenly
remembered why she was there. “No, sir.”

“No? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Can you explain it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, is one better than the other?”

“They’re…I dunno, they’re just different. Like with a bloke,
it’s just nice ’aving ’im there, you know? ’is body an’ such. Maybe ’e’s warm
an’ ’e likes to mug a bit. But with meself, I can think about anyone I want.”

“By yourself?” Julius was flummoxed. “You mean when you
masturbate, er, frig yourself? So, men don’t touch you there?” He placed a firm
finger on her clitoris.

“No, sir. I touch meself there. I mean maybe a gent or two’s
found the spot. But they really don’t know what to do with it.”

“Do you touch yourself often?”

“Well, I don’t rightly know—”

“Every day? Every week?” Julius tried not to sound too
enthusiastic.

“Well, not when I’m ’aving me courses. An’ not every day.
But more ’n just once a week.”

“And why do you frig yourself, Grace?”

She looked at him with curious confusion. “’Cause it’s nice,”
she admitted softly.

“Not because you’re feeling poorly or upset or frustrated?”

“Well, then I think I might want to ’ave meself a good cry
instead. Or a drink o’ gin, donchya think?”

Julius grunted his concurrence as he considered this
information. The girl admitted that the stimulation of her clitoris was a
purely sexual act—that statement alone went against current medical
assumptions. She achieved sexual satisfaction with men and also alone with
herself, each experience, by her own admission, different from the other. He would
need to determine if the girl ever suffered from anything resembling so-called
hysteria or if she was able to fend off such feelings of frustration. And did
she need the company of men to maintain a level of satisfaction or could she
manage on her own?

His frustration mounted as disorganized thoughts bombarded
him. He needed a bit more time to structure his study, develop his methodology.
But at the moment, he had a very lovely young woman nude and aroused in a tub
before him. Science would have to wait.

He dragged over the douching device already filled with warm
water.

“Spread your legs, Grace. Put one over the edge of the tub.
Yes, that’s right.”

She lay spread before him. He placed the nozzle of the
douche in the tub and turned the machine on. Bubbles from the force of the jets
formed in the water. Julius moved the nozzle to hover over Grace’s clitoris.

She jerked with a yelp when she felt the contact of the jet
on her sensitive nub.

“Shh, shh,” he calmed her, “let me. Just feel it.” He once
again positioned the jet near her clitoris.

She closed her eyes, taking in the sensual assault, rocking
her hips, then pushing them closer to the intense flow of water, moaning at the
heightened sensation. Her whole body writhed, splashing, her fingers gripping
the edge of the tub.

Julius was rock hard. He squeezed his cock with his free
hand.

Her moans turned to cries, drowning out the humming of the
machine. He moved the jet closer until the full force of it was directed at her
clitoris.

Grace thrust her pelvis against the jet and let out a long
wail. A moment later, she lay panting in the lapping water.

Julius turned off the device and removed his hand from the
tub and the girl. His other hand released his tormented prick.

“And would you like such a bath whenever you wanted, Grace?”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a relaxed smile. “If you please,
sir.”

“Good.” Julius swatted her thigh. “You stay here as long as
you need. Relax, clean up. I’ll have Mrs. Jennings bring you some tea.” He left
to go frig himself in the water closet.

* * * * *

“Very fine luncheon, Dr. Christopher,” remarked a sated
Nicholas as he leaned back in his chair. “What did you call it again?”

“Vegetarian,” the doctor said with pride.

“Ah, yes. I have heard of that movement.” Nicholas glanced
over at the servant patiently waiting against the dark oak wainscoting of the
dining room. Grace, as she was called, was rather pretty, young and timid.
Somehow not what he had expected Dr. Christopher to have as a maid. He had
learned a lot about the doctor during lunch and found him rather particular and
exacting. The type of man who would have a cantankerous former schoolmistress
for a servant instead.

“A bit radical for some in our profession, Ramsay. I keep a
small garden with some produce specific to our climate.” He sipped his coffee
in a manner as refined as the gilded decoration of his French porcelain
demitasse. “I’m sure you have seen wonderful gardens in your travels?”

He had regaled Dr. Christopher with stories of his exotic
journeys and the state of medicine in foreign lands. “Oh yes. A stunning
variety of fruits in the Near East. Have you also been?”

“I have. I was a bit younger than you are now. I do agree
that travel opens the mind to new possibilities, new methods of living, new
ways of seeing the world. Really, every scientist should make an effort to see
as much of the world as possible. The Grand Tour should not be just for
artists.”

Both men chuckled.

“And now we are finished,” Dr. Christopher rose from the
dining table, “I should like to take you to the examination rooms. I have done
some rearranging on account of your possibly joining me.”

“You make me feel like an honored guest rather than a
colleague, sir.”

As they passed the servant the doctor murmured, “Thank you,
Grace,” with a touch of affection. Nicholas glanced at the girl again and saw
her blush. Clearly she was not just a servant. The revelation was a little
surprising. Dr. Christopher also seemed the type to have an erudite and refined
mistress. Someone like Lavinia.

They walked downstairs to the offices on the ground floor.
One examination room was next to the stairs but Dr. Christopher led them into
the opposite room. “It’s larger than the other, not by much,” he explained. “This
will be your office.”

Nicholas looked around, marveling to himself at every turn.
There was a padded table for patients, a dressing area behind a folding screen,
a children’s corner with toys and books, a magnificent carved oak desk, ample
cabinets and counters. Every surface was polished and spotless, every object in
its proper place.

“This is too much, Dr. Christopher, sir,” Nicholas
stammered.

“Nonsense, Ramsay.” Dr. Christopher patted Nicholas on the
back. “To be frank, if I may, if you’ve been taken under Lavinia’s wing, then
you must be a very studious, responsible and loyal young man.”

Nicholas shifted on his feet nervously. It was the first
time Dr. Christopher had brought up their mutual friend.

“You needn’t be embarrassed, my boy. I know you’re sleeping
with her.”

The admission was more than a little shocking. “Did she tell
you this?” If she had, Nicholas would have to have a talk with her about
discretion.

“Good God, no! She’s an impeccably discreet woman. However,
you are just her type and she would not be wasting time with such a handsome
young man if she were not bedding him. I dare say you could not do better.”

“Thank you, sir.” Nicholas did not know how else to respond.

“And what are her intentions for you?”

Nicholas was under no illusions that he was the first
protégé in Lavinia’s life, but it was disconcerting that Dr. Christopher knew
so much about his relationship with the lady.

“My career, sir, to get me established in London. And,” he
lowered his voice, “to find me a wife.”

That brought a grin to Dr. Christopher’s face. “Good! Very
good.” He seemed genuinely pleased. “You’ll learn quite a bit about wives
working here.” He indicated a chair by the desk. “Have a seat.”

Dr. Christopher paced slowly, his head down, stroking his
goatee before he steepled his hands under his chin to collect his thoughts. “Most
of your patients will be young mothers with ill children. The children may not
be terribly ill, but these young women have absolutely no idea how to handle
such things. They’re practically children themselves, some of them. It’s basic
care, you’ll know what to do in no time.