T

hen she placed a hand on each side of my face, very gently and brought her lips to mine, but not quite touching. I felt a sudden spark from mouth to mouth - a tiny bolt of lightening as it were - a quite unique experience in my life, I can tell you. She moved back away for a moment and her grey eyes registered surprise too. Then she smiled and kissed me decisively.

Reverend Halifax, I was not a married man and so of course I knew very little of women, or at least certainly, I had not in quite a while, when this kiss occurred. And so perhaps I can be forgiven for not breaking off immediately. She made a little sound - a strange combination of whimper and sigh and pressed her generous bosom to my chest. I could feel my own animal nature rising in response to the feminine pressure, and the longing that she took no pains to hide. I was rather alarmed, I do confess. No woman had ever demonstrated such an apparent need for my affections - a veritable hunger for me. I was quite convinced that women did not, could not feel the same lustiness that men did, but this woman certainly did. I could not help but respond to such desire, it was most flattering. And when she pressed my hand to her right breast, and I felt the warm round flesh and then the hard little tip through the soft muslin of her gown, I was on the verge of sweeping her up and carrying her off to the bedroom. Or even, dare I say? Laying her down on the bare wooden floor of the green-house.

Luckily one of the Irish working men in the employ of the green-house architect, Cassidy by name, burst onto the scene with a hearty "Top o'the evenin" and fetched up some of the tools of his trade that he had forgotten. That was my lucky chance to step back from my insistent amoureuse. Cassidy left as quickly as he had arrived, and so it was only the two of us again. Betsy looked at me expectantly, and at the moment, she was a pretty picture indeed. Her flushed cheeks, womanly figure, the honey-russet hair falling loose about her shoulders and down her back, combined with the look of keen desire or even - forgive the seeming conceit but it is the truth - worship in her eyes made her appear more attractive than ever I had seen her. I almost succumbed to my warming blood, but mastering myself, I turned and fled towards the lane. I looked over my shoulder once as I hurried, and she stood, lips parted, wide-eyed, arms raised slightly, as if in expectation of my immediate return. But I turned away and did not look back again.

(To be continued...)