Violet was pinning her hat on when a quiet tapping on the window alerted her to Orlando's arrival. Giving a couple taps in response, Violet took one last look at herself in the glass before turning to leave. As she opened the door, though, Violet was met with the stern-looking housekeeper, Mrs. Connolly, whose short stature somehow managed to block her exit. Not to be easily detoured, Violet continued to pull the door shut behind her, which put the two women right up against each other. Mrs. Connolly, unfazed, stood her ground.
"Is there something you need before I go, Mrs. Connolly? It is my night off, remember?"
"Are you off with the window washer again?" Mrs. Connolly had to look up slightly to interrogate.
"Yes, I am," Violet attempted to, politely, get around the little woman.
"Do not forget that you represent this house and its inhabitants wherever you go outside of here," Mrs. Connolly eyed Violet's perfectly proper evening attire disapprovingly, "Also do not forget curfew is nine o' clock. Any later and I hope you like sleeping outside in the cold."
"Yes, Mrs. Connolly. Now if you please I wouldn't like to keep my friend waiting," Violet replied curtly.
Mrs. Connolly took the smallest step aside to allow Violet's passage. Now in a huff, Violet kept her eyes forward to avoid any other interruptions. She had grown fond of these weekly excursions with Orlando and was not about to let that be ruined by someone else. Ever since he had photographed her, Orlando had been inspired by Violet's zest for life. They took walks everywhere, looking for inspiration for their next art session. Orlando wanted to do an entire exhibit based on women's pleasure, but neither of them quite knew how to undertake such an endeavor. Not to mention how to find a rich sponsor interested in Orlando's work.
The brief encounter with the surly housekeeper was forgotten once Violet saw Orlando, who always had a smile for her. His tall, sturdy personage awaited her presence in his usual spot, under the basswood tree. Violet noticed his formerly tattered frock coat had since been mended, most likely by his mother. Its charcoal color against his tawny skin made him look like one of those mysterious cads mothers always warned daughters about. However Violet knew Orlando to be none of the sort. On the contrary, for all his shocking artistic ideas, he was quite gentle. In him, she felt a kindred spirit, one also curiously in pursuit of passion. Once Violet was by his side, she looped her arm in his as they set off to their evening destination.
"I hope you will not be offended by tonight's surprise, but I couldn't pass up the chance," Orlando claimed excitedly.
"I think you know if would take a lot to offend me. What is it?" Violet chortled.
"There is a French film being shown in the Back Avenue's cellar."
"Sounds very secretive. How did you manage to get tickets?"
"It was a gift from a recent tryst. Quite unexpected actually," a grin slowly grew on Orlando's chiseled face.
"Ah, I see," Violet had made inferences about Orlando's natural proclivity towards men, though not aloud. "Is this not commonplace for you?"
"Not at all! Do you take me for a hedge whore?" Orlando looked taken aback until he let out a loud guffaw.
"No, my dear Orlando, I would never. I am merely jealous of someone else getting your attention," Violet flirted in spite of Orlando's possible persuasion.
"Ah, but you are my muse! My one and only. I would regret tarnishing you."
"Maybe I want to be," Violet countered.
Orlando stopped suddenly, mouth agog at what Violet had just said. She looked up at him, hands planted on her waist, without batting an eye in uncertainty. Ever since Mrs. James had returned, Peter's visits had lessened somewhat. Orlando still visited once done with the windows on Wednesdays, but they only were able to go out once a week. Violet knew these men admired her, but she wanted more. She wasn't just a statue to be looked upon, but a body to touch, to feel, to explore. Violet had been loved, however briefly; now she wanted to be used. She adored being his muse, but wanted to give him more; as muses were wont to do with their masters.
"Worse comes to worse, dear friend, I can always be polished after a good tarnishing," Violet winked as she took his arm to continue their jaunt.
"I am far less worried about you taking offense over tonight's entertainment now," Orlando laughed.
The rest of their walk to the secret cellar was spent more or less in quiet contemplation. While Violet delighted in conversation, she was not one to fear the depth of silence. Especially not when in the presence of Orlando, who, like a typical artist, could become suddenly quiet for some time. His muse imagined that was when a new idea had been conceived in his mind; the silence that followed allowed it to grow. She would've given much to know his thoughts, to provide further inspiration or guidance, but feared being a nuisance instead.
"At last we have arrived!" Orlando exclaimed as he guided the maid to the bar door.
Violet followed closely behind Orlando for fear she would lose him in the hustle and bustle of the bar. She noticed only a few other women present among the dimly lit room full of men. Orlando took her hand in his, so she could continue her observations. It was not a grand place, but there seemed to be a few middle class men there. Orlando led her to the bar where he nodded to the bar keeper who began to pour an ale.
"Would the lady like one as well?" the bar keeper asked.
Orlando looked questioningly at Violet, who met his gaze with a devilish grin.
"Whiskey for me, please," she ordered, then handed the artist a coin for it.
"You are endlessly surprising, Vi," Orlando declared after they had their drinks.
"I imagine it will pale in comparison to your surprise, which is...?"
"About to start actually," Orlando acknowledged the crowd around them beginning to head out towards the cellar door.
The two chums followed the crowd, then offered their tickets to the keeper at the door. The bar seemed bright in comparison to the cellar, which was only candle lit. People were sitting in rows, facing a wall with a white sheet across it. Further observation found a young man holding a Phantoscope, which made Violet gasp in excitement. She had only heard of them before, but never seen one. Surely the rest of the people here had seen a film before, but perhaps they weren't as commonplace as she thought.
"I should tell you, this isn't a film one would see in ordinary places," Orlando offered.
"Why is that?" Violet leaned in.
"It's not exactly as proper film-"
Before Orlando could offer anymore information, a hush spread over the crowd as the Phantoscope began to whir, then lit up the white sheet in front of them. Violet heard a few people gasp along with her, then a few nervous chuckles when the picture started to play. Under her breath, the maid read the title "Le Coucher de la Mariee," then looked puzzled at Orlando.
"It means, 'The Bride's Dilemma'," Orlando whispered in Violet's ear.
"I hope the whole picture isn't in French."
Now on the screen were two people, newlyweds, clearly from their somewhat chaste behavior. The husband seemed absolutely besotted with his new wife, he kept pawing at her clothing. He looked as if he were begging her to disrobe, but the wife was bashful. Occasionally, she would push him, gently, away; no doubt how her mother taught her to be on one's wedding night. The new wife gestured for her husband to go behind the screen so she could undress in private. Some men in the crowd began to whistle as the woman began to remove her many layers of clothing. When the insatiable husband began to peek around the screen for a look, Violet chortled along with the rest of the audience. Each time he tried to catch a glimpse of his wife's pearly skin, she would shoo him away, much to the watcher's chagrin. Fortunately, she keep up the demure, little burlesque until she was down to her corset and pantaloons.
"Do you think she'll get completely undressed?" Violet whispered in Orlando's ear.
"Is it not scandalous enough for you?" he teased back.
"I would adore being viewed in such a way."
"To have a room full of men watching you undress?" Orlando seemed more amused than surprised.
"That and maybe more...," Violet lifted her eyebrows mischievously.
Orlando looked pensive at this while they watched the rest of the film. Violet grew more interested in watching the audience around her. Discreetly as she could, Violet observed from the corner of her eyes, a couple kissing. It seemed the film had aroused their passion, though they were not alone. An older man nearby was rubbing himself, but tried to cover it with his hat when he caught Violet's eye. Violet should've been scandalized, but instead she winked at the man. The maid thought it would be a lot worse if he had his stubby member out in full view of the ladies present. Then again, she also wondered if this was simply part of the erotic film experience.
Everyone's eyes were still on the couple enjoying their wedding night, when Violet felt a new level of boldness overcome her. She gathered the fabric of her skirts between her legs until they felt firm against her aroused rosebud. Violet began to shift herself any way possible to figure out the best move for pleasure. It was not an easy task in a public setting, but that made it all the more enticing to try.
"What are you doing?!" Orlando gasped in her ear.
"Enjoying myself like everyone else," Violet rasped through gritted teeth, "maybe you should join me."
Without further discussion, Orlando, roughly, took Violet's narrow waist in his hands to position her on his lap now. The crowd was making such a ruckus over the film now, that no one noticed the two rebels in the very back. Orlando fluffed up Violet's petticoats, unbuttoned his trousers, and rubbed his firm truncheon against her wet cunny. Violet bit her lip when she felt the tip of him push against the opening betwixt her legs. Wanting more, Vi spread her legs further to allow all of him inside. She felt Orlando moan into her back, but was prevented from taking him in completely by his strong hands on her hips. The muse tilted her head back to rest against her master's.
"I know I am not your first choice, Orlando," Violet spoke softly, "but I could be your inspiration."
"You already are, Vi."
"Then make me your muse completely," Violet begged.
Orlando lessened his grip while Violet began the long descent down the artist's shaft. Any faster then the maiden would have screamed. Violet squeezed her eyes shut, knocked back the rest of her drink, then began to ride his pole. If she hadn't already been ruined, there was surely no hope for her cock lane after such a ride. The slight pain she felt subsided as her cunny grew acclimated to the size of its visitor. Orlando already felt close when Violet noticed the elder's eyes on her again. His eyes widened as Violet quickened her grinding; he knew what she was doing. When Violet noticed movement under his hat again, she gave him a devilish grin in return. "How exhilarating," she thought, "to be watched and used purely as an object." Just as she reached the pinnacle of bliss, Orlando forced her to stand while he pulled out.
Suddenly everyone else was standing and cheering, but not for them. The film must have ended on a climax as well for everyone seemed quite satisfied. Violet caught her breath while Orlando cleaned himself off behind her. When he was ready, he took her hand to lead her out of the cellar. They began the long walk home in silence at first. Violet looked up at Orlando, managed to catch his eye, when they both burst into laughter. Orlando picked up Violet like a child grabs a doll, then spun her around. The giggled throughout the walk back to Violet's until they were just outside the door. Orlando bowed grandly, kissed her hand, before bidding her adieu.
"We have much work to do next time," Orlando commanded as he walked away from her.
"Whatever you say, master," Violet bowed grandly back.