Read Online Parlor Games by Leda Swann - Free Book Online Page A

“Time!”
    The girl darted away from him and skipped around the room in victory, her breasts bouncing in the gaslight.
    The pouter pigeon groaned as Mrs. Erskine approached to remove the blindfold. “Maggie, you are a cruel wench to torment me so.”
    Maggie stopped dead. “You knew who I was all along,” she accused him.
    “Of course I did.”
    “Then why didn’t you say so?” she asked with a pout. “Didn’t you want to win my company for the evening?”
    He stood up again, his sight restored, and surreptitiously adjusted his trousers as he moved toward her. “Your breasts were too delicious. I had rather lose the game than guess your name and give up the taste of you a scant second too early.”
    Maggie giggled, her hurt vanity appeased. “You are a flatterer,” she said, allowing him to take her arm.
    “And you are a tormentor. You know how to whet a man’s appetite and leave him hungering for more. Will you let me taste you again?”
    In reply, she simply giggled again and led him to one of the outer sofas.
    Mrs. Erskine chose the next victim, Sir Richard, and bound him to the chair, blindfolding him securely. A sweeping glance through the room and her eyes lit on Polly, who came forward to stand before the corpulent politician.
    As soon as Mrs. Erskine overturned the hourglass, Polly grabbed Sir Richard’s hand and sucked his index finger, taking it all the way into her mouth and slowly withdrawing it again.
    Sir Richard grunted, whether in pleasure or impatience Sarah couldn’t tell. Though she had grown up in a country vicarage, she had never learned the art of translating the speech of pigs.
    Polly released his finger, moved in front of him to stand astride his knees and lifted her skirts over his head. When her skirts were at their highest point Sarah plainly saw, for the briefest of moments, that Polly wore nothing underneath.
    Sir Richard’s hands moved under Polly’s skirt and, with a sudden movement that nearly caused Polly to topple, he pulled her toward him.
    The gentlemen cheered and called out encouragement to him when Polly arched her back and let out a moan of pleasure. Sir Richard’s hands and head were plainly busy underneath Polly’s skirts.
    Sarah put her hands over her eyes, spreading her fingers the tiniest bit so she could still see through them. It seemed there was to be no end to the debauchery she would have to witness in Mrs. Erskine’s house.
    What Sir Richard was doing under Polly’s skirts she didn’t like to conjecture, but Polly certainly seemed to be enjoying it. As the sands in the hourglass ran inexorably out, Polly writhed and moaned under his attentions, her head thrown back and her eyes closed as if in the throes of ecstasy.
    The room held its collective breath as the last grains of sand in the hourglass slithered toward the funnel. With uncanny timing, Sir Richard let out a muffled “Polly!” just as the last grains fell.
    Polly squeaked with delight at being guessed and lifted her skirts to release Sir Richard’s head. With a sly look, she turned toward the audience of gentlemen and lowered her skirts a tad too slowly, affording the entire room a view of her neatly trimmed bush.
    Sir Richard released the blindfold himself and stood, Polly’s juices clearly visible on his chin. “I believe I have won your company for this evening,” he said as he pulled her away to a darker corner of the room. Polly followed him with a squeak and a giggle, not at all loath to oblige.
    Mrs. Erskine walked through the crowd of gentlemen to choose the next player. Though Tom and Sarah were standing toward the back of the crowd, she bypassed the eager gentlemen at the front and took Tom by the hand. “Let us see how you perform, Mr. Wilde,” she challenged him.
    He allowed himself to be led to the chair where he was duly blindfolded.
    As soon as his sight was obscured, Mrs. Erskine took Sarah by the elbow and propelled her inside the circle of watching men. “Mr. Wilde