I was Elizabeth

Author Notes

Hey guys, just to let you know, I still own everything. This is all a result of my sick twisted mind and the numerous things I have come to research and love.

So now that’s out of the way I can move on and say thank you to Paris for her review!!! We should all take a note from her, JenMK1216, and Valvamcat’s (sp) book and review!!! You don’t know how good it makes me feel, and if I feel good the plot bunny feels productive. So let us all follow their example and feed the plot bunnies in our authors’ head’s! J


I would also like to point out that this chapter might seem a bit longer than the others. I hope this doesn’t bother you all. I just didn’t want to cut this chapters meaning short, ~cough~ ~lemon~ ~cough~ , or leave you frustrated with a cliffhanger.


Anyway…on with the show!!!

Chapter 4:

Problems Bourne


Dorian, as always, was true to his word. His valet, Antonio, arrived with the sum of his belongings shortly after breakfast. He was an odd little man, short of stature and great of girth. His hair was a thinning mop of brown hair that, though clean, had obviously been missing the attentions of a comb. He muttered to himself the whole while, his yellowing teeth flashing with every whispered syllable. He was hardly pleasing to the eye, and I wondered how Dorian, the most perfect stranger one could behold, would accept into his service such a disgusting example of a man.

After the immediate shock of his appearance wore off I had Maria show the peculiar man to his masters room. I watched as he waddled away, his form clinging close to the curious and disturbed figure of my maid. I could only shake my head in a sympathetic manner, after all, I would not want to be so close to a man such as he.

I had decided to put Dorian in one of the three guests rooms a floor below my own quarters and four doors down from the library. Even with the distance I could hear Antonio banging around. I tried my best to simply ignore the noise by burying my nose into the ledgers but lost hope when I found myself unable to keep the calculations straight inside my mind.

My curiosity overcame me and I took to the hall, marching with purpose towards the annoying racket. I approached the doorway and watched through the small crevice as the man put up blood red curtains. The effect of the fine cloth was both enchanting an eerie. The room was suddenly darker and the only light to come in was filtered through the material, casting a blood red glow throughout the room.

Yet, this was not the only change that was being made to the room. I found that at some point he had replaced the white comforter and sheets with black ones that shimmered in the crimson iridescence. The fresh flower I had Maria cut and place in the room, (in my best vase might I add), were now gone completely.

I was more than shocked by all the changes, I felt somewhat insulted and hurt by them. Was my tastes so poor that Dorian had planned in advance for such provisions? Did he think me unfashionable, incapable of properly decorating my own home? I could stand the slight no longer and promptly decided to gain answers from the unpleasant troll that was currently redesigning the room.

“What.Are.You.Doing?” I ground out surprising him so that he jerked the curtain rod from its hangers.

“Ahhh, madam, you frightened me!” he remarked, “The master has always had such dark tastes. He told me to switch all the fabrics and to hang the portrait from the study in here. He also told me to tell you to make out and itemized list and place it with me along with the key. He will leave the money with your maid as soon as he arrives.” He finished in a hurry, as if he had already predicted my questions.

“What time shall I expect your master expected in?” I replied not acknowledging Dorian’s request.

“I am not sure madam, the master keeps odd hours.” He replied, turning back to replace the curtain rods. “But if you would be so kind as to make the list…”

“Yes, and I will give it to him when I see him.” I interrupted.

“But my...my master wishes…”

“Here is the key,” I said withdrawing the bit of cold metal and placing it upon the nightstand. “tell your master I wish to speak to him at his earliest convenience.”

I turned to leave, ignoring his mumbled reply, and stormed out of the room. I really had no reason to be so affronted, but I was angry and I was going to be sure that Dorian explained himself immediately.


Daylight faded into moonlight and I had yet to hear from neither Dorian nor his valet Antonio. The hours had served to cool my truly unfounded anger. Now all I felt was embarrassment for my rash actions. I was once known for my temper but age and experience had taught me to reign it in. I could only hope that Antonio did not stress that particular element of our interaction. Lord only knew how I would explain it to Dorian, I could only imagine stuttering my way through a half-truth.

I quarantined myself in my quarters, infected with a massive attack of utter mortification, after dinner while I pondered the situation. I came to the conclusion that Dorian had not meant any offense by the actions. After all, I was well aware of how picky a man could be about his surroundings. Gregory, himself, had insisted on dark wood and fabric for his study. Dorian probably just had the same tastes. Besides, I was probably just overly sensitive.

I had to admit that the past month and a half had been more than taxing. It was not an excuse, by any means, but it was an explanation for my fragile emotional state; a very suitable and logical elucidation at that.

So it was with a reassured heart and cleansed conscience that I laid down on my bed. I was asleep just a few moments later, happily drifting through a world of happiness and love. But it was a slamming door that woke me only a few hours later, brutally forcing me back to reality with a start.

I sat straight up in bed, fear momentarily gripped my body and I felt unable to move. It seemed the small fact that I had a tenant had temporarily slipped my mind. But it wasn’t long before the realization dawned on me and as the knowledge flowed back to me I felt myself relax. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding while allowing my feet to drop to the floor. I was about to push myself out of the comfort and warmth of my bed when I was halted by another sound, a different sound.

I was so unused to the sound that I had to sit and think about where such a high pitched sound may have originated in my house, or what device Dorian may have hidden in his room. When an unfamiliar scent drifted up through the vent I knew immediately what was occurring in the room below my own.

The odd odor had an overpowering scent of flowers to it, it was a cheap scent, heavily laden with the aroma of roses. Yet, this was not the only thing I could smell, there was a deeper scent that flowed just beneath the perfume. I couldn’t immediately put my finger on it, but I knew when and where I had smelled it before.

The smell underneath the obviously female fragrance was that of male passion. I heard the noise a second time and new instantly what it was. The sound I was hearing was that of a female anxiously laughing. Dorian had brought home a woman and, if her perfume was any hint, she was a whore.

My mind reeled with this information, I could feel my heart race and my anger rise again. I, of course, knew that Dorian was unwed , nor had I heard that he had any understanding with any women. I also understood that men had their needs, but to bring a whore into my home?

I sat in bed, my foot dangling over the side. I wasn’t sure how to react, or whether or not I should react at all. Dorian had no responsibilities to me. He was only a new found acquaintance. I couldn’t even really call him a friend. I had no right to deny him such company.

‘Besides,’ I reasoned, ‘I had only been recently widowed. I should be grieving the loss of my husband, no matter how truly terrible he was. I should not be worrying about another man’s sexual affairs.’

So why was it that I felt so awful about Dorian’s visitor? Did I have affectionate emotions for Dorian? Could I be wishing that I were the one with him in the room below my own?

‘Certainly not!’ I declared to myself, only in my mind of course, and I swung my legs back under my blankets.

As I laid back down I kept telling myself that I did not truly care about Dorian’s activities. I decided that I was simply missing Gregory’s touch. Thought in the back of my mind I admitted to myself that I had never enjoyed my former husband’s sexual contact. But none-the-less I resolved to simply go back to sleep pretending that I had no knowledge of the goings-on beneath me.


The hours dragged on and I found myself unable to sleep, and though I tried all I could I found this to be next to impossible. The headboard and supporting posters of Dorian’s bed kept against the wall. The woman’s powerful voice drifted up through the floorboards, her passion echoed off my own walls as wave after wave of passion overcame her. I eventually decided that she was, in fact, a whore trained to be vocal for the pleasure of the man that was paying. I cringed at the thought and threw a pillow over my head.

As the night wore on my own room became drenched with the smells of cheap perfume and lust driven sex. It seemed that I was incapable of escape, so I sighed and allowed the entire experience to wash over me. I took in each moan, felt every vibration from the floor. It took me back to the times that I had spent with my husband. I realized that I had never experienced such things with Gregory. I had never uttered a sound of passion, never felt the bed move beneath our sweat-drenched bodies, never felt the lust or want that preceded a night full of endless sex. And for the first time I felt something awaken inside of me.

No, it wasn’t just my mind and senses that were participating in an act of voyeurism. My body became heated, my skin crawled with sensitive sparks that traveled from my fingertips to my toes. I could feel a strange new sensation settle into my groin, and in a moment of curiosity I allowed my hand to travel beneath my blanket.

The soft pads of my fingers brushed the light cotton that covered my stomach. The fabric felt rough and constricting to my body as I became enthralled with the feeling of my stomach pulling tight with anticipation. As I reached the hem of my nightgown I began to bunch it up in my hand. Every single inch of revealed skin began to tingle and burn in its freedom, and I allowed my hand to drift further down my excited flesh.

I allowed my fingers to brush thru the curly locks that adorned my pubic area as they traveled continuously downward. I inhaled sharply as my wandering digits sought out the precious spot between my thighs. Yet, a twinge of guilt gripped me as I began to feel my most secretive of spots. It was enough to cause me to still my hand in a moment’s hesitation, but my wet orifice cried out for attention as another sensuous moan drifted it up to surround me.

With one final breath I forced my fingers in between the velvety lips that concealed my most luscious organ. A wave of colored glory flooded my senses as a fresh heat exploded through my writhing figure. Pictures of Dorian thrashing against me flashed into my mind, his powerful muscles contracting with each thrust.

My fingers began to rub and grind against my swollen bud as the images grew more erotic. And, as if on cue Dorian’s voice drifted up from below me.

“Yes, Elizabeth, please don’t stop!” he wailed, “I want you just like this.”

I loved the way my name fell from his lips. It sounded as if he had been saying it, and the yearning behind it became my end. My ministrations grew more frenzies as the orchestra beneath me began to build in its intensity. A tight knot began to form in my lower abdomen forcing my free hand to push past its sister and plunge a willing digit into my dripping sex. I rubbed and pumped, both hands dancing to a beat that was intoxicating and overwhelming, and as I began to reach my pinnacle I heard Dorian call out again.

“God Elizabeth, I can feel you! You are so hot, baby. Let it come…let it go!”

It was all the encouragement that I needed and the knot instantly released and all the sweet juices flooded from my body. The release took my very breath away, my form rose from the bed as I cried out my joy to the ceiling. It was an emotion unlike any other that left me with a high I had never before reached.

And as the last spasms of delight left my body and the room below was abandoned to sudden silence I fell asleep wearing a smile. I passed the whole night blissfully unaware that the whore’s name hadn’t been Elizabeth.