Midnight at the Villa Diodati

I met their Prime Minister, the Earl of Liverpool, I met their Prince Regent, for their King was mad. I met my husband's family and many others and then came that letter. The invitation.

"It's from George, by god," Sylvester had said, reading in front of the fire in our London Townhouse on a chilly spring morning. "He's in Geneva all summer, taken a villa on the lake don't you know. Percy's with him, and Mary. Damn fools, disgraceful business, that. Percy should never have run away with her but he always did have his head in the clouds. Here we are. What do you say to this my dear? George has invited me to join him for as long as I like. And by god, Auden is there. Last I heard he was supposed to be in Brussels as secretary to Sir Charles Stuart. George says he's married. Fellow must've eloped or something. No parents in their right mind would allow their daughter to marry Auden."

"What is wrong with this Auden?" I had asked.

My dear Sylvester had looked up, grinning. "Crazy as a loon. Mad poet, madder than George or Percy and without a jot of their talent. I say, you wanted to see some of Europe, Li-hua. Let's do it, by god. Stop in Brussels, buy a carriage, travel across France to Geneva, stay the summer and on to Italy for the winter. Visit Rome and Naples. See some of the old Roman things you asked about."

"This George doesn't know you're married, Sylvester," I'd said, examining the barrel of the dueling pistol I was cleaning. I did love these new english pistols Sylvester had bought for me. Beautiful weapons, so much better than those made in China and I was practicing by shooting the wicks of flaming candles without disturbing the candles. The barbarian servants did not find it amusing but Sylvester's friends did.

"It don't signify my dear," Sylvester said. "Old friend. We were at Harrow together. George is free and easy and Claire's there too. Although she shouldn't be. You'll like Mary and Claire. Not sure about Auden but he's a devilish fine looking fellow. Adonis personified. God help his wife, whoever she is. What do you say?"

"I'd like to see some of France and Italy," I said. "If you care to go, of course I'd like it."

"I'll write immediately and let George know. We can leave in a fortnight." My Sylvester had looked up, smiled, beckoned me to his lap. "Bring your book, my love," he'd murmured in my ear. "George, Percy, Mary, even Claire, they're all believers in free love, they're going to enjoy our visit. You'll certainly be able to teach Mary and Claire a thing or two."

He'd chuckled and I'd taken that chuckle as an invitation to continue our study of that book for we were barely half way through.

"Free love," I'd murmured as my dear Sylvester worked at my dress. "What is this free love?"

"Never mind," Sylvester had murmured. "I'll explain later," and I didn't at all as my hands clutched at him in desperate excitement for he had swung me up and around to take his place in the chair he'd been sitting in and my silk sam-foo trousers were somehow around my ankles and then off and dear Sylvester's hands parted my legs, resting the backs of my knees on the arms of the chair and he was gazing raptly at my jade gate.

"You're so beautiful, my dearest Li-hua," he had murmured as my hands ruffled his hair.

His hands rested on my knees, holding me there while my face blushed bright pink. He smiled, his eyes dropping to look at my sex. I wanted to moan as he looked at me, feeling my own excitement rising quickly as his eyes looked at me there. Watching him kneeling in front of me, his hands resting on my knees, holding my legs apart and I looked back and moved, peeling my silk jacket off so that I was naked for him.

Naked, and I cupped one of my breasts with one hand, stroking my nipple with my thumb while my other hand slid down over my stomach to slowly touch myself, feel my own wet excitement. Lightly brush my clitoris as he watched me, teasing myself, making myself gasp with pleasure. Looking down, I could see myself where I was spread so wide for his eyes, my labia so pink and swollen, wet, glistening under the light.

"You're beautiful, Li-hua," Sylvester breathed, his hands sliding up to rest on my inner thighs, rest on my skin at the juncture of my thighs. I shivered, stifled a moan, but when his thumbs brushed the length of my labia, I had to moan. I couldn't stop myself.

"Oooohhhhhhh." Then "Ooooooohhhhh" again as his thumbs gently parted me, exposing my inner lips, my entrance, so wet, so wanting him. There were no words for how I felt in that moment, there was nothing but unadulterated sensation flooding my body, knowing that he was looking at me, seeing me. Knowing that he thought I was beautiful, knowing that he loved me. Knowing, as he lowered his head slowly, that he was going to kiss me there.

A moment of shivering anticipation and suspense and then he did, his lips brushed against me, his tongue slid along me, slid up to lap at my fingertips where I touched myself, where I was still lightly teasing and circling my clitoris. He blew a cool breath across me where I was so hot and wet.

"Ooohhhhhh, Sylvester.... Sylvester." My hand moved, lifted to rest on his head, stroke his hair as his tongue slid wetly over me, as he sucked my clitoris with his lips and stroked it with the tip of his tongue.

"Aaaahhhhhh....:" Both hands clutched at his head, holding him. My head fell backwards, banged on the wall of the fitting cubicle. I didn't care, all I could do was stay where I was, limp, helpless, wide open, feeling his mouth on me and he'd learnt to do this so well, better even than Father's Second Wife.

"Uuuuughhhhhh." Feeling one finger ease gently into me, slide up inside me as his tongue lashed me, teased me, taking me higher and higher.

"Li-hua, my princess, my darling princess." His mouth lifted from me, his words vibrating through me as his finger explored inside me, his thumb on my clitoris now, stroking that swollen little nub, circling, touching, making me shudder, unable even to moan, my mouth wide open, working, no sounds coming out.

"You're mine, Li-hua, you're all mine."

"Yes," I managed to gasp, "yes ... yes I am ... all yours ... I'm all yours Sylvester." My darling barbarian. My love.

"I love you, Li-hua." His finger eased out from inside me, his mouth returned to me, his tongue sliding along the inside of my labia, flicking downwards, then up the other side.

"Nnnngggghhhhhh." My hips jerked, my thighs tensing, my hands holding his head, pushing myself against his mouth, feeling his fingertip tracing my vaginal opening as his tongue slid over me, taking me to the brink of my orgasm and holding me there .... Holding me ... holding me so that my breath caught ... I gasped ... my breath caught ... what he was doing to me .... Oh ... ohhhh Sylvester... Sylvester... I was going to die. I was going to die.

He pushed two fingers inside me.

"Aaaaagghhhhhhhh." I died. I did. My back arched, I cried out, my hips moved on their own, jerking wildly, my body shuddering, my hands clutching his head as his fingers inside me rubbed me somewhere that was perfect ... so perfect as his tongue slid over and around my clitoris and I didn't just think I was going to die. I was dying. I was, his tongue tracing circles of ecstasy around my clitoris, his two fingers pushed inside me stretching me, taking me to the limit. Taking me over.

Now I was coming, my orgasm taking me in thick hot golden waves, bucking against his mouth, on his fingers, on and on and on in an endless haze of sensation that broke through my body, leaving me a mass of molten quivering jelly barely able to breathe. So good, what he'd done to me was so good and I loved him, I loved him so much and I had no way to put that love into words. Instead, my hands stroked his hair, stroked his head slowly as I struggled to breathe again, my body glowing.

His face lifted, his lips wet with me and his arms encircled me, he lifts me easily and he lays me on the floor before the fire and he was naked, his skin white in the fire light and he found me and entered me in one long thick slide that went on and on and on.

"Sylvester ... I love you, Sylvester," I moaned and I was melting on him.

"All of it," I moaned. "I want all of it in me." He's always slow and gentle, he doesn't want to hurt me, he wants it to be good for me and it is, it's so good and I love him so much. He's moving, easing himself slowly into me and my sex wants him so much. I want him so much, all of him and I'm panting, my breathe sobs from me, my hands clutch at his back and I give myself to him, moaning, sobbing, wide-eyed, surrendering myself to my blue-eyed barbarian as he takes me.

"I love you, Li-hua," he breathed, his cock easing gently in and out and it was so good that I wanted to push myself back onto him and just feel all of him inside me at once but I can't move, I can't, I just want to lie where I am and surrender myself to him while he takes me and I wish he would. I wish he'd take me hard.

"Sylvester," I sob, "I love you Sylvester." All of him is inside me. All of him. He's pushed up against me and it's so good like this with his weight one me and I draw my knees a little further back until they clutch at his ribs, trying to give him more of me. I love him taking me like this, his body on mine, riding me, pushing up against the backs of my thighs and my butt and his hands pinning mine above my head and his cock inside me, sliding, thrusting, moving in and out of me slowly, tenderly.

"Li-hua?" he asks, not stopping, and I know he's careful but I don't want sareful, I want hard and fast and eager. I want him to take what he wants from me, I want him to use me and enjoy me and I moan.

"Yes," I gasp, "yes, it's so good ... don't stop ... don't stop." For god's sake don't stop. On our wedding night he stopped, half way through. Stopped and asked me if I was alright and I was almost there and I didn't want words then, I just wanted to be fucked. I don't want words now either. Well, not talking anyhow. Maybe if he told me he was going to fuck me hard. I want that. He could talk all he liked if it was to tell me that.

"Do it harder," I gasp. "Please, harder."

"Are you sure?" he says. "I don't want to hurt you." He never does and I wouldn't care if he did. I like being fucked hard. Fucked rough. I think I'd like that too but I don't know because Sylvester never has and I wish he'd at least try it once. I could always ask him to stop if I didn't like it and I know he would, right away. But he's never tried. I'd like him to try.

"Please," I sob, "do it harder." Maybe he will.

"Ohhhh..." He does, not as hard as I want but it's good. "Yes," I sob. "yes, Sylvester... ohhhh ...ohhhh ... ohhhh god, yes ... yes..." It's good. It's really good and he's moving harder and faster. His cock is thrusting into me now, not gentle slides and I love it I love it I love it.

"Oooohhhhhhh." I squeal, clutch at him and god, that was hard enough to thump me into the floor and I loved it.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, Li-hua, was that too hard?" He stops.

"Don't stop ... don't stop...."

"I love you, Li-hua," he says and he grins, he's teasing me and I don't want teasing.

"Sylvester," I moan as he eases up inside me. "Sylvester." I know he loves me and I smile up at him, happy that he's enjoying me the way he wants and little ripples of pleasure wash through me as I lie beneath him and my hands stroke his back, his shoulders, his arms. My feet ride his hips as he moves.

"Fuck me," I moan, arching up beneath Sylvester, hands clutching at his shoulders, feet kicking. "Yes ...yes ... fuck me ... fuck me, Sylvester ... fuck me hard."

"Uhhhh .... Uhhhh ....uhhhh...." Sylvester does and I love it and I'd like it harder but I'm not pushing it.

"Li-hua!" Sylvester grunts, thrusting. Oh my god, hard! Yes!

"Uhhhh," and he drives me into the carpet. "Uhhh ... uhhhh ....uhhhh." He's grunting, thrusting, he's getting carried away and the room is filled with the wet sounds of his cock moving inside me. The slap of his skin against mine. His grunts, his heavy breathing, my sobs and gasps and moans as he has me.

His eyes lookinto mine, his thrusting is staccato now, he's losing control completely and I know he's close and my sex clamps down on him. I cross my ankles behind his back. I squeeze him and I arch my back as he humps into me and he's there, he's climaxing and his cum is spurting into me as his cock throbs and spurts and throbs and spurts and I climax on him and afterwards, lying on the floor beneath him, still breathing hard, glowing with that excitement, his cock still inside me but shrinking now, I smiled as my husband looks down at me.

"Would you like to do it again?" I breathed, squeezing him inside me.

"I don't think I could," he said.

"Lie on your back, Sylvester darling," I said, guiding him off me and I love that feeling as he slips from inside me and as he does, my head moves downwards towards his softening manhood and I smiled and kissed the tip gently, licking him clean, sucking on him as my hand stroked him and I knew this summer trip by carriage across France to this Geneva would be fascinating and exciting and everything would be new. Speaking of new, there were still some things in my book that we had yet to try and I smiled because he was already reacting to my mouth.

"Sylvester," I said, lifting my head and he saw that smile and his lips curved and my heart beat faster....

"Li-hua?" he asked.

"Look," I said, holding his erection upright and he laughed.

I'd so enjoyed that trip across France, sightseeing, taking our time, a fortnight in Paris, a few days here, a few days there and it was early June by the time we arrived in Geneva and it was indeed beautiful on that sunny day of early summer. The deep blue of Lake Geneva, a blue such as I had never seen before, blue as the heavens which those waters reflected, as I would say to Mary after we at last met. The soaring snow-tipped mountains, the green countryside, the cleanliness of the streets and the inn within which Sylvester had procured rooms for us.

"George left a message for us, my dear. He says the villa he's taken is at Cologny, it's a village outside Geneva and we're to stay there," he said. "I'll send a messenger with a note tomorrow to expect us in the evening."

And so he had, but the messenger had returned early in the afternoon with a note from this George, accompanied by his coach, a massive monstrosity that looked more suited to that corpulent Prince of Sylvester's rather than to a friend of my Sylvester's. Fortunately, Weitang had already packed my luggage and Sylvester's manservant, Bolton, had taken care of his so that we were ready to leave within a few hours, leaving our carriage and horses at the inn with the carriageman and groom.

"Tell me again about this George person, my love?" I asked, for over the course of our journey, I had been far more interested in the countryside and the sights, thinking to myself that possibly I was the first chinese person to visit these far barbarian lands.

"George?" Sylvester said, balancing himself as the boots knelt to help him on with those Hessians, and I did like these boots the barbarian men such as my husband wore. I liked them even more when those glossy black Hessians were all that he wore. "He's an old friend of mine. We were at Harrow together, played in the first eleven with him, cricket you know. Went down to Cambridge together. Bit of writer and poet don't you know. Rather well known now. Haven't seen him since we were travelling around the Mediterranean together before Pater got me on to old Amherst's mission."

"Poet?" I asked. This house visit might be more interesting than I had at first thought. I had not met anyone of any real culture since we had left China after our marriage. "Is this George a master of calligraphy?" For poetry and calligraphy were of special interest to me.

"Ah, more in the English style, my dear Li-hua," my husband said. "Haven't read any of his rubbish myself but I understand the ladies all swoon over him. Percy too, and Mary's quite the little author herself."

He smiled down at me fondly. "I can see your interest, my dear. But be warned, they're sure to quizz you excessively on the orient."

"This sounds marvellous," I said, almost jumping up and down.

"Well, don't be surprised by their behavior, my dear. They're odd birds," Sylvester said.

"No indeed, I promise," I said, little knowing quite how surprised I would be.

"Are you sure this is where we're supposed to be going, Sylvester?" My hand clutched at my husband's more than a little nervously as the coach jolted through a series of ruts, hearing the whip crack as the coachman urged the horses on.

Even on these rutted tracks I did so enjoy these European coaches with their springs and cushioned seats. So much more comfortable than the unsprung carriages in which I had been used to being conveyed in, back in China, escorted by my father's guards always. Here, there were no guards to escort us, only Bolton and my beloved husband and still, after so many months of the intimacy of marriage, I would find myself startled that this foreigner with his pale white skin and strangely colored hair and eyes was my husband.

"Relax, Li-hua." My husband gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "This is the coachman George sent for us. Of course he knows the way."

"Ohhhhhh." Lightning flashed, the darkness became as day so that I glimpsed long tendril-like branches lashing towards our carriage from the trees lining the roadside, if you could in fact call this rutted track up which we lurched a road. At time like this I wished I had never left the civilization and comfort of China for this benighted Europe. Thunder crashed again, suddenly, so that I jumped, reaching for the sword I had placed beside me against my husband's protests.

"You're not going to need that, my dear," Sylvester had said as he'd handed me into the carriage in the hotel courtyard, eying my twin swords and the pair of flintlock pistols in their case that I'd had my maid carry to the carriage. "We can leave those in the luggage on the roof."

"I'm not going anywhere without them, Sylvester," I'd smiled. "You do remember that little stop in Ceylon?" Where poor Sylvester had been attacked by a Ceylonese kinduri, a vicious succubus with a maniacal hatred for men who'd waylaid my beloved when he'd stepped into the garden of the residence where we were guests. His intention had been to smoke a cigar, but when a man meets a succubus, his fate is sealed.

Fortunate I had been, for, missing my beloved sorely, I had stepped out myself into that garden. Had I not, I would have been a widow within mere weeks of my marriage, for Sylvester had been entranced. That kinduri, in the guise of a Ceylonese maiden, had been leading my beloved into the woods by the hand and in jealousy and rage, I had drawn the short sword from my sash and attacked.

The right response for the wrong reason, for I had not know that maiden was a kinduri and if she had indeed been what I thought she was, she would have been dead at that first slashing cut. As it was, my attack had half-severed the head and distracted that succubus long enough to release my husband from that enthrallment whilst also revealing the true nature of that evil being as it ran into the night. Horrified, I had paled with shock even as my beloved had fallen to the verdant grass on which we stood. His apologies when he had recovered had brought joy and love to my heart.

"Perhaps you're right, my dear." My beloved remembered also, and he had eased his mild protests and merely watched as dear loyal Weitang carefully placed my swords and pistols within the carriage. "Better safe than sorry."