Savannah 07

"So pray sir, to that end maybe you could assist me with my skirt."

Strand was becoming like putty in her hands. She was so in control now and that was totally different to last time when he had directed everything. She was now running the show. As Amanda had learned in the creative and business circles in which she had mixed in London, a man's need for sex muddled his thinking and his mind, it misdirected his thinking and that gave the woman the upper hand. Amanda recognised that and intended to use it ruthlessly to her own advantage.

Strand had had many women. Like most Southern 'gentlemen' he had fucked large numbers of slaves of varying ages; it was almost a sport for men in his position. He regularly visited bawd houses and high class brothels, he had a wife, although sexual activity with her was rare, a number of long term mistress and, due to his very senior position in Georgian politics, he met many women, a sufficient number of which succumbed to his advances. In addition to those Strand had also developed a number of women into being his whores who he offered to his business, diplomatic and political contacts.

And now there was Amanda Williams.

She was different to most of the women he usually fucked. She was classier, slightly older, far more sophisticated and clearly much more experienced than the typical early thirty something married Southern belles he usually managed to bed. Strand was a chauvinist in every sense of the word. He was convinced of white supremacy and man's natural superiority over women. He was intellectually flawed, but his conviction, drive, focus and determination overcame many things and thus, he was used to getting his own way, being the leading person in a group and dominating the women he fucked; after all most were simply chattels that could be bought and sold.

Amanda was different and he knew that. Being almost as rich as he was placed her on a pedestal that few women in his experience ever reached; money was an enormous factor in his life. Her connections in both the South and Yankee land as he called it, her contacts overseas and the sophisticated life style she had enjoyed in England with the gambler, impresario and promoter Samuel Williams all combined to produce the kind of woman he rarely met and had never bedded before. In essence he recognised, but would never have admitted she had a level of intellectual, social and sexual sophistication far beyond his. If the truth was known, Strand was actually a little in awe of Amanda, but that was something no Southern 'gentleman' and rake could ever possibly admit.

Standing up and moving behind her and with shaking fingers he managed to undo the complicated set of buttons and bows that tied the masses of material of the skirt round her waist. That was pulled in to a remarkable twenty four inches by the tight corset and was accentuated by the bell shaped hoops from which Strand undid the skirt.

"Thank you kind sir," Amanda cooed, turning to face him as she pulled the yards of silk from the frame to stand before him in, what he could hardly believe, just her drawers, stockings and cream kid, ankle length boots. She fiddled the frame away from her, looked at him and looked into his eyes.

"Do you really think that the latter payments warrant you taking a commission mister Strand?" She asked as his lascivious stare ran up and down her body.

He could hardly believe that this genteel, educated woman who followed every element of decorum in her general behavior and way of life, could dress as she was.

Not only had she dispensed with any petticoats and her chemise but the remains of her underwear, her drawers and stockings were black and they were silk. Unlike most, well all really, he had seen in the past, Amanda's drawers were not baggy, but were tight and clung to her legs showing their shapeliness most clearly, something that until recently had been anathema to Victorian ladies.

"Mister Strand?" she reminded him.

"Oh God, Amanda, yes."

"Yes what sir?" she asked moving away towards the table and turning her back to him.

"Oh my fucking lord," he gasped.

Amanda's drawers were similar to all at the time in that they were effectively crotchless. Although joined to the waist band, each leg was separate so that her vagina was generally bare. More significantly to Strand, just as Amanda had calculated so was her ass. Usually the drawers would flap around, but these following the latest French fashion, were tight and clung to the round fullness of each of her cheeks. Being made from black silk they not only emphasized their delicious shape, but also created a perfect contrast to the whiteness of the smooth skin.

Again, unlike most American designs, these were also heavily decorated with black net and lace, round the waist band and the bottoms of each leg, both of which reached only just past her knees. She looked absolutely ravishing.

"You approve sir?"

"Oh, Amanda, you look magnificent."

"Thank you Oliver, have I dressed in the more... er... casual way you expected?"

"Oh yes, oh yes, yes, yes," he groaned walking over to her, his erection clearly straining up his podgy stomach inside his loosened trousers. He put his arms round her and went to kiss her.

"Pray sir we have unfinished business," she cooed ducking away from him and standing a few feet away leaning back against the dining table, which was still littered with the remnants of their dinner.

"Yes, madam, we do?"

"And your answer, sir?"

Strand gulped at what he was about to do, but he knew that he had to. "In light of the circumstances Missus Williams, I will waive my commissions on the remainder of the sale payments."

"Thank you Mister Strand, you are a true gentlemen and.....," she paused, looking deep into his eyes before turning her back on him, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table, thrusting her half covered backside out at him and added. "My lover. I am all yours sir."

Amanda had no idea why she said that. There was probably no need. He would have taken her in any case for after all she was his to take.

Strand could wait no longer. But then why should he, he thought, pushing his trousers and pantaloons down and moving right behind Amanda. Through the parting in the black silk of her pantalets, he could see the blood swollen lips of her vulva, the opened cheeks of her ass and between them the puckered, darker colored skin of her anus, his target. Not bothering to take anything off he grabbed her ripe ass with both hands; it felt wonderful. Squeezing and pawing at the delightfully rounded and beautifully full orbs of flesh he was making low, animal-like, growling noises as he delighted in fulfilling what he had fantasized about since he had last had sex with this beguiling woman; fucking her delicious ass

"My lord, Amanda, your buttocks are beautiful, your ass is amazing, I must have it."

Amanda had been buggered before. Samuel had become attracted to anal sex, probably from some actress Amanda always thought, and had cajoled her into letting him have her there. She did. She enjoyed pleasing him and there was a degree of physical pleasure, but nowhere near that a woman receives from straightforward sex, she always thought. Her long term lover, Sir Bernard d'Argent also had a penchant for something different. A great world traveler and philosopher, he had an acute interest in anything sexual and had studied such matters in other races including people from India, Arabia and South America. He too persuaded her to let him use her 'most private place' and with him she did gain more physical pleasure as well as the emotional gained from doing what pleased him.

She knew that now she was about to have anal sex with the third man in her life.

Strand was on such a high as he grabbed his stubby cock and rubbed it over the smooth cheeks she was presenting to him, willingly, or so it seemed to him. For his pleasure more than hers, he reached across the mess on the dinner table and found the butter dish. Pushing his fingers into it he grabbed a large globule of the soft, slippery substance, rubbed some of it onto the end of his penis and the rest onto Amanda's anus. He put sufficient there to cover the puckered, skin and ooze some inside thus enabling him to push a finger inside her. It slid in so easily and didn't hurt. That was a good omen she thought as, in a far more matter of fact manner than she would ever have imagined, she awaited this odiously, intriguing man to fuck her ass.

"Oh madam yes," he groaned as he eased the head of his cock slightly inside her, opening the sphincter muscle, which hurt a little for it was being made to work in the opposite direction to what it was intended. With the lubrication of the near melted butter easing his penetration, Amanda's reintroduction to anal sex was, however, less unpleasant than she had feared.

In her mind she thought, 'easy work for all those thousands of dollars' realising with a little surge of an inexplicable sort of excitement that now, as well as being a spy she was in effect also a whore. Just as Florence had said all those years ago, a good wife acts as a lady in the dining room and a whore in the bedroom. Amanda had tried to live to her mother's advice with all of her lovers, Strand included.

*

Although Amanda did not arrive back at the guest house until, for Milly, an extremely worrying two thirty in the morning, she immediately sat down, turned up the lamp in her room and started to compose a letter to Fairfax; she had learned so much this evening and a letter to tell him that could not wait.

"You go to bed Milly, I have some things to do."

"This late madam?" the maid said in a disapproving tone.

"Yes, but I won't need you until first thing. I will leave a letter on the table which you must have taken, no you must take it yourself by carriage to the post haste place at the station, it has to catch the first and fastest train to Washington, do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am, of course, but not by telegraph?"

Like many others Amanda did not yet trust the confidentiality of the telegraph system for she had no understanding of how it worked.

Amanda wrote

My dearest darling Fairfax,

I trust this letter finds you well and that you are not too overrun with work to spare a few thoughts for your beloved.

As you well know I have spent this evening with Strand. The documents that we discussed have been signed and witnessed, although he did not know by which gentlemen. They are he assured me fully entitled to sign them and they have been appropriately witnessed. A secret, but legal as there was a quorum of the people's representatives there and the State Attorney General was present, vote has passed the Bill, which states that upon Lincoln becoming present South Carolina will leave the Union. He told me that the main proponent of the bill and the one behind the initiative to take this dramatic step was Robert Rhett, but from his prominence and outspokenness I assume that you probably already know that. An Irving Sanders who I used to know and James de Bow who we both know are, so Strand says, intrinsically involved in all of this. de Bow, though, being from Louisiana and more of an advisor is not fundamental to the movement of the bill through the States legislature.

He mentioned some others who are prominent in the Fire-Eaters. These include,

in addition to the names I have already given you, the following:

Nathaniel Beverley Tucker, John A. Quitman, Thomas C. Hindman, William Porcher Miles, Laurence M. Keitt, Louis Wigfal, William Barksdale and Edmund Ruffin.

I may have mentioned some of these before, if so my love, please forgive me, but I do not have my files to hand.

In his drunken state late in the evening, I am writing this after returning from a 'strenuous' several hours in his odious presence, he also told me that a Confederate Constitution has been written by Rhett and is under review by the Fire-Eaters.

I do hope this helps stop the movement towards war, Fairfax. You have to appreciate my love that is my only reason for making the huge sacrifices I am forced to make to gain this information for you. There are many fine and admirable aspects to the Southern way of life that should be preserved and I hope that whatever is before us respects and acknowledges that.

As always my dearest Fairfax I send all the affection there can be from your

Most ardent love

Amanda

After compiling the letter to Lennon, sealing it and leaving it on the table for Milly, Amanda undressed and went to bed. Her body ached, but her mind was a whirr.

She was pleased with herself. Pleased that she had outmaneuvered, out-negotiated and had really outwitted Strand. She was pleased that she had made herself a considerable extra sum of money from the sale with the promise of more from the Prussians that she extricated from him a few hours later as her soft fingers stroked his cock back to a full erection. She was also pleased that she had found out what Lennon wanted about the signing of the secession by South Carolina and more information on the Fire-Eaters.

Altogether, she thought, as she snuggled up in her bed 'that was a good night's work' adding with a smile as she drifted off to sleep 'particularly if you are a part time whore and spy' And just before sleep overtook her the thought slipped into her mind 'Is there a difference?'