Sophia's Diary free porn video

Sophia's Diary

Lastnight, I dreamed of a black horse. Upon waking, I looked in the dictionaryof dreams I keep in my bedside table, to see if there is any significanceto this particular night time vision. It seems a dream of a black horseis a dream of passion. Considering all that has happened in the past weeks,I am not surprised.

Iread it again, noticing she had written those words the previous night, andslyly returned her diary to the walnut table where I had found it. It hadbeen a mere whim to pick it up and turn to the last entry. Now, I wonderedwhat other secrets the soft leather covers contained.

Myfingers strayed over the yellow roses in the crystal vase next to the diary.I resisted the temptation to seize it again, to flick the pages back to thedate when Sophia arrived in Capri or the day we first met. Itwouldn't do, Iwarned myself, tobe found reading the diary by Sophia, or by her father .

Iwalked to the white French doors and watched Sophia as she sat reading onthe terrace, the hot sun playing with the golden hair that escaped from herwide straw hat – the perfect bonnet for a young English woman in therelentless Italian sun – and wondered what other furtive thoughts reverberatedin that young heart, what secrets were kept in check by the rigid corsetand English convention.

Ithink I fell in love with her when I saw her climbing the steep hill to theirrented villa, white parasol open and held firmly in one gloved hand, theother daintily lifting her skirts slightly in an effort to prevent the hemsfrom sweeping the dusty street. Her father, red faced and panting, stumbledbefore her blustering at the porters carrying their luggage. They had toiledup the hill from the tall ship anchored far below on the bright blue of theMediterranean and, for a moment, I considered the possibility that he wason the verge of collapse.

'Andwho are they?' I asked the shopkeeper as the small procession passed.

'Theyare English,' she answered in local Italian, as if that explained all. Allshopkeepers knew every small detail of life on Capri, and she was happy topass these minutiae on to whomever asked. 'He is an important man and hisdaughter is his secretary. They are holidaying with us for a month beforethey sail again while the father writes a book. There may be work for you,Genevieve,' she added, struggling with my name in her language. 'The fatherwishes to continue his daughter's education, and his manservant is seekingtutors.'

'Youare French, Mademoiselle?' the father asked in French and I immediately knewhe was an idiot.

'Oui.'

Hisface wrinkled with the concentration of marshalling his thoughts in French.I think it was at that moment I perversely decided not toassist him, not toreveal that I spoke English.

'Mydaughter requires further education of pianoforte,' he said. Or at leastthat is what I assumed he meant as he successfully crushed the beauty ofthe French language. 'That is why I chose a villa with a pianoforte,' heboasted, 'the only pianoforte on the island.'

Youensure a pianoforte ,I thought, butyou do not secure a teacher? How many tutors does this fool think liveon this island ?I wondered if I should spoil his boasts and inform him of the instrumentin the brothel, but decided it was not, perhaps, appropriate. I shruggedand waited.

'Mademoiselle,'he asked at last, 'how many pianoforte tutors are available on Capri?'

'Justone.' I smiled thinly in satisfaction.

Sophiawas waiting in the drawing room when her father led me to her, and her smilewas soft and warm with, I imagined, a small hint of longing. For some reasonher eyes grew round when I entered the room and she quickly looked away andthen, apparently after regaining her composure, smiled formally.

'Thisis Mademoiselle Genevieve Sabine,' he said in English. 'She is the only tutoron the island, so do not irritate her, my child.'

'Ofcourse not, Father.'

'Sheis from Paris and does not speak English, so it will also present you withan opportunity to practise your French.'

Helaboured through the introduction in French and then left us.

'Andwhere is the pianoforte, Mademoiselle Newington?' I asked in French.

Shelowered her eyes and looked at me through her lashes. 'It is this way, MademoiselleSabine.' Her gown was of the latest English fashion and rustled as she walked.I could see her young body compressed and moulded by the laced stays theEnglish still seemed to favour. Her attire was in marked contrast to mine- a charming white taffeta with a flounce around her bust in a colour reminiscentof wild daffodils, while my gown was a simple dark blue fastened down thefront.

'Youhave lived in Capri for some years, Mademoiselle?' Sophia asked, making conversationas taught by finishing schools as she opened a dark panelled door to a roomat the top of the stairs. Her French was not terrible. It was, I admitted,quite charming, the faint lisp she carried almost adding piquancy to herpronunciation.

'Justtwo, Mademoiselle.' But, Isilently added, thosetwo years have passed as slowly as twenty .

'Wereyou attached to the Bourbon Court, Mademoiselle?' The pianoforte with itslong stool was the only item of furniture in the small room. I walked toit.

'No,not attached,' I murmured and ran my fingers over the keys. 'Though I havebeen to Napoli.'

Sophiasuddenly wrinkled her nose and said, 'It does rather smell in here!' I smiledat her expression, the little girl that lives within us all surfacing fora fleeting moment, and I enjoyed watching her open the window, leaning forwardto push the panes out, her lush bottom straining against her gown.

'Howold are you, Mademoiselle?' I asked with apparent disinterest.

'Ihave just celebrated nineteen years.'

Ilooked at her again. Nineteen,the same age as when I met…no matter.

'Asweet age,' I said for something to say, and she smiled.

'Andcan I ask Mademoiselle's age?' Sophia enquired cheekily and I smiled again.

'Butof course. I am twenty two.'

Onthat first day, I watched as she played the scales and demonstrated her skills,watched her white fingers stroke the keys and the way she brushed wisps ofgolden hair from her eyes. I saw it all.

Andthen I went down the stairs to the father, feigning disinterest but secretlyalive with passion.

Ourconversation was brief. It was arranged that I would visit every day forone hour's lesson. The next few weeks were days of frustration and constantdenial of my sensual urges.

Then,of course, I read the diary. I glanced back at the walnut table and the diary. Blackhorse – it was an intriguing metaphor .And what did she mean when she wrote - Consideringall that has happened in the past weeks, I am not surprised.

Sophialooked up when I walked onto the terrace, smiling happily at me as she closedthe book she had been reading and let it rest in her lap. 'You are early,Mademoiselle?'

Ishrugged. 'Perhaps. Time does not have such an importance on Capri. Shallwe begin?'

Again,I followed her round bottom up the stairs and we sat together on the benchso she could watch my hands as I demonstrated the piece she was learning.

Lilactoilet water ,I thought. Sheis wearing lilac toilet water .A vision of Sophia in her bath flickered through my mind – white,plump and succulent with delicate suds lapping against her skin.

'CouldI see that piece again?' Sophia murmured. 'I don't think I understand it.'

'Butof course.' I began again and she moved closer on the stool so our thighswere touching as I played. 'There,' I said, finishing, feeling the warmthof her leg against mine.

Sophialooked at me guiltily and I saw her long throat and décolletage wasflushed. 'Merci, Mademoiselle,' she said in a husky voice.

Thesun was hot the next day and a ship from the Kingdom of Sardinia had mooredoff the island, the sailors buying provisions and visiting the whorehousenear the wharf. I had played pianoforte in the brothel a few times. It paidextremely well and I always played a rousing march to match the pace of thegirls as they galloped their eager customers through their business. Time,as in all commercial matters, was money.

Sophiawas on the terrace again in a light blue gown and sunbonnet, her back turnedto me so I could inspect her at my leisure. The diary was not on the walnuttable and I felt a flicker of disappointment until I saw it discarded onthe window seat. Sheis so naïve ,I thought. Sheis careless with her secrets; she believes her father would respect her privacy,and that I do not read English .

Iglanced through the window again and saw Sophia's head had tilted forwardand that she was dozing in the sun. My fingers picked up the diary withouthesitation and I flicked to the last entry.

Sheappears so cold and arrogant – her eyes such dark pools as she watchesme perform my scales and yet there is a passion within her, I can feelit Does she, I wonder, sense mine?

Ifeel I will die when she purses those lips as she listens, such soft andfull lips. Genevieve! How I long to say her name, to whisper it in herhair!

Yesterday,I watched her hands as she played, long elegant fingers, her dark hairfalling over her face as she was lost in the passion of the music. I couldnot resist and moved closer. Our bodies touched and I felt her flesh! Shewears no stays! She is unfettered and I felt the smoothness of her bodyagainst mine!

Thereare many that would say a love like this is wrong, that it is against God,but if that were true, God would not have created Genevieve!

Iknow the black horse will prance through my dreams tonight!

WhenI shut the diary, I was not surprised to see my fingers were trembling andmy breathing was laboured.

Afterglancing at the dozing Sophia through the window, I could not resist andopened the diary again, searching for the date that I had first met her.

Fatherhas found a pianoforte tutor and he believes himself to be so clever, sayingthat because the tutor is French and does not speak English, I will havetwo tutors for the price of one, as I will be compelled to speak French

Therewas a gap as if Sophia had been disturbed, and then the words continued inher precise handwriting.

Ihave met the tutor and she is glorious! When father brought her to me,I could not believe such beauty and felt compelled to turn away. MademoiselleGenevieve Sabine – such a name and such eyes, eyes that peer intoyour heart and soul. How will I ever concentrate on my scales with herso close, her sweet perfume teasing me?

Takinga deep and shaky breath, I straightened my gown before walking onto the terraceand smiling at the dozing Sophia.

BeforeI knew what I was doing, I reached out and gently touched her shoulder. 'Mademoiselle?'

Sophiawoke with a start, her blue eyes wide, staring at me and then back to myfingers resting on her shoulder. Guiltily, I took my hand away and smiled.'Your lesson, Mademoiselle?'

Herfingers were trembling a little as Sophia removed her bonnet and placed iton the pianoforte. I sat on the stool and waited until she sat beside me,our bodies a respectable distance apart, but I noticed our dresses kissedand played together on the stool.

Iplayed softly and she leaned forward to watch my hands, her yellow hair framingher pale skin, her cherry lips slightly apart and her eyes wide and intent.

Itwas her turn and I watched her as her hands caressed the ivory keys. 'Non,'I said huskily and took her right hand, held it against mine as I stretchedmy fingers. 'Like this, Mademoiselle,' I murmured, watching her through loweredeyes.

'This?'Sophia whispered, moving her hand to copy mine, our flesh touching.

'Oui.'Our eyes met. Hereyes are the colour of blue cornflowers ,I thought, herlips soft and wet, yearning to be kissed.

Therewas a noise on the stairs and we immediately turned back to the pianoforteand Sophia began playing again while darting quick looks at the door. Itoccurred to me that I should stand as I heard the steps on the stairs comenearer but decided not to, knowing that I wished to remain on the stool,to be close to Sophia.

Thedoor creaked and her father filled the room, the smell of cigars precedinghim, and I discreetly moved my perfumed lace handkerchief to my nose. Sophiadid the same and we exchanged knowing glance. She raised an eyebrow beforeturning to greet her father in English. 'Father, would you like to hear meplay? I have learned so much,' Sophia said in English. 'Mademoiselle Sabineis a superb teacher.'

Ifeigned disinterest as if I did not understand and shuffled through sheetmusic while they talked. 'Excellent,' her father boomed, moving closer. Iglanced at his belly straining against his waistcoat, stained with meat sauce.'Mademoiselle Sabine,' he said to me in his rough French, tilting his headin a small bow, 'my daughter says you are a good teacher.'

No,you oaf , Ithought silently, shesaid I was superb! 'Shedid?' I replied with feigned surprise. 'Your daughter is easy to teach,Monsieur. She has,' I said, glancing at Sophia's soft hands, 'a sweet touch.'

Hehad already lost interest in my words and turned to Sophia. 'My dear, wemust unfortunately shorten the lesson today. The captain of the Sardinianvessel is joining us for luncheon.'

'Ofcourse, Father,' she said, also in English, and I imagined disappointmentin that sweet voice.

Fromthe corner of my eye, I saw Sophia glance at me but I kept my head down,arranging sheet music in some invented order.

'MademoiselleSabine,' Sophia's father said to me in his laboured French, 'I'm afraid wemust shorten the lesson, we have a social engagement.'

'Butof course, Monsieur,' I said with a shrug. 'The lesson continues tomorrow?'

'Nottomorrow, I'm afraid. We've been asked to enjoy hospitality on the Sardinianship.

Sophiaarranged her hands in her lap, her fingers playing nervously with the whitelace handkerchief. 'Father,' she murmured in English, eyes down, 'it is notthe right time forme to go on a ship.'

'Notthe right time? Oh…' he said, suddenly aware of her inference. 'Oh,'he said again with a sigh, staring out the window at the Sardinian ship farbelow us on the vivid blue sea.

'Youcould offer my apologies tomorrow when you visit the ship, and you enjoythe day?' Sophia said hopefully and I smiled slightly to myself. Shehas learned ,I thought, to preyon the male's lack of knowledge of womanly functions.

'Ofcourse, my dear, we understand.' He suddenly returned to French and said,'Mademoiselle Sabine, there will bea pianoforte lesson tomorrow.'

'Asyou wish, Monsieur.'

AsI walked down the narrow twisting streets of Capri, I smiled to myself asI remembered the look in those wild blue eyes when our palms touched. Therewas no doubt that beneath Sophia's starched gown and corset there was a bubblinghot sea of sensuality, a sea in which I fully intended to swim.

Theservants let me in without a glance and then vanished to go about their chores.It was, I knew, difficult to care for the English with their strange habitsand desire for cooked food in the early morning, but the servants sufferedstoically for the large payment that awaited them.

Sophiawas again waiting on the terrace, demurely reading a book, parasol foldedat her knees and bonnet pulled close so her face was half hidden and onlyher pouting cherry lips were visible. The sunlight etched gold within thewisps of hair that fell from her bonnet and I watched her plump décolletagerise and fall.

Drawingback from the window I looked around the room for the diary and saw it protrudingfrom underneath a fat, beaded cushion on the chaise lounge.

Standingaway from the window, I quickly thumbed through the leather bound diary tofind the last entry.

Theblack horse shadows me every moment I am with her!

Ihave never seen such beauty in a woman, a beauty that she apparently discardswithout a glance, or is unaware of its powerful existence.

Yesterdayshe placed her hand against mine, her skin so smooth and brown againstmy white skin, and Genevieve must have heard my heart, for it was soundingso loudly. I almost asked her to name her perfume. It is so sensuous andwith a light touch of musk, it assaults me each time she nears me.

Doesshe know what powerful forces she arouses within me? Is she a devil whoteases and plays with me until I must fall weeping at her feet?

Genevieve,Genevieve, Genevieve! I love writing her name, to say it aloud would, indeedbe a great boon. To kiss her would be an act to die for!

Slowly,I replaced the diary and the words sounded deep within me – tokiss her would be an act to die for! Myfingertips touched my own lips. Would I risk all for her kiss, to feel herlips on mine? I moved to the window and watched her read, those pouting lipspeeking from her bonnet, and I knew I would risk everything.

NervouslyI brushed my hair back and was suddenly glad I had spent more time on myappearance, and that I had chosen a soft gown of a grey hue that highlightedmy eyes. I wondered if she, too, chose her wardrobe for me.

Sophialooked up as I walked through the open French doors and smiled shyly, carefullyclosing her book. There was a noise within the villa, a door closing suddenly,and it reminded me that others were close, that there were eyes everywherein the villa.

'Mademoiselle,'I greeted, my eyes lingering over her and I was rewarded with a slight flushto her slender throat, 'it is time for the lesson?'

'Ofcourse, Mademoiselle,' she said, standing and then bending at the waist toretrieve the parasol, and I saw the soft swelling of her breasts revealeda little to my eyes.

Sophiasat at the pianoforte and I stood by her watching as she played. It was anew piece and her face was wrinkled in precise concentration as she readthe music, her eyes following each note as she played.

Shewaited expectantly when finished and when I smiled, she did also, a hugesmile that lit her face. 'To play this for the first time like that was excellent,'I complimented her and was astounded to see her smile grow even larger. 'But,here should be softer, yes?'

Islid next to her and lightly played the part, my leg against hers, touchingthrough our gowns. 'Soft, yes?'

Sophiaplayed it and, after a moment, I stayed her hand with mine, her fingers quiveringlike a butterfly against my skin. 'That is almost so,' I smiled, 'but softand light, like…' I appeared to struggle to find the right descriptionand then held her eyes, 'soft like a first kiss, yes?'

'Akiss?' Her voice was suddenly husky and her eyes fell and fixed on her lapwhile a delicate blush filled her cheeks. 'I am not sure what you mean,'she murmured.

'Likea woman's kiss…when women kiss,' I said softly, 'it is light, delicateand warm. We take time to taste each other, do we not?'

'I…Iam not sure, Mademoiselle…it is not something I am familiar with.'Sophia looked up, those startling blue eyes alive and wide. 'But,' she whispered,'I am willing to learn.'

Myfinger travelled to her throat and lightly traced down to her collar, myfingernail leaving a thin white line against her hot blushing skin. I couldhear her breath rasping with desire, her lips pouting and trembling as hereyes fluttered, half closed, soft and sensuous. With a shuddering sigh, shefell into my arms and I inhaled the aroma of her soft hair, breathing herin as my lips grazed her cheek.

Whenour lips met, it was with fire, branding our souls with its quick heat, burningthrough us, connecting our essence forever. Sophia arched back when I releasedher lips, sighed and shuddered, murmuring in English, 'Oh God, oh God!'

'Oh,Genevieve,' Sophia murmured at last, her head against my shoulder. Suddenly,she started, lifting her head. 'I am sorry…I should not call…'

Igently placed my finger against her plump lips. 'Sophia,' I said softly,'it is such a beautiful name.'

'Oh,how I have longed to use your name! To feel that simple word on my lips… Genevieve,Genevieve!'

Adoor banged close by and we jumped, looking around us quickly. 'This is madness,'I murmured, 'if your father or the servants find us…'

'Ido not care,' she cried with a wild laugh. 'I do not care, Genevieve.'

'Wemust continue with the lesson…'

'But…'

'Wemust!'

'Iwill if you kiss me again,' Sophia said with a sly smile and I tried to appearstern.

'Youwill continue or…'

'Orwhat?' she teased.

'Iwill spank you,' I murmured, my hand closing around her wrist. 'I will putyou over my knee…'

'Oh…'

'…liftyour gown,' I whispered, my lips moving closer to her own, 'lift your petticoatsand slide your pantalettes down…'

'Oh,Genevieve…'

'Andspank your naked derriere with my hand.'

'Oh,Genevieve,' Sophia murmured in my ear, 'I feel quite weak, French is sucha wickedly sensuous language.'

Wekissed again and then reluctantly rearranged our clothes so we could continuewith the lesson. It was fortunate that we did so as the door suddenly openedand a servant appeared with a pail and rags to wash the window.

'Now,Mademoiselle,' I said in a loud voice, 'play it again.'

Sophianodded and played. I found myself watching her intently, the way her fingerstouched the keys, the small blush that remained on her cheeks, and thoseplump lips I had tasted just minutes ago.

AsI walked back down the winding street, my chemise rubbed against my stiffnipples and I knew I was moist and sticky, wanting to feel Sophia's plumplips licking my hot skin. I would do anything to have her, to feel her nakedand hot body rubbing against mine.

Herfather opened the door when I arrived the next morning and I immediatelywondered if Sophia had told him that we had kissed, wondered whether he wasseeking revenge for the sin of Sapphic love with his daughter but he justsmiled and opened the door wider.

'Mademoiselle,'he greeted me, 'Sophia is reading on the terrace.'

'Merci,Monsieur,' I said, ready to move past him when he smiled again.

'Doyou know much of the history of Capri and the Kingdom of Naples, Mademoiselle?'

'Alittle,' I said warily. 'What has held your interest?'

Helaughed. 'I can assure you, Mademoiselle, that I have an extensive knowledgeof the history of this island. You may not be aware, but I am something ofan archaeologist,' he said pompously.

'Yes,'I murmured, 'I was unaware.'

'However,I must confess, I have not been able to find a history tutor on Capri.'

Notat all surprising ,I thought maliciously. Iwould think that would be obvious to someone who is something of an archaeologist .'I am appalled,' I said in a soft yet sarcastic voice, but, of course,he did not notice.

'Iwas hopeful that you could guide my daughter to some of the historic sites,the Roman site especially.'

'But,Monsieur,' I said automatically, 'with your knowledge you…' My heartwas pounding. Surelyhe would not throw us together for a day, to be alone for a day?

'I'mafraid I would not be able to cope with those steps,' he said with a ruefulsmile. 'I will pay you of course, the same as for the pianoforte lessons?'

'Ifyou wish, Monsieur.'

'It'snot seemly for a young unmarried woman,' he said and, when he realised thatI was exactly that, he immediately corrected himself and said, 'young unmarried English womanto be walking alone. A companion is necessary.'

'Ofcourse,' I smiled, 'I am happy to be such a companion.'

Sophiawas on the terrace, back turned, watering potted plants with a watering vessel,the other hand holding her skirts up as she watered. I slipped into the drawingroom. The diary was lying by the cold fireplace and I quickly scooped itup, immediately turning to the last entry.

Akiss! What a kiss, a kiss to send shivers to my very soul! I yearn formore but I am seething with relentless frustration, for how will we bealone, be close and, dare I dream, be naked in each other's arms ?

Theblack horse has a name and its name is Genevieve!

Ishut the book and swallowed. Returning the diary to where I found it, I walkedto the French doors.

Sophiaturned when she saw me and I read in her eyes that her first impulse wasto throw herself at me, but sanity prevailed. 'Good morning, Mademoiselle,'she said almost shyly and I saw water leaking from the watering vessel andpooling near her satin slippers.

'Yourfeet,' I pointed and Sophia gasped, quickly pulling the vessel upright. 'Itwould be a shame to have such delicate slippers' I said softly, 'become wet.'

'Merci,Mademoiselle.' Sophia placed the container carefully on the terrace and smiled.'Our lesson?'

'Butof course.'

Iclosed the door behind us and Sophia dropped her bonnet on the pianoforteand turned, her face alive. 'Genevieve,' she murmured as I kissed her, myhand cupping her soft bottom through her gown. My knuckles grazed againstthe hard ridges of her corset and I silently cursed the stays that imprisonedher flesh.

'Sophia,'I said smiling as I released her, 'I have some news, but first you must playso the villa hears music.'

Immediately,she mechanically began playing and I sat next to her, our bodies meltingagainst each other through our gowns until she finished.

'Yournews, Genevieve?' Sophia eagerly asked the moment the last note died.

'Yourfather has requested that I tutor you on the historic sites of Capri. Ofcourse,' I smiled, 'I reluctantly agreed.'

Sophiaclapped her hands in delight. 'I am to walk from this villa? At last!'

'Thereare many historic sites, but your father has insisted on the Roman ruins.What sites do you wish to see, Sophia?' I asked softly, taking her hand.

'Thereis only one,' Sophia said, eyes down.

'Andthat is?' I whispered, my lips tasting her soft cheek.

'Yourbed, Mademoiselle.'

Icalled for her in the morning and she was bubbling with happiness as we walkedacross the ridge to where we could view the faraglione rocks. Her parasolwas opened and it rested on her shoulder as she talked and I saw how beautifulshe was, alive and glowing.

Nervously,I led her down the narrow path to my small villa and we slipped in thoughthe small garden, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Sophia lookedaround my simple room and smiled at me. 'I will never forget this room,'she whispered as I moved close to kiss her.

Tastingher lips for a long moment, my tongue drifted down her throat to her cleavage,licking small hints of perspiration from her skin and she moaned and shudderedagainst me.

Icould not wait a moment longer.

Spinningher around, I feverishly began to unlace her dress as she leaned againstthe table, head down and golden hair spilling freely. At last, her dresswas open and I kissed the small hillocks that were her shoulder blades, thenpulled the gown down, letting it fall around her stocking feet.

Sophiahelped me by quickly sliding her petticoat down and I thanked the Capri sun,for she wore only one petticoat. In winter or in colder climes, women oftenwore as many as five or six petticoats.

Cursingthe corset, I almost broke a fingernail as I pulled at the laces and Sophiaexhaled with delight when I finally tossed the corset onto the table.

Shefelt so warm and soft in her linen chemise and silk pantalettes, her breastsmoving freely as I cupped them in the white cloth.

'Oh,Genevieve,' Sophia whispered, kissing my neck as my hand slipped into herpantalettes, cupping her hot sex, feeling her wetness run against my palm.

Pushingher onto the bed with my hand against her, her eyes went suddenly wide asmy finger entered, teasing and slipping. Releasing her, I undressed and Sophiawatched, her face hot and flushed, eyes wide and her lips pouting with hunger.

Itugged her chemise and pantalettes from her with her grateful assistanceand I kissed her long nipples, the rosy areoles and the plump milky whitebreasts until she was writhing on the bed, legs wantonly parted, white stockingspuddled around her ankles.

Ismiled down at her, examining that naked body that now belonged to me. 'Cherie,'I whispered, 'it is time to learn?'

'Oui,Mademoiselle,' Sophia murmured, golden hair lying around her face.

'Thisis a special kiss,' I said softly, kissing her round white belly, tonguetickling her puckered navel and slipping down through her downy hair to herhot moist centre.

Sophiaarched up, her face, I knew although I couldn't see it, contorted in forbiddenpleasure as ecstasy rippled from her little man in the boat throughout herentire succulent body. I was swimming at last.

Theservants let me in with the customary bored glance and I found Sophia's fatherwaiting for me. My heart leapt again to my mouth, irrationally guessing heknew what Sophia and I had done yesterday, and now I was to be arrested orpunished in some obscure and cruel way that only the English could devise.

'MademoiselleSabine,' he said with a smile, and I returned the smile with relief. 'Sophiawas very enthusiastic about the Roman ruins.'

'Education,Monsieur,' I murmured, 'is important.'

'Exactly.Mademoiselle Sabine, will you sit for a moment?'

'Asyou wish.'

'Sophia'smother passed on two years ago and it is difficult for a man such as myselfwith no sisters to raise a young woman…'

'Yes,I can imagine, Monsieur, but she is a wonderful young woman…'

'Iam so glad you think so. Mademoiselle, Sophia needs a firm hand, but an understandingone. I am hopeful you would consider continuing to tutor her in music, historyand French and, of course, select appropriate tutors in other subjects. Youare older by a few years, so Sophia will respect you as a tutor, but youare not so far apart that you cannot also be a friend, perhaps?' he askedhopefully. 'Someone to guide her through these times that a young woman facesuntil she is married?'

Iblinked at him. 'What are you saying, Monsieur?'

'Weare travelling to Venice and Vienna before returning to England. You do knowthose places?'

'Butof course.'

'Iwish to offer you a position, to travel with us and to guide Sophia in hereducation. I understand this is at short notice, but I would pay you well,Mademoiselle Sabine, and all your expenses would become part of my household.Will you please consider?'

'Thisis permanent?' I asked slowly, remembering an invitation I had accepted foolishlythat had led me to be abandoned here. 'But,' I continued softly, 'I do notenjoy England that much…'

'Therewill be opportunity for you to guide Sophia through other cities, to showher Paris, Madrid, and others. I would leave her education completely withinyour hands, Mademoiselle Sabine.'

Istood, smiling at him. 'I will consider, Monsieur, and advise you in themorning.' I knew, of course, that I would agree, it would be a passage fromthis island, something I had dreamed of, but I still considered it wise toappear reluctant, to be coaxed.

'Thatis all,' he said standing with a smile, 'that one can hope for. I hope yourdecision is one that mutually satisfies us, Mademoiselle Sabine.'

Heleft and I turned to find Sophia. The terrace was empty and I looked throughto the kitchen, but only saw the servants. And then I saw the diary on thefloor next to a discarded cushion. I picked it up and turned to the lastentry.

Ilove you Genevieve. I am at the pianoforte.

Ishut the diary with a sharp noise, looking around. Then, smiling, I walkedslowly up the stairs, hearing the soft musical notes as I climbed.

Sophiastopped playing and smiled at me as I shut the door behind me. 'Good morning,Genevieve,' she said in English.

'Youknew?' I asked, also in English.

'Iguessed. I saw your eyes when Father and I spoke in English and they toldme you understood, although you pretended not to. I hoped you would readmy diary. You did, didn't you?'

'Yes,I am weak when tempted,' I shrugged with a smile. 'But, the risk! What ifyour father read it?'

'Asmall risk for love.'

'So,'I said, sitting with her and slipping my arms around her waist, 'you wroteuntruths to seduce me?'

Sophiasmiled at that. 'I wrote the truth and my dreams. I loved you that firsttime I saw you and waited in those first weeks for you to do, to say, something,but you were distant, so correct and proper with me. I knew I had to do somethingor you would be gone from my life.'

'Soyou left your diary for me to find?'

'AmI forgiven?' she asked demurely.

'Ofcourse, but,' I teased, 'there is the spanking to come.'

'Oh,Mademoiselle,' Sophia whispered, two pink spots appearing on her cheeks.

'Butto other matters: your father wishes me to travel with you.'

'No,'she murmured, ' I wishit. I suggested it to him and now he thinks it was his idea.'

Ilaughed. 'You are so manipulative.'

'AndI love your accent when you speak English. I think father should not knowyou speak it, it will force him to improve his French.' We laughed at thatand then Sophia said softly, 'Genevieve, you must promise me something.'

'Butof course, what?'

'Wewill only make love in French,' Sophia murmured, suddenly slipping into thatlanguage as she laid her head on my shoulder.

'Therecould be no other way,' I said softly, my lips brushing her hair and shesmiled. 'It is a wicked and sensual language,' I whispered.

'Yes,'Sophia said, closing her eyes, 'embrassez-moi, mon cheval noir.'