The Flower Arrangement Page 2

  And as I began branching out with my interests and ambitions, so, apparently, did Master Riggs. One afternoon, he told me that the Missus required me to fetch a dress from a seamstress she didn’t normally do business with. I had no reason to doubt the veracity of his request, as I was often sent out for various household errands. He gave me the address and told me I was to go immediately. He had a carriage for me, which wasn’t odd since I had far to go.

  It was well out of the Riggses’ neighborhood, but still a respectable corner of the city. I rang the bell and was seen into a lovely apartment. A well-dressed woman came to the door. “You’re Emma, from the Riggs household? I’m Miss Hazel,” she said. I replied, and she escorted me in, and asked me to wait while she put Mrs. Riggs’s order together. I sat down in the drawing room and waited patiently.

  It couldn’t have been more than a quarter hour’s wait when the doorbell rang. I imagined a seamstress’s flat would be very busy, with people coming and going throughout the day. But who came into the room but Master Riggs himself! “Hello,” he said calmly. He took off his own hat and coat and put them over a chair as if he was quite familiar with the flat.

  “M-Master Riggs…!” I stuttered, “Whatever are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I had an errand myself in this neighborhood. I thought I would escort you back home,” he replied, and sat down. It was odd, I thought, but not outlandish. We sat in comfortable silence for some minutes. Eventually the dressmaker returned from down a corridor.

  “Emma, come now, please,” Miss Hazel summoned me. I followed her down the corridor into a bright, sunlit workroom. A dressmaker’s dummy stood near a window, and fabric lay everywhere. On a table were dress pins, measuring tape and all sorts of tailoring tools.

  A package wrapped in brown paper sat on a corner of a table, marked RIGGS, which I took to be the Missus’s. I was about to pick it up when the seamstress said, “Listen, dear, would you do me a favor? Before you take your mistress’s dress, would you be a dear and try something on for me? I have a client about your size, and instead of calling her here for a fitting when I’ve only just basted, you could try this on and save us all much bother.” This request seemed odd, but I simply wasn’t in a position to refuse a reasonable request. But I was beginning to have some doubts…

  “Happy to help, ma’am,” I offered.

  “There’s the fitting room, there.” She pointed to a smaller room off of the workroom. She handed me a dress filled with basting stitches. I undressed with some trepidation and put the dress on. When it was on I called to her, and she did indeed fit it on me for some minutes, under the arms, around the waist, measuring the length. I felt badly for having had suspicions, and when she sent me to take it off I was thinking of what I needed to do when we returned to the house. I had been polishing silver when I was called to this errand. I needed to finish the silver before midafternoon, and the dressmaker’s reminded me that I had mending of tablecloths to do.

  But my thoughts were interrupted by Master Riggs’s voice in the workroom. “Emma, will you come out?”

  “But I’m not yet dressed, sir,” I replied.

  “Yes, I realize as much,” he said.

  The rascal! He did it again! Was this woman even our Missus’s dressmaker? Who else was here I didn’t know about?

  “Sir, I’m only half dressed,” I said. He opened the door to the fitting room and led me out by the hand. The dressmaker wasn’t in the room at all. He held my hand and led me out of the workroom, across the hall and into another room. There, I saw the dressmaker, also in her underthings, on a big bed. She was smiling, and apparently waiting.

  Master Riggs closed the door behind us. So it was a ruse, I thought. How wicked and strange. I certainly hadn’t imagined a thing like this. “A surprise for us, Emma, and some special payment for a very special errand…”

  “Come here, dear,” said the dressmaker in the calmest tone of voice I’d ever heard. “Let’s all take a spot of sherry,” and she motioned to a tray with a bottle of tawny port and glasses.

  Master Riggs poured three glasses. He handed them to us and took one for himself. “Here’s to new adventures, ladies…” and we all drank.

  It was a lovely port, indeed, like a liquid red gem. I felt a bit relaxed and it sparked a little flame in my pussy, as wine always did.

  “Arthur tells me you’ve got a real knack for gardening, is that true?” she asked, taking a sip. My, she was clever, I thought. I truly loved to talk about my flowers.

  “Yes, well I certainly hope so, ma’am. I read as much as I can and I experiment with bulbs and seeds. Every time I learn something new about a plant I just have more questions. And the Master’s new conservatory has given me whole new varieties of plants to work with?” I stopped, thinking I was running on overexcitedly. But she continued, and beckoned with her hand for Master Riggs to pour again. Mmm, it was delicious, this sherry.

  “Do you mean to apprentice with a florist, eventually?”

  “Why, yes, ma’am,” I told her, realizing as I spoke that she had the loveliest hazel-colored eyes I’d ever seen. “My aim is indeed to secure such a position, if I can find it.”

  “Well, she said, gazing into my eyes as she spoke, “I know some people in gardening, and many shop owners. I myself apprenticed with a milliner in Chelsea when I was younger. I’ll ask around for you, my dear.”

  By this time the port had gone not just to my head but through my whole body. Master Riggs had been quite quiet till then, but when I glanced at him I saw he’d removed his jacket, collar and tie. I’d never seen him appear so relaxed, and it made me feel that way, as well.

  Miss Hazel sat up from where she was reclining, reached over and gently touched my curls. “Undo this…” She began removing pins from my hair, and brown curls tumbled down over my shoulders. “You have such lovely hair,” she said, combing her fingers through it. And then she pulled my head swiftly but gently toward her and kissed my lips. I stopped for a moment but then I instinctively returned her kiss. I’d never touched such soft, giving lips. I wanted more, and she could feel it. She licked my lips gently, then pushed her soft tongue slowly inside my mouth.

  The port swam through my body, and I could have kissed her for hours. Soft kisses, then urgent, passionate kisses where our tongues met in a sea of softness and sensation. She stopped for a moment and took her glass of port, tipping it first to her lips and then to mine. We both drank, and then kissed again, tasting our mouths and the sweet, ruby port. Heaven! I swooned to myself.

  I touched her hair, and it was soft as lamb’s ears’ leaves. Her skin smelled of lavender. I was drunk as much with her as with the port. She pulled me to her and we were pressed together. She opened my shift and then she opened her own. Our naked breasts brushed each other, our nipples touched. Her breasts were round, her brown nipples erect. I was heady with these new sensations.

  She pushed me down onto the bed and put her mouth to my nipple. I moaned as she sucked and bit me. Then her hands roamed over my tits and I took her breasts, hanging in orbs over me, and kneaded them, pulling her nipples, rolling them over the palms of my hands. Where was Master Riggs? I half wondered, but not really caring. I didn’t care if he watched or didn’t, I was heady with this steamy seamstress.

  And as I thought of him his body was suddenly on the bed with us. Miss Hazel made room for him and I felt his hands pulling my knickers down. As Miss Hazel and I kissed and sucked and caressed, I felt him parting my thighs and moving over me. He slid his fingers into me, and I was wet with port and excitement. He pushed his sex into me and all my nerves burst like pistons in a steam engine. I shuddered and cried, and as he kept pumping I shuddered again. What a ride!

  He moved out of me, and Miss Hazel and he moved to each other, where she bent and took him in her mouth. That beautiful mouth, I thought. And I bent down, too, and we shared our mouths and Master Riggs’s hard cock. When she came off of him we kissed with passion again, our lips and tongues inseparable. I t
asted port and felt Master Riggs dribbling it between our mouths. Every taste was delicious, whether it was her mouth, or his hard, craving cock.

  Then her mouth left mine and she lowered herself; her lovely orbs bubbled out of her muslin shift. She opened my thighs with her hands. Her fingers parted the folds of my cunt as if they were the petals of a rose. And then her red, round mouth was on my sex! Her soft tongue brushed the length of the crimson folds of my pussy, and I thought I would take flight with pleasure. While she licked and sucked the hidden bulb inside my cunt folds, I shook and moaned. Master Riggs moved again and mounted Miss Hazel from behind, and I raised myself on my elbows to look. What a sight, his big sex between the perfect white globes of her ass.

  He slid himself in and out, in and out, and she purred and moaned, her eyes closed as she licked me and slid her fingers in and out of me. We were a purring machine of pleasure, we three. I’d never imagined such a thing. Then she came and came in moans and cries, and when it was done he took his member out of her and worked his cock with his own hand until he spurted his white seed over her ass, spreading it over her skin with his other hand.

  We were all spent and happy. Miss Hazel drew herself up to me and kissed me again. “Let’s pour a little glass to an afternoon of nice surprises, shall we?” And Master poured glasses. The port was still lovely to taste, as I hadn’t been so drunk as to have felt poorly. Our underclothes were in disarray, and Master Riggs had nothing on but his shirt, which hung open. I had never seen him as naked, and he was a nice thing to look at with his tawny, muscular chest.

  “Oh, my dear,” Miss Hazel said as she swept up some of my disheveled hair with her hand. “You are a sight. Did you think you’d have such an errand for your employer? Arthur, take some money out of my drawer and let’s sweeten her pot of honey.” She motioned to a desk drawer and Master Riggs went to it and took out some pound notes, counting them.

  “I am serious, Emma,” she said as Master Riggs handed her the money. “I’ll be happy to help you find an apprenticeship.”

  “Well, I would be most grateful, ma’am,” I said.

  Master Riggs smiled at me proudly, as if I was a successful junior protégée. “You’re a clever girl,” he said, beaming. “You’ll do well for yourself.”

  “I’ll make us all a strong cup of tea,” Miss Hazel said as she got up off the bed and put on a covering. “We’ve all got work to do today! Can’t waste our whole day puttering about,” she laughed. She left the room, and Master Riggs began to dress. I realized that he had been in the bedroom, waiting for such a mischievous event while Miss Hazel was fitting her client’s dress on me. I was excited to think such a plan had been laid, in secret, about me. Alone, across the hall in the dressing room, where I had left my clothes, I mulled over the images of what had transpired. Such an adventure! I thought, and smiled to myself.

  After a cup of tea, Master Riggs indeed took the package with his name, and we left in a carriage. “Sir, is Miss Hazel really your seamstress? I’ve been sent to a dressmaker’s often, and never to her,” I said.

  “Yes, she does my things, not my wife’s. You’ve always reminded me a bit of her, you’re both independent girls with an adventurous streak, eh?” he laughed, giving me a little poke with his elbow. And then he reached into his jacket and gave me a pile of notes. My eyes widened, for I’d never received such a handsome sum. Just as well, I thought, since I was taken by surprise after all!

  Life continued for some months until one day Master Riggs announced that his friend, Miss Hazel, had indeed found an apprenticeship for me at a large conservatory outside the city. That position took me out of London and so I left behind my sensual adventures with Master Riggs.

  Two years later I entered a horticultural college for women and used my earnings to pay my tuition. However could I not be grateful to Master Riggs, who helped me along my garden path? Today, I’m the assistant to the head gardener at an important conservatory; and I spend my time designing the gardens, a kind of job I didn’t even know existed when I was seventeen. I didn’t open a shop after all, though I may wish to do so one day. I never did tell a soul about how I went from selling bunches and sachets from a basket on my arm to where I am today, altogether happy and independent. And, I think it will always remain one secret in my own garden of secrets.

  Hungry for more? Spice Briefs to suit every taste are available now at www.spicebriefs.com.

  For something a little longer, visit www.spice-books.com or stop by your local bookstore for stories that will ignite your senses!

  Think you’d like to write a Spice Brief? Submissions are always welcome at spicebriefs@harlequin.ca

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3049-5

  The Flower Arrangement

  Copyright © 2009 by Adelaide Cole

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.eHarlequin.com