Erotic Fiction: The Piano Bench
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I knocked on Viola’s door, stepping back on the porch from the doorstep and waiting for her doorman to answer. Nearly a minute had passed before I stepped forward, raising my fist to rap against the wooden entry once again. It wasn’t long before the door creaked open an inch or two, enough for a single eye to peer out.
“Oh, Edmund! Hello.” It was Viola. The door opened a bit more, enough for me to see her entire face. “I’m sorry, no one is home. My mother and father went to visit Lord and Lady Wisham. The maid, Anne, is unwell and at home, and our butler is nowhere to be found today. God help us.”
I nodded, apologizing. I felt sorry for Viola then, her face flustered and contorted in confusion. We were courting, both of us quite infatuated with one another, and she was undoubtedly struggling with the thought of being rude and sending me home.
“I’m sorry, Edmund, really, but I must turn you away until someone returns home. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon we could go for a walk? Anne should be recovered and can accompany us.” I smiled, nodding again and dismissing her apologies to keep her from feeling guilty about the situation. I knew that chastity and all that it represented meant a great deal to her. To be potentially seen as a young woman with no desire to save herself for marriage would be unheard of in our circle. For women (and men, although it was less obvious for us), losing one’s virginity was only intended for the wedding night.
I tipped my hat at her, bidding her farewell with the promise of seeing her the following evening. As I turned to head down the steps and back onto the street, Viola called after me. Her voice was quiet, as if trying to capture my attention without drawing the focus of anyone else that might potentially be milling about.
"Maybe come in for a moment, but you must be gone by half-past four. My parents are likely to return home sometime after that." When I hesitated, glancing around the empty road and walkway, she looked at me expectantly. “Well, come on, won’t you?”
Quickly, I climbed the steps and crossed the threshold into the Walton home. Viola stood with her back against the foyer wall, hands clasped daintily in front of her yellow dress. Her fingers toyed and wove themselves around each other nervously while a coy smile played at her lips. We both knew that this broke all protocol, that meeting alone in her parents’ house was utterly crossing every line of decency and respect that society had set.
After a moment of silence, she reached out her hand to me, and I took it, letting myself be guided into the parlour room. I seated myself in a large crimson wingback chair and she on the bench of the nearby piano. We were close enough, yet far enough away to not feel more awkward than necessary.
Another minute passed in silence, save for the grandfather clock in the far end of the room ticking away each second. Eventually, she spoke — words that took me completely off-guard. “Kiss me, Edmund.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. As much as I wanted to, it felt wrong. Viola repeated herself again, standing up to emphasize her point. I stood, taking a step towards her, never breaking her unwavering watch… and then I kissed her.
Her body was tense at first, relaxing as her lips began to move in rhythm with mine, becoming accustomed to what must be, to her, something never done before. My hand ran tenderly along Viola’s jaw, the other resting on the back of her neck. She kissed me fervently, rising to her tiptoes and tangling her fingers in my hair, knocking my hat off of my head.
When Viola lowered herself back down to the piano bench, she pulled me down, slowly, along with her. She took my hand and placed it on the swell of her breast, pushing against the restraining fabric of her dress and the corset laced tightly beneath it. I rubbed my thumb along there, imagining where her nipples would be, if only she were naked. When I moved to the soft skin of her chest, her hand shot up and grasped my wrist.
“I can’t, I can’t.” Her eyes looked sad, regretful, as if she was disappointed in society for forcing her to make the decision not to follow her heart, the pull of her loins. “Not until my wedding night.”
I winked at her. “Well, I suppose this means I’ll have to marry you then, hmm?”
