INNOCENT MEG
By Patricia Green
Copyright and All Other Rights Reserved;
No Reprint Without Permission of Author

Meg nudged her owl-eyed friend. "Nonchalant, Clary. Nonchalant."

"But, Meg! They're not wearing any-"

"Hush!" Meg pulled Clarissa along into the "actresses'" dressing room, fascinated and repulsed all at once. It had been her idea to sneak into the gentlemen's club and see what went on. The only way for two women to accomplish this was through the actresses' entrance. Meg only hoped she wasn't blushing as brightly as Clary; it was sure to give them away.

"There now! What'cher doin'?!" It was a very big man in a raggedy suit and no cravat. "Get in yer costumes! Nearly time ta go on!"

Meg and Clary looked at each other. Clary went from bright red to white in the space of two seconds. "We're not in this…er… part," Meg said firmly.

The man stepped forward, his body-odor wafting before him. Meg felt bile rising in her throat, but managed to keep it down. "What'cher mean? Everyone's in the opening! No dawdling now, yer lazy bitches! Get them dresses off and get ready!"

He reached for Clary's shoulder and she fainted dead away.

"Oh dear," Meg muttered, holding Clary close to her side with some effort.

"Whatsa matter wid her?!"

"Overwork," Meg responded. "You are mistaken. We're not in the opening. We come in later." Long after we leave.

His beady eyes narrowed. "Larry!" Another man, smaller, with long, greasy hair came running. "These two is malingerin'. Hold on ta the redhead."

Meg felt Larry's fingers like claws in her shoulders. "Stop that! You cannot-"

The backhanded slap blanked out thought for a moment. But the renting sound of cloth parting brought Meg back to her senses. Clary had slipped to the floor. Cold air wafted over Meg's breasts and upper arms. She began to struggle for all she was worth.

* * *

The audience, all men, went momentarily still when a scream came from behind the curtained stage.

Maximillian and Jeffrey shared a concerned look. "That sounds distinctly unpleasant," Jeffrey commented. Max nodded.

A second scream had them pushing their way through the crowded room to the stage entrance.

"Good heavens!" Jeffrey halted in his tracks. "Meg?"

A big bully of a man was ripping the clothes off a delicate red-head. She is exquisite, Max thought, porcelain-skinned, her round breasts tipped with bright pink. One long, well-shaped leg was exposed to the thigh.

At Jeffrey's exclamation, she turned her face, deep blue eyes wet with tears. "Jeff! Help!"

The bully-man stopped and turned toward the door. "Now, now, gents. Ain't nothin' here ta amuse yers. The show will be startin' in just a few minutes." He tried to usher Jeffrey and Max out, but the two were having none of it.

"Nonsense!" Jeffrey said, forcing his way past the man. "Let this woman go!"

The bully started toward Jeff, but Max stepped between them. Max was a large man, tall and broad, more than capable of taking on the smaller, heavier thug. "Don't," was all he said.

"Now, sirs, if yers wantin' a woman, I'm sure we can work it out." His broken and rotted teeth were the stuff of nightmares as he smiled.

"We'll not be dealing with you, sir!" Jeffrey said, his gentleman's status clear with ever word. "You will release this woman and her companion immediately!"

Without waiting for a signal, the greasy-haired man let go of Meg, and she ran to her brother. "Oh Jeffrey! It was dreadful!"

"Now, now, Meg, it's all right." He slipped off his long albert overcoat and wrapped it around her. "There now. All right and proper."

She sniffed and nodded, her tears slowing. "Clary. Don't forget Clary."

"Right." Jeffrey looked up at Max. "Max will you take Meg and hire a cab? I'll get Clary there." He pointed toward the unconscious blonde on the floor.

Meg hesitated, looking up at the dark-haired stranger with trepidation. "Go ahead, Meg," Jeffrey soothed. "This is Max. A friend from Oxford, come through on travels. He'll take care of you."

She nodded and took Max's outstretched hand. He could feel her trembling, and drew the jacket closer around her, his arm slipping over her shoulder.

They went out the actresses' entrance, the women scattering to the sides and watching curiously. Meg noticed how many interested looks and suggestive winks Max got as they passed the painted ladies. One even rubbed her pantaletted crotch and gave him a huge smile. Meg heard his deep chuckle and wondered how he could find such licentious behavior amusing.

Meg moved as far into a corner of their hansom cab as she could while they waited for Jeffrey and Clary.

Max cocked a dark eyebrow up. "We've not been introduced. I'm Maximillian Wallis, late of Warwickshire and India. And you are?"

She pushed a handful of red curls off her cheek. "Margaret Bellingham, Jeffrey's errant sister Meg."

He smiled. "I remember Jeffrey speaking of you. I thought you were a child."

Meg bridled. "Obviously, I'm not."

Max's gray eyes moved over her slowly. "No. Quite obviously not."

Meg felt her cheeks go scarlet. She couldn't even imagine just how much of her humiliation Jeffrey's friend had seen. Not that he was unfamiliar with the female form, as his casual appraisals of the actresses suggested. But herfemale form was another thing altogether!

Jeffrey came with Clary and they clopped off to the Bellinghams' city lodging.

Jeffrey got Meg and Clary settled upstairs and then came back down to share a drink with Max.

"Be glad you have no sisters, Max," he advised, pouring himself a strong beverage.

Max chuckled. "What was she doing in that hell-hole?"

"She says she wanted to know what gentlemen's entertainments were like. She and Clary snuck in." He sunk down into a deep leather chair. "When I think of what might have happened had we not been there!"

"It was providential." Max was remembering Meg's long, pale thigh, and pink-tipped breasts. The girl would certainly have been naked had they been thirty seconds delayed. That would have been interesting.

"I can't tell my parents about this. But I am going to insist that Father push her into accepting one of the offers for her hand. This is the second escapade she's been caught at this year!"

The entire topic of marriage made Max uncomfortable. His widowed mother could speak of nothing else, constantly reminding him that he was nearly thirty-two and still unwed. In that respect, being an only-child was an unpleasant burden.

"She's had quite a few offers, I take it?" Max asked politely.

Jeffrey snorted. "You've seen her!"

"Rather more of her than I should."

"Yes." Jeffrey grinned sheepishly. "Well, she won't have any of them. Wants a love match and won't accept the 'milquetoast simpletons' who call on her regularly." He sipped at his drink. "The thing is, Max. I sympathize with her. She's so bullheaded, I'm afraid she'd run circles around most men."

"Nonsense."

"You don't know her, Max. Tonight was just a peek."

"So to speak," Max offered. "I find it hard to imagine that she's that headstrong. She's just a girl after all."

Jeffrey looked at him slyly. "I doubt even you could do it, my friend."

Max grinned. "Trying to fix me up with your termagant sister, Jeff old boy?"

Jeff shrugged. "You could do worse, if you could actually get her under control."

Max stood and poured himself another drink. The fact was, he coulddo worse. And the challenge was interesting. He was bored with women who were so eager, practically throwing themselves at him, whether they were tarts or ladies. The next brandy went down quickly.

"Very well," he said with confidence. "Tell her I'll be calling on her tomorrow afternoon at two. We shall go riding in the park."

Jeff chortled. "I'll tell her."

* * *

At two-twenty, Meg breezed into the parlor. Her afternoon gown was completely unsuitable for riding.

"Mister Wallis, I apologize for keeping you waiting. But we simply cannot go riding together today or any other day."

Max felt a pinprick of anger. He rose and walked toward her, towered over her when he paused. "Oh? I think differently, Miss Bellingham."

Her red-brown eyebrows rose. "You are wrong."

He laughed. "Rarely. Come with me or I'll tell your father about that little situation at the gentlemen's club."

"Oh!" She stamped a foot. "You are a cad!"

He shrugged. "Perhaps. But I'm the cad you'll be riding with today."

"Humph! You leave me no choice."

"I'm afraid that's true."

She turned to leave. "I must change. Wait here."

"Meg," he said, quiet steel in his voice. "You have twenty minutes. After that, I'll come up to get you."

"Well, I never!" She slammed the door behind her.

"I'm sure you never, little firebrand," Max muttered to himself with a grin.

Their ride around the park was satisfactory. Max made her laugh several times, though she was quick to stop when she caught herself having a good time. He noted that she was a good horsewoman, undoubtedly what accounted for those well-shaped thighs. His imagination fashioned up an equally well-shaped bottom and the thought made him distinctly uncomfortable in the saddle.

He paused within the foyer of her parents' home to wish her a pleasant evening. She offered her gloved hand, and he slowly peeled off the glove. Her big blue eyes went round.

"What are you doing?" She squeaked.

He pressed his lips against the back of her hand and then turned it over, pressing his lips into her delicate palm. He could feel her tremble before she pulled away.

"Saying goodbye," he answered.

"I would appreciate it, Mister Wallis, if you would behave more properly the next time we meet."

He laughed heartily, and she frowned. "All things considered, that's a helluva request, Miss Bellingham. And what makes you think we'll meet again?"

She sputtered. "I- I -- just…"

He bent down to whisper in her ear. "I'm the one who'll tame you, Meg. Never the other way 'round."

She pushed him away. "Oh! You are the most arrogant man I've ever met!"

"I'll be back tomorrow evening. You'll accompany me to a soiree at Madame Longspeth's."

He watched her mental calculations. If she said no, she'd be missing an opportunity to attend an event strictly off-limits to well-brought-up, unmarried, young ladies. All sorts of worldly discussions went on at Madame Longspeth's soirees, and gentlemen often attended with their mistresses.

She bit her lower lip. "What time?"

He smiled. "I'll be here at eight o'clock. Please do not keep me waiting."

* * *

This time, she was ready when he arrived. He peeled off her long glove, eyeing her gown and face as he did so. His lips pressed against the back of her hand first, then the palm. This time, though she shivered, she did not withdraw.

Once they were in the cab, he pointed to the lacy fabric that wrapped her upper shoulders and décolletage. "I would prefer that gown without the bertha, Meg."

Meg looked down. "It would not be proper."

He smiled. "Do you really care? Unpin it."

She narrowed her eyes at him, then shrugged and undid the pins holding the wrap. He helped with the pins in back, his warm hands caressing her porcelain shoulders and neck. He felt her shiver, and saw the tilt of her head which offered her delicate throat innocently.

Holding back, remembering who she was, was hellish. Without the bertha, her shoulders and the tops of her lovely breasts were bare, leaving only a bit of sapphire silk between him and her untouched beauty. Maybe he should have had her leave the bertha on, he thought, suddenly grumpy.

The soiree went well, and while Meg was quiet and somewhat intimidated for the first hour, she blossomed the rest of the night. She was bright and beautiful. Max was proud to have her on his arm.

At the end of the evening, she began to remove her glove, and he took her covered hand in his. Her eyes went to his. He took her chin in hand and slowly moved his face to hers. She closed her eyes. "Do you want me to kiss you, Meg?" he whispered, lips nearly pressing hers. She nodded. "Lick your lips, sweetheart. Let me see your little tongue." He could feel the hand he held trembling frantically. Her eyes opened and the tip of her tongue circled her deep pink lips in invitation.

He pressed his lips to hers tenderly, then with more force as he felt her responding. Her mouth opened slightly and he slipped his tongue in against hers and taught her a kind of dance she'd never known before.

She was breathless when he withdrew.

The next evening, he took her to a play. They laughed until their sides hurt. Two days later they went to a ball and danced with none but each other. A month of sweet kisses and warm laughter passed.

It was cold in the cab and Meg snuggled up against Max easily, unselfconsciously.

"What's she like?" Meg asked softly, her hand moving over Max's strong arm.

"Who, sweetheart?"

"Your mistress."

Max was somewhat taken aback. "My what?"

"Your mistress, Max. Every gentleman has one," she said with certainty.

He grinned. "We do, hm?" He hadn't kept a mistress since living in India almost a year ago.

"Of course. What's yours like? I'm sure she's pretty. Is she a blonde?"

"No. She's a redhead like you."

Meg stiffened against him. "She is? I imagined her to be entirely different from me. I suppose that was silly of me."

He pulled off her glove and kissed her palm suggestively. "What else have you imagined, Meg?"

"Oh, the usual…" she said shyly.

He turned her slightly and kissed her neck. "Like this you mean?"

"Mmm-hmm," she said softly. "Only more."

His lips moved down her shoulder and onto the soft mound of her breast. "Kissing her here?"

"I know you would," Meg mumbled. "Lower, too."

Smiling, Max undid several hooks on Meg's gown and then slid it down from her round, white breasts. She gasped, but held his hand tightly. "Lovely," he said softly.

"Are her breasts bigger than mine, Max?"

He chuckled. "No, darling. Just the same." He let go of her hand and gently fondled her breasts, watching her areolas pucker and her nipples rise with excitement. He lowered his head and took one sweet nipple in his mouth.  Meg moaned and arched.

"Is this what you do?" she asked brokenly.

He licked at the other nipple and then took it in, teasing unmercifully, until Meg began to squirm. "Every time," he answered.

"What- What else, Max?"

Skirts, crinolines, pantalettes, all prevented him from answering her question as he knew her body desired. He focused on her nipples, relentlessly pursuing her pleasure. Gasping, writhing, she reached into his lap and touched the hardness straining vigorously against his pants. As though burned, she quickly withdrew her hand. Slowly, she put it back again feeling shape and hardness with heated curiosity.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Max, that feels so good! What else?"

He kissed her mouth deeply, his fingers and thumbs manipulating her nipples as she squirmed and arched. "I can't tell you what else, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear.

"Please! Please, Max!"

She was screaming to be loved to the fullest. But to do so was to commit himself. If he took her innocence he would have to marry her. There was no other gentlemanly thing to do.

Damn, but her hand felt so good on him. She was so willing.

"Marry me, Meg," he whispered.

"Will you… will you… more?"

"Yes. Yes."

"Tonight?"

"Meg!" he chuckled. "You're supposed to wait for your wedding night! You're a terribly naughty girl."

She smiled, pressing her breasts harder into his hands, her body humming perceptibly. Her hand gripped him harder. "Don't make me wait, Max. I'll marry you later, but show me the pleasure tonight."

It was hard to think. "Very well, darling."

He tapped on the ceiling and directed the driver away from the Bellingham's and to his townhouse. It was barely five minutes away.

Max's butler eyed Meg quickly, then nodded and made himself scarce.

"You do this often?" Meg whispered as she watched the Butler's retreating back.

Max grinned. "Only with my redhaired mistress." He took her hand. "Come on."

They hurried up the stairs and into Max's large bedroom suite. A fine four-poster hung with cream damask sat in the middle. Meg's eyes went wide as she looked at it.

Max turned her toward him. "We don't have to do this. We can wait."

She bit her lower lip. "I don't want to wait. I want it… you… now."

He undid the frogs on her cape, then the rest of the hooks on the back of her gown and her petticoats. They fluttered to the floor in a heap of green watered silk and crinoline. Her lovely breasts were still uncovered, nipples hard, asking for attention. Max bent and sucked at each of them. Her hands combed through his thick, dark hair as he teased her.

"You," she insisted, pulling at his coat.

He quickly got out of his jacket, cravat and vest. She fought with the buttons on his shirt, but got it off.

"Ah, Max," she sighed. "I want to eat you up."

Feeling the flesh in his pants jump at the idea, Max could only smile at her innocence. "You may. Later."

He unlaced her little corset and pulled her camisole off over her head. Although he was nearly bursting with need, he wanted to treat her well. Slowly, he removed her shoes, stockings, garters, and finally, her pantalettes.

She blushed, but he took his time admiring her bare splendor. Long legs with a golden-red triangle at the top, a narrow waist and round breasts, all waited for his pleasure.

"Turn 'round, Meg."

"Max… This is-"

"Let me look at you." Yes, her bottom was round and firm. A horsewoman's bottom. He raced through getting the rest of his clothes off. "Now you may turn back, sweetheart."

"I want- Oh!" Her eyes went round as saucers.

"Scared?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Come here, Meg."

She came into his arms and he lifted her into the big bed.

Although they both wanted to, they didn't stay in the big bed all night. Instead, Max took Meg home at a late-but-acceptable hour. She clung to him at the door.

"When can we do it again, Max?" she whispered. "I know there's more you haven't showed me."

He chuckled and pushed his hat back on his head. She was incorrigible. "We ought to wait, sweetheart. We don't want there to be any six-month babies."

"Babies? I don't understand."

He groaned. Obviously, her mother was saving that talk for the wedding night. "Trust me."

She was insistent. "I do, Max, but-"

"We'll deal with it tomorrow, darling." He stroked her lovely face. "Tonight, sleep well and have pleasant dreams."

She smiled impishly. "I'm going to dream about that magnificent look you get on your face when you-"

"Ahem." He nodded at Jeffrey coming into the foyer. "Jeff. Just saying good night. I'll be by tomorrow. Think your father will be in?"

Jeff cocked a blond eyebrow at the implication, then grinned. "In the morning, I expect so."

"See you then." He pressed a kiss to Meg's forehead. "And you, Miss."

* * *

The next morning went pretty much as expected. Meg's father was surprised and happy that Max wanted to marry Meg and that she was agreeable. Jeffrey, sitting on the settee listening, could hardly control his laughter.

The wedding date was set for four months. Max had insisted on the shortest wait possible. He didn't think he could hold Meg or himself back longer.

About a week before the wedding, Meg's mother came upon them in flagrante delecto in the garden.

"Mister Wallis!" she said sharply.

Max stood and turned away quickly to button his pants. Meg threw her skirts down and tried to brush the grass stains off her knees.

Max took it like a man. "Madam, I apologize for shocking you with my behavior."

"It's not his fault entirely, Mama," Meg tried.

"Go in the house Margaret! I'll deal with you later."

"But Mama-"

"Go!" Not unlike her forceful daughter, Mrs. Bellingham had a way about her.

Meg slunk off to the house, sparing one sympathetic glance back at Max as she went.

"Mister Wallis, I would have thought that at your age you'd know better."

He nodded. "Yes, Madam."

"Have I need to worry about my daughter's reputation within the first year of the marriage?"

He knew she was asking about six-month babies. "I don't think so, Madam."

She clucked her tongue. "Is this your only, uh… encounter?"

Max felt the sweat slipping down his spine. "No, Madam."

"Oh dear. Even thought she's eighteen, my daughter is…er, was… a complete innocent, Mr. Wallis. She has no idea where this could lead."

"I'm sorry, Madam." He squirmed. "I have been careful."

Mrs. Bellingham blushed. "Please don't go into details. As it is only a week until your nuptials, I shall keep this breach of etiquette and good manners to myself. Please control yourself during this last week, Mister Wallis."

"Of course, Madam."

"Now excuse me. I have a few things to discuss with my daughter."

Max sat on the stone bench nearby feeling like he'd gotten off relatively easy. The possibility of dueling with Meg's father over her virtue a week before the wedding sounded very unappealing.

The wedding was a grand affair. Both families were present, eager to see their offspring joined. Max's mother was wildly happy.

Max and Meg were to spend one night at Max's London townhome before departing for a honeymoon in Italy. The wedding day had been long, and they snuggled contentedly against one another in his big bed, gathering their energy for the much-anticipated night ahead.

Meg rested her head on Max's shoulder and played with the dark mat of hair on his chest. "She told me, you know."

"You have a way of starting things in the middle, dear girl? Did you know that?"

She giggled. "I meant, Mother told me about 'conjugal relations' -- isn't that an ugly term?"

Max smiled in the darkness. "It is rather clinical. What did she say?"

"She said to do my best not to fall asleep or be frightened by your baser passions."

He snorted. "Darling, your passions are every bit as base as mine."

"I didn't tell her that."

Max laughed and began kissing her throat.

"Max? We didn't make a baby though we might have. Do you think we'll have children some day?"

"I have no doubt, sweetheart." He thought it best to show her how cautious he'd been with her rather than try to explain.

Their passion rose, climbing with each touch, taste, kiss. She was demanding, never hesitating to ask for more. She peaked once, then the second time he was with her in ecstasy.

"Max! Max!" she said with breathless urgency. "You're still there. Still… inside!"

"I'm glad you noticed."

She hugged him tight. "But usually you-"

"Not any more."

"Because we're married?"

He nuzzled her ear. "Mmm-hmm. No need to be careful."

"Oh, Max! I liked it! I could feel you… you know. It was marvelous! Let's do it again."

He laughed as he rolled off her, pulling her against him as he went. "I love you, Meg. You are definitely your own girl."

She giggled. "I love you, too, Max."

The End