The Victorians Wolf Den

Getting along with the competition

"I knew there was something wrong with you. You were just too good to be true," Cecil sneered, one arm wrapped around her breasts and the other blocking her lady part, leaving the rest of her body in the wind.

"No... it's not what you think, Ms..." Branson pleaded, still gripping the rail. "Could you lend me a hand here? I tripped from the roof... quick, I'm losing my grip."

"Is that your poison? Watching girls take baths from the windows." Cecil sneered with her lips tucked to the side.

"Can we settle this after cause..."

Branson lost his grip and thankfully fell on the front porch tent. Cecil jumped out of the tub and screamed his name thinking he'd fallen all the way down. She grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her chest, and poked her head out the window. She was relieved to know he did not hurt himself but mad enough not to let him off easy.

"Good, that's what you get, you pervert." She slumped down on the floor with her back against the wall. She had to gain her composure. Her heart was pacing out of her chest, thinking of what could've happened to him. It was odd. She'd never cared that much about anyone except her dad now that her mom was gone. Cecil felt a quick shiver running through her spine and down her thighs. She didn't know how to describe it, but ardent flames and heat descended from her navel to her lady part. It's as if a bomb went off, and the sensation pulsated faster and faster in uncharted areas. The towel came undone, and Cecil noticed that her breasts had hardened, and her reddish cherry nipples became tensed, robing against it.

She was in disarray. What exactly was happening to her body? She thought she was mad at him a while ago, but now her body yawned for him. Cecil flushed as naughty thoughts whirled around her head with pitchforks. 'Hello, you know you want this,' her subconscious said surreptitiously.

Branson waited for her to be fully dressed and come to the living room to explain what had happened. He didn't want her to take him as the pervert who watched young girls take baths through the window.

"Look, I was fixing the roof and...." he gulped.

"Don't want to hear it. What happened, happened, and we'll leave it as that." She shrugged, avoiding his eyes and hiding her blushed cheeks.

"Can we please not bring this to Sir Winston's attention?" Branson pleaded with her.

"Fine, but I'm going up with you," she demanded.

Branson was intrigued to see Cecil at work on the roof. He had never seen any young city girls do handiwork back in Yorkshire.

"So, who is the lucky fellow?" Branson asked huskily.

"What lucky fellow?" She replied, looking at the corner of her eyes.

"Well, I figure a smart one like you must have a lucky fellow."

"Well, a smart one like me doesn't need a fellow to validate her now, does she?" 'Hey, what are you doing? Do you want to chase him away? What about your epiphany?' her subconscious shouted.

Cecil wondered for a minute when did her subconscious become so active. Although he wasn't implying Cecil needed a man to validate her, Branson knew better than to argue with a smart city girl like her. He deflected her by asking about her passion and aspiration in life.

Cecil chuckled and said, "I see you're not completely foolish,"

"Stubborn but not foolish," he laughed and split his hair, revealing his golden brown eyes.

Cecil flushed with a trail of giggles and turned away. Her cheeks became as red as Honeycrisp apples. Seeing him split his hair reminded her of what happened in the room the night she tended to his wounds.