The lateness of the hour meant the trip back to Elsa's was completed even more quickly than usual. Ernst stopped the car at the steps, discharging the three partygoers. Max headed to the door, while Elsa and Georg walked more slowly, she careful not to step on her elaborate gown, Georg taking each step in the deliberate manner of someone who has had too much to drink to walk normally, yet not enough to clearly stumble. As they made their way inside, Max closed the door behind them all.
"Elsa, why don't you let me help Georg, and you can go on upstairs. I don't know that I should abandon my chaperone duties with him in this condition," he grinned.
"Oh, Max, don't be ridiculous!" Elsa laughed in return. I'll just walk him to his room, and he'll be fine on his own, won't you darling?" She looked at Georg, who was returning her gaze with his own, a burning one she'd not seen more than a couple of times.
"Of course I will. I'll be fine, Max. You go on." The Captain's eyes were heavy with liquor and lust, and his hand made its way from Elsa's waist down to her rounded bottom, which he then squeezed, at the same time watching to make sure Max hadn't noticed. He was just sober enough to know that while Max wasn't likely to search them out later, he would make an effort to be responsible for as long as he was in their company.
When they reached the door to Georg's room, the two bid goodnight to Max, and Elsa kissed Georg's cheek before continuing the rest of the way to her own suite. Georg went inside, closing the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed, and ran his fingers through his thick hair, as he often did when he was troubled. He pulled off his shoes, throwing them against the far wall, simply to hear the thud when they struck. As often as he stayed in the guest room, it was not a comfortable space for him. Like the rest of the house, the room had Elsa's keen eye for color, from the gilding around the ceiling medallions to the rose covered wallpaper to the the icy green velvet padding on the upholstered bed frame, a shade which was taken from the pattern of the extravagant Oriental rug. The space was much too elaborate, and for some reason he found it irksome. He sighed, and took off his jacket and tie, throwing them on the chair next to the bed.
He had just removed his cufflinks when he heard the door open and just as quickly click shut. Georg glanced over to see Elsa, dressed in nothing but a bias cut silk nightgown, in a rich, ripe red. Before he could react, she was in front of him, pushing on his shoulders to tell him, wordlessly, to lie back. The cufflinks, still in his hand, fell to the floor.
Their physical longings collided as their lips met, Elsa crushed down on his mouth with her own; her tongue desperately seeking his. Hands grabbed and stroked and squeezed whatever they reached first. Elsa deftly reached for the opening of his shirt, quickly popping each of the buttons holding it closed. At the same time, Georg's hands roamed over Elsa's bare shoulders, the straps of her gown having slipped down as she tugged at his shirt. His hands soon found their rest, cupping her full, round breasts.
Her mouth followed the contour of Georg's jaw, neck, shoulder. She opened his shirt, exposing his muscled torso, sprinkled with rich, dark curls which ended with a line reaching beyond the waist of his trousers. He felt her hands slide down and tug at his belt. He reached up, caressing her neck, reaching to run his fingers through her hair. What he touched was not the smooth and soft strands he craved, but a stiff twist, hardened into an invisible shell.
"No, darling, don't," Elsa whispered, removing his hand and placing it down at her waist. Georg stopped and sat up, and looked at her blankly. In an instant, his ardor was gone, replaced with a hollow feeling that was far more familiar. One of the things he'd loved with Agathe was touching her hair, feeling it cascade around them, threading his fingers through to pull her ever closer...
"I'm, ah, I think we'd better stop-I didn't intend for us to, to...I don't wish to take advantage of you."
"Georg, darling, there is nothing I want more than you. All this foolishness regarding chaperones and reputations is just that, foolishness. We are certainly experienced enough in life to know what we want, and to go about gettng it. You needn't worry about my reputation, though it is very gallant of you to consider it." He thought he saw tears in her eyes, as he pushed himself off the bed and stood up.
"Elsa, I really think it best if you return to your own quarters for the evening. I, ah, I don't really know what else to say. I wouldn't want any of your staff to overhear us; I do wish to protect you from any idle gossip, " a phrase he knew would resonate with her. "And I do believe it is time for me to begin sleeping off my earlier encounter with that bottle." He began to sway, so grabbed the edge of the chair to help keep his balance.
He felt Elsa's eyes bore into him, almost seeking to wound him. "Well, Georg, if you think it best." Her voice was so soft as to be barely audible. As she pulled the straps on ther nightgown back into place she continued. "I don't want to do anything you don't have the heart for. Good night, darling. Perhaps you'll feel better in the morning." She stepped out into the hall and into the darkness.
Georg winced at her words. He walked over, closed the door, and rested his head against the cold, hard wood.
