by Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, heroine of “The Blonde Samurai”
It has come to my attention on this rainy day when the emerging buds from the flower blossoms sigh with delight at the welcome shower that you, dear lady reader, are not reading enough romances.
How do I know this?
I have it on good authority from the “corset régime” that upper class ladies who are not having satisfying sexual relations with their husbands are resorting to drastic measures to change their circumstance.
What has so disturbed this stalwart group of Society ladies who shake their ample bosoms and rattle their tiny parasols whenever a new thought infringes upon their ordered world is the idea that reading romances can improve your physical relationship with his lordship.
You are wary of such an idea, you say.
Here is a first-hand account to prove my point. When I ventured out earlier this morning to a fancy goods shop to purchase new leather kid gloves (a weakness of mine), I overheard a conversation between two aristocratic ladies that went something like this:
Lady M: “His lordship hasn’t dined at home all week. I cannot tell you the loneliness that overcomes me when I stare at his empty place at the table, not to mention the embarrassment when I hear the servants whispering about it.”
Lady R: “Does he go to his club or perhaps that disgraceful establishment near the Burlington Arcade? You know, the one where the women wear Piccadilly bangs and yellow feathers in their bonnets.”
Lady M: (Nodding) “I fear you are correct. When his lordship returns home, he smells of a peculiar odor I can only describe as dead grass drenched with patchouli.” (Groan) “It is all my fault.”
Lady R: “Do say, Pauline, you are making mirth about this unfortunate situation, are you not?”
Lady M: “No, I am quite serious. When it time to retire for the evening, I am just not in the mood to have relations. After his lordship turns down the gaslight, I huddle to the far side of the bed with a feeble excuse and pull the coverlet over my head.”
Lady R: Then what?
Lady M: I say silly things, like my night corset is too tight or my garter broke or the maid pulled on my hair when she brushed it.”
Lady R: “Pray, dear, why?
Lady M: “I hesitate to embarrass myself in front of you–”
Lady R: “Am I not your oldest and dearest friend?”
Lady M: ” ‘Tis shameful to say this even to one’s oldest friend, but I feel so…dry down there. No wetness at all. As if the essence of my femininity has been stolen from me, like that maid I sacked who doused herself with my most expensive Paris perfume.”
Lady R: (Smiling) “I know what you need, my dear. Something that will spark your libido and make it dance a lovely waltz.” (Giggle.) “Or a wild mazurka.”
Lady M: “You mean I should consult my physician about those genital massage sessions I heard about from Lady Hartford?”
Lady R: “No, dear, nothing so drastic…or so extravagantly priced. There is a better way to get ‘in the mood.’ ”
Lady M: “Tell me, please.”
Lady R: “Read a romance.”
Lady M: (Shocked) “You mean those racy novels where virginal misses swoon while being tied up and whipped by a roguish lord in tight breeches? Lady Tarringbone says they are the ruination of a young woman’s mind and her character.”
Lady R: (Nose up in the air) “What does she know? Her ladyship is a dried-up old codfish.”
Lady M: “Really, Pauline!”
Lady R: “I assure you, Sylvia, reading a well-written romance is an emotional aphrodisiac that will make your heart race and fill you with pleasant sensations that warm and excite you.”
Lady M: “You are not speaking from experience, of course.” (Pause.) “Are you?”
Lady R: “Of course not. But I have heard from ladies who do reach such literature that they are much more daring in bed afterward and often make bold advances toward their husband–”
Lady M: “No.”
Lady R: “Yes. They might ask him to unbutton their dress instead of having their maid do it, or snuggle between the sheets with him wearing only their night corset and no chemise–”
Lady M: “My dear, I have heard enough…what you are saying is quite scandalous!” Pause. “But you say it works?”
Lady R: “Oh, yes. His lordship and I–I mean, I have heard that it is quite pleasurable.”
Lady M: (Shaking her head.) “I cannot imagine retiring for the night without a chemise. Doesn’t it get drafty…down there?
Lady R: “Who cares about the draft when you’re in the throes of passion with his lordship? Your buttocks quivering, the heat growing in your groin as he parts your thighs and inserts his finger, one then two, stirring your honey pot with such vigorous action I thought I would–I mean, I’ve heard that women have fainted right on the spot.”
Lady M: “All this from reading a romance?”
Lady R: (A sigh.) “Oh, yes, it is quite heavenly.”
Lady M: “I am shocked, Sylvia, at your affirmation…and quite jealous. (Pause.) “May I borrow the romance of which you speak?”
Lady R: “My dear Pauline, I shall make you a present of it. It is called–”
At that inopportune moment the sales clerk happened to bring me my wrapped purchases–three pair of smooth leather kid gloves in gray, taupe and ivory–and I didn’t catch the title of the book.
But it matters not. Pursue at your leisure the display of novels at your local book shop and bring home a romance that interests you to stir the marital fires. You will enjoy emotional satisfaction and a good romp between the sheets.
Remember, while his lordship finds stimulation at gazing upon your lovely breasts with their rose-tip nubs or the wiggle of your delectable backside, plump and round, we females find the engagement of our emotions to be the orchestrator of the dance that stimulates our bodies and prepares us for sex.
As I mentioned earlier, the emerging flower bud finds joy with the rain as does your own hard bud, the seat of your womanhood, as it begins to throb and burn with a yearning when all your emotions are engaged.
As in reading a romance.
The story you read may be a fantasy, but the results are fact: Women who enjoy reading romances enjoy more sex with their partners.
As a naughty Victorian lady, you have my word on it.
February 2010: meet The Blonde Samurai
“She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”