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Fever dream

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Lying in my bed after a long day of entertaining pompous, arrogant guests in the hope of raising my darling's jealousy, I couldn't help but think back to the last night I had spent in that same room.
I remembered the way she looked me over, my night shirt then soaked from her dousing myself and my bed to put out the fire. I could only hope the flush in her cheeks was from certain feelings towards me, rather than heat and exertion. When I returned from putting things to right with my intended murderess, I could not keep my mind going in a straight line, nor my speech. My little fairy sat in my bedroom, as I'd bade her, still in her night gown. It was at this time I was able to fully take in the sight of her, and hungrily so, for this was the first time I had seen her own natural shape. Without her binding corset and billowing sleeves and skirts, her hair long and loose about her shoulders, I could admire the swell of her breasts.
At this time, looking back, I could not keep from wishing I had done more than chastely hold her hand. I should like to have brought it up to my mouth and kissed her wrist; pulled her to me and asked if she would let me kiss her lips. For I desired her affirmation of love as much as I desired to have her in my bed. Should she have consented to be kissed, I might have teased out her desire, and encouraged the lust I hoped dwelt within her, matching mine. This flight of fancy then took on its own whim, and I began to give in to my lonely lust beneath the coverlet. I imagined my Jane would kiss my throat and place her hands on my chest. I would then have begun sliding her night gown up her thighs, bunching the cloth in my hands. She would gasp and watch as I bared her legs to my eyes, brushing the pale skin with my fingers. Breathing heavily, alone in my bed, and biting my free fist to keep from crying out, I fantasized I would have lifted her off the wet carpet, set her upon the dresser, and explored the warm cavern between her thighs with my hand. Oh how she would have sighed and called my name. I fancied she would have then encouraged me to remove my night shirt, exposing my manhood to her innocent eyes, and pulled me into her embrace. As I pictured burying myself within her warmth, hearing her call me by my name, feeling her kiss and touch me freely, I came apart and was then insensible for a few minutes. So relaxed and at peace was I then, I found myself drifting off to sleep, the memory of my Jane's voice still ringing in my ears.