A uninvited visitor adds to his confusion.

Dear Sir Williard,

I have just had a most unexpected visitor that has only added to the overwhelming sense of dishonour and shame that has afflicted me since my very first night here in New Thames. I dined in my room tonight - unable to face the inhabitants of this extraordinary planet and their licentious ways. As it turns out your Lordship, I may have been better off in the public room.

Shortly after the staff had removed the remnants of a very tasty roasted-eel, there was a polite tapping at my door. I opened the door curiously as I was not expecting any visitors, after all who other than Dr. Miller and Saminya even knew my name? To my astonishment I saw a young lady who I immediately recognized. Miss 'Peach' (again Sir Williard please forgive my use of pseudonyms) was wearing a modest evening gown of crushed blue velvet with a high neck-line and long full skirts, but how could I forget her angelic golden curls, expressive blue eyes or the fullness of her red lips.

I am afraid my manners failed me as I stood in shocked silence my heart racing with fear and shame while the most base part of my brain rejoiced at seeing her again. She nodded shyly and asked if she could please step inside my rooms as she did not want to be seen in the hallway outside my room. I should have politely refused her civil request Sir Williard, I should have known that nothing good could come of having a unattached daughter of a company executive alone with me in my room, but I did not. Stepping aside in dumb silence I gestured for her to enter and after a quick glance up and down the hallway to ensure that no one had seen her I closed the door and turned to face the woman as I fumbled to tighten my cravat. In the privacy of my room I was only half dressed, your Lordship, my jacket and waistcoat were tossed casually over the back of the bed and my cravat was loosened in a positively unbecoming fashion.

"May I offer you some tea?" I stammered as I moved to the tea service hoping that the pot was still warm. Miss Peach seated herself on the divan and while I fussed with the teapot she meticulously arranged the full skirts of her dress on the chaise so that she took most of the seat intended for two. She accepted the cup and saucer from my hands and politely declined the cream and sugar; I took the chair by the window and stammered an awkward comment about her parents wondering where she was. After all, My Lord, what do you say to a woman whose virtue you have torn away? What sentiments adequately convey the sense of shame and remorse at leaving said woman bound naked to a stone bench, fleeing into the darkness to avoid discovery?

"My mother thinks I am walking in the gardens again with my ... friends." She paused slightly before completing the sentence and you can surely understand how she might have trouble calling that pair of minxes her friends. With that I fell to my knees at her feet and begged for her forgiveness. I was stunned when she stopped me by taking my face in her soft hands and covered my lips with her thumbs. A hundred thoughts crossed my mind at once - her hands smelled of apricots - I'd be sent straight to the soma mines - she had lost her mind - with one sharp twist of her hands she could snap my neck like a twig - I could taste her fingers with ...

"Please Dr. Baxter." Miss Peach stopped me with her quiet words. "It is I who came to apologize to you." From my position on the floor, when she lifted my head it rested almost on her lap; for a brief moment I wished with all my heart that I could be one of the hounds in her estate that I might rest my cheek on her lap every day and night. She traced my cheek with two of her fingers and I could feel the stubble that had grown since this morning's shave rasp against her sensitive fingertips. The growing bulge in my trousers was becoming painfully constricted and I tried not to imagine how her fingers would feel stroking the length of my manhood. Her voice, both sweet and sad wrenched me back to the moment "It was my fault, not yours."

I of course immediately denied her confession, how could it be her fault when it was her friends who had stripped and bound her? How could she be to blame for me climbing between her thighs and despoiling her? She told me that she was to blame, not them or I; she had told her friends that she thought I was handsome and that she hoped I'd see her again. My cheeks flushed with heat, Sir Williard at her bold confession, and she must have felt the heat where her hand rested against my cheek. "I had never been with a man before last night." She didn't really need to confirm that, her cry of pain as I plunged into her and the blood on her pale white thigh was more than enough evidence for me. She lowered her gaze and bit her lip before she continued softly. "I never really imagined I could, until I saw you." My heart was racing Sir Williard, I could not move - in truth I could barely breath.

"I came here tonight, Sir, to thank you for the care you took to preserve my honour." I attempted to rebut her confused understanding of my dishonourable role in the matter but she would not listen. "No Dr. Baxter, you saved me from what might have been a most humiliating pregnancy and when you heard others coming you did not stay to put on a show." What kind of man would do that? I wondered as she continued her praise "Furthermore, you took the time to hide the bloody evidence of my fall from grace. No one had any idea about the monumental event that occurred when I was discovered." Her next words though were even more disorienting, never could I have imagined that a cultured lady of the British Empire could speak no plainly and on such an intimate matter.

"I want to feel you inside me again Dr. Baxter." She lifted my face to hers and whispered softly "I have taken precautions, so this time I want to feel you fill me with your masculine essence." Then she kissed me, pressing her soft lips against mine . It was not a sophisticated kiss, but made up in energy and heat what it lacked in experience. I could not help myself, when a stunningly beautiful woman presses her warm lips to yours a man can only return her kiss. Miss Peach was startled when my tongue slipped between her teeth but then responded in kind sinking from the chaise to join me on the thick carpet of the Edwardian Royal.

I can only imagine that what we were feeling was 'The Blush' once again, your Lordship, have I ever felt such desire. It was a fierce hunger even more intense than what I felt last night, far stronger than my reaction I had to Miller's dark-haired seductress. My hands found the round swell of her breasts under the layers of crushed velvet and I growled in frustration at the layers of armour worn by the maidens of our time against the predatory nature of modern day wolves. Miss Peach made no protest at my bold caress, instead her back arched violently pressing her round curve into my palm and she bit my ear hard enough to draw blood.

"I am yours!" She murmured in my throbbing ear. "Take me again, my hero." I remember rolling on top of her, pinning her softness to the floor as I pawed at her and covered every inch of her face and neck with my kisses. The blue of her wide eyes was a only shade lighter than the dress; they gazed into mine with deep hunger "Again and again, Dr. Baxter! Once could never be enough."