Kissing Gilda

“That’s a stupid story,” I said. I recoiled, and thought that I might strike back at her. I started for her. However, the other three held me back.

“She doesn’t mean it,” my wife said to me.

“He doesn’t mean it,” said Roman and Robert to Miss Gilda.

Those same dark stares that Miss GIlda and Jacinta had previously thrown at each other exchanged now between myself and my mistress. Then, and only then, I remembered that my study was on that very floor. I ran to it, and locked myself in, despite the pounding on the door of others.I knew I wanted to have Miss Gildas as my lover now more than ever, if only because she had disagreed with me. I wanted the power over her, I must confess.

I took a look at the dollhouse before me. Here I was, presented exactly as I was standing, in my own small study. There were my friends, in the hallway outside the study. There was the ghost doll, standing on the staircase, and standing still outside was the doll that represented Hurry Hendricks, who I imagined was the voice in my head.

Do it, the voice said, and I swept the ghost away, onto the floor. I had my wife and two male attendants journey down into kitchen, where I hoped they would find the **** that we searched for so desperately. And then, only then, did I move Miss Gilda into the room, next to me.

I walked to the door and unlocked mit. Miss GIlda burst in.

“They left me here,” she said.

“Miss Gilda,” I began, pretending I was about to lecture her.

“It’s Miss Venturas,” she said, making a face that seemed more like crumpled paper than like a person expressing their disgust. “Gilda is my first name.”

“But we’ve always called you that….”

“Can’t you just call me Gilda?” she asked. “At least when you kiss me… and I need that now. I’m so scared. I need your arms around me.”

I followed her insistent instructions. I placed my arms around her and I kissed her hair. I tussled it, then I moved my lips to the back of her head, kissing down the back of her neck, unzipping her dress, and continuing my **** of constant butterfly kisses down her spine. She shivered and moaned, lightly.

“I think you could save me,” she said.

“Where are the others,” I asked, knowing exactly where they had gone.

“They pushed past the spirit,” she told me. “Bowled it over-- as soon as they ran through it, it disappeared. But I was far too frightened to go with them. Please tell me it will be all right.”

She looked like Ilsa Lund, when she was looking up at Rick and begging him for love. She had those same three tears tearing down her face. I’d always found this one of the most erotic scenes in the movies-- especially the way in which she was bent down, beneath Rick Blaine. I touched her cheek first, caressing the soft, almost towel soft flesh. I told her once more that it would be all right. Then, I pressed my hands closer against her neck, slightly **** her. This is where I felt her becoming excited.

“You won’t be hurt, my love,” I said to her. “I’ll just give you the pain you like.”

“But I don’t like it,” she said. Her eyes were looking up at mine, pleading me to continue.

“That’s because you love it,” I said, and forcefully pulled her, by the neck, up into my kiss. I had her in my spell from there on, though it did not help my lovemaking to have constantly in my head a voice critiquing my technique. At the very least, I thought, when I shouted for the voice to shut up, it proved a boon. Miss Gilda believed I was speaking to her, and she seemed to like everything I did. I even took up some of the more experimental advice the voice gave me, and to my surprise, found that Gilda Venturas did indeed love those various acts. As for what happened the rest of that night I do not know, for I fell asleep soon after finishing my deed with Miss Gildas and did not wake up until the following morning, when for a while all seemed right with the world.