Marcelle's POV:
Elizabeth breezed around the hall in her flowing dress, laughing with the young soldiers about nothing in particular. She looked so at ease with them, her mouth upturned in a cute, flirty pout. Her teeth were the most brilliant shade of white, and her hair looked amazing as it billowed out in the breeze from the slightly ajar French doors leading out into the huge garden.
I watched as Elizabeth stood up and Tom slapped her bum cheekily, causing her to drop the silver tray she was holding. I felt a sudden rush around my vagina as she bent down to pick it up and I caught sight of her big, perfectly rounded breasts.
I shook my head and stood up to walk off the feelings of desire currently chorusing through me. My long, floor-sweeping dress felt heavy around mt hips and I sighed. I wish Mama would let me wear lighter clothing, but she is so old fashioned.
"Are you okay?" Elizabeth had popped up behind me. I flinched at her touch and she drew her hand away, her face the very picture of concern. I barely had time to reflect on the perfect furrow of her eyebrows and the brightness of her wide eyes before she spoke again. "You look pale."
My wandering eye settled on the plunge of her dress and the warm feeling returned. "Elizabeth..." I whispered. She looked worried now, and felt my forehead. I almost fainted with the need to rip her clothes off, but like the Lady I was trained to be, I restrained myself.
"Sorry, I don't know what came over me! Shall we dance?" I said.
She beamed, "Of course, I'll go with Tom and you can take John."
I blushed, feeling foolish. Of course we could not dance together anymore; we were no longer children ...
Elizabeth's POV:
I do so love Father's parties. It is fun to flirt with the young soldiers while he is not looking, but I also love wearing all my beautiful dresses. Marcelle is so lucky, her French tailor makes all of hers and she is very good.She looked dazzling tonight, her hair piled up on top of her head and her blue dress with the frills. I was with her when she had that made, I was so jealous. I don't understand how she could possibly hate all of her corsets, but I know she would give them all to me if her Mother would allow it.
"Eighty three, eighty four," I counted each stroke of my hairbrush. I was sat cross-legged in my night gown on my bed, waiting for Marcelle. She had not said she was staying the night, but she always did after a party like this, just as I would have stayed on if the party had been held at her house; much to the disapproval of our Fathers.
Just then my door opened. As I expected, Marcelle's head popped around the door. I felt her looking my up and down like she does every time, taking in my lose clothes and slouched posture, before asking, "Can I stay on?"
I smiled and nodded, "Of course, do come and change. Borrow this night gown."
I watched her change from my bed, but found I had to turn away. A warm feeling was bleeding in to me and I didn't like it. I forced myself to look up and saw she was just in her drawers and brassiere. I let out a small gasp.
"Are you okay?" She asked me.
I felt the warm feeling retuning and I shifted in my position. I could not speak in the presence of her huge breasts, so I just nodded. what was happening to me, this was Marcelle, my childhood friend! I had never gotten flustered around her before.
I looked at her and noticed she seemed to be staring at me, but wasn't meeting my eye. I followed her vision line to see what she was looking at and arrived at my protruding breasts.
My breathing became more shallow and I felt my body burning with a strange feeling, almost like desire but ...
"Shall we go to bed?" Marcelle asked.
My eyes almost popped out of my head. "WHAT?" I asked.
Marcelle frowned at me, "Shall we each go to bed? I am tired from the party."
My breathing levelled out, as I realised she meant to sleep. How incredibly foolish of me!
