“Touch my pearl,” she whispered. “Touch it.”

The moment his hand found her jewel, she exhaled heavily, and released a shriek of pleasure. Her body writhed, her back arched, and her hips ground more intensely.

“Oh, Newland, Newland.”

They made love for some time until he felt her body tighten, her climax nearing. He felt both the pressure of her tight sheath squeezing his manhood, and the magic pearls rolling against the wall of her sheath, and soon found himself losing control. He continued to circle her pearl, heightening the level of her ecstasy, while he intensely drummed in and out of her, all the while waiting for her release. A moment later, she thrust her hips forward and plunged back taking his full staff inside her velvety case. He knew she was reaching the most divine orgasm she had ever experienced. Lost in the throes of ecstasy, her body quaked thunderously as she cried out with a satisfied moan. He stroked hard twice more, and then released his seed, shuddering violently as he filled her sheath with his precious gift.

“Oh, yes,” she said, and then gasped, collapsing into the stronghold of his arms.

He circled her waist with his arms and together they fought to find their breath, both panting wildly.

“My gracious,” she said. “Who would ever have thought?”

“Yes, to be sure.” He smiled. “Are you ready for me to remove the pearls?”

“Must we?” she said, giggling.

After they left the bedroom the following morning, May reverted to her girlish ways. When she was away from their private chambers, she was simply of another mindset, acting as though their passionate lovemaking had never happened. Over breakfast that next morning, she dawdled over frivolities such as her wardrobe just as she did on other days.

“Wear, dearest? I thought a trunkful of things had come from Paris last week.”

“Yes, of course. I meant to say that I shan’t know WHICH to wear.” She pouted a little. “I’ve never dined out in London; and I don’t want to be ridiculous.”

He tried to enter into her perplexity. “But don’t Englishwomen dress just like everybody else in the evening?”

“Newland! How can you ask such funny questions? When they go to the theatre in old ball-dresses and bare heads.”

“Well, perhaps they wear new ball-dresses at home; but at any rate Mrs. Carfry and Miss Harle won’t. They’ll wear caps like my mother’s—and shawls; very soft shawls.”

“Yes; but how will the other women be dressed?”

“Not as well as you, dear,” he rejoined, wondering what had suddenly developed in her Janey’s morbid interest in clothes.

She pushed back her chair with a sigh. “That’s dear of you, Newland; but it doesn’t help me much.”

He had an inspiration. “Why not wear your wedding- dress? That can’t be wrong, can it?”

“Oh, dearest! If I only had it here! But it’s gone to Paris to be made over for next winter, and Worth hasn’t sent it back.”