"Colin Greenland - A Passion For Lord Pierrot (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenland Colin)

her, to resort to innuendo.
'Science is a hard taskmaster,' he replies, blandly.
'I hope you are not overdoing it,' she says. 'You will make yourself
ill.'
He thinks she sounds a trifle disgruntled, but Lady Dove has returned
her
attention to her book. Lord Pierrot bids her politely good night. He
kisses her pendulous cheek, quickly, and goes to his own room.
As he bids the intelligence turn out the light, a second poignant
memory
occurs to him, unsought, of that time when Dove and he made a foursome
with Gerard Pomeroy and Mona Twisk to sample the innocent pleasures of
the
gardens of the moon. Those golden days. Behind the marshmallow kiosk
his
Dove had unbuttoned her glove and, almost unprompted, relieved him of
an
importunate erection. His astonishment and pleasure were alloyed, a
little, with alarm at her expertise. How could his dainty treasure be
so
 knowledgeable about the male organ? How did she know what to do? Not,
thinks Lord Pierrot to himself, that she had to do very much. In acts
of
venery, he commends himself as he falls asleep, he has always been
prompt,
very prompt.
Next morning, when Lord Pierrot awakes, he directs an automaton to
throw
open the window. The green land of Anise lies veiled in haze. This day
promises to be just as hot as all its immediate predecessors. The heat
can
affect a man, playing upon his blood. Lord Pierrot thinks again of his
memory of Dove, of her unexpected dexterity. It is bitter to him now.
When
did he and his wife last enjoy the pleasures of concupiscence? How many
years is it since he has seen beneath that billowing nightgown?
Lord Pierrot winces inwardly and turns away from these unhappy
reflections. Already he is suffused with longing for his paramour, for
Daphne Dolores. He must meet her again tonight. He orders breakfast in
the
Magenta Room, with the french windows open onto the terrace.
It is nearly an hour before Lady Dove makes her ponderous appearance.
She
drops, panting, into her reinforced chair.
Lord Pierrot is courteous, even solicitous. He waves away the butler
hovering with its scalpel extended and cuts Lady Dove's grapefruit
himself.
'My poor precious,' he murmurs, 'how was your night? Was it comfortable
at
all?'