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Where Marshall touches Mary in a manner that she considers inappropriate…
“Are you done?’’ His voice was a menacing rumble.
It blended with the cries of the saurians and tumbled in her gut as something to fear.
She would not be afraid of this man or his uncouth gruff ways. She looked up at him through her lashes, her mouth set in a firm and resolved pucker.
She would show him.
With deliberately slow motions she folded her letter and placed it in the envelope. She had to lick and seal the envelope next. Terrified of getting a paper cut on her tongue, Mary steeled her resolve, and squinted at Mr. Marshall Hunt. Her disdain of the man overpowered her revolution of the taste of the gummed envelope—which typically left her making terrible faces.
“Gimme that.” He snatched the sealed letter from her.
“You will post that immediately!” Outrage colored her cheeks as she thrust to her feet. Her diminutive stature barely put her at eye level with his chest, even in her modest and appropriately sized heeled boots.
How dare the man.
She noticed his own anger was barely contained in his heaving chest.
He let out a long exacerbated breath. “Miss Mary, we must leave.”
She stood glaring at him.
The train whistle blew, and she jumped letting out a startled scream.
Saurians joined her in their cacophonous complaint at the piercing noise.
He grabbed her upper arm. “Now, woman, or we’ll miss the damned train.”
Mary didn’t have time to protest as Mr. Hunt rushed her along. He thrust the letter, now slightly crumpled, she couldn’t help but notice, and a passing porter. And practically carried her by her arm to the closest open carriage door.
“That letter must reach my sister in Chicago. She must learn of my unfortunate situation. You will post it immediately please.” She tried to let the porter know to post the letter immediately.
“Mr. Hunt, I would appreciate you not using language of such a nature in my presence. Will you unhand me, I am capable of walking by myself. My grandfather will hear of your boorish behavior. I cannot believe you are subjugating me to such atrocious behaviors. Mr. Hunt, are you even listening to me?”
“I’m trying real hard not too at the moment.”
There was a loud roar, not from the saurians pulling loaded carts of luggage on the other platforms, or pushing empty train cars on to other tracks in the train yard, no this roar was from the train as the wheels ground against steel and the train began rolling.
“Mr. Hunt, I believe the train is leaving and we are not aboard.”
His only reply was a grunt.
With a squeal, Mary found her feet completely off the ground. Mr. Hunt’s hands were on her waist and pushing against her skirts at her derriere.
She gasped as that firm hand was definitely on her bottom— albeit there were several layers of skirt separating their flesh, but how dare he— and pushing her up and into the moving train. She windmilled her arms wildly attempting to grab hold of anything to stabilize her rapid ascent into the train.
A coachman grabbed her by the wrist and unceremoniously hauled her into the train. Flummoxed and jangling with nerves she looked nervously to the coachman. She was on board the train without a chaperone. She hadn’t thought her situation could get any worse, and yet, it had. How could she, a woman, travel to San Francisco alone? She had no access to funds, her belongings were in the baggage car. This was the most dreadful thing that could have happened.
Why hadn’t that man, Marshall Hunt said something about the train imminent departure?
She stood shaking as she watched the departing station through clouds of billowing steam.
©2020 Lulu M Sylvian
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From the forthcoming Fallen Star
Start the series now with Dead Sexy
Where Mary writes to Janey…
What was Grandfather thinking? Sending the brute to escort me back to San Francisco?
My honor and reputation would have been better served had he demanded I travel alone.
The accommodations are atrocious. I was promised a private stateroom, and that man expects me to share what little space I have been afforded with him. And it’s hardly even a room!
I guess I should be more grateful I am not traveling in the public cars, but still.
The train has stopped in Council Bluffs to add extra cars, or something. Marshall Hunt said my accommodations should improve. I don’t know what he means, he isn’t particularly forthcoming.
I was left to my own devices to seek out a meal.
Janey, this will just not do. I am distraught and beside myself.
I wish Grandfather had left well enough alone. I feel certain I had been days away from a proper proposal from Pythagoras.
Oh, the suffering I am forced to endure. I had to purchase this small letter kit along with the postage. All of my belongings are packed away in my travel trunks. And in the baggage car! I don’t even have my belongings with me. It’s so uncivilized.
The only consolation I have is thank goodness for the speed of steam engines. I will be able to safely call San Francisco my home again within the week, and then I can put all of this unpleasantness behind me.
Why couldn’t Grandfather have found me a more suitable travel companion and guardian?
Janey his behavior is scandalous, and I couldn’t be more mortified. Good fortune has it that there is no one of means traveling on this train, and I do at least have a private, well away from the view of others, means of travel.
I must post this immediately. Mr. Hunt is threatening to have the train leave me behind if I do not “get a move on” post haste. The way he speaks to me.
I will write as soon as I possibly can.
Pray for me.
Your loving sister.
Read the next installment February 25th.
I’m thrilled to be included in this anthology.
This year’s Holiday Stripper story The Christmas Package is featured in this anthology!
Not all scars are visible
A Curvy Christmas is a compilation of eleven stories brought to you by eleven amazing authors. The characters in these stories aren’t your typical heroes and heroines. These characters are sexy, curvaceous women and men and the people that love them!
Come join us for wildly fun, sexy, and inspirational holiday stories!
Royalties from this anthology will be donated to The National Council on Child Abuse and Family Violence. To find out more about the charity, visit their website > https://www.nccafv.org
Sometimes a girl wants to be objectified. And others, she wants to dress up for herself, and no other reason. Caught somewhere in between, Starla is headed out for a night of Holiday Cheer with her friends, to an all-male review. She expects to have fun, she expects some good-natured embarrassment, and possibly a lap dance.
What she doesn’t expect is Rocket.
Tall, dark, and handsome, Rocket makes Starla’s toes curl. And all he wants is to touch her.