London's Burning - Sex Stories

London's Burning

... “Jeremiah Johnson, at your service,” the vision said, dipping his head without taking his gaze away from Meggi’s eyes. “And no, I am not a thief,” he added, with a private smile. “And I am Anne Hodges, wife of William Hodges.” “The tea merchant?” Anne pulled herself up straighter. “Do you know my husband?” Meggi felt a flash of annoyance at her friend’s rudeness in not making her introduction but stilled the emotion as Jeremiah’s perfume drifted on the stifling air. The man smelled good, despite the heat. He looked good too, although the white stockings on his shapely calves were blackened with dust and soot. “Meggi? Don’t be so rude!” Meggi gasped, realising that she had been day-dreaming. Jeremiah’s hand had been extended and was waiting to take hers. A rush of blood overtook Meggi as Jeremiah took her hand and looked straight into her eyes as he pressed his lips to her knuckle. The blue of those eyes sparkled with the shards of broken glass, nay diamonds. “Jeremiah Jordan, surveyor, at your service, Miss…?” Gasping as though scalded, Meggi clutched her hand tightly against her bosom as soon as it had been released. “Jordan.” “Mrs Hodges and Miss Jordon?” The way Jeremiah emphasized Meggi’s marital status made her heart leap behind her heaving bosom. “And what brings such a fine gentleman into this area of London, Mr Johnson?” “The fire,” Jeremiah responded. “I am here on behalf of the King himself.” “The King?” Anne asked, sounding as though she were about to faint. “The ...

... fire? It still burns? I heard reported that the Lord Mayor himself said that a woman could piss it out,” Meggi quoted, earning a critical stare from Anne. Jeremiah’s face creased with amusement. “Would that still be the case,” Mr Johnson said. “Above a thousand houses have been burned down by the fire. The last time I saw it, it was an arch of flame more than a mile long.” “A thousand? Those poor people.” “Where are you two ladies heading?” “Smithfields,” Anne answered. “Then I should escort you both.” Meggi gasped as Mr Johnson gathered her arm as lightly as a feather and led her out into the street. It was not easy to walk three-a-breast and it seemed that Anne had claimed both the ear and the attention of their gentlemanly escort. “Perhaps it was selfish of me?” Anne said lightly. “For I barely allowed you to use your voice.” “Not at all,” Meggi responded politely, clutching her stricken heart as she watched Mr Johnson retreating towards the Thames. That had been her chance; perhaps her one chance and her ‘friend’ had deliberately snatched it away. It was then that Mr Johnson presented Meggi with another chance, for as he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, something fluttered unnoticed to the ground as he strode on. Anne shouted a warning but Meggi gathered up her skirts and ran. ***** Meggi felt confused as a pleasant aroma filled both her nostrils and her mind. It was familiar somehow. Then there was a voice; his voice, and she snapped back from the dreamy place. ...