Chapter Ten: Spencer sees May in a new light
Spencer Archer entered the Jansens’s foyer with excitement. It wasn’t often that the Vanderbilts, Roosevelts, and Astors were all in one place. And it was all the rarer that he and his wife would be invited, at least to an affair this small. When it came to business, the old New Amsterdam crowd kept their circle very tight.
As successful as Archer’s father and grandfather had been, they had never penetrated the Dutch inner circle of New York society. Indeed, the Archers were probably richer than the Jansens, but this crowd would never attend a dinner party at his home.
Somewhat to Spencer’s amazement, it was his wife, May, who had secured their invitation. She and Susanne Jansen had suddenly become fast friends after years of simple cordial acquaintance. This friendship had formed at the strange “spa” that May had begun frequenting the past many weeks.
Susanne swept in to greet them. She was a gorgeous woman, with her elaborate blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. Spencer was relieved that Susanne, like his wife, was dressed in a very fashionable, but unconventional, dress. Ordinarily, a woman of their class would rarely wear anything other than black, and never after six. And yet, here she was in a yellow gown. May gave up her cloak to the butler and embraced Susanne in her equally unusual baby blue dress.
Spencer breathed a sigh of relief when Maria Vanderbilt joined the giddy duo in a burgundy ensemble. The red set off the dark, former Spanish beauty to great effect. All three dresses featured a décolletage display that one rarely saw outside of a midtown dance hall. I think I quite like these modern fashions, Spencer thought to himself as he awkwardly said hello.
They were led to a large salon where Mr. Jansen, William “Billy” Vanderbilt, and John Astor III were engaged in a hearty conversation. To their right, Charlotte Astor, dressed in a black but red-trimmed gown, was speaking to a couple that Spencer barely recognized. They were relatively new arrivals from England. He ran the declining Hudson Bay company. As such, he was well below even Spencer’s status in the New York caste system. His comely wife was clearly acquainted with May, as she lit up as soon as May entered the room. She was “Jennie,” and like the other women, she was in a colored dress. Spencer had to keep from staring at her heaping cleavage, pressed into her lavender gown. The silk of her dress nearly matched her eyes, and she wore her hair such that tresses of her mahogany hair were purposely released to dangle on her naked shoulders.
Spencer found himself visualizing these beautiful women in even more provocative states. Imagining Mrs. Vanderbilt in nothing but a corset, bent over a leather bolster like a dancehall whore, caused his cock to stir. The thought of Susanne and this English tart in a naked embrace as he released his seed over them, as he so often did with his two favorite girls in Chinatown, made him fully hard.
Spencer shook his head to try to clear the lurid images from his mind. Don’t throw away this opportunity, he scolded himself. You can visit your whores later.
The evening progressed delightfully. The plum wine and the laughter of the women prompted even the perpetually scowling Mr. Astor to relax. Spencer's self-consciousness lessened until he almost felt like he belonged with the New Amsterdam Titans. He looked across the expansive dinner table at his wife. She was smiling and laughing, alternating between the flirtations of Billy Vanderbilt and the apparent adoration of Lady Jansen.
My, she really is beautiful, Spencer thought as he took in the visage of May, as if for the first time. The spa had been a miracle. Her neurasthenia appeared to be fully cured. She was making new friends. Her face had color and the quick smile from when she was a young bride had returned.
The men eventually retired to the billiard room for brandy and cigars. It was a tremendous opportunity for Spencer to listen for business prospects and position his own properties. And yet, all he could think of was getting his wife home and into bed. No whores, tonight. I’m going to fuck my own wife. The other men seemed similarly distracted, and soon Fifth Avenue in front of the Jansens’s manor was lined with ornate coaches.
May was effervescent on the short ride home. Spencer leaned in to kiss her, and somewhat to his surprise, she returned the embrace. They were greeted by Miss Wharton at the door. They could not dispatch their capes fast enough and raced upstairs, hand in hand.
Spencer headed toward his suite, but May pulled him toward her own with surprising strength. May continued to surprise once they crossed the threshold. The staff had left a kerosene lamp on low, anticipating the Mistress’s return. May turned the light up and proceeded to disrobe right in front of her husband. Spencer was shocked.
He had seen his wife, fully nude, only once, when they had bathed together on their honeymoon. She was spectacular, her voluptuous figure more enticing than any dance hall girl. May pulled Spencer’s necktie loose, then reached under his tuxedo bib and tore his shirt open.
“May?!” Spencer gasped. What has happened to my timid wife? He wondered in amazement.
Before he knew it, he too was naked. May had him lie on the bed as she straddled him. She proceeded to post on him as if he were one of her beloved horses. She moved with increasing pace and began to moan like one of his whores. Spencer went from stunned, to excited, to horrified. Spencer pushed May off in anger.
“This is not how a proper wife behaves, May! What has gotten into you?!”
“Wait! What has made you angry?” May called after him.
Spencer gathered his formal clothes around him and crossed the hallway to his suite, hoping a servant would not see him. Once there he pulled on a dressing gown and poured himself a brandy from the ornate decanter. He calmed, but remained confused. He also remained physically excited. What to do with this anger and excitement caused by his only behaving wife? He would stir the whole house if he redressed and called for a coach to take him to Chinatown. He smiled when he realized a much more ready option. Spencer quietly snuck his way in the dark to the small attic room of the German wash girl. Miss Wharton was awakened by young Greta’s moans.
“Oh nein. Ich habe noch nie. Autsch. Autsch. Oh, mein Gott. Mein Arsch. Fülle meinen Arsch.” Martha knew just enough German to understand that the girl was being sodomized. Such a house of lies, Mrs. Wharton thought to herself as she pulled a pillow over her ears.
Chapter Eleven: May finds her voice
May awoke later than usual. She had slept lightly. She was confused and hurt that Spencer had abandoned her. What did I do wrong? Why would he flee? Do I disgust him in some way?
She was also desperate for sex. Her studies of the erotic texts, her sensual meditations, and her total abstinence in the massage rooms and sauna left May on a sharp sexual edge. As she tossed and turned in her large feather bed, even the touch of bed linen against her skin felt like a caress. Her nipples were perpetually erect, and there was constant wetness between her legs.
May went in and out of shallow dreams. Sometimes she was conversing with Spencer. He was upset with her, stern and yelling. In the dream, she was trying to explain herself and calm him down. But when she spoke, only babble came out, making Spencer all the angrier.
At other times, May’s dream took her to the Spa. She walked around the main house, naked. She entered rooms she had never seen before in real life. People -- some of whom she recognized, some of whom she did not, were engaged in the various acts she had been studying in Anne’s books. She longed to be invited to join, but it was as if no one could see her.
Now May lay staring at her bedroom ceiling, watching a crack in the plaster grow as the morning light sneaking between the drapes brightened the room. She ran her fingertips across her skin, enjoying waves of goose flesh. Eventually, two of the fingers of her left hand parted the down between her legs, while the thumb and forefinger of her right hand made her stiff nipples even harder.
May’s self-exploration was interrupted by the whoosh of her opening bedroom door. Miss Wharton was there with a silver tray of coffee and biscuits. May pulled her hands away with a startle. Edith startled in her own way when she saw May’s naked breasts.
“Ma’am,” Miss Wharton said with a disapproving tone as she looked away. May pulled the sheets to her neck and gave her fingers a quick suck to clean off the briny juice.
“Sorry, Edith,” May said, “It was a long night.” She smoothed the sheets beside her, inviting Miss Wharton to set down the tray.
“Have you seen my husband yet, this morning?” May asked.
“He left just a bit ago. He told the coachman to take him downtown,” Edith answered.
“On a Saturday?” May wondered aloud.
Edith shrugged, sharing her disinterested confusion. “He was in sporting attire, Ma’am,” implying it was not a business-related outing.