me in if I came begging?” Her hand moved over his chest and down across his abdomen to cup his flaccid penis, which immediately started to harden again.
“Stop that.”
“No.”
He chuckled, giving himself up to her manipulations. “All right, then don’t stop.”
“I have no intention of doing so.” His penis grew harder and longer and thicker as she moved her hand up and down the shaft.
“You’re going to kill me, you know that.”
“You’re good for another hundred years.”
“Not if you don’t stop torturing me this way.”
She lowered her head and took him into her mouth, pulling the shaft deep into her throat. She came off it and said, “You love it and you know it.”
“Aye, lass, that I do,” he said, then grabbed her and kissed her hard on the mouth. “You’re going to get laid again, you know.”
“I hope so, you dumb Irish Mick.”
* * * *
At dinner that evening, which was always an informal affair—family-style, Sean liked to call it—Lorrie sat pouting, glaring at the bowls of potatoes and vegetables, the platter of meat, the boat of gravy sitting in the middle of the table.
“I simply cannot understand why we can’t have the servants wait table,” Lorrie said as she sullenly helped herself to a piece of meat. “We dine like peasants.”
“We dine very well,” her father reminded her.
“Yeah,” her younger brother, David, put in. “I don’t like all those different knives and forks and having to take whatever is put on my plate.”
“You’re a cretin.”
Petie, who was nine, asked, “What’s a cretin?”
“An idiot, a fool,” Lorrie sneered.
“That will be enough, Lorrie,” Susan said calmly. “We are all hearty and healthy enough to serve ourselves without taxing the help. They work hard enough as it is to keep us comfortable.”
“Grandmother would never tolerate this,” Lorrie complained as she began picking daintily at her food. “We don’t even use salad forks.”
“One fork is as good as another,” her father reminded her. “It all goes into the same mouth.”
“That’s revolting.”
“And you are becoming a perfect little snoot, Lorrie,” Susan said, losing her patience.
Lorrie jutted out her chin. “I want to live with Grandmother. At least she lives like a civilized human being.”
Sean decided to tease her. “Your mother and I have been thinking that perhaps you’ve been associating with the wrong type of friends, Lorrie. After you graduate from school I think I’ll find you a job with me at one of my distilleries.”
Lorrie was horrified. “Work? In a brewery? I’d rather die.”
Sean smiled. “Oh, it wouldn’t be very hard work. Perhaps somewhere in the bottling department where all you’d have to do is check to make sure the capping machines are operating correctly.”
“Father!” Lorrie gasped. “You wouldn’t?”
Sean laughed. “Calm down, girl. I was only having a bit of fun with you. When you’re finished with school I’ll have you sent to one of those finishing schools you’re so anxious to attend.”
“Grandmother says there is a very fine one near San Francisco.”
Susan frowned. “I do not want you living with your grandmother.”
“Why not? She’s the only one in this family who truly understands me.”
“I understand you,” Susan said. “That’s why I will not have you spoiled rotten by her.”
“Then I’ll run away and get married,” Lorrie threatened.
Her father turned to his wife in surprise, then frowned at Lorrie. “Get married? To whom, in heaven’s name?”
“I’m old enough to marry anyone I please. And there are a lot of boys who would ask me if I encouraged them.”
Susan was shocked. “Lorrie, you aren’t serious?”
“I’m fifteen. Lots of girls get married before fifteen.” She gave her mother a straightforward look. “And they don’t have to, either.”
Little Petie asked his older brother, “Why would they have to?”
David, who thought himself quite an adult at eleven, whispered, “I’ll explain it to you later.”
Susan glowered at her daughter. “You are becoming just a little too corporeal, Lorrie. I’m afraid I’ve been a bit lax about supervising your social life.”
“Really, Mother, don’t be so primeval. This is 1912, not the Dark Ages.”
Susan and Sean exchanged glances.
Later, when he and Susan were alone in the drawing room, Sean said, “Perhaps we should think about my taking Lorrie with me to California. New York may be just a bit too wild for a girl her age. Your mother would be able to communicate with her better than you or I. They speak the same language, and I know your mother is a stickler for propriety. She might be just what Lorrie needs now.”
Susan shook her head but didn’t choose to tell him about the night she’d walked into Ramsey’s rooms and found her mother and Ramsey naked on the bed. “I don’t know, Sean. Let me think about it. I must admit, though, that Lorrie is becoming quite a handful.”
“If she’s even hinting about getting married, then there must be somebody in the background she hasn’t told us about. I think we should get her out of New York before she does anything stupid.”
“Yes, perhaps you’re right.”
“The girl’s an extremely pretty little thing. I’m sure there are dozens of boys trying to get at her. I’d feel better if she were away from her friends for a while. I just didn’t like the way she was talking at dinner tonight. There’s something gnawing at her.”
“You may be right, Sean. Maybe she should go to Mother’s, just for a short while.” She put aside the glass of port she’d been sipping, thinking that her mother was older now and still mourning her husband. “Incidentally, what’s taking you to California?”
He grinned. “Well, I’ve been thinking about opening up a new distillery out there. And there’s something else: I’ve had a couple of offers to go in on those new moving pictures.”
“Moving pictures? You’re not serious?”
“Dead
