The Belvedere.

And this is a man. Yes. Most certainly a man!

She could not help herself but had to watch him, wide eyed, ready to object where she had not objected before. But why would she object? What good would it do? He also needed to be warm and dry before he could go anywhere else, but where would he stop?

He was athletic, she could see that about him as he took his wet shirt off over his head. His body was as damp as hers had been. He had seen to her before he had even thought of his own comfort.

He paused to wring the water out of each item again, onto the stone floor, and then re-arranged each piece of her clothing further from the flames as the steam began to rise from them, and to make sure they did not scorch, as he added his own. He moved some of the wood in the fireplace to spread it out more, to provide a bigger blaze, and then heaped more dry wood upon the flames. He had his back to her. She watched as he continued to undress himself.

‘I don’t know why you are worrying about something you can no longer change now, my love. You have no dry clothing to your name, so you cannot leave. You should be concerned more about surviving this.’

Her mother was back. There was that small comfort anyway, but what did she mean, surviving this?

Harriet watched with some trepidation. Where would he stop, or not stop? He took off his shoes and then his socks, and then began upon his trousers. She should not be watching, but she had to.

After that, she saw him strip off his smalls; the last of his clothing, and stand half-facing the fire, not even four feet from her. She was not sure what she could see.

The skin on his back glistened with moisture. She could not take her eyes off him. He had narrow hips, and small buttocks, but well-muscled legs with black hair upon them. His body seemed to be scarred in some way, as though he had been a soldier. There were other things, strange things she could see about him too as he bent over away from her, to sweep water off his lower legs. She could not avoid staring at what she could see, and almost laughed out loud in her nervousness. She knew about those things hanging there; both the bull and boar had them too, but she had still been caught by surprise at seeing them like that on him.

He ran his hands over his body to take off the moisture that clung to him.

Her own legs were still apart, feeling the warmth as she watched him, but she no longer cared. He had already seen everything about her, as well as touching and kissing her body, and he was not observing her. She was not in any haste to close off that warmth from her body. When he turned to face her, then she would bring her legs together.

He needed the warmth as much as she did, but he did not have the protection of the blanket that she had. She watched him.

Then he turned to face her, to get some warmth onto his other side and back. She was overcome by instant panic! Her legs closed together. She could see that his eyes were closed, so she opened her legs again.

She had never seen a naked man before. Ever. And did not quite know what she was seeing, apart from what she had noticed on the cherubim over the various tombs she had walked around when she had gone into Westminster Abbey. But their private parts, their phalluses (yes, that was the polite expression, though never to be used in any conversation), and their testicles (another never-to-be-used word) had been small and delicate, unlike what she was now looking at.

She had even chuckled and had averted her eyes in her embarrassment that anyone would use such decoration on a tomb in an Abbey. They also had testicles that were obvious, as this man had. However, those cherubs did not have obvious hair there, as he did, nor were their private parts—that other… item—so… so large, or so… prominent, or intimidating, and sticking out so obviously. Had he intended that to go into her, and still might? All of it? The thought was exceedingly disturbing to her. But it was so big around, so long, and so hard! There was a sudden feeling of concern. Her mouth had gone dry.

She blushed and moved her eyes away in sudden confusion at what she had been at some pains to observe about him. At least he was not iron-tipped, as far as she could see (she almost chuckled at the absurdity of that thought), and there were no signs of horns or of cloven hooves on him now that he was just as naked as she was. Her mother chimed in, again.

‘Yes, you might well stare at that with some trepidation, my love. I would say the time of reckoning has come for you, my dear. I doubt that he will behave any different than any other man, offered such a helpless and willing prize as you for the taking. You can see how hot for you he is, just like the stallion for the mare, and likely to be just as restrained.’

What Harriet could see about his body, was not small or delicate, but seemed to demand to be noticed. Her attention was held by things about him that she had never seen before. She knew that men and women were different in many ways, but did not understand what there was that was so disturbing about it to her, other than the damage that an item like that one could do to a woman. She had heard of that, of course. Some of the shocking rumors of what men did to vulnerable women, even close relatives (sometimes, even sisters) and whisperings behind fans of ‘goings on’, did not help. There were also the hints of romantic violence (surely that was a contradiction of terms), which men always were prone to when left alone with any vulnerable female. Even with those females within their own family, never mind outside of it, or with helpless servant girls, who were always the most vulnerable to their persistent immoral overtures if they were not protected.

If they refused him, they would be turned off without a character. Usually it were better to give in and say nothing, no matter how many of the males were after you, or how often, but just let it continue, as it always would.

She put those thoughts aside and focused upon what she could still see. Yes, that part would do a lot of damage to a woman, forced into her body, especially into her body. Her interest in it was no longer abstract.

How had all of that, and those, fitted inside his clothing, as they must have done? But then, men did not mind dressing in snug-fitting trousers, to attract the outraged, or even admiring eyes of older women. Mind you some of those younger women also displayed more of themselves than they should, to provoke… but to provoke what? They were behaving recklessly, and not just trying to shock their mothers, as careless young persons did, but to toy with a greater danger, and attract the admiring glances of men, and then worse, when they were cornered in some remote salon. But to what end? She had noticed some of that in a few of the salons she had been in and had not understood it.

She could not take her eyes off him. He was different from her, and even from those statues. She felt like chuckling again in her nervousness but did not do so.

‘You might well laugh, Harriet, except it has gone beyond that.’

She had seen a few adult male statues, and even a drawing of David, by Michelangelo, but they had been nothing like him in any detail, and not sticking out as his did, nor was she aware that it could change, which it seemed to be doing even as she watched. No, that was not true. There was a memory that came back to her from a time long ago. There had been a boy, and they had been close. He had been like this. She had seen and even touched. Unless it had been a dream, but it had not been that long ago.

He ran his hands over his body again, sweeping off the last of the moisture as he turned to take advantage of the heat from the fire. She knew that his interest would soon change when he got dry and warm and would then think to try and take advantage of her again. She had heard what men got up to with any woman if they could but get her alone in the right circumstance, especially if they were both naked, or he could get her clothes off her without any complaint that would bring others to her aid. Fanny had told her. Except her clothes were already off.

He looked up to see her observing him. Harriet did not realize, at first, that she was still staring at him there, or that he was looking at her, until her eyes rose to his face and she saw him smiling at her. It was a sad smile. He seemed to understand her curiosity about his body, but she should not have been caught looking, and inviting trouble. She averted her eyes, slowly closed her legs together, and wrapped the blanket about herself as she blushed.

He walked over to her again. He did not cover himself up or hide himself away. Did he have no shame or shyness to approach her like that, and with that part so proud and so obvious, and standing out from his body like a lance?

“You are with us again.” He referred to none of that which had happened between them earlier. At least he said nothing of what had shocked her about him, and of which she was still alarmingly conscious.

He put his hand beside her head and touched her neck. She tried to make herself smaller. Then he moved the blanket, before she could stop him, to touch her on the top of her thighs, causing her to start at his familiarity. He lifted the blanket so that he could touch her beside her waist. He touched her breast too, under there. One shock after another, but she said nothing to object. It was too late for any of that. She could not take her eyes off him and what she could see of him in front of her.

He put his hands upon her knees and moved them apart.

Why did he do that? What did he intend now? Was he about to continue what he had begun earlier, kneel between them again, and push that into her body now that he was free to do so?

She resisted, but he was speaking to her, looking into her face, until she gave way under that slow, but firm pressure.

She had no need to resist or fight him now. He had already done more than enough damage and was about to complete it.

“You need the warmth as much as I do. Let the blanket cover your back, yes, but take advantage of the fire. This is no time for either of us to be shy or modest.”

Easier said, than done. He looked into her eyes again.

“You must surely be aware that I am not myself when I am close to you. You are too… far too tempting and beautiful to ignore.” He was trying to excuse his previous behavior, to explain it even, but was not apologizing for it.