Alice And The Doctor

Alice and Dr. Dodgson

Alice stared at herself in the mirror. She knew that at 19 she didn't look anything like the Tenniel drawing of the blonde-haired girl in flouncy skirts who talked to mice, cats, and caterpillars. The face that stared back at her had haunting dark eyes with heavy lids, a sensual bow of a mouth and a big round chin. If it wasn't for the fringe, her face would present as a wide oval. Her dark locks were unruly, as though she had just raced across the Somerset moors on a wild pony.

Alice was restless and uncomfortable. The summer day had been long and boring. Her sisters had deserted her. She had tried catching butterflies, but after ages and ages of chasing through the meadow where the weeds whipped her legs, and only catching one little yellow moth, she felt so sorry for it that she had to set it free.

Now she was stretched out on the porch swing sipping a cool lemonade. Oh to be out on the river with her sisters and the doctor hearing his wonderful silly stories. But that was long ago and now she was too old for that sort of foolishness. She was supposed to be learning to be a lady, catching herself some eligible gentleman and settling down to the life of a woman of means.

So boring. Sometimes she fancied being a writer herself, like the doctor, only she wouldn't write nonsense stories. She would write tales of adventurous women who broke all the rules, had several lovers at one time; perhaps even kissed women. Yes. That was it. Alice brought the back of her left hand to her lips and pressed it against them, wishing it was... who? It didn't matter, really, someone with a strong but tender mouth and deep wet eyes. Perhaps she wanted to be the one doing the kissing.

Alice could see herself in jodhpurs and tailored riding vest, always with a riding crop in her hand; her hair piled any way she felt like on the top of her head. A spirited horse, perhaps a bay mare that was always getting out of control.

Alice liked to ride, but she didn't want to ride postern, like a fine lady. She wanted to go charging across pastures and leaping hedges and screaming through the wood like a cavalry soldier.

There

would be a fine story. A young woman much like herself, perhaps also from a

good

family, who runs away one day; hacks off all her beautiful chestnut tresses, dresses in clothes she steals from the footman she fancies, and joins the cavalry after she proves she can handle a horse better than any of them. Of course she falls for the dashing subaltern; sleeping out under the stars next to him on a dangerous campaign, where she is... killed? No, too tragic. Wounded, revealing her secret womanhood? Been done. Goes as a spy behind enemy lines and seduces an enemy general. That's more like it.

No, she didn't want to 'be a lady,' not yet. Perhaps her sisters were ready, but she was not.

That said, she was feeling certain "lady bits" of her anatomy becoming a bit too flushed under the pinafore her mother insisted she continue to wear until her 'coming out' in December.

Whoof! Alice fanned her face with the Japanese sandalwood fan her uncle had brought her from the orient. It helped, but it was not very efficient, since it was pierced with pretty holes. Better for flirting and peeking over at a ball than doing the serious job of cooling a hot young lady.

Nothing for it but to head for the river. There was always a little breeze there and perhaps she could bathe her feet. She might even... shhh... hike up her pinny and bloomers and do a discrete bit of wading. Yes! A definite plan. She had her quiet spot where the punters couldn't easily see her. They usually hugged the other bank where the water was smoother, and there were some lovely cattails which made a sort of blind. Oh yes, the day was perfect for this.

She reached the bank and was delighted to see a couple of turtles basking on a log.

"Oh my! They seem to be doing something rather naughty. "This doesn't help my state of mind at all." Her thoughts traveled to any of the times she had seen creatures "engaged in sexual congress" as her stuffy father might have said. Two metallic dragonflies she once had seen flying in tandem; a drake unceremoniously standing on the back of an elegant floating swan; two of daddy's hounds stuck together and spinning in circles; and...and that time she had turned the corner at the stables and seen Smoke, her favorite dappled grey stallion topping Ellie, the Arabian mare her father had just bought to 'improve the breed'. Smoke was half wild, his flanks all covered with sweat, dancing with impatience, and when he reared up to get on Ellie's back there was this

enormous thing

with its pale bell-shaped tip, and it absolutely

plunged

into the sweet mare,

all the way.

And she skittered and danced, nostrils flaring; and Alice could

swear

she was looking right into her eyes; until Smoke finally pulled that huge thing, dripping, out of her, and the trainer led her away.

And

then

Alice came out from behind the barn door and pretended she had just arrived for her morning ride. But of course they wouldn't let her ride Ellie. So she took old Clara out instead. Clara sometimes bit her. She didn't ride far, only out to the old beech tree. It felt funny. Her knickers were so wet. The saddle felt funny. Better to lie under the tree and dry out and think about

things

. So actually it was a while before she was cool again; but it was nice being far away from mother, or anyone who could see what, of course, no

smart

girl would ever really do. But when she rode back she made Clara gallop all round the big meadow. At dinner mother complemented her on her

high color.

Alice was splashing her feet in the river and thinking about these things. When no one was near, she pulled up her skirt and dribbled cool water on her thighs. She could feel her chest tighten and she wondered who would be the first man to see her bosom entirely bare. Would he want to sit and admire its creamy softness? Would he lightly brush the back of his hand against one of them; making the point get all tender and sensitive as it was now? No one but she herself had touched her there. Well, that wasn't really true, was it? But her mother tugging at her placket didn't count. Still, there was the time she asked Bridget, the house maid to help with her buttons, and Bridget had place three fingers inside her bodice, and they just quickly brushed.... Oh, and yes, when she was in the tub and asked Bridget to scrub that spot down her back she couldn't reach. And didn't it seem that Bridget went on scrubbing her back like that for the

longest

time; and while the

maid

didn't touch anything she shouldn't have, Alice was leaning forward with her own hands on her... and they felt so tender, and

appreciated

her fingers taking care of them. It was a good thing her bottom half was under the water.

For some reason, Alice was not cooling off.

"Maybe if I could get properly out on the river I could catch a little breeze. Surely there must be a punt no one is using. Yes. There is that raggedy one that is usually tethered to the old willow. Didn't I just spot it on my walk over? Whoever owns the thing keeps it on a long painter, so it drifts out into the current. Let me see. Is it still there? Indeed. There it is."

Alice had to lean against the willow, which wobbled with her weight and she almost went in the drink. But with one hand on the tree and the other on the rope, she managed to drag the thing close enough. Still, her footing wasn't secure, especially as she was trying to keep the boat close and untie the painter at the same time. So she half jumped, half fell flat into the thing and was drifting out into the current and downstream before she noticed that the bolster upon which she had fallen was not some

thing

but rather some

one

bundled up in a large tarpaulin on the boards under the seat. Under her. For she was lying squarely on top of him. And she knew it was a

him

because

something

rather like a large sausage was between the two of them. Was it a sausage? Had this person brought luncheon to eat in the boat? Perhaps. Perhaps not. This

sausage

seemed to be increasing a bit in size.

It probably would have been more seemly to scramble upright immediately and get herself onto the seat and apologise profusely. But there was something quite comfortable and just a bit exciting about this strange situation. And her human mattress didn't seem to be objecting. Perhaps he had ascertained that she was a

female

person and was appreciating this experience, as was

she

.

But Alice realised, with a shudder, that this could be a very bad person, who could definitely take advantage, tear her new pinafore, kiss her in a way she might not prefer, and even

ravish

her unless she was prepared to go overboard and swim for it.

She became aware, with not a little new confidence, that she

was

perfectly willing to slip overboard, if need be. She was a good swimmer; and no masher was likely to trouble her in the water.

In the meantime, absolutely

nothing

had happened, other than the places where her body was touching the invisible stranger were growing warmer and a little damp.

"Well, perhaps the time for shilly-shallying is over. Let's solve this mystery."

She pulled the tarpaulin off one end of the figure; saw a pair of men's galoshes and turned to pull the blanket from the other end.

To her astonishment the face was her very own Professor Dodgson!

Again, it would have made the best perfect sense to spring off the professor and place herself firmly on the seat of the punt. But somehow this didn't happen. She was quite comfortably situated, and that 'sausage' was positioned in a spot where she was experiencing feelings of the

best

sort. They seemed to complement her earlier daydreaming, and she found herself, almost without volition, rocking a bit with the motion of the boat in a kneeling/sitting position with a hand on each thwart, drifting happily. There was even a bit of a breeze.

The professor seemed to be coming out of a dream; so for a few moments he didn't seem aware of where he was. But his face lit up with a wide smile.

"Alice, how lovely. It has been so long. What a beautiful woman you have become!"

He didn't say more for some time. Of course, the situation was unusual and perhaps he was trying to assess it. But he didn't seem to have any objection. Finally, he seemed to figure he owed her an explanation.

"Alice, I have been traveling for some time, and just this morning, this

very early

morning I arrived on the milk train. And on a whim I decided on a short stroll along the river to shake the carriage cramps out and work out a point or two for my lecture in the PM on binomial patterns. But fatigue overtook me and I spotted this punt, and thought it the perfect cradle for my dreams. And indeed, it has been. I was envisioning a long poem in which a group of mariners go in search of a mysterious creature called... a Quark. Delightfully curious. "The Hunting Of The Quark" I will call it. I will have to put pen to paper later tonight. Is it late? I must not miss my speaking engagement."

Alice wasn't paying a lot of attention to what the professor was saying. She had entered a 'second world' where the dappled light on the water, the soft plash of wavelets on the banks, the cry of crows and chirp of other small birds, distant voices and the university chimes tolling eleven put her in a half-dream. In addition, the professor seemed quite detached from the fact that she was astraddle him, even though a certain part of his anatomy was pressing firmly on a spot that she was discovering created quite surprising sensations throughout her entire body. And those sensations seemed to be

building;

and the

last

thing she wanted to do was to

stop.

Other punters on the river might have been surprised to see a young woman kneeling in the center of a punt, drifting down the Thames. But none really seemed to notice. Still, the Reverend Dodgson had a suggestion.

"Alice dear, we really don't wish to drift all the way to London. So, if you would, could you steer us into the reeds on one bank or another and tie up to a tree, or a pole jammed in the mud, or some such...."

Alice was quite enterprising and managed to cause the boat to drift into a spot where wild blueberries crowded the bank and some even grew out into the water. She jammed the pole into the mud and twisted the painter around it. It held.

Now, one might have supposed that all this pushing and pulling would have chilled the ardor of both passengers. But the opposite appeared to be true. Alice was becoming heated. She reached into the stream and splashed water on her face, her neck, her bosom, her arms. None of it seemed to help. The heat was coming from

inside

her. She was

almost

ready to jump out of the punt into the water. But how would she explain the ruined pinafore to her mother? Curiously, the only thing that seemed to help was rocking the boat. It set up a motion somewhat like a pony doing a gentle trot. Yes, and the man under the blanket sort of resembled the body of a horse. She could pretend that she was riding, riding, riding. Oh yes, that was better... riding, riding, riding. The boat was rocking and splashing in quite a silly manner, but the

feeling

was quite marvelous.

Hmm, curiouser and curiouser, the doctor had somehow managed to get his arms loose and she felt him pushing her bottom little by little until she was sitting on his chest just below his face. One moment he was smiling up at her with a big, stupid grin and the next his face had disappeared below the hem of her pinny. She could feel his secret breath on the insides of her legs. Something made her need to slide

toward

that breath. Invisible hands were somehow lifting her up; she helped; and sliding until... oh my goodness,... a mouth was kissing her just on that place she tried never to think about.

This invisible mouth seemed to know just the sort of kiss that her secret place most craved. She couldn't help rolling her hips to get more of where she needed to be kissed to meet that mouth. Oh! A tongue was swirling around here and then flicking, pushing. Oh no! She was losing her mind. Somehow falling, and falling and lifting up and sailing away at the same time.

She needed.... She

needed.

She

had

to push

hard

against those lips, that tongue. She

had

to rock, oh yes, rock until the feeling began to spread out. Getting so warm and so wet all around that area. The insides of her legs...so

hot.

Her tummy...so

tight

. And that feeling all up her front!

She didn't know what to do. She wanted to hold onto the thwarts of the boat and just rock it, rock it, rock it until...until... But she also

needed

to crush her palms and her elbows into her chest because her nipples just ached

so much

and when she pushed on them these

shocks

just went

right down there.

Oh no, oh no, she just couldn't stop,

mustn't

stop.

Must

keep going, keep going, keep going. Oh yes, something was coming. Her face was so hot. Something...oh it's so

much

. Just, oh yes, in, in, in, oh HELP. She was going to lose...............................

Alice felt like a marionette being danced by its strings, every limb rattling and shaking loose and the incredible SOMETHING just flowing hot and trembling right out of her and she never, ever, ever wanted it to stop. And strange sounds were coming from below her, but it didn't couldn't even possibly matter because she was so stirred up and whirled and shaken and GONE.

All around the boat the waves were going splash, splash, splash, splash, splash. And only little by little by little did the sunlight and the song of the birds and the wind in the willows and the far off voices come back.

And Alice was panting; leaning forward and hanging onto the sides of the boat. And her knees were a little sore. And under her pinny she felt very wet. And under the wet there was the hint of a warm breath, and the fine tickle of a

moustache,

and under her bum something was firm and warm.

She had to be dreaming, of course. This was nothing like anything that happened in real life. Not even in the doctor's books. One minute she was in a boat.... And the next...she was

somewhere else.

But after a time a little chilly breeze woke her from her reverie and she realized the chimes were ringing for afternoon tea, and she knew she must wake up from this impossible dream.

So she grabbed the pole and with some effort maneuvered the punt over to the bank where she managed to scramble out. And then she was running, running, running, feeling freer than she had ever felt in her life. And a small rain started and she was getting wet all over; but there was nothing for it but to madly splash through the puddles and up the lane until she was back in her own garden. And there was mummy with a big frown. But perhaps the sight of Alice all bedraggled, her pinafore sticking tightly to her wet body...well, mummy had the housemaid find a big Turkish towel, and soon she was bundled up by the fire with hot chocolate and Scottish shortbread biscuits.

And mummy was sweetly scolding. "Alice, dear, you must finish with your chocolate and go have a nice hot bath, for, guess what, your old friend Dr. Dodgson is stopping for supper after his lecture. I'm sure you and your sisters would

love

to see him. And a very

nice

young man, Reggie Hargreaves is also stopping by. I have a feeling you and he will hit it off like a house on fire.

But Alice was hardly listening. She was imagining she was floating down the river in a small punt and it was rocking, rocking, rocking under her. But still, she was

so

looking forward to her bath. After the day's adventures she knew she could do with a

good

scrubbing.