Elizabeth peered out the window of the carriage as it bounced over the streets of Philadelphia. It was a cold, December night with snow on the ground and more beginning to fall. Her heart was beating quickly and she took a deep breath of the cold air to try and clear her mind for what she was about to do. Sitting beside her, his hand on her thigh, was General William Howe, commander of the British Army. The general had first seen Elizabeth, or Lizzy, to her few close friends, two weeks prior at a gala hosted by the leading Loyalist family in Philadelphia to celebrate the British taking of the city. It had been a festive, at times raucous evening with the all of the leading Loyalists in town and the British General Staff. Lizzy had gone with her parents, and as one of the few single women there, she had naturally attracted much attention from a number of the British officers.
Lizzy was a head-turner. She was 5'3"with a head of dark, thick, black, curly hair that fell to her shoulders and set off her porcelain skin, wide, green eyes, and full red lips. She was twenty four years old, and while her dress had certainly not been inappropriate, it hinted strongly that her physical charms were in full bloom. She had a full, round bottom, and large, soft breasts, the crests of which peaked out of the bodice of her royal blue gown. Several of the younger officers had made a point of making conversation with her, but they scattered like a covey of quail when General Howe had stepped in and introduced himself.
It had been immediately obvious that the General was taken with Lizzy. That was not unusual give his reputation. Lizzy had felt his eyes move over her appraisingly, as he asked her questions about the party, and even a few about the war. It was obvious he was sizing her up. After a few moments, he seemed to decide, and he had taken her arm and guided her around the room with him. He introduced her as "his friend", Ms. Loring, as if most in the room didn't know who she was. There had been several other galas in the intervening weeks and Lizzy had been invited to all as the General's guest.
While the general had not spoken about what he wanted from Lizzy, it wasn't hard to guess, based on the number of times she saw his eyes move over her bosom, and the increasing frequency with which his hand found it's way to her thigh or her rump. Tonight's party had been the first that his parents had not attended. They had left the prior day so that her father could attend to business in Boston.
General Howe had his carriage pick her up and bring her to the party. The party had been another large affair with dinner and an abundance of spirits, and it was nearly midnight when the general called for his carriage. The general had given her his hand to help her in, and had placed his other hand on her bottom, as she had stepped inside. Once they were seated, he had ordered the driver to take them to the home he was using as his quarters. There was no mention of taking Lizzy home.
Lizzy had prepared for this evening as much as she could mentally and emotionally. She knew what she had to do and why, and while she still did not like it, she had reached a peace with it. She knew the stakes, and she knew that if her efforts failed, the consequences would be dire.
She looked over at General Howe and smiled coyly, lightly placing her hand on top of his. He was a big man, nearly six feet tall, with broad shoulders. He was thirty eight and while his midsection had thickened with age and his love of rich food and booze, he was not obese. He had brown hair beneath his wig, blue eyes, and tanned, lined skin that showed the effects of many years in the British Army. He was arrogant, like most British officers, but he was not rude, nor was he mean or cruel as many of the others were. In fact, as she had seen, he could be quite charming, and even considerate when he so desired. All of that made what she was about to do somewhat easier to stomach.
The carriage arrived at General Howe's quarter. The door was opened by a young soldier, who saluted smartly. Howe returned the salute and helped Lizzy down. He guided her up the steps to the door, where a manservant opened the door and let them inside.
"Good evening, sir, ma'am," the servant said, taking their coats, "Sir, there is a fire in the grate in your sitting room, and wine on the side table as you requested. Is there anything else you desire?
"No, Tinsley, that will be all," Howe said, "Dismiss the staff."
Tinsley nodded, "As you wish, sir. Good night."
With that, Lizzie and Howe were alone and a moment of panic swept over her. She fought it back as Howe looked at her quizzically.
"Are you alright, Liz? Ya' look a bit pale," he asked.
She forced a smile and nodded, "I'm alright. Guess I took a bit of a chill."
"Well," he said, "in that case, come sit by the fire." He took her by the arm and led her up the stairs to a sitting room furnished with several couches and chairs set in front of a roaring fire. He guided her to a seat on one of the couches and stepped to the sideboard and poured them both a glass of mederia. Howe, who had already, had large number of drinks that night, handed her hers and then sat beside her on the couch.
"This will warm you up from the inside, just as the fire does from the outside," he said with a grin. He drained half his glass, and Lizzie, in an effort to calm her nerves followed suit. He made small talk for a few moments and then rose and refilled their glasses. He handed hers to her and took another large gulp from his.
"Warming up?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, "Actually, I'm getting a little too warm now."
Howe nodded, "Indeed. I'll be back in a moment. I've got to get this damned wig off and these boots."
Lizzie watched him go and drained her drink. She forced herself to put away the fear she felt and do what had to be done. She stood and wandered around the room, looking at the books on the shelves and waiting. She heard him return to the room, and sensed him step close behind her. His hands touched her shoulders and she looked back at him.
"It's late, lass, and cold, but my bed is warm. Come," he said softly. With that, he put his hand on her lower back and guided her into the bedroom. As she reached the bed, Lizzie turned to face him. He was dressed only in his breeches. Tentatively, she reached up and touched his chest, caressing it and running her fingers through the hair. Howe smiled and stroked her hair, then let his hand slide down her back and caress her bottom. Lizzie put her other hand on his chest, and stood on her tiptoes to plant a light kiss on his neck, letting her breasts press against him as she did. Howe sighed and placed both hands on her rump, squeezing it, and then moving them around her waist to her belly, steadily moving them upward until he fondled her breasts through her dress. Lizzie looked up into his eyes and stepped back.
There was a screen and a dressing table in one corner, and she glanced at it, then back at him, and whispered, "I'll be back in a minute."
