Duchess of Lamore

That was their code word. They had never made love. They would be married first. His reference to her delicate touch referred to her occasional liberty of taking his penis within her hand. It never took much to produce the desired effect for which she had a hanky nearby.

"Why Drake..." she said feeling flushed. She never shared her feelings about their little indiscretions, but she enjoyed them more than she should. She was quite fond of the face he made just before release which was always so plentiful. Her eyes darted to his crotch where she could clearly see a prominent lump.

"Well..." she smiled. She turned to the end table and opened the drawer where she retrieved a hanky trimmed in lace. She laid it across his thigh. "Since you will be gone for some time..."

Drake smiled upon seeing the hanky. He reached for his zipper and carefully lowered it. He reached inside his fly and exposed his throbbing flesh.

She loved the way it seemed to dance on its own accord. Her procedure was always the same. She wrapped her fingers around it and closed her thumb around them. She never looked Drake in the eye. That would simply be too much. No, she preferred to watch his penis as it became more and more excited, watched how it started to ooze. She loved listening as his breath became clipped, strained. Once he straightened his back she knew that he would soon make a mess. She would grab the hanky and place it over the end. She would continue to pump until he exhaled filling the hanky with his ejaculate. She would mop up the excess and put the hanky in the bathroom to be cleaned later. Drake would take this time to put his penis back into his pants and zip up before she returned.

That was their routine. It was always the same, no variation. Drake felt fortunate to have such an arrangement.

The trip begins Two days later he was on a train headed for Malaysia and the Peacock Palace. The phantom traveled safely tucked away in its own boxcar.