“Incest?” said The Stable Boy.

“Wivout e’en a peep of a doubt,” replied Oliver K. Swindleton, rubbing his hands together. “Oi could ’ardly believe th’news meself.”

The two were seated at their usual table, leaning into the candle that burned weakly in the tavern’s noxious air. Reaching into the pocket of his tattered waistcoat, Ollie produced a letter and held it up between his thumb and forefinger.

“’Ere’s the proof,” Ollie said. “The old maid was a tough ol’ bag, Oi should say.” He handed over the envelope, which was discolored and stained from years of storage in who knows what filthy London apartment. The Stable Boy removed a slip of paper and began to read. Ollie stroked his chin as he pondered his own resourcefulness.

“She required wot you moight call tactile persuadin’ of an intimate nature. Personally Oive never been much for females of the nonegenarian type, but Oim a pleasure adventurer is wot Oi am.” This remark induced Ollie to laugh loudly and polish off his tankard.

The Stable Boy finished reading, and as he returned the letter to its envelope Ollie could see his entire body animated by his now-certain triumph. The Stable Boy’s eyes glittered wildly. The folds of his tunic began to tremble.

“Ollie,” he said, “you’ve been of great service to me. Take this money and never expect to see me again.”

“Well this is ’andsome recompensation indeed!” said Ollie, weighing the stuffed purse in his little hands. “Where will you go now?”

“To finish it,” said The Stable Boy.

************

Where was he? Felicity looked at the jeweled watch upon her dressing table. It had been a full half hour since she had sent the footman to the stables.

It had become increasingly unbearable for Felicity to see her husband and that doxy of a chambermaid canoodling in her house. He had vowed to be hers forevermore under the sight of God, Don Juan Jaime—the priest—and every scion of the local aristocracy!

She couldn’t even take pleasure in the knowledge that she had The Stable Boy to herself. Even in the throes of passion on the stable floor, she sensed his mind wandering off. She had seen him watching for the post and had wondered if he were waiting for a letter from another lover. Oddly, the thought did not frighten her. She knew The Stable Boy was no longer enough for her. She was ready to move on.

There was a strange clip-clop in the hallway.

“Ah,” said Felicity. “It’s about time.”

She sprang up and opened the door. There was a whiff of hay and manure, and a large, velvety muzzle poked into the room.

Felicity found herself staring into the limpid eyes of a plump chestnut mare.

“No!” she shrieked at the footman. “I told you to bring a stallion!”

************

In her modest chambers, Roxanna sat in a ray of sunlight, brushing her liquid cornsilk locks. She was only wearing her shift; it seemed foolish to put on more clothes when Frederick would be arriving at any minute.

There was a knock at the door, and Roxanna leapt up, ready to greet Frederick with the basket of fresh biscuits she had made for him that morning. “Come in, my love!” she called.

It was Felicity.

“Oh look,” Frederick’s wife sneered. “A strumpet with crumpets.”

Felicity rushed forward, grabbed the basket of biscuits, and started throwing them at Roxanna. Her aim was impressive. “Harlot!” she spat out, as each biscuit thunked against Roxanna’s heaving bosom. “Hussy!” Running out of biscuits, Felicity reached out and ripped Roxanna’s thin linen shift off of her body. “Wench!” she snarled.

Roxanna, now naked, cried out in distress. Her milk-white body trembled, and the sunlight made a halo of her golden hair. Felicity grabbed Roxanna’s shoulders and pursed her lips, ready to spit in the chambermaid’s face. But something made her pause, staring into Roxanna’s wide, tear-filled eyes. Roxanna lifted her shaking hands and cupped Felicity’s face. Her touch was gentle. “Oh my lady,” she whispered. “Forgive me.”

Felicity found herself trembling, too. She turned her face away, and Roxanna leaned forward to press her lip against Felicity’s cheek. A penitent kiss, she thought: the kiss of peace. But at the last moment Felicity turned her face and Roxanna’s kiss landed clumsily on Felicity’s mouth.

Soft lip brushed against soft lip. Both women froze. And then the kiss went on and deepened. Felicity’s hands slid from Roxanna’s shoulders down her creamy back. Roxanna’s fingers were still cradling Felicity’s face. With a sigh, Roxanna and Felicity sank downwards toward Roxanna’s bed. They landed with a slight thump that broke the contact of their lips. Felicity opened her eyes and drew back. Roxanna blinked at her, her rosebud lips parted.

Felicity sprang off the bed. “You trollop!” she said between gritted teeth. “You think you can seduce me, too.”

“No, no!” Roxanna protested. “I—we—you don’t understand!”

“I understand perfectly,” Felicity said, yanking Roxanna up by the hair and beginning to shake her. “Frederick!” Roxanna cried. “Help!” In moments, the two women had landed back on the bed and were struggling furiously. Roxanna had succeeded in pulling off half of Felicity’s dress but had still not managed to free herself. When Frederick finally burst through the door, Felicity was straddling Roxanna. Her hands grasped at the poor girl’s throat. Roxanna writhed beneath her, shrieking.

Momentarily stunned, Frederick finally recovered and inserted himself between the two women. “Enough!” he shouted. “Enough!” He pulled Felicity off Roxanna and cradled the chambermaid in his arms. Felicity, undaunted, launched herself at Frederick’s back. Frederick, already half aroused at the sight of the grappling, bare-chested Amazons, could now feel his wife’s breasts pressed against his back, while Roxanna’s languorous form quivered against his embrace. It felt oddly poetic: ensconced between these two women to whom he had given so much.

Felicity was still panting, and her breath was hot in Frederick’s ear. “Take us now,” she whispered. “Both of us. Together.”

Frederick felt a massive rush of arousal. This was it: his destiny. Felicity stood up, ripped off the rest of her clothing, and slowly reclined onto the bed. Roxanna uttered a small whimper of disapproval. She looked up at Frederick, then down at Felicity, then up at Frederick again. She could tell it was too late.

“I will not abandon you in your time of sin,” she told Frederick huskily, and lay down next to Felicity.

Frederick stood above them, his legs spread wide like a colossus, and began to unbuckle his trousers. He heard the drumbeat of anticipation in his ears. Too late, he realized what the drumbeat was: the sound of hoofbeats.

“Onward Zalathal!” cried The Stable Boy, barefoot and shirtless, as he and the stallion burst through the French doors into the center of the bedroom.

Frederick had thought he couldn’t be any more aroused. He was wrong...