Young Writers Society

Once again he repeated, “No, I’m quite alright.”

Rosemary kept her fingers curled around Winslow’s shoulder. The touch of perfume on their collar bone was more noticeable as he tried to come around. Its smell almost set him off enough to lean back over the balcony but he managed to take another sip of whiskey. The sweet voice helped to call him back to the present as they said, “I think I’m going to take Maxwell up to his bedroom and then maybe I’ll take you up to mine.”

Their fingers moved down from his shoulder to the tie around his neck. Winslow looked Rosemary in the eye as they tightened his tie and then turned their attention to the young Scot.

“Winslow, will you give me a hand with him?”

“Of course.”

The spy stepped over to the patio chair, carefully taking the whiskey glass from Maxwell’s hand. He set it on the ground and then picked the young man up.

“Where’s his room, Rosemary?”

The lady had bent over to collect their two glasses and the bottle of whiskey. When they stood back up she answered, “I’ll show you the way. These old castles are tough to navigate,” they paused to run their fingernail under his chin again. “But maybe if you hang around long enough you can start to find your way.”

Winslow really regretted not having a free hand to push the pressure back down in his pants. His stride was slightly stiff as he walked across the ballroom. No one seemed to notice that Winslow and Rosemary were carrying a semi-unconscious boy across the ballroom. For a moment, he thought about the similarities between Maxwell’s father and his own. Mainly that they didn’t seem to notice when their children were absent during events where actual people are present.

“Are you okay carrying him upstairs by yourself?” Rosemary asked as she uncurled her fingers from his shoulder and started up the stair.

“No, I’m quite alright.”

“That’s quite the catch phrase, Winslow.”

He didn’t answer as they walked in silence up two flights of stairs. Rosemary stopped them when they got to the third floor of the current wing and guided the spy to the young Scot’s room. She pushed the door open to reveal a room that was a mix of musical artwork, pin up pointed at women attracted to men, and statues obviously chosen by a grandmother. Winslow could have appreciated at least a portion of it if he hadn’t had lived in a similar room when in New York.

“It’s an uh interesting decor,” Winslow commented as he spoke for the first time in a bit. He paused as he set Maxwell down on the messy bed and then turned around the room to take in more of the look. The spy carefully asked, “Who picked out the statues?”

“Our grandmother on our mother’s side picked out the animal statues and then I chose the more botanical aspects of the decor.”

As Rosemary answered, she nearly waltzed around the room, touching on the cat statues that clearly invoked a deep emotion in her. Winslow watched carefully from the door way and tried to see Rosemary in a sweet, entirely innocent light. But he could tell that she had faced a lot of hardships in her life - probably most recently when showing this inner and true self.

Without any prompting, Rosemary suddenly said, “Well let’s get on with it and move to my room - we should leave the boy to sleep.”

They walked down the hallway until coming to a narrow, somewhat hidden staircase. It was an awkward climb up to Rosemary’s room and Winslow instantly moved to the fireplace to bring some warmth into the room.

“Why are you bothering with the fire, Winslow? Are you not a fan of fucking in public?”

“I don’t mean to question you but isn’t it frozen outside?”

Rosemary didn’t answer him. She simply picked up a stack of blankets from the bed and tossed another set to Winslow. After a quick strut out to the roof porch and then a quick run back into her room, she commented, “It is rather cold out there but I’m adventurous.”

“I’m adventurous too.”

“Then prove it, darling.”

They fell onto the bed as Winslow hoped his performance would be enough to satisfy Rosemary. It was true that he had been to bed with a lot of people but he was suddenly afraid that he wasn’t going to be enough. They continued in their current course until Rosemary finally pulled away and said, “Let’s get going already, baby, because I’m afraid I might not be able to last very long in the cold. One way or another.”

She rolled out of bed and then continued, “You have to finish me off before the cold does.”

When they made their way out to the small roof porch, Winslow gently kissed Rosemary and asked once again, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m absolutely sure. You’re the first person who has come onto me that actually sees me as what I am - a woman.”

Rosemary deeply kissed him back, kicking off her shoes and wrapping her arms around his waist. She pulled away for a minute to lay their gathered blankets down on the chosen flat portion of the roof.

“Rosemary, you are a very beautiful woman. And with it being so goddamn cold out here since it’s the middle of the fucking winter in Scotland, I think I’m going to find a way to keep you warm.”

He smiled as he saw her smile and the quiet laughs that rolled out of her mouth. Winslow touched her chin in the same way she had drug her nails along his chin. It took less than a minute to get their over clothes off and then they just stood there shivering and sighing outside of Rosemary’s room.

One more time he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Please take me, dearie.”

Winslow kissed her one more time before he pushed her tights down and brought out the special skills that everyone loved. At least everyone he had ever taken to bed.