This story is a definite explicit M. Fair warning. There isn't a lot of mostly improbable PWP around here but I just couldn't help myself...sometimes it fun to write a little "well that would never happen!" I can respect if this isn't your cup of tea and you choose to click the back button on this one ;) There's lots of amazing SOM stories archived here.

And a monumental thank you to augiesannie for the encouragement to actually post this in the first place. You are a rock star!

I always wondered if living under the same roof with a beautiful young woman had any "physical" consequences for our this little experiment in writing happened and I decided to put it out there.

You know, for science. :)

It had been perfectly innocent, accidental when you thought about it...which he wasn't. Again. Well, she was perfectly innocent anyway; he was a filthy minded old man. Living amongst women for so long she probably didn't think about open windows, billowy curtains, and men wandering around, and oh God if every part of her wasn't... He ripped at the knot in his tie, disgusted with himself. Yanking it over his head he tossed it into an armchair and made short work of his jacket as well. Georg dropped onto the ottoman in front of the bed to unlace his shoes.

Utterly ridiculous. She was practically a guest in his home, a guest from a damn convent. He rubbed his hands roughly through his hair. Hoping to shake some sense into yourself? Where is that legendary control now? Angry at his double knotted lace he gripped the heel of the shoe and tugged it off. He tossed it towards his closet and it made a satisfying clump, rather like his heart restarting after seeing all her smooth lovely... For God sakes man, reign this in! She must be twenty years your junior... The other shoe joined its mate with a thunk. He had been trying to control it, desperately. Ever since that evening she had woken him up in the music room from, well, the type of dream he hadn't had in a very long time.

As he stood to loosen the cuffs of his shirt he checked his watch, an hour till dinner. Plenty of time to shower. Or have a long talk with himself about what one should be thinking about almost nuns who teach children and are under your care. And I could take such good care of...

"Stop, you must stop," he commanded. He stripped off the rest of his clothes with little ceremony and headed for the bathroom. He turned on the taps and as he waited for the water to warm he peered at his reflection in the mirror. He had a smudge of dirt on his cheek. Probably from the dock. He swiped at it with the back of his hand as he wondered where the day went sideways.

The boys had asked permission to try their luck with the fish on the lake this morning as the ladies where headed into town. Hoping that the quiet would allow him to get some much needed work done he'd retreated to his study.

Finding him a little bleary eyed and hovered over the blueprints on his desk Elsa had insisted on a stroll thru the grounds. She kept up a steady patter about her plans for the party and the guests and her dress. There was a great deal about the dress. He was reasonably sure he had "hmmed" and "yes of coursed" at all the right times but his mind had been on a flaw in a design schematic.

They had come upon the boys tossing their fishing gear onto the shore and docking the boat. Georg chuckled as he remembered Kurt proudly thrusting his string of freshly caught lake trout towards Elsa's horrified face and couture clothes. He had offered to tie up the boat so the boys could get the fish into the kitchen and themselves into a bath sooner. Elsa hadn't even pretended to consider helping him rope off the boat and carry the gear to the boathouse. He snorted at his vision of the baroness in a ball gown and fishing pole as he stepped under the hot spray. No sooner had he closed his eyes and raised his face to the water did Maria's image float past.

Her naked image.

He felt guilty but it truly had been a wrong place wrong time...or maybe it was just the right time... Either way he simply wasn't able to shake what he had seen and deep inside he knew he wouldn't want to even if it were possible. A complete coincidence...

Fishing gear stored, he'd been walking back up from the boat house. Taking the long route so he could take a side entrance into the kitchens to make sure the fish had arrived he caught a flash of white from the corner of his eye and found himself glancing up at his governesses open window. Later he would tell himself that her billowing curtains caught his attention and he hadn't consciously searched her out. He had. He always was.

There she was, standing in full view of her window, soaking wet and wrapped in towel she was keeping closed with one hand as she searched a linen bag on her dresser with the other. She let out a triumphant little yip as she brandished a bar of soap from the bag and in her excitement lost control of said towel...

He knew he should turn away. Walk into the house and forget this moment ever occurred but he found himself stunned into place. Watching as she giggled to herself, grabbed up her towel, and spun off in the direction of the bathroom. She never looked out.

He was suddenly grateful to Kurt for sending Elsa into hysterics and back into the house. He was sure she would have noticed him staring open mouthed after the governess. Hell, she had him staring at her open mouthed with all her clothes on.

Elsa. Remember? That lovely woman you plan to marry? He should be thinking of her cool and sophisticated beauty. Her grace, her elegance, and her frankly sexy voice. But he wasn't.

It was always Maria. Her warmth drew him in and made him want to stay curled around her until she seeped into him. Melted him. It seemed she was breaking down all his barriers without any effort on her part other than just being. Coming into his home she had broken thru to his mind and made him sit up and take interest as she refused to respond to his whistle. Teaching his beautiful children music and forcing his heart to shed light on places that he had darkened because it simply hurt. And now it seemed his body was the last to betray him, giving her all his attention anytime she was near. Even when she wasn't.

As he lathered his body up all he could see was her untouched skin, the curve of her breast, the swell of her hip. He wondered what it would be like skim his palms up her thighs and watch her blue eyes darken as she realized their destination.

He wanted to know how she tasted everywhere, especially the nape of her neck. She had a way of tilting her head when she concentrated that exposed the whole of her throat and made him want to mark her with his mouth. Marks he might catch a glimpse of the next day, reminders to both of whom she belonged to...perhaps she would mark him.

He scrubbed at his upper thigh roughly, absolutely avoiding his heavy arousal. He kept scrubbing thinking it would be so easy if he could just wash her off, but his feelings for her were rather like the tattoo that marked his shoulder blade, impulsive, private, and permanently under his skin.

Shaking his hair under the water he cast about to find a less erotic topic to think about. Anything else. Nothing. Only her. She was consuming him from the inside and he was squeezing the hell out of the soap in his hand. He gritted his teeth and reached down to wash the last bit of himself without losing control.

Too late. He gave a whimper as his soap slicked hand made contact with the sensitive tip of his shaft. It was no use, he was going to give in to this madness. Just once. In the hopes he could rid himself of the temptation.

He gripped the base and stroked upward, rolling his thumb across the tip. He let his mind drift back past her open window. If she belonged to him he would have run full out up the backstairs to her room and slipped his arms around her from behind. He could almost feel his lips nuzzling at the delicate pulse he knew he'd find behind her ear.

Warm and a little damp from the shower he could smell the lavender from her shampoo. Pushing heavier kisses into the skin of her neck, lapping up the water droplets left by the shower spray he'd waste no time reaching to cup her breasts. Massaging and rubbing until her nipples pebbled underneath his skin.

Mouthing kisses and licks down her neck while he coasted a hand down her belly and between her thighs. Teasing her and whispering in her ear. Slick and open he'd slide his fingers inside her. Biting at the nape of her neck unable to resist sucking hard enough to leave a mark when she cried out with pleasure as his thumb brushed her center.

Stroking himself faster, he imagined laying her on the bed and admiring his handiwork, her swollen lips and her finger rumpled hair. He fancied watching her blue eyes blacken as he removed his clothes, covered her body with his, and slid inside. Tightening his fist that last little bit he felt his climax gather at the base of his spine. The Maria who belonged to him was being taken apart beneath him, arching her back and calling out his name.

"Oh...oh...Maria..." He groaned.

He thrust into his fist, panting, his free hand splayed against tiles as he climaxed, hard.

He stood up as his ragged breathing leveled. Despite the water running down he felt sweaty and most likely in need of more soap. He couldn't recall the last time a shower had become an extracurricular activity.

This was lunacy.

And the water had gone cold. Rinsing the remaining soap from his body he stopped the taps and wrapped a towel around his hips as he headed for the closet.

Pulling on a clean shirt he gathered his resolve as began to button. This button would never button happen button again. She was off limits button and he could control this attraction. He would control it. He grabbed a tie and looped it around his neck certain he would be able to resist her lovely smiles, her witty retorts (that often put him in his place) and the effortless joy she radiated that drew him in.

Pressed and dressed he paused in front of the mirror, he looked completely normal. In control even, but he was starting to feel the slight sting of shame. Reduced to his lowest common denominator. He was never going to act on this, whatever it was. Not ever. She was planning on dedicating her life to the Church. She could never be his and to entertain any thoughts otherwise were foolish. It was was only that she was so extraordinary. So beautiful and so unaware of it.

Perhaps giving in had exercised her from his mind? Maybe his body was telling him to accept what Elsa has been offering for months. Perhaps he was ready to be move on with someone again?

He met Max on the landing and they shared a few words about his latest search for talent in the greater Salzburg area. As they passed thru to the sitting room for a cocktail he was already laughing at Max's tale of a juggling opera singer he seen that afternoon. Yes, he thought, he was feeling a bit more like himself.

"Elsa darling, you look ravishing as always," Max fawned. "Do come and join us for a drink. I was just telling Georg about Madam LeFut and her rare combination of juggling whilst singing an aria from La Boheme."

She laughed and Georg looked up from pouring to send her an obligatory smile. She was gorgeous and flawless as always. He found himself wondering if she ever allowed herself to become mussed. Probably not.

There was the sudden clatter of fourteen pairs of shoes on the stairs as the children piled out of their rooms. Eager to greet the girls and ask about their day out with Fräulein Maria Geog encouraged the adults to follow him into the dining room.

Everyone sat down. And waited for Fräulein Maria, again.

"It really isn't her fault she's late this time, Father," Leisel started to explain.

"No, it was mine," murmured Marta lowering her head to face her plate. Georg noted that she hadn't crumbled into sobs and was rather proud of her for that. Fräulein Maria's influence most likely.

"Yes, she and Gretl had been painting with watercolors and she was so eager to show her work that she ran out of the school room and straight into Fräulein Maria, painting first," Friedrich finished.

"I'm sure she'll be along soon Father," assured Brigitta.

He drew a deep breath, steeling himself and promising that any wayward thoughts would stay locked away. He was in absolute control.

And then she appeared, in that blue dress.


I have no clue what the layout of the villa actually I just made it up!

Hope I haven't offended y'all or sullied the good Captain's reputation and he can remain a gentlemen. Sort of... :)