<div class="floatright">(http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f142/capwilly1/Westinghouse/EllaPrice.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong>Ella Price<br/><strong>Where: </strong>The Greymore Carriage<br/><strong>With:</strong>Lord Archibald Greymore<br/><strong>When:</strong>1 P.M.<br/><strong>What: </strong>Leaving<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Ella gently reached out and took one trembling arm in her hands. Slowly, she gently massaged the muscles working her way down ¼ inch by ¼ inch from the biceps to the hands. When she finally reached the hands, she focused first on the palm and then began to stroke each finger, doing her best to warm and soothe them. She had leaned close and her ample bosom gently bobbed as she moved with her massage. She smiled at his comment about resting his head on her bosom, only saying, “I fear that would have the opposite effect.”<br/><br/>When she finished the first arm, she moved to the second. Outside, the night passed and inside, the carriage swayed and moved as the coachman drove them through the night. She wondered if the coachman was armed. Nick had often acted as a highway man on roads such as this when he needed quick money. She shook her head and pushed those thoughts out of her mind, instead focusing on easing the Lord’s distress. As she massaged him, she began to hum an old English lullaby about everyone needing to rest.<br/>