What he saw was surprising. A mass was pushing up against his trousers. The more he looked the more he realized what the mass was.
'It couldn't be true…?'
Was this his reaction?
He had gained such desires from looking at her. He really could not believe this situation; he carefully touched his manhood. It was hard, and hot, and throbbing. He almost could see the pulsations through the cloth of his trousers.
It was true; his penis had awoken. And it throbbed insistently and painfully, as though it was waiting for the moment he would be inside her and ejaculate.
Surprise and joy filled his heart. He wanted to dance. Staring at his hard member, his expression was stunned and ecstatic. It was not an illusion. As though to make sure what he was seeing was real, he kept his eyes on his trousers.
He had achieved an erection thinking about her in the garden. Glee filled his face.
A strange sound echoed in the quiet.
What was that?
He quickly looked over to where she was. While he wanted to continue to study his new response, it was more important for him to see her. Her existence made him feel like a man for the first time in his life; she was now most important.
He leaned out further to see her.
His eyes widened in surprise at what she was doing.
She patted her face with her hands to put some color back in her cheeks.
What was she doing?
A woman's beauty was more important than her life. He could not believe she was treating her beauty in such a crude way.
She patted her cheeks again.
With a deep sigh, she said, 'You're alright.' As though to convince herself.
She wiped the tears, 'It's all right now.' She said wiping the tears and taking deep breaths to calm herself.
This really could not be true.
The crying in seclusion was incredibly shocking to Ernest. Did she want to hide the fact that she had been crying?
How brave.
How clumsy.
What a strange woman.
But she was stronger than any woman he knew.
With her strength, she dusted her sorrows off and lifted her face again.
Ernest's heart rang sweetly at the sight of her dignified beauty.
He wanted her.
He wanted her in his arms.
He wanted her to be his. He wanted to give her everything.
A strange heat suffused his body; what should he call this feeling that burned his body for this existence?
Ernest could not understand that she was his first love.
But though he could not understand with his head, he understood his instincts.
He wanted her, his male core wanted her. He was full of desire for her alone.
He watched as she patted her cheeks again, rose and quietly left the gazebo.
She was headed for the carriages, rather than the ball.
She had cried by herself, stopped her tears with her power, not looking for sympathy from stupid men like her sister, and was directly returning home.
She lifted the hem of her dress as she walked away. He could see her pale legs. They stimulated his passion for her. He watched her beautiful straight back walking away, her hair clips were missing and she had no shoes, but she walked on with grace; staring straight ahead of her.
Ernest watched her go like he had lost his soul.
That night's encounter with Amber was a solid reality; the proof was the dense stain on his trousers. (Zuben: *facepalm)