The Queen of England — IV
A Lady-In-Waiting, No More Weeks passed and I took Elizabeth on walks of the grounds. I picked her flowers. We picniced and made love in the bushes and behind the trees where and when no one was looking. Nature colluded with us to hide our illicit affair. We made love in a rainstorm. I took her on a drive in my car and she grinned foolishly as the wind coursed through her hair. She proclaimed that she loved Elvis. Said she never heard him before, but she loved rock 'n' roll music though it made her giggle. "It is rather silly," she added. "Wouldn't you agree?" Of course, I agreed. We pulled off the side of the road and made love there just beside a fishing pond where no fishers fished. I was the only fisher there. And she was the pond. What I hoped to extract from her, I did not know. I don't know that I wanted anything. I realized I was crazed. Intoxicated on a sort of madness. I was insatiable. But I knew I must do something more, something else.
