150057.fb2 Confessions of an English Maid - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 5

Confessions of an English Maid - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 5

CHAPTER FIVE

A small but furnished alcove with a tiled bath in connection was waiting for me, and after I had examined it Madame Lafronde left Hester and me together, saying that she would have a talk with me later in the afternoon.

A maid appeared with a luncheon tray and as I ate, plying Hester with questions between bites, I learned that Madame Lafronde's “family" comprised eight other girls in addition to Hester and myself. I would meet them later; they did not get up until after twelve, which accounted for the silence and absence of movement I had already noted.

When Madame Lafronde returned, her first request was that I strip myself entirely so that she could examine my body. I did so with some embarrassment, for though I had often enough exposed myself to boys and men, the impersonal, appraising eyes of this strange old lady filled me with a nervous dread that I might be found wanting in some essential.

I was small of stature and feared that the absence of clothing might accentuate the possible defect. However, to my vast relief, she gave every evidence of satisfaction and nodded her head approvingly as I turned around and around in obedience to her indications. When I had replaced my clothing she shot question after question at me, until every phase of my early and subsequent sexual life had been revealed. To her questions I endeavored to give frank and truthful answers, regardless of the embarrassment which some of them evoked.

“Now, my dear,” she said, when the interrogating had been concluded, “I want you to know that we're all one big, happy family here. There must be no jealousy or friction or petty animosities between girls. Our gentlemen are very nice, but men are men, and a pretty, new face always distracts their attention from older ones. I have a plan in mind which fits you as though you were made for it. If you handle it rightly you'll be helping the other girls as well as yourself, and instead of being jealous of you they'll all have reason to be grateful. We're all here to make money and as it must come from the gentlemen our aim is to get them to spend it and then come back and spend some more. Never forget that.”

And Madame Lafronde explained the unique role I was to play, a role which to a more mature mind than mine would have at once revealed the astuteness and subtlety of the guiding genius behind this lucrative business and which accounted for its success, measured in terms of gold. Madame Lafronde was nobody's fool.

In brief, she proposed to dangle my youthful prettiness before the jaded eves of the clientele as a sort of visual aperitif, much as water was placed before the thirsting Tantalus, in view, but just beyond reach, the psychological effect of which would be to so whet their passions that they would in the end, perforce, satisfy themselves with such feminine fruit as was within their reach.

I was to tantalize masculine passion while leaving to others the duty of satisfying them. This with respect to the regular “parlor" clientele. Exceptions would be made privately with certain special patrons who were always able and disposed to pay well for favoritism.

Things were not as they had been before the war, explained Madame Lafronde. Even this profitable business had suffered from the falling economic barometer, and too many of the gentlemen who dropped in were inclined to pass the evening sociably in the parlor. Of course, between liquors consumed, tips to the girls, and various other sources of minor revenues, their presence was desirable, but the real profits of the business were garnered in the bedrooms, not in the parlor. It was a case of a bird in a bedroom being worth five in the parlor.

As a sort of stimulant designed to inspire blase gentlemen with an irresistible urge to make use of the bedroom service, I was to be rigged up in an enticingly juvenile fashion and paraded constantly before their eyes in a seminude state. Various pretexts and artifices would ostensibly account for my presence and movements. I would carry a tray of cigars and cigarettes, serve drinks, and be available for general services and accommodations with but one single exception. I would joke and chat with patrons, tell a naughty story now and then, even permit them to fondle me within certain limits, but, because of my youth (I was to be only fifteen years old!) my services were not to be expected in a professional capacity.

I gasped at hearing that I was to play the part of a fifteen-year-old, but Madame Lafronde insisted that it would not be difficult in view of my small body and the fact that certain artifices in costume, hairdressing and other details would be employed to help out the illusion.

The first step was to call in a barber who trimmed my hair so that it hung just below my ears. It was naturally wavy, and when the work was finished it was quite apparent that Madame Lafronde had not erred in assuming that short curls would lend a peculiarly childish effect to my face. I gazed in the mirror with genuine surprise at the transfiguration.

When the barber had gone Madame Lafronde ordered me to undress again, and after taking certain measurements left the room to return later with several garments and a box which on being opened revealed a safety razor, soap and brush.

“We could have let the barber do this, too,” she commented dryly, indicating the razor, “but maybe you'd rather do it yourself.”

“Do what?” I asked, looking at the razor in perplexity.

“Shave the pretty little curls off your peek-a-boo,” she answered, with a gesture toward the dark shadow which was visible through the texture of my single garment.

“What!” I expostulated. “Why… even girls fifteen years old have…!”

“Shave it off,” she interrupted. “If you don't know how, I'll do it for you.”

“I can, I can!” I responded hastily. “I've shaved the hair under my arms lots of times… only…” and I glanced around in confusion for, in addition to Madame Lafronde and Hester, several girls had appeared and were standing in the door watching me curiously.

“Go over by the window with your back to us and stand up, or sit down, whichever you wish, if you're afraid someone will see your love trap. You'll get over that before you've been here long.”

Without further protest I took the shaving equipment, turned my back on the smiling assembly and sitting on the edge of a chair with my legs apart I lathered and soaped the hair and shaved it off the best I could. I had to go over the ground several times before the last prickly stubs were finally removed, and when I stood up, much embarrassed, to let Madame Lafronde view the results she expressed her approval and suggested that I dust the denuded flesh with talcum powder.

The absence of the hair from its accustomed place caused me to feel peculiarly naked, and I turned my gaze downward. The two sides of my cunny stood out prominently like fat little hills, the crease between them tightly closed as I stood with my legs pressed together.

I was now to don black hose of sheerest silk and a pair of tiny slippers with exaggerated high Spanish heels. Around my legs, just above the knees, fitted narrow scarlet garters, each adorned with a little silk rosette. Next came an exquisite brocade coat or jacket of black velvet into which was worked fantastic designs in gold thread.

“What about my bubbles?” I asked, as Madame Lafronde handed me the garment. “Will I have to cut them off, too?”

A gust of laughter followed and I slipped on the loose-fitting coat. It terminated at a point about halfway down my thighs, leaving a few inches of naked flesh between its lower edge and the tops of my hose. Fastening just below the breasts with three braided loops, it covered my stomach all right, but from there down the folds hung loose and a naked, hairless cunny would be exposed with any careless movement.

The last item of this bizarre costume was a tall, military style cap of astrakhan, fitted with a small brim of shiny black leather and a strap which passed under my chin. Madame Lafronde adjusted the cap on my head at a rakish angle and stood back to view the effect.

I glanced at my reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Without undue conceit I realized that I presented a chic picture, one which undoubtedly fulfilled Madame Lafronde's expectations, as was attested to by the satisfied gleam in her shrewd old eyes, by Hester's enthusiastic felicitations, and by the half-admiring, half-envious looks of the other girls who were watching silently.

From beneath the edge of the black astrakhan cap my hair hung loose in short, crisp curls. The low bodice of the brocade jacket teasingly revealed the upper halves of my breasts, while its wide and ample sleeves displayed my arms to good advantage with every movement. The jacket itself, fitting snugly around my waist, flared out sufficiently to show my hips to good advantage. Further down, the sheen of glossy silk with the brief variation in color provided by the scarlet garters gave just the right touch to my legs, and the high-heeled slippers completed the exotic ensemble.

The rest of the afternoon and evening Madame Lafronde devoted to coaching and instructing me. The doors were open to visitors at nine o'clock, but it was never until after eleven or twelve that gentlemen returning from their clubs or other nocturnal entertainment began to drop in in any considerable number, and from then on patrons came and went, singly or in small groups, some to linger briefly, others to pass an hour or two, or to remain all night.

I made my debut at eleven o'clock. With inward nervousness at first, but with growing confidence as I observed the electrical effect my entry made upon the half-dozen gentlemen who were lounging about the salon in various attitudes of interest or indifference to the wiles of the feminine sirens about them. As I crossed the room with my tray of cigars and cigarettes and matches supported by a strap over my shoulders the hum of conversation ceased as if by magic and every eye was on me.

I approached a tall, well-dressed gentleman who was sitting on a sofa with a girl on either side of him, and proffered my wares in a timid voice. His startled gaze took in the picture before him and lingered a moment on my legs. Shaking himself free from the arms of his companions, he sat up.

“My dear, I never smoked a cigar in my life, but I'll take all you have, if you go with them!”

This was Madame Lafronde's cue. Entering the room from a side door where she had been waiting, she said:

“Dear gentlemen, I want to present a new member of our family to you. This is Jessie. Jessie is here under peculiar circumstances. She is an orphan and, strictly speaking, not old enough to be here in a professional capacity. Though as you see, she is nicely developed, she is in fact only fifteen years old and I am sheltering her here only because of her orphaned condition. She is to make her living selling you cigars and cigarettes, gentlemen, and serving you in all other possible ways… except one.”

Madame Lafronde paused.

“In other words,” interrupted a tall, thin young man with a tiny moustache who was indifferently stroking the silk-clad legs of a damsel on his lap, “she can be only a sister to us. I knew she was too good to be true the moment she came into this room.”

A burst of laughter followed and Madame Lafronde, smiling, answered:

“A sister… well… maybe just a bit more than a sister, gentlemen, but not too much more!”

From across the room Hester beckoned to me.

“This is my friend Mr. Hayden, Jessie. He wants to know you,” she said, indicating her companion.

I acknowledged the introduction.

“Bring us two Scotch and sodas, will you, honey?” added Hester.

Mr. Hayden spoke to me pleasantly and took a packet of cigarettes from my tray, courteously declining the change I tendered him. As I turned to execute Hester's order, the man I had first addressed detained me.

“Wait a moment, Sister. I've decided to take up smoking.”

I might add that the nickname “Sister” was unanimously adopted and clung to me during the time I was in Madame Lafronde's house.

The gentleman took a handful of cigars and reached toward his pocket. As he did so, his eyes drifted down below the edge of the tray.

“Hold on! I'm making a tactical error!” he exclaimed, replacing all the cigars but one. “I see right now that cigars should be purchased one by one. You may bring me another when you come back!”

Nothing else was needed to start the ball of my popularity rolling and soon the salon was echoing with hilarity and laughter as all called for cigars and cigarettes at once, each trying, to keep me standing in front of him as long as possible.

If this kept up there would be substantial returns on the tobacco concession, for half the profits were to be mine, according to Madame Lafronde's promise, and this in addition to whatever was given to me in the nature of tips or gratuities. Flushed and happy, I ran from one to another, replying to jokes and quips in a half-innocent, half-cynical manner, calculated to fit the role of a fifteen-year-old ingenue.

As the evening wore on new arrivals appeared and I was instantly the first object of their attention. Before long the pockets of my brocade jacket were heavy with silver, I had replenished my tobacco stock several times and received several generous tips for bringing in liquor, and in addition, a gentleman had given me four shillings for being permitted to feel my bubbles, “just in a brotherly way,” as he expressed it.

What the effect of my presence was on the regular revenues of the house I could not judge, for though there was a constant movement of couples in and out of bedrooms I had no way of knowing whether this was a normal or an increased activity.

With the advancing hours the movement gradually diminished and by four o'clock the last guest had departed. The door was locked, the girls ate a light luncheon and prepared to retire. It was then that Madame Lafronde informed me that the bedroom service had showed a decided increase, which increase she was fair enough to attribute to my presence.

She was well satisfied and I surely had reason to be, for when the money was counted up and the tobacco sales checked there remained for me the sum of two pounds and eight shillings, which was duly credited to me and would be at my disposition on request.

I was tired out; I had hardly slept the previous night, yet such was my excitement that I did not feel sleepy and preferred to gossip with Hester for an hour in my room. I had a hundred questions to ask. I wanted to know about the nice-looking, gentlemanly Mr. Hayden, and learned that he was one of Hester's regular and most favored friends.

He had been much interested in me, and Hester had unselfishly confided to him that I might reservedly be at his disposition on some later occasion, to which he had gallantly responded that in such an event he would insist on having the two of us together. How good Hester was, I thought, to be willing to share this nice man with me and maybe risk my supplanting her in his affections. He had appealed to me greatly, and there had been several others whom I would not have been averse to doing something with.

“You made a tremendous sensation, darling,” said Hester. “You could have a dozen room-calls. I heard what everybody said. But Lafronde is right. The other girls would have been ready to scratch your eyes out. There's nothing makes them so mad as to have a new girl take their regulars away from them. Did you notice that fellow who went with me? He comes here every three or four nights. I guess every girl here has had him, but now he always takes me. He's got lots of money and. he's kind of nice, but, gee, he never has a hard-on and it takes about half an hour of work to give him a stand. Sometimes I even have to put the buzzer on him, but tonight, oh, baby, it was as stiff as a poker. I jollied him about it and told him I bet it was thinking about you instead of me. 'My word,' he said, 'you're a deucedly clevah mind reader. That little tart did have a most extraordinary effect on me. Wonder what the chawnces would be to secure her company for an hour or two? I think that's all bally rot about her virginal estate, don't you know!' I told him to talk to Madame Lafronde and maybe it could be arranged. That's two of my regulars that have fallen for you already, but I'm not jealous. You can have Bumpy if you want him. It takes too long to make his cock stand up.”

I laughed.

“What did you mean, putting the buzzer on him?”

“The juice, the electric massage machine.”

“Electric massage machine?”

“Yes, electric massage machine. Don't you know what an electric massage machine is?”

“Of course I do. They use them for facials. But how… what…?”

“Facials! Oh, baby, you don't know the half. Wait… you're tired out… I'll fix your bath water for you and after you're bathed I'll give you a massage that will make you sleep like an infant.”

Hester ran into the bathroom and turned on the water. Then she went to her room and came back with an entrancing little pink silk nightgown, face cream, perfume, and a large leather-covered box.

While I lay splashing lazily in the tub, soaking in the pleasant warmth of the foamy, scented water, she laid out the nightgowns and opened the box to show the apparatus it contained and which was, in effect, an electric vibratory massage machine fitted with a long cord for attachment to an electricity outlet. There were several assorted pieces in the box and from these Hester selected one fitted with rubber lips which turned out in the form of a small cup.

When I had gotten out of the tub and dried myself I lay down naked on the bed. Hester dipped her fingers in the jar of cream and passed them lightly over my face, neck, breasts and limbs.

I thought suddenly of the peculiar aspect the shaving had given me in a certain place and flipped a corner of the sheet over it. Without a word Hester flipped it back and her hands were between my thighs, softly spreading the cold cream over them and down my legs.

“You're awful good to go to so much trouble for me, Hester,” I murmured.

“It's nothing. You can do as much for me sometime,” she replied.

When she had finished anointing my body she connected the massage machine. It began to hum and the next instant the rubber cup was buzzing over my forehead, cheeks and neck. My flesh thrilled to the refreshing stimulation and I lay still, enjoying it to the full. Gradually the rubber moved down over my chest, between my breasts, then up over one of them right on the nipple. I came out of my languid rest with a bound. That bubbling, vibrating cup over the nipple of my breast was awakening sensations quite remote to those of mere physical refreshment.

Both my nipples stiffened up, the sensitive area around them puffed out and radiations of sexual excitation began to flow through my body. Laughing hysterically, I sat up and pushed the tantalizing device away.

“Be still, will you? Lie back down!” expostulated Hester, giving me a shove which tumbled me back over the pillow.

“But, Hester! That thing… its positively distracting! Don't put it on my bubbles again… I can't stand it!”

Hester smiled.

“You'll think its distracting before I finish with you. Keep quiet or you'll wake the girls in the next room.”

Down over my stomach, in widening circles, around and around, and then back and forth moved the diabolical apparatus guided by Hester's hand. I had a premonition now of what was coming, and as it slowly but surely crept downward until it reached the upper part of the rounded elevation of my cunny, I clenched my fists and held my breath.

No sooner was it close enough to impart its infernal vibration to my clitoris than tremors of sexual agitation began to shake my body. It was simply irresistible; I could not have forestalled its action by any conceivable exercise of willpower.

But I did not try. The fulminating intensity of the sensations which now had me in their grip nullified any will or desire to thwart them. I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and surrendered supinely. My legs parted shamelessly beneath the insinuating pressure of Hester's fingers, and the humming, buzzing cup slid between them. Up and down it moved, three, four, maybe half a dozen times, pressing lightly against the flesh.

My organism, wrought up to the final pitch of excitation and unable to withstand the infernal provocation longer, yielded, and in a second I was gasping in the throes of sexual ecstasy.

When I recovered my breath, and in part my composure, I exclaimed:

“Hester! You… you… I could murder you! Fooling me with that thing!”

“Make you sleep good, honey, and keep you from having naughty dreams,” she answered complacently, and she disconnected the device and restored it to its container.

“Does that work on men like that, too?”

“Yes; we use it on them sometimes to give them a stand when they either can't get one or are too slow.”

“Well,” I commented, “I'll say it gave me a stand I wasn't expecting.”

She giggled, tucked the covers around me, kissed me on the cheek, and turned out the lights.

“Sleep tight, honey. I'll wake you in the afternoon.”

She departed, leaving me alone to drowsily review the stupendous transition which twenty-four hours had wrought in my life. Last night, a hard, narrow cot in the drab and comfortless ward of a reformatory. Tonight, the soft luxury of a beautiful bed with the seductive caress of silk and fine linen about my body and all around me the material evidences of a life of ease, gaiety, and luxury. Gradually my thoughts became hazy and I drifted off into a pleasant, dreamless slumber from which I did not awaken until nine or ten hours later.