Through the damp London night a luxurious car sped swiftly and surely, the soft purr of its powerful motors hardly distinguishable above the swish, swish, swish of rubber-shod wheels upon the wet pavement as they flew onward toward their destinations.
Outside of the curtained windows a macabre fog eddied and drifted, at times dimming the street lights with its wispy, ghostly vapours.
Within was snug comfort, warmth, life and color.
Had curious eyes been permitted to peek inside the glass and curtainshielded tonneau, a scene of revelry, profanely at variance with the dismal exterior of the night, would have been revealed.
Outside, the interminable procession of half suffocated lights vainly trying to pierce the gray shroud which drew ever closer and closer about them; inside, the ribald levity of alcohol-inspired abandon, the sheen of silken hose on diaphanous garments fluttered in careless disarray above silk-clad knees.
There were four occupants in the seclusion of the cozy, glassed-in, and softly lighted tonneau. Two of them were gentlemen, modishly attired in the habiliments dictated by the fashions of the times for evening wear, and two of them were young girls, whose apparel, if not exactly that which would have been considered in the best of taste by social arbiters, was at least beautiful and colourful. The gentlemen, regardless of their half inebriated condition, were patently at home in the atmosphere of luxury which both the car and their apparel suggested. The girls, had the imaginary observer surveyed them with a critical eye and taken note of the extreme shortness of their dresses, the rouge upon their cheeks, the exaggerated scarlet of their lips and their indifference to the indiscreet disarray of their clothing, would have been catalogued instantly as ladies of that vast assembly politely described as "not nice!"
One of the gentlemen was Monty and one of the girls myself. The second gentleman was another scion of aristocracy known only to me by the nickname Zippy, and his companion was a young Spanish girl of saturnine but piquantly beautiful features named Carlota.
This was not the first nocturnal outing I had participated in. Yielding to the influence of the magic wand of gold which Monty had waved before her eyes, Madame Lafronde had consented to this departure from the accustomed routine.
"I don't want to stand in the way of your doing the best you can for yourself, but watch your step, girl, watch your step!" were her final words on the subject.
Tonight we were, to be present at the clandestine showing of some naughty moving pictures which Zippy had arranged for with an exhibitor at some obscure point far over on the East Side of London.
After the show we would dine in the seclusion of a private room in a popular resort.
Zippy was a genial chap of very likable personality. He was possessed of a humorous and witty disposition. His droll witticisms and antics kept one constantly laughing, and when he was half under the influence of liquor, he kept these around him fairly convulsed.
Carlota, whom I had met a few hours before, constituted something of an enigma. Her attitude toward me was perplexing; I had always been able to make friends easily, but my overtures to her left her unresponsive and I sensed some coldness, the reason for which I could not imagine. At times I found her looking at me covertly and imagined there was something baleful in the glint of her dark eyes.
Thinking that maybe she regarded my acquaintance with Zippy as a possible menace to the security of her domains in his affection, I was scrupulously careful not to presume upon the bonhomie spirit of the four-cornered friendship, and still this explanation did not seem to fit the circumstances exactly, for she seemed peculiarly tepid in her demonstrations of affection for the good-looking young aristocrat.
Tonight, however, she had apparently cast off her moody lack of animation and had entered into the festive spirit of the occasion. A silver-covered flask was being passed from hand to hand as the smoothly humming motor carried us onward toward our destination.
Ensconced in one corner of the luxuriously upholstered seat, Monty leaned back with me on his lap. At the other end of the seat, Zippy held Carlota in a similar fashion. A supple, beautiful arm was curved lightly about his neck, and a small, piquant face was snuggled against his.
In the pleasant spell of a mild alcoholic languor, I watched them dreamily. I felt happy, contented, and was looking forward to a night of joyous abandon with no premonition or presentiment of evil to mar my light heartedness.
Carlota's skirts were up over her knees, revealing a brief extension of flesh which glinted ivory like in the soft light and was accentuated by the black sheen of her silk-clad legs. The metallic clasps which engaged the tops of her hose, holding them smooth and tight about her legs by means of elastic garters which ascended upward and disappeared under filmy garments sparkled like jewels as the movement of the car caused the light to vibrate against them.
An inquisitive hand, lured on, no doubt, by the seductive disarray of garments, fell upon her knee and began an insidious exploration upward, its movements contributing further to the disorder of her clothing and the revealment of more ivory thigh. Of the hand itself soon nothing was visible but portions of a white cuff, the rest of it being lost to sight among the filmy undergarments.
Carlota giggled nervously and pressed her legs together, by virtue of which manoeuvre the invading hand was firmly imprisoned between walls of warm, living flesh.
With my head resting on Monty's shoulder, I watched this lascivious play with half-closed eyes. What a pity, I thought, that Carlota was not always jolly and happy. When she was like this, she was really beautiful. What pretty legs she had, too, so slim and graceful and softly curved. When girls had legs like hers no wonder men admired them.
Mine had been like that when I was younger, but during the last year or two they had filled out, become more solid, more suggestive of maturity.
I straightened my own legs out and contemplated them pensively.
"What are you doing, baby? Admiring your legs?" murmured Monty.
"No; I was admiring Carlota's, and comparing mine with them."
"Oh, envy! Thy name is Woman! Do you think Carlota's legs are prettier than yours?"
"Yes," I said, candidly. "I do. Mine are getting too matronly."
"Bosh," answered Monty, and he plunged his face between my breasts and set me to giggling by blowing hot, whiskey-scented breath through the cloth over my bubbles. "You're just fishing for compliments, and out of pure obstinacy, I refuse to bite."
"The only time to properly judge a lady's legs," expounded Zippy solemnly from his corner, "is when they're around your neck. I maintain that Carlota has the nicest legs in the world.
Monty and I burst out laughing and Carlota jerked upright in pretended indignation.
"Oh! What an insolent inference! I never had my legs around his neck in my life."
"In my dreams, my dear, in dreams! A man has a right to dream anything he wants to, hasn't he?"
"No! Not such defamatory dreams as that! If you want to dream about me, dream something decent! And… o-o-oh!.. take your hand away from there! Stop!.. stop!.. you're going to make me wet my panties!"
The sudden slowing of the car, followed by two long and two short blasts of the siren warned us that we had reached our destination and Carlota, escaping from the fervid embrace, straightened out her clothing preparatory to leaving the car.
As it rolled to a stop, apparently in accordance with prearranged plans and in answer to the signals of the siren, the figure of a man materialized from the fog-enshrouded night to guide us to the rendezvous where the entertainment was to take place, We were conducted to a room improvised to represent a theatre in a crude way; a few chairs, a small platform elevated two or three feet above the floor, and back of this a white curtain. The projection machine and operator were hidden from our view in an adjacent room whence the pictures would be flashed through a small round hole cut in the intervening wall. There were no other spectators present as Zippy had arranged for an entirely private showing.
The exhibition lasted for about an hour and a half and consisted of several different films, some of them allegedly taken from real life among the apaches of Paris and which ran the gamut of every imaginable sexual indulgence and perversion. Another, based superficially on the question of whether or not it is a physical possibility for a man to be raped against his wishes, had as its theme the sequestering of a young man on his wedding day by a group of jolly, fun-loving friends.
Snatched from the side of his bride of a few minutes, he is carried away, stripped of his clothing, and chained against a wall in an upright position with his arms elevated and his legs separated.
Under these undignified circumstances he is turned over to the mercies of a bevy of girls who, with lewd acts, dances and other artifices, endeavour to make him have an erection. For a while this modern St. Anthony is able to subjugate any erotic reactions and successfully resists the wiles of the sirens. But alas, the flesh is weak, and despite his determination to withstand the impure temptations, Satan, in the guise of a beautiful young girl with nimble fingers, forces his cock to awaken from its lethargic slumber and raise its head in obeisance to the powers of Evil.
With this disaster, the battle is practically lost, for once a man's cock is turgidly erect not even the chaste determination of a Galahad can control its subsequent actions nor stay the course of lascivious Nature.
Raising her dress, the temptress turns around and stooping over, with her hands on her knees, backs her round, white bottom up against the rigid spike. Closer and closer she presses, until the treacherous obelisk, following the narrow road downward between the plump cheeks, reaches and penetrates the natural haven between her thighs, and naught remains to complete the victory of sin but the slow, weaving circular movement of her bottom. "By hand frigging, by sucking, and by other lascivious arts the unfortunate victim is subjected to further depletions of his sexual vitality as the sirens, one after another, drain him to exhaustion, until at last his cock is reduced to a state of unconsciousness and inertia from which no seductive feminine enticements on earth could arouse it, and when this is apparent, the luckless (?) groom is released and permitted to go on his honeymoon.
The entertainment terminated with a horrific exposition of a girl and a diminutive Shetland pony. It was incredible, unbelievable, but the evidence was there, clear, distinct and indisputable in the moving photographic reproduction upon the screen.
When the show was over we returned to the car and half an hour later were at a restaurant where a small private dining room had been reserved for us. We enjoyed a nice dinner, followed with exquisite wines, over which we lingered, joking, teasing, and otherwise enjoying ourselves. After the dinner, we would part company, Monty and I going our way and Zippy and Carlota another.
But it was very pleasant and comfortable in the little dining room. We were all in the roseate state of semi-intoxication in which everything is just right and everything that is said excruciatingly funny. So we dallied, telling naughty stories, rumpling each other's clothing, and indulging in all kinds of lascivious nonsense, while Monty and Zippy continued to drink until they had passed the half-way stage of intoxication.
"On an occasion of thish nashure," declaimed Zippy, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation, "ish an invariable, not to shay an inviolable cushtom for each guesh to relate in hiah own crude way the chircumstances and detailsh of hish or her firsh sexual experiensh."
"What he meansh," interrupted Monty, condescendingly, "ish: everybody tell about their firsh fuck!"
"I believe I… hie… made myself clear without… hie… the necesshity… of an… interpreter!" protested Zippy with great dignity.
"You're half intoxshicated!"
"I resent that insinuation! I insist that I'm not half intoxshicated. On the contrary, I'm half sho… sho… sober!"
"Shut up, both of you! You're both intoxicated! If you start any arguments, Carlota and I are going to beat it!"
"What wosh thish argument about in the firsh playsh?" interrogated Monty, scratching his head in perplexity.
"Oh, Zippy had an idea for each of us to tell about our first sex experience, and you interrupted him."
"That wosh a good idea. I mosh humbly beg hish pardon for my intrushion. It would be mosh interestin' to learn under what unforshunate chircumstances you two young ladish losh your maidenheadsh. I nominate you to tell the firsh story."
"Oh, no!" I protested, laughing, "it happened so long ago I can hardly recall the circumstances. Let Carlota tell hers first. While she's telling hers, I'll try to remember mine! That is, if you two men will stop drinking. There's no fun telling stories to people, who are too drunk to listen."
"I shecond the movement," interposed Zippy solemnly. "Everybody lishen now, while Carlota tells ush about her firsh romansh."
"Ah," murmured Carlota dreamily. "Until now I have kept the secret of my misfortune and the circumstances under which my ruin was accomplished locked in the innermost recesses of my heart, nor did I think ever to reveal them.
She paused and remained pensively silent for a long time.
We waited expectantly.
"I was the only child of wealthy parents who showered upon me every care and blessing which loving hearts could devise," she began. "We lived on a beautiful estate in the country where the art and handiwork of man was supplemented by every beautiful and exotic creation of Nature. Close to our home was a charming wooded fairyland in which wild flowers abounded in bounteous profusion, and through which a little brook of clear, limpid water rippled on its way to the distant sea.
"Prom my earliest days I recall with what delight I wandered through this miniature forest, listening enraptured to the lilting songs of the birds which lived in its green boughs, gathering a scented flower here and there, watching the big black and gold bees as they skimmed the blossoms in their eternal quest…"
"Thersh too many birdsh and beesh and flowersh and not enough fucking in thish story…" growled Zippy discontentedly.
"Hush up, Zippy! Let her tell the story in her own way!"
"Up until the time I was fifteen years old," continued Carlota, unabashed by the interruption, "I was as pure and innocent as driven snow. My parents had carefully shielded me from every contaminating influence; I knew nothing; I was ignorant of all the true facts of life…"
"Terrible mishtake parentsh make," observed Zippy sadly.
"To that lack of knowledge, which I was old enough to rightfully possess, I ascribe the fact that my pure innocence was trampled in the mire of lust and my fresh young girlhood blighted forever," continued Carlota, her voice husky with emotion.
Monty wiped away a tear and Zippy turned his head to cough suspiciously.
"I shall never forget the day; it is burned into my soul with letters of fire. I had just passed my fifteenth birthday; I was a woman in body, but an innocent, unsuspecting child in all else. I thought that babies were brought by fairies who left them upon the doorstep in baskets woven from flowers and vines."
Monty was sniffling audibly. Zippy reached surreptitiously for a bottle and succeeded in pouring himself a stiff drink before I could wrest it from him.
"Got to have some kind of stimulation," he protested aggrievedly,
"thish story ish breaking my heart."
"I had discovered a limpid pool among the rocks into which the water eddies so gently that the sandy bottom could be seen through the crystal-like depths. Several fish inhabited this little pool and it was my delight to Tie on my stomach and watch them swimming lazily about, with the sunlight, which penetrated the translucent water, causing their iridescent scales to shine with all the colours of the rainbow.
"It was to this pool I hurried that fateful day, eager to see my little pets, each of which I had endowed with an affectionate name. I had brought some bread with me, and as I lay there watching them dart at the slowly sinking crumbs, I was startled to hear a voice close by me. 'Ah, little Miss Narcissus,' it said, 'does your pretty face enchant you so that you linger over its reflection in the water?' "I looked up into the smiling countenance of a handsome young man who was standing there regarding me curiously. I was startled, but not frightened. I knew nothing to be frightened of.' 'No, Sir,' I replied, 'I was looking at some fish that live in this pool. They are really very beautiful. Their scales shine like rubies and emeralds and sapphires in the sunlight.' 'So?' he answered, peering into the pool. 'You have to lie down and put your face close to the water to see them,' I explained.
"Whereupon the young man, who was an entire stranger to me, accommodated himself upon the rocks in a position similar to my own, and together we gazed into the limpid pool while I identified the various members of my adopted family.
"His interest in the fish waned quickly and he began asking me questions which I, candidly and ingenuously, answered without hesitation, thereby revealing to him my childish simplicity as well as my identity.
"I thought I had never seen so handsome a young man. He was much older than I, five or six years, at least. 'Do you come here often?' he asked. 'Every day,' I replied, 'unless it rains.' And then, my curiosity overcoming my diffidence, I asked: 'Who are you? You don't live near here, do you?' 'No,' he replied slowly, 'I come from a far-off city. It is a secret, but I will confide in you for I see you can be trusted. You must never tell anyone!' I listened with breathless interest. 'I am an emissary of the king. I am sent here, to see that the animals and birds and flowers are not molested. When the little birds fall out of their nests I put them back, and when the chipmunks can't find enough acorns, I feed them.'
'Oh, how wonderful!' I breathed ecstatically. 'May I help you sometimes? Some wicked boys place traps to catch little bunnies, but whenever I find the traps I throw rocks on them and break them up!'
'Quite right, my dear little Carlota (he now knew my name), I will be very happy to have you assist me in my search for hungry chipmunks, and if we find any bunny traps we will assuredly destroy them. You may meet me here at this pool tomorrow, but remember, not a word to anyone, not even to your parents. The king would be very angry.' "And thus, with a joyous secret clutched to my trusting heart, and in the happy anticipation of accompanying this wonderful young man in his search for little birds which had fallen from their nests, I ran home…"
"Mosh touchin' story I ever heard," mumbled Zippy, "but…"
"Hush up!" I hissed. "I want to hear the rest of this story without anymore interruptions!"
"Sure enough, he was there waiting for me the next day, and what a delightful time I had, wandering through the woods with him, exploring little glens and shady bosques where the vines and leaves were so thick I had never attempted to penetrate them alone.. But it was easy with someone to hold the vines back, to lift you over fallen logs, and carry you across wet places where little green snakes might be hiding.
"There was a place where the brook spreads out, standing several inches deep in the lush water grass. Across this swampy terrain was a leafy hummock which I had seen from a distance but had never approached, not knowing how deep the bog might be around it I.
pointed it out to my companion and without a word he picked me up in his strong arms and started across the intervening swamp.
"There was a strange, sweet sensation in being carried this way, one which I had never experienced before. It filled me with a soft, melting languor, impossible to describe. As he strode along, he shifted his hold to ease my weight and his hand, under my swinging knees, came in contact with bare flesh where disarranged clothing left it exposed.
"A gentle, tingling warmth began to generate, there where his hand was supporting my legs, and an overpowering emotion gradually stole over me. I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to the unknown but delicious sensations, languishing, half-fainting, oblivious to everything else in the world.
"My subsequent recollection of what transpired was dim and vague. In a half-unconscious state I was dreamily aware that we had reached the hummock, and that he had laid me down on the soft grass and was doing something with my clothing. Indescribable ecstasies were being provoked by some mysterious caresses between my legs, right there where they came together, caresses productive of sensations so overpoweringly sweet that I neither questioned their propriety nor even wondered how they were being effected.
"Suddenly the delicious spell was broken by a short, quick stab of pain.
An involuntary shriek of anguish escaped my lips, but the pain passed almost before the sound had died away, and again a flood of warm delight permeated my being and seemed now to be, projected clear up inside my body. So intense were the sensations which we now being provoked that I fainted dead away.
"When I recovered consciousness with all that had occurred impressed on my memory only as a vague and indefinite, but delicious dream, I found myself in a peculiar situation. I was lying upon the grass with my head resting on my companion's folded coat. My dress was up and my panties had been removed. My companion was engaged in sponging my thighs with a handkerchief he had apparently moistened in the brook. As he squeezed the water from it, I perceived that it was stained with a dull red.
"I sat up and felt a twinge of pain and an odd, swollen sensation between my legs. I tried to stand up, but I was dizzy and weak. What had happened? Ah, my friends, there is no need to tell you what had happened. In that unguarded moment the heritage of purity had been snatched from an innocent trusting maiden; she had been robbed of that priceless jewel which once taken can never be replaced; her virginal chastity was gone forever."
Carlota choked, overcome with emotion.
"Dishpicable, unprinshapled scoundrel," groaned Zippy, "robbing a young girlsh pry-shless jewel…"
"Misherable king's emishary ough to be im-prishoned for life!" exclaimed Monty, bursting anew into tears.
I was the only one whose heart remained untouched. As the narrative seemed to have come to an end, I murmured:
"That was a beautiful story, Carlota. Now tell us the real one."
"The real one isn't nearly as beautiful as the one I told you," answered Carlota, who had now regained her composure.
"Wosh the idea?" growled Zippy, sitting up suddenly. "Imposhing on our shimpathies in such a… hie… inexcushable manner?"
"Thash what I shay!" echoed Monty, with an aggrieved expression on his face. "Wosh the idea?"
"Shut up, you two! We'll make her start all over again, and if she doesn't tell the truth this time, we'll do something to her!"
"Oh, well, if you insist on the truth you can have it, but I warn you, the circumstance was quite devoid of romantic interest. Fiction is always more interesting than truth!"
"Thash what we want, the truth," exclaimed Zippy with renewed enthusiasm.
"Never mind the romantic interesh!" recommended Monty.
"Well, let's see… I guess I was twelve, or very close to it. My Aunt Carmen and my little cousin Ferdinand were staying with us for the summer. One afternoon Mamma and Aunt Carmen went to the city, leaving Ferdinand in my care. It was just such an opportunity as I had been wishing for. A girl playmate had whispered some interesting facts to me, confirming pretty well-defined suspicions I had already formed regarding certain phenomena of nature.."
"I hope there ishn't going to be any birsh and beesh in thish story," murmured Zippy uneasily.
"Before Mamma and Aunt Carmen were out of sight I had made up my mind that I was going to find out all about it. Ferdinand was nine, just young enough to accept my leadership in everything, and just old enough to keep a secret when warned that its disclosure would bring parental vengeance.
"He could be trusted, and so as soon as Mamma and Aunt Carmen were at a safe distance, I locked the doors, invited him to come with me to my bedroom, and under the pretext of teaching him a new game, got him to undress and did likewise. The game wasn't exactly a new one, but it was the first time either he or I had ever tried to play it, and we were a little awkward.
"By working his little dangle with my fingers, a process I had to repeat several times, for it persisted in going soft on me, I managed finally to get it stiff enough to fulfil its proper functions, and after a few erratic efforts, it suddenly slipped into the hole between my legs with an ease which rather surprised me.
"And this, dear friends, was the simple and unromantic circumstances under which I was fucked for the first time, though in truth it should be put the other way around, for it could more properly be said that I was the one who did the fucking. I hope you're satisfied. As a matter of fact, the first story I told you was also true, except in some minor details."
"What were those minor details, if I may ask?" I inquired politely.
"Well, in the first place, I wasn't entirely unaware of what was going to happen when he laid me down on the grass and took my panties off. In fact, I was rather hopefully anticipating it, for I had felt something hard rubbing against my thigh all the time he was carrying me. In the second place, I wasn't by any means unconscious while he was doing it to me, though I pretended to be. And in the third place, as I have just related, it wasn't my first fuck, or my second either for that matter, even though he did make, me bleed a little because of his size."
Carlota tossed off a pony of brandy while Monty and Zippy remained pensively silent.
"Now," she observed, clasping her hands behind her head and leaning back in her chair, "let's hear yours!"
"Mine," I answered, "parallels yours… I mean your true one… so closely that I would only have to reverse the ages of the participants, for I was the younger, by several years. Which reminds me of something I intended to ask you in view of your experience… can you get any juice out of a nine-year-old cock?"
"Gosh, I don't know," confessed Carlota. "It always seemed to be wet when it came out, but whether it was boy-juice or girl-juice I don't know because I was twelve years old at the time, the hair was beginning to grow on my cunny, and the juice might have been all mine. But don't fool yourself, a kid nine years old can have an orgasm, whether he squirts anything or not."
At this moment a waiter, after knocking discreetly, opened the door to murmur apologetically that it was well past closing time. A hasty glance at the timepiece on the wall showed that it was indeed two o'clock in the morning.
We gathered up our effects and prepared to depart. Both Monty and Zippy were tipsy. Carlota walked in the peculiar fashion of one who is not quite sure of the footing, and I myself found when I stood up that I was far from steady on my feet, Monty's chauffeur, who was huddled up in his seat half-asleep, came to life, jumped out, opened the door for us, and stood patiently awaiting instructions.
For several minutes we stood there debating further exploits. For my part I was in favour of going directly to my room with Monty. My blood was heated and in my fevered, half-inebriated state I pictured several hours of delicious sexual abandon. But I was overruled by the others, who were still in an adventuresome mood. They wanted to go somewhere else to pass another hour or two before separating, and each had different ideas.
"Listen, everybody!" finally announced Monty with drunken determination. "We'll go to my housh! I've got a nish, comfortable room where, everybody can relaxsh and enjoy themselves!"
"Oh, no, we can't do that!" I protested hastily. "Your wife will have us thrown out!"
I could not have voiced a more ill-advised objection. Monty instantly became stubbornly resolute.
"Lishen!" he said with injured dignity, "a mansh housh ish hish cashel!
When he wansh to entertain dish in hish cashel thash hish… hie… ina… inalienable right!"
Nobody could offer a valid contradiction to this time-honoured philosophy, and though the chauffeur looked startled when he received his instructions, we were soon on the way. Though even in my beclouded state I could not repress certain misgivings I lulled them with the thought that his wife would undoubtedly be asleep at this hour, and I would think up some pretext to get them to leave as quickly as possible.
But, alas, under the effects of the silver flask and other stimulants which were drawn forth from hidden recesses in the car, the warning sense of caution diminished and before long I hardly remembered where we were going and by the time we got there I was nearly as drunk as the rest and but dimly aware of the surroundings.
The next thing I knew we were within the beautiful room which Monty had modestly described as "nish and comfortable." The feel of rich, thick carpets was underfoot, and about Us every luxurious comfort and adornment which money could command. The soft night-light which was burning gave way to a brighter illumination as crystal chandeliers burst into life. In an immense open chimney firewood was laid to light, and in an instant this stately, beautiful room became the scene of riotous revelry.
Carlota and I flung ourselves upon gorgeous divans while Monty and Zippy divested themselves of their hats and top-coats and placed upon an inland table the several bottles, some full, some partially depleted, which they had carried up from the car.
A sleepy butler appeared unsolicited, and stood with gaping mouth in the doorway.
"Go 'way! Go on back to bed!" ordered Monty. "Thish ish a private party, we don't want any intrushions!"
The man retired hastily.
There was an interlude during which events remained only in my mind in a nebulous blur. Here and there were incidents which stood out in relief, surviving the chaos of the night. Of course, it was inevitable under the circumstances that Carlota and I should be wheedled into disrobing, for no drunken orgy is complete until the women have exhibited themselves naked, and when the cataclysmic hour struck, she was down to her slippers, hose and a short undervest, while I, more circumspect, had removed only my panties.
Across the room where the shaded glow of a rose-tinted light fell softly on her naked thighs and pointed, cone-shaped breasts, her head on Zippy's lap, Carlota lay, alternately shrieking hysterically and moaning as he realized some occult operation between her legs with his finger.
Upon the velvet cushions of another divan an equally exotic scene was revealed. Cuddled in Monty's arms I rested my head languidly on his shoulder while he fingered and played with one of my bubbies which he had succeeded in exposing by the simple expedient of tearing open the front of my dress.
My own fingers were clutched around something stiff and round and hot which projected upward from his unbuttoned trousers. I slid the satiny skin slowly up and down, and each time the rosy head emerged from its shelter of flesh the rigid column jerked like a live thing. I squeezed it tighter, gripping it with all the strength of my fist, and still the spasmodic throb was strong enough to break my grasp as the plum-coloured head was forced through the tight ring formed by my thumb and index finger.
Each mighty convulsion awakened a corresponding throb in my own sexual organs, and an inordinate longing began to assail me. I wanted to feel that luscious, throbbing thing in my mouth, to run my tongue over its wet surface, to lick it and suck it until it burst.
What difference did it make that Carlota and Zippy were there? They were too immersed in their own pastimes to pay much attention to what I was doing. Very likely, too, they already knew I was a cocksucker, for Monty was very indiscreet with his talk when under the influence of liquor.
In another moment, doubtless, the luscious fruit for which I was panting would have been between my lips had it not been for an interruption.
That interruption was the quiet opening of the door which gave access to the beautiful but now disordered and bottle-strewn lounge. I was the only one directly facing the door and I was the first to perceive a new arrival.
I froze in rigid attention.
In the doorway, surveying us gravely and silently, stood a woman.
Inasmuch as this woman was the direct opposite of the mental picture I had formed of Monty's wife I did not for a moment or two even consider the possibility that it was she. I simply wondered who she was.
The woman who stood there regarding us with a calm, almost expressionless face was young, not much older than I, probably. An embroidered robe of rich, wine-coloured material was drawn about her and fastened with a loosely knotted, tasselled rope of silk. Under its lower hem, the lacy edge of a white garment, a nightgown, without doubt, peeked. She wore no hose, but on her feet were dainty, highheeled bedroom sandals.
She was superbly, radiantly beautiful, a blonde of perfect type whose skin was suggestive of peaches and cream, and whose loosely coiled hair glinted in the light like spun gold.
So silent had been her entry and so quietly did she stand that for several moments no one but myself was aware of her presence. Monty, his attention finally attracted by my tense attitude, turned his eyes in the direction I was looking. Zippy in turn glanced casually toward the door, and started abruptly. Carlota, facing the opposite direction was still moaning and suspiring audibly. Zippy shook her significantly and murmured a warning "S-h-h-h!" She looked at him in surprise, and then turned her head to see what was holding his attention. When she saw, she sat up hastily, drawing her one diaphanous garment down over her hips as far as she could.
It must have been three-thirty or later. Monty was the first to break the silence.
"Wosh the idea of thish intrushion?" he demanded thickly.
For a long moment there was no answer from the immobile figure. She continued to regard us, coolly, unemotionally. Then:
"Take your disreputable associates out of this house immediately."
The words were spoken in a quiet, dignified voice, low and musical, but firmly resolute.
By this time realization of the intruder's identity had dawned upon me and surprise gave way to a rapidly growing feeling of resentment and anger. In a confused, startled way, I comprehended that I had been cheated and imposed upon. So firmly rooted was the conception I had formed of this woman, a conception in which she appeared as a flatchested, sour-faced misanthrope, devoid of seductive feminine charms, that to find her in every respect the exact antithesis of all I had been led to believe, or permitted to believe, was at first a shock, and as this was assimilated, cause for rage which grew quickly to consuming proportions.
In some way, not yet clearly defined in my mind, I had been misled and hoodwinked. I had been permitted to assume, that I had a rival unworthy of serious consideration, much less to be jealous of. Once, impelled by some vague uneasiness, I had asked Monty whether she was pretty. His answer leaped into my memory. "About as pretty, compared to you, as a moth is in comparison to a beautiful, exotic butterfly!" The recollection brought a new surge of anger, for it suggested that I had not only been deceived but likewise made the victim of my own ridiculous vanity. This woman was regal with a loveliness which made mine look like cheap tinsel, and I had the sense to realize it.
In the baffled, frustrated, angry grouping of my thoughts, I included her as well as Monty in my resentment. I had pitied her before, but I hated her now with all the bitter venom which jealousy can brew in the heart of a woman confronted by the superior and invincible charms of a rival. I could have sunk my fingernails in the soft bloom of her cheeks with vicious delight, I could have clawed the full, voluptuous breasts which swelled the dressing gown outward in twin globes with infinite satisfaction. I fairly suspired to hurl myself on her and disfigure every inch of her golden beauty.
Dimly, I was aware that Monty had lurched to his feet and was advancing toward her.
"Lishen! Thesh ladiesh are my guesh! Wosh the idea of inshulting my guesh? Wosh the idea calling my guesh dish… dish… reputable?"
She stood her ground, receding not an inch before the menacing gesture of an upraised hand. No emotion was visible in her face except that of cool disdain.
"Remove these people from here instantly," she repeated. "I will not tolerate their presence here."
"Shay! Wosh housh ish thish? I refush to be embarrasshed in the presensh of my friensh!"
He made an unsteady lurch, and the sharp sound of a hand in contact with flesh was heard. He had slapped her in the face with considerable force.
A wave of cruel pleasure swept over me with the sound of the impact and the hot blood tingled in my cheeks. Across one of hers a dappled, reddish outline appeared to mar the white purity of her skin. But she did not flinch. With outward calm and dignity she remained motionless. There was a moment of deadly silence, and the low voice spoke again.
"Take your degenerate friends with you and leave this house or I will go myself."
What followed can only be told in a summary fashion. My own emotions were so violent that I saw everything through a sort of red haze and the details were blended in a confused blur of movement and action.
Monty had seized her in his arms. They were tussling and swaying in the doorway, she trying to escape his grasp and he apparently intent on dragging her into the room. No words were spoken; there was no sound except the heavy breathing, the swish of garments, and the scuffle of moving feet deadened in part by the thick carpets.
The pallor of her face had given way to a vivid flush which burned in either cheek. One of her bronze slippers had been dislodged in the scuffle and she was panting audibly. With a violent effort she succeeded in wrestling an arm free from his clasp, and placing the palm of her hand against his chin she forced his head back. For a moment it seemed that she was about to free herself from his drunken embrace.
As she strained to loosen his grasp, the sound of ripping cloth was heard and the neck and upper part of her robe and nightgown were torn open. The folds sagged down over her shoulders and arms, and one white breast was exposed.
I can see it yet, that proud, round breast of alabaster whiteness protruding from the ravished garments, its rosy nipple standing out prominently.
The sudden yielding of the garment caused her to lose her balance and the temporary advantage she had gained. She tottered backward and before she could recover herself she was again helpless in his arms. But she did not cease to struggle as she was dragged toward the centre of the room.
The blood was singing in my head. I felt choked, suffocated, and was breathing in short, dry gasps. Zippy and Carlota sat stiffly erect, watching with bulging eyes, but I gave them hardly a thought.
Remembrance of his cynical admission of attempts to fuck her was simmering in my brain. Well, he would never lay hands on me again.
Let him fuck her if he could, and let her claw him to shreds while he was doing it if she wanted to. That was what he had on his mind now. I knew he was going to try to fuck her right there in our presence.
The sound of more ripping cloth bore out the supposition and testified to his lust for the woman who had spurned him as he tried drunkenly to disrobe her. The kaleidoscopic, shifting blur of movement now revealed her half-nude as the entire front of her dressing gown was ripped open and the torn fragments of the nightgown underneath tangled about her legs.
I clenched my fists and bit my lips. My face was burning hot and my head felt light and dizzy.
As the torn fragments fluttered about her shapely limbs, he lifted her up. She managed to slip from his arms and regained her feet, but as she did so what remained of the garments was stripped upward and for a moment, not only her legs, but her bottom as well was left naked. As she twisted about the light shone full on the patch of little bronze, ringlets of hair at the base of her stomach. Another violent movement and pieces of her torn garments again covered the erotic sight.
She was panting, choked, inarticulate, but as if aware of her halfnaked condition she gathered herself for a supreme effort and placing both hands against his chest she shoved with desperate strength.
Doubtless, divining what was in his mind, she put every ounce of her failing energies into a superhuman effort to escape the humiliation.
She succeeded in pushing him from her. He clutched at her in an effort to regain his balance, tottered uncertainly for a moment, and fell backward. His head struck the edge of the iron grating in front of the fireplace.. His body twisted once or twice, straightened out, and remained motionless.
There was a momentary silence, broken only by a faint, peculiar whistling sound from the lips of the fallen man, a sound which I, and probably both my companions, assumed to be more an indication of drunken stupor than anything more serious.
But the woman standing there panting beside him, looking down into his face, suddenly began to scream. In an instant the servants, who had probably been hovering around close at hand but loathe to interfere, rushed precipitately into the room.
"Call a physician! Call a physician! Call the police! Get these people out of here!" she screamed, repeating the words over and over.
While two servants lifted Monty from the floor to lay him upon a sofa, another scurried to telephone a doctor, and another addressed himself to us.
"I'd advise you to retire as quickly as possible. The Marster appears to be in a very bad condition. He's not responsible under the circumstances, and you'd better be off, seein' as the Mistress is quite 'isterical!"
It was a sober and quiet little procession that filed down the stairs and out into the night air. Monty's faithful chauffeur, aroused by the sudden movement and lights about the house, inquired anxiously:
"What's happened?"
"Oh, Monty staged a row with his wife. He fell down and hit his head on the fireplace grating," Zippy answered gloomily.
"Is he hurt?"
"I don't think so. Get us away from here as quickly as you can."
The uneasy chauffeur hesitated a moment but finally decided that the best course was to do as suggested. He put the motor into movement and the car slid off down the quiet street.
As my thoughts cleared I became aware that Carlota was putting on her clothes, and for the first time realized that she had left the house clad in nothing but a silken shift, though she had retained sufficient presence of mind to grab her clothes and bring them with her, which reminded me that my own panties were still decorating a chair back there in the house.
I was not tempted to return for them. The wild emotions of the past half-hour were passing and I felt weak and faint. A fit of trembling seized me and I began to cry.
Carlota turned suddenly on me and I was electrified to hear her hiss:
"Damn you! If it hadn't been for you this would never have happened!"
"What on earth do you mean?" I gasped, hardly able to believe my ears. "What did I have to do with it?"
The only answer was a string of curses and maledictions that left me petrified with astonishment.
Zippy tried in vain to quiet her. She began to shriek.
"Let me out!" she cried hysterically, "let me out!"
Thinking that the excitement and liquor had thrown her into some kind of a fit, I put my arms around her and tried to sooth her. She shoved me away with a violent gesture, and screamed:
"Keep your hands off me, you damned little cocksucker, keep your hands off of me!"
The chauffeur, who of course could hear the clamour, slowed up the car, and opening the glass window at his back, peered in.
"Here! Here! What's going on?" he exclaimed anxiously.
"I want to get out! Let me out!" cried Carlota.
"Certainly, you can get out if you want to!" answered the man with alacrity, and he jumped from his seat to open the door for her.
Carlota literally hurled herself from the car, and sobbing brokenly, ran off and disappeared in the darkness.
"What… what in the world came over her?" I whispered dazedly, turning to Zippy, "What will happen to her, running around in the dark in a drunken fit?"
"Don't worry about her, Jessie. She can take care of herself."
"But… but why did she say such awful things to me? Why doesn't she like me? I've never offended her or done her any harm!"
"Don't you know, really?" he asked.
"No I don't! Do you?" "Why, she's jealous of you. That's what's the matter with her."
"Jealous of me?" Why should she be jealous of me?"
"Well, you see, Jessie, she was Monty s girl before he met you."
"Why! I thought she was your girl!"
"No," he answered with a resigned gesture. "Monty shoved her off onto me to keep her pacified. I did the best I could, but I wasn't up to it."
"Oh!" I gasped weakly, "Oh!"
Zippy placed an arm over my shoulder and patted me sympathetically. "Monty is a good scout but he takes some wild chances. We all must have been crazy to let him take us to his house tonight."
"I didn't want to go; I tried to talk him out of it, but I'm glad now I went. I found out several things I didn't know before. I never want to see him again."
Unable to control my feelings, I began to cry again.
"Cheer up, kid. Don't let yourself get upset. You have to take things as they come in this life, the bitter with the sweet.
His arm tightened about me and unresisting I let him draw my head over against his shoulder where I continued to sob until I was able to restrain myself. This Zippy was a nice chap. I had always liked him but had never permitted myself to be more than discreetly friendly with him on Carlota's account. There was comfort and consolation in the sympathetic pressure of his arm, and soon I felt better.
"Will you come to see, me sometime?" I murmured. "I'm not going to have anything more to do with Monty."
"Of course I will, if you want me. I couldn't ask you before because, well, it just isn't cricket to poach on another man's preserves."
"That's how I felt about Carlota. What a dummy I was! I knew from the way she acted there was something wrong, but I didn't have sense enough to suspect what it was. No wonder she didn't like me!"
The big automobile was rolling along smoothly and quietly and within another twenty-five, minutes or so I would be back in my room.
Dawn was not far off, but it was still dark outside.