She pushed me away, and sat down. “Where is the money?” said she. I gave it her. “I’ve got an ugly scar,—I don’t like it seen.” “Never mind,—show it.” Slowly she dropped the chemise, and stood in all her naked beauty, and pointing to a scar just below her breasts, and about four inches above her navel, “There,” said she, “is it not ugly?—does it not spoil me!—how I hate it!”
I told her no,—that she was so beautiful, that it mattered not. Yet ugly it was. A seam looking like a piece of parchment which had been held close to a fire and crinkled, and then glazed, star-shaped, white, and as big as a large egg lay between her breasts and her navel. It was the only defect on one of the most perfect and beautiful forms that God ever had created.
“There,” said she covering it up, “you won’t want me naked again,—now I dare say you don’t like me as much.” Yes I did. “Do you?” “Yes.” She came and kissed me. I often had her as naked as she was born afterwards.
“What is the time?” “Ten o’clock.” “I must go.” “Another poke.” “Make haste then.” We had it. “Oh! now don’t keep me,—if I’m not home by half-past ten I shall be half murdered.” She had let expressions like that drop more than once; but I got no explanation excepting that she lived with her father and mother,—and at that time I believed it.
At the next meeting she had her old quiet manner, her old “keep your distance” was attempted; but it was impossible. A woman must always give again what she has once given, she cannot help it. Then came more dinners, but she was more cautious now in what she ate and drank, less reckless in her embraces of me; but we were closer acquaintances than we had been; she let me pull her about more freely and as a matter of course, washed her quim without hiding herself for that operation, and so on,—yet still she held me at a great distance, and was reserved. She conquered me, in a degree.
In fact she did pretty well what she liked with me; saw me when she liked, stopped with me as long as she thought proper, let me fuck her just as often as she liked, and no more (and it was rarely she let me do that more than once a day), see to her knees, or to her cunt, or pull her about just in the degree she for the time thought fit to permit. I grumbled, said I would see more complaisant women. “Well I might if I liked,”—but I did not. Her indifference to sexual pleasure chilled and annoyed me and for a reason I never could understand, her cunt never seemed quite to fit me, nor fetch me with the voluptuousness that scores of other women have done. Yet I saw her almost exclusively for three years, and when she gave herself up to pleasure with me, my delight was unbounded; when she let me have her with her cunt unwashed after our first copulation, I thought of it for days afterwards. Altogether she had her way with me in a manner I did not see, and have only comprehended since.
This went on for some months. Whether she had other male friends or not I don’t know, but I never found her in Regent Street or other places where I had once been able to find her, after I began to see her regularly, and have reason to think that she ceased casuals after she had me, and perchance another, that is all. Hannah said often at a future day that I was her only friend.
I have not yet described her. She was of perfect height for a woman, say five feet seven, her form from her chin to her toe-nails was faultless, if anything inclining to too much flesh, and to too great a backside; but then I liked flesh, and a woman’s bum could not be too big for me. I used to rub my lips and cheeks over her bum for a quarter of an hour at a time, when she condescended to turn it upwards for so long a time for that worship. Handsome her face certainly was, but it was of a somewhat heavy character: her eyes were dark, soft, and vague in expression which together with the habit of leaving her lips slightly open, gave her a thoughtful, and at times half-vacant look. Her nose was charming and retroussé, her mouth small, with full lips, and a delicious set of very small white teeth, her hair was nearly black, long, thick, and coarsish dark hair in large quantity was in her armpits, and showed slightly when her arms were down, her arms and breasts were superb. Her cunt was thick-lipped, and with largish inner lips which showed well in nearly the whole length of the split; her mons was very plump, and covered well, but not widely with crisp black hair. She looked twenty-six, yet was not more than twenty-two, and she looked most handsome when lying asleep.
If I were asked the most perfect thing about her, I should say her feet and legs up to her notch—they were simply perfect; I have seen them as handsome in smaller women, never in one of her height. I must add that her cunt was large both outside and inside, and that she was not a voluptuous poke to me, but why I can only guess at now; I did not know it whilst I was acquainted with her.
“A little of that satisfies me,” she would say of poking, “once a week,—once a fortnight, excepting at times,—you men are beasts, all of you.” She at first refused my mouth, never moved her bum, and laid like a log. “Here I am,—do what you like,—do it, and get it over,—or leave it,” was her common mode of meeting my grumbling. Her first sexual pleasure with me was I believe the night she dined with me; afterwards she took pleasure with me more frequently, but un-cunting me, and rushing out of bed to wash the instant I had spent, before I had indeed done spending; until a sudden change in her took place which I shall tell of, and then she was kinder, more lustful, or perhaps I might say more loving, and more reckless; letting me enjoy her after my own fashion, and abandoning herself to enjoyment as much as it was perhaps in her nature to do so.
I found that she often now was with the keeper of the house, or rather she who represented her,—Hannah. So I got acquainted more closely with Hannah, would go into her parlour, and talk with her before Sarah came. This began one day when I was awaiting Sarah by her asking me if I would cast up a column of figures, nearly the whole of which was in five shillings and seven and sixes. I did it once, then I did it a second time. Going in one day just afterwards she stepped out from her parlour, and thanked me. I stepped into the parlour, and got into the custom of doing so,—if ladies were not in there,—but there was a good introduction business done, as will be seen, and oftentimes ladies were waiting there till their swains arrived.
One day she cooked a luncheon for me, once a breakfast, the latter was during the time I had quarreled with Sarah, and took another woman to sleep with me there. I complimented her on her cooking, she was half groggy (as she often was), and was very talkative. “Lord,” said she, “you have tasted my dinners many a times.” “Nonsense.” “Yes you have.”
“Where?” “Do you recollect a ball at———, where all the servants were allowed to look at the table before supper, and your coming down with Mr.———, and we all scuffling back?” “Perfectly.” “Well I cooked that supper.” Then it turned out that she had been cook at a house where I was a constant visitor, she had recognized me at once, but did not recollect my name, or so she said,—indeed it was not probable that she knew it. She had been caught with a soldier in the house, and had been kicked out.
Now by chance of fortune she was keeper of a bawdy house, and her soldier visited her there when in London,—he was a Guardsman,—and she supplied him with money, and lots he had, for she robbed her Mistress wholesale of the bawdy house profits.
Hannah had two sisters; one a married woman with a bad husband, and several children. She often came and assisted at J—s Street, sometimes acting as chambermaid,—and about two years after this period of my history, a second one appeared who had been a housemaid, and who had I suppose also lost her character. A pretty blue-eyed girl about twenty years old with a cast in her eye, and a lovely leg up to within a few inches of her cunt. I never saw higher, and shall have more to say about her hereafter. Her name was, Susan—a sailor was said to be in love with her.
Sarah at the end of some months asked me to give her five pounds, and soon afterwards ten pounds. She was going to make up a sum of money to buy a business for her father. She had been dressing very shabbily I noticed, and said she k
new I did not mind that, and it was all because she was trying to save money,—to quit that life she hoped,—and I believed it. I could not get her for several days, yet could have sworn I had heard her voice one day in loud altercation with a man in the parlour when I was waiting for her upstairs. I rang and asked for her; the servant came, and asserted that Miss Mavis was not there, and I never saw her that night. Next day I made an appointment (through Hannah) for eleven a.m., and waited a long time before she came up. She looked ill. “You’ve been crying.” “I have not.” “Yes you have,—your eyes are red,—aye, and wet now.” She asserted she had not, and then burst out sobbing saying she was unwell. I was distressed, and sent for wine, Hannah came up and comforted her (I saw Hannah knew all about it). Then we were left to ourselves. “I’ve never been abed all night,” said Sarah. “Come to bed now.” To my extreme astonishment into bed she came, after looking at me in a very earnest manner.
I had often asked her before, and she never would; saying she never had been in bed but with one man, and never meant. I was enraptured, stripped to my skin, and was soon pressing every part of her body to mine. She gave herself up to me entirely, her tongue met mine as we spent. “Don’t throw me out now dear.” “Very well.” Oh! miracle, I thought, and there we lay, prick and cunt soaking together, till we had another fuck, then she dozed off in my arms, and I soon afterwards. We slept more than two hours, then my fingers sought her cunt directly; and awakened her. I told her the time, she sighed saying, “It’s no matter,—it serves them right.” It was a day of miracles, Hannah sent up food, we ate it in bed, we fucked again and again. I was delighted with the spunk we left on the sheets; then we dined at the Café, and went back to the bawdy house,—more fucking, no cunt-washing, all was free bawdy, abandonment.
Hannah came up to us about the time Sarah usually left me, and told her it was time to go. Sarah said she did not care a damn, Hannah begged her to go,—she would go home with her. She agreed to go, kissed me, and said I was a kind fellow. I waited outside, and tried to dodge her home; but was unsuccessful; the two discovered me, stopped, and upbraided me, and came back to the bawdy house. Then she made me promise not to follow her, and went out to piddle as she said. Hannah followed, I waited five minutes for them, and then called to the servant. She came in with a demure face, and said “Lor sir they have both gone out five minutes ago.”
For weeks after that Sarah was changed, and with the exception of not stripping entirely did as freely as I wished, she did everything I wanted, but sleep with me all night; she kept out later, but away at night she went; she embraced me, enjoyed her fucking, and in fact treated me like a husband. Then she said one day, “I’m some months gone in the family way.” “Who’s the dad?” “You perhaps.” “No I’m not,—it’s some man you are fond of, not me.” “I am fond of no man,” said she. Then she was ill, and away for three weeks, she had had a miscarriage. I was in despair, and sent her money all the time of her illness, but could learn nothing from Hannah, excepting that Sarah was a dear good woman, and too good for him. That was said before the sister, who cried out, “You shut up Hannah.” So I came to the conclusion there was some other man in the way.
Another day I pumped Hannah, but she was an old bird, and not easily caught. “She is fond of a man,” I said. “She is not a fond sort,—if she is fond of any man at all it’s you,—but she has got her duty to do.” “What’s that?” “Ask her,—I don’t know her business. Now you get out, there are some ladies coming here directly, and Miss Mavis won’t like your being here with them.” “I’m not her property.” “Pretty nearly you are,—at all events go, there is a good gentleman. Whilst Sarah was away I did get acquainted with three or four ladies, and two of them I had. Sarah had then either gone abroad or I had had a desperate quarrel with her.
When Sarah met me again she was still miserably ill, and thanked me for my kindness warmly. We resumed our meetings, and again she was cautious, but no longer bounced me. She spent with me, enjoyed me, but entreated me. “Oh! let me wash out the muck,—now do pull it out,—I am so frightened of being ill again.” So I let her have her way. She refused to say anything about her illness, excepting that it was I who had caused it; but I did not believe her. She usually now gave way to pleasure with me; at the end of the month I gave her twenty pounds to make up a sum, then she got still more exacting about money. “Oh! I do stop a long time with you,—give me more money,—do,—I want to make up a sum,” etc., etc.,—and then of course came a lie. At length she said one bright sunny morning it was, I had poked her, and was laying on the sofa afterwards, she sitting on the easy-chair, her lovely breasts out, one beautiful leg over the other showing slightly the flesh of her thighs, “You won’t see much more of me,—we are going abroad.”
I started as if I had been shot at. “You?—nonsense,—never.” “I am indeed,—I’m sick of this life, and will go anywhere, do anything to get out of it.”
I sank back on the sofa sobbing, it came home to me all at once that I was madly in love with her. I was dazed with my own discovery,—I in love with a gay woman! one whose cunt might have had a thousand pricks up it! who might have sprung from any dung-hill!—impossible! I felt mad with myself,—degraded!—impossible,—it could not be,—and for a time I conquered myself. I tried then to draw her out about herself. It was useless. Her quiet way of asserting that she was going at length brought home the conviction that she spoke the truth. Then I laid and sobbed on the sofa for half-an-hour. “Oh! you will soon get another friend,” said she. “No, no,—I can get a woman, but not one I shall like,—Sarah my darling, Sarah I love you,—I dote on you,—oh! for God’s sake don’t leave,—come with me,—you shan’t lead this life,—we will go abroad together.”
“That is impossible,—if I did you would leave me, and then what should I do?—come back to this life,—no.” “You are going with somebody else,—who?” “I can’t say,—I’ll tell you when I am gone.” “When are you going?” “Perhaps in a fortnight, perhaps a little later on.”
I calmed for a time, a fortnight might give me a chance of persuading her, and I began it at once; but it was all, “No,—no,—no,—it’s all for the best for both of us,”—and again I fell into deep despair, my heart felt breaking, I had been so happy with this woman for months, she had so filled my thoughts, so occupied my spare time, that I had half-forgotten my home life. Now I felt alone again, I had told her some of my troubles,—not all,—now I poured them all out, and offered everything,—all I had,—to go that next day abroad, and never return; that I would make her love me though she did not now, I promised all men could promise,—and meant it.
“No,—no,—impossible,”—and again I fell back on the sofa sobbing like an infant, I have almost the deadly heart-ache now as I write this. She sat looking at me for some time, then she arose, stooped over me, and kissed me. I turned round, and—how strange that in my despair I noticed it, and now recollect noticing it!—as she stooped her chemise opened, and as I put my arm round her, her breasts touched my face, and as I moved to kiss them I saw her whole lovely form down to her feet, the dark hair of her motte, the bright white scar; and all in the soft subdued light which is on a woman’s body when enveloped in a thin chemise,—and my prick stood whilst kissing her and sobbing, and she was soothing me.
“It’s of no use your loving me,” she said, “and it’s of no use my loving you,—don’t take on so,—perhaps when I am gone you will be happier at home,—I can’t love you, although I like you very much, for you have been a good, kind man to me,—I nearly do love you I think,—if I were with you I’m sure I should,—but it’s of no use, for I am a married woman, and have two children, and am going with them and my husband.”
I was amazed, and doubted it. “I’ll bring you my children to see,” said she, “it was to get them their dinners and tea that I always left you at times as I have.” “And at night?” “I always go home before he comes home.” “You always go h
ome to your husband?” “Yes.”
How I loathed that man!—my loathing rose to my lips. “That miserable contemptible cur lives by your body,—a dirty vagabond.” “No he’s not,—poor fellow, he would earn our living if he could, but he can’t.” “I don’t believe it,—a man who lives by a woman is barely a man,—I would empty cesspools to keep a woman I loved, rather than another man should stroke her,—no good can come of it,—he’ll leave you for some other woman someday.” Sarah turned nasty, said she was sorry she had told me so much, that all I said against him only made her like him the more; and so leaving me in sorrow she went away.
Now that I felt sure she was going away, I could not see too much of her; morning, noon, and night I had her. She brought her two children to me, and very proud she was of them. How it was I never noticed the marks of childbirth on her before I know not, but I never had. I spoke of that now. “I took good care you should not,” said she smiling, and I recollected that when I had her by the side of the bed, when I looked at her on the sofa, it was nearly always with her back to the light; when laying on the bed, and I tried to gratify my passion by opening her thighs, and gazing on her hidden charms, she nearly always half-turned towards the window, and her belly was in shadow. “I don’t like to be pulled about,—I won’t have it,—if you want me have me, and have done with it,—get another woman if you like who will do it, or allow it,—I won’t.” These and similar answers always settled me, and I submitted, for I was under her domination, and in my folly I had actually feared that if I persisted, she would not come to see me.
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