by AnonYMous
I had been working for nearly a year when my employer summoned me to his office one afternoon.
"Gilbert, here is a little matter I want you to take care of. The wife's private secretary is away on vacation, and until the girl returns, I have instructed her to send for you once a week to assist her with household accounts."
The electrical effect of this communication upon me may be easily imagined. At last! An opportunity to be near, if but a few moments, to the hitherto unapproachable Goddess of my dreams. I could scarcely conceal my elation as I assured him it would be delightful to be of service to his wife. But how delightful he certainly did not suspect.
It must not be supposed that I wsa beguiling myself with any fantastic hopes. No; for once, and despite the success with which most of my previous amorous campaigns had been waged, I wsa infatuated with a woman I considered far beyond my reach. To me she was little less than a deity; the possibility that she might descend into my sphere of life and being was not entertained even in my wildest dreams. The lines of caste are well defined in England. She was the essence of aristocracy; I was a plebian, completely outside her world. I expected nothing.
Six days later a message was laid on my desk requesting me to report at the house.
A taxi conveyed me through the city's most exclusive residential section, along flower bordered streets under leafy bowers of foliage, and I shortly had my first glimpse of my employer's residence. It was a veritable castle of stone architecture, almost concealed under climbing ivy, beautiful vines and trees.
In answer to the clang of a heavy brass knocker, appeared a trim, luscious little maid gowned in a short black dress, over which a white lace edged apron was neatly draped. Her plump legs were admirably displayed in glistening silk and these, together with other obvious charms would have captured my heart in a minute, if it had not been otherwise occupied to fullest capacity.
Upon being informed of my identity, she ushered me into a reception hall, and while I gazed with admiration at the tasteful splendor, she went to notify her mistress of my presence.
On the interview which followed I shall dwell but briefly for intoxicatingly pleasurable as it was to me nothing transpired which fits well into this naughty biography in the intimacy of the small study to which my employer's wife conducted me, she seemed more delectable and desirable than ever, and it was with the greatest delight I found that my presence would be needed once a week during the absence of the secretary. The work was nothing more arduous than the figuring of domestic accounts, the writing and recording of checks issued in payment to merchants, and represented less that two hours of time. At its conclusion, she called the maid requesting that I be served with refreshments, and shortly thereafter I departed. During the interval we had been together her attitude toward me had been friendly, but entirely impersonal.
Four successive visits transpired, during which I feasted my eyes and tortured my soul with more or less surreptitious contemplations of her charms. On the fifth, last, and epochal occasion of our meetings, I was conducted into the little private study as previously and was soon engaged in putting the domestic accounts in order. It was to be my last visit, for the absent secretary was returning in a few days, and there would be no further occasion for my presence. The object of my idolatry entered the room and, seating herself in a huge leather cushioned chair near me, began to look over the tradesmen's bills, initialing them one by one, and handing them to me to be recorded for payment.
Glinting under the rays of sunlight which filtered into the room through the interstices of lace curtains, golden ringlets of hair, tied with a single ribbon at the base of her neck, rippled down over shoulders and back in riotous profusion. Draped loosely abut her body was a velvet dressing gown or lounging robe of black velvet, trimmed with a fringe of pure white ermine down the front and around the hem, sleeves, and neck. This strikingly beautiful garment was not buttoned, but was sustained with a silken girdle carelessly knotted about her waist. In a sitting posture the lower edge of this robe hung just below her knees, and her legs visible from the knees down, were clad in the sheerest of silken host through whose translucent weave, the snowy whiteness of flesh beneath wsa discernible.
The combination of circumstances that day seemed to have been arranged painstakingly by Destiny. Or did the lady herself have a hand in the arranging?
The intimate garment, her closer than usual proximity, the casual touch of a strand of hair light as thistledown against my cheek as she leaned over me to make an observation about an entry in the small ledger, all contributed to provoke in me a veritable torment. The room was scented by some perfumed essence emanating from her hair, body and garment, the air was vibrant with an undefined but palpable atmosphere of eroticism.
The chair in which she wsa sitting wsa one of those heavily padded, amply built affairs with an inclined back. A slight frown passed across her face as she glanced over a bill from an establishment which supplied most of her wearing apparel. I paused, waiting for her to conclude her examination of the account and as I waited, my eyes fixed on her, she changed her position slightly raising one of the silk clad legs across the knee of its companion.
In the position in which she was sitting, she was not fronting me directly but rather to one side. The movement she made in crossing her legs caused the folds of the lounging robe, loosely tied, to separate slightly and bulge outward above the cord around her waist. And through the aperture so fortuitously provided, immediately became visible an exquisitely rounded breast of alabaster whiteness, crowned with a tiny rosebud nipple.
Seemingly she wore no undergarment beneath the fur trimmed robe! And as though this entrancing sight were not enough to suffocate me with emotion, the raising of her leg had also elevated the border of the garment, and above the purple silk band which supported her hose, a brief space of naked thigh was visible. Those bits of white flesh held my gaze like magnets, and with my eyes first on one then on the other, oblivious to everything else in the world, I continued to look, and as I looked a thought involuntarily formulated itself in my head.
"I'd give a year of my life just to put my mouth on her cunt!"
A prolonged silence suddenly impressed itself upon me and brought me back to earth. Guiltily I raised my eyes to hers. Those violet eyes instead of being fixed on the bill in her hands were contemplating me in a speculative, half sardonic manner.
Guessing that she was conscious to some extent of my emotion, the blood rushed to my face.
"What are you thinking about, Gilbert?" she asked dryly, while the ghost of a smile hovered about her lips.
"Beauty!" I stammered in reply.
She looked at me, apparently surprised at the ingeniousness of my answer and then suddenly broke into peals of silvery laughter. Relieved but still greatly embarrassed, I sat in silence, hardly daring to meet her gaze. When the laughter subsided she laid the bill down and murmured in a low, insinuating voice:
"Gilbert, what would you do for me?"
"Anything!" I answered fervently and without hesitation this time.
"Anything!"
"Anything?" and the word was repeated with a slow, deliberate insistence which I comprehended held some special significance.
I looked at her intently in an effort to divine her meaning, but though there was a smile on her lips the violet eyes were inscrutable.
"Anything!" I repeated, putting all the emphasis I could into the all-embracing word.
CHAPTER 4
There was an interval of silence, unbroken except for the tapping of the pencil she still held between her fingers against the edge of the table. Her gaze now turned to from me, and through half close eyes she seemed to be looking off into space lost in introspection. She had not changed her position, and though she must now have been aware that intimate portions of her body were visible to me she made no effort to conceal them from my view.
There was no longer any doubt in my mind that this situation was replete with glorious possibilities and
though I hardly dared venture a guess as to what might be in store my heart was pounding with anticipation.
Her eyes, which for some moments had been fixed unseeingly on the curtained window, were again turned toward me. From her lips fell the softly spoken request:
"Sit down by me here, Gilbert."
And she motioned toward the rug at her feet.
I needed no second invitation, and rising from my chair I accommodated myself on the soft rug. The bit of snow flesh above the top of her stocking was now so close to my eyes that the faint, blue tint of tiny vein which traversed the rounded curve of that immaculate limb was perceptible.
She extended her hand, and I felt her finger-tips running through my hair, caressing my forehead, and temples. The intoxication of her nearness, the subtle perfume which emanated from her body, the exquisite intimacy, all contributed to embolden me. Reverently, but without hesitation, I doubled back a portion of the fur trimmed gown, exposing her leg from the knee half way up her thigh, and laid my lips upon cool flesh. It was as smooth in texture as the finest silk.
The play of her hands over my hair and face continued, but otherwise she remained motionless under my caress. On the firm, smooth skin I pressed kiss after kiss. My hand itched to raise the brief fold of garment just a trifle higher but something counseled me to hold myself in check, and let her take the lead.
I heard a sigh fall from her lips. She withdrew her hand from my head and shifted her position. She had been half sitting, half reclining with one leg crossed over the other, and when I had taken my place at her feet I had seated myself close by the side of her legs. But now she lowered the leg which had been crossed above its companion, and at the same time moved her body in my direction so that I was directly in front of her knees, instead of at one side. The dressing robe, already well elevated, was pulled tighter by this movement, and further expanses of alabaster whiteness were revealed.
I looked into her eyes in an effort to read her wishes. She smiled faintly in response, and her fingers engaged themselves in the knot of the silken cord which girdled her waist. It wsa unfastened, and with one sublimely indifferent gesture, without hesitation, without the least semblance of hypocritical prudery she flipped the folds of the garment back, exposing her nude body to me in all its splendor.
Scarcely breathing, my whole being submerged in an ecstasy of delight before this extraordinary spectacle of celestial beauty, my gaze traveled up and down over her naked form from the tips of daintily and exquisitely molded breasts, over the smooth, slim waist and stomach where a softly rounded promontory, covered with the silkiest of little curls and ringlets of curls of gold, heralded the proximity of the temple door.
Many a naked woman have I seen, both before and since, but never have I seen the physical perfection of this woman duplicated. Perhaps after all there is something in aristocratic blood different from that possessed by those of more lowly birth.
Silent, apparently indifferent to my rapture, she passively permitted me to feast my eyes freely upon the spectacle of her nudity.
Now, she moved her limbs again, so that one of her knees was on either side of me. Again she placed her hand on my head with a touch which gently but unequivocally bid me draw myself closer. What I had viewed before, while her knees were still close together, had been sufficient to hold me breathless, but what was now revealed was of a nature to inspire thoughts other than those of mere admiration for physical perfection.
Beneath the mons veneris, with its soft curls and ringlets, there now appeared, frankly and clearly, the coral folds of flesh which constituted womanhood's supreme treasure. So small and virginal in aspect were the petal-like lips, that it hardly seemed possible they had ever been distened by the intromission of a male organ.
Deliberately, she let her body slide lower in the chair until her thighs were extended well out beyond its edge, the flower of her sex close to my face, her legs widely separated on either side of my body.
I knew not what was expected of me.
The wish I had so fervently voiced to myself, the favor I had vowed to be worth any price, was about to be granted me.
I rested my cheek for a moment against the satiny flesh of one of her thighs. Then, I pressed my lips against her mons veneris. The hair felt as fine and soft to the touch as that of a new-born infant. Then, quickly and expertly, my tongue sought out and penetrated the perfumed valley below. And, an instant later it was playing over her clitoris with all the fervor and agility at its command. A slight sound issued from her lips – something between a gasp and an exclamation – and she shifted her body forward a bit to better accommodate me. Then silence, profound and absolute.
Under the spell of one of the most intense erotic intoxications I had ever experienced, I plied my tongue feverishly, first centralizing its activities upon her clitoris, then, up and down the length of the genital cleft, and even inside the vaginal aperture as far as I could project it.
But a few moments of such energetic stimulation as I was subjecting her to would have had most women squealing and kicking, yet I failed to observe in her any of the customary reactions. I glanced upward toward her face. She was lying with her head thrown back, her eyes were closed and her countenance as calmly composed as though she were sleeping. Not a gesture, not a facial expression, not a sound or movement to suggest that she was under the influence of any emotional stress. Her hands rested quietly on the heavily padded leather arms of the chair, her little, tapering fingers curved lightly around them.
This was something of a new experience for me, but I had received several surprises that day and I did not pause to analyze the apparent anomaly.
Applying my mouth more firmly against the coral folds I succeeded in getting her clitoris compressed between my lips and then imparted a vigorous suction to it. Almost instantly, the hitherto motionless form began to show signs of life. I felt vibrant tremors in the flesh of her thighs where they pressed against my cheeks and perceived the muscular contractions of body and limbs as her physical organism began to yield to my ministrations. Maintaining her clitoris a prisoner between tightly compressed lips, and without relaxing the suction I was applying to it, I again glanced up. Her eyes were wide open, distended, and fixed upon me with the intent, strained expression of approaching orgasm. The slender fingers, which before had rested idly upon the arms of the chair, were now clenched tightly around them.
My own passions augmented by the knowledge that she was near the edge of orgasm, I slipped my hands under the cheeks of her bottom and pressed her closer to me. This movement brought a quick response. There was a violent, spasmodic shivering in the thighs which were compressed about my cheeks, and a sudden flow of moisture bathed my lips. The pressure of her thighs increased for a moment, and then relaxed. I felt her fingers on my forehead, pushing me away. I arose to my feet, trembling from the effects of the intense stimulation. Again she was lying with head thrown back, eyes closed. Except for the rise and fall of heaving breasts she might have been one of those exquisite, little tinted porcelain statues one may sometimes see in private collections in Holland – jewels of erotic art in which no tiny detail of life and color is omitted. The heaving of her breasts subsided. The violet eyes opened, and scrutinized me quizzically.
"Was that what you were thinking about, Gilbert?"
And then, little fingers closed over the edge of her gown and drew it around her naked body, veiling it forever from my view. A short-lived romance was over, and as I look back over the span of years, it seems more a dream than a reality.
In the early part of the year 1922 my grandmother died in Scotland leaving, as estate, bequests in money to various members of the family including myself, and shortly thereafter I received as my share the tidy sum of one thousand pounds sterling.
This unexpected acquisition of ready cash made possible the realization of a dream I had long entertained – a visit to Paris. My father tried to dissuade me, urging the desirability of investing the money in some manner calcul
ated to assure my future. But as in the past, I paid little heed to his counsel and proceeded with my plans. I had heard and read of wonderous things to be seen and enjoyed in the French capital, and was avid to experience its delights in person.
With two hundred and fifty pounds in my possession, I embarked for Paris. I had studied the French language in a desultory fashion and although I could not speak it with any degree of fluency I knew enough to understand and make myself understood.
The visitor in Paris with money to spend has no difficulty in discovering ways to spend it and people anxious to assist in the task. Indeed they seem to gravitate toward one as though literally endowed with some uncanny instinct for smelling money, and had it not been for a most fortuitous accident, the relatively small amount of money with which I was provided would have been greedily snatched from me, without having sufficed to cover a fraction of the program I had outlined. The accident referred to was the chance meeting of a British friend, some years older than I, and well versed in things Parisian. He was on the point of returning to England, but before departing he gave some pertinent advice about trusting myself to affable strangers, and introduced me to a member of the French Surete, or Secret Police, who, during his hours of leisure, which seemed to be plentiful, was disposed to act as a confidential guide and companion in consideration of a modest fee.
And a better guide it would not have been possible to find, for not only did this man know every inch of Paris, but his presence assured me respect, and protection from impositions. He understood English fairly well, and we formed a sincere friendship.
In his company I began to learn something of the real Paris night life – not the flamboyant surface, with its imported American jazz orchestras, etc., but the secret undercurrent, which only the initiated could penetrate. My new companion was familiar with secret resorts from the lowest and most abject dens of vice in subterranean cellars to luxurious temples located in respectable appearing edifices, scattered through the city.