As we advanced soundlessly into the room, I was startled again with the realisation that what I had taken to be the solid walls, dipped deeply in many almost unseen places to deep alcoves, some half or nearly hidden-others completely I was to learn-by drapings and pillars.
While I was still learning the geography, accustoming my eyes to the deep shadow of half concealed spots, sensing fresh movements, in the ravines of cushions at the sinister extremities, our host had motioned us to be seated at one side of the great mosaic of light and shadow, and momentarily disappeared.
Gene, whom I had momentarily forgotten, slipped her hand into mine, lacing our fingers.
"Like it?" Her eyes, too glinted in the bronze reflections and it seemed, for a moment as if I had been lured into an infidel land-which was, of course, quite true in the moral sense. Not that I set myself up as the epitome of the moral world.
"It's all very strange." I answered. "And what sort of perfume is this?"
My nostrils had begun to twitch at a faint scent which seemed only then to have started lacing sensual tentacles around me.
"A little extra aphrodisiac," Gene said. "Funny, nobody notices it as they first come in."
"Our host is the picture of elegance," I went on. "I suppose you've seen him at closer quarters?" Gene laughed, squeezing my hand. "As a matter-of-fact, I haven't," she replied. "Louis has a tendency to abnormality. He likes watching other people, reading erotic literature and indulging occasionally in homosexuality. He gets more pleasure that way, it seems."
At that point our host returned, carrying, himself, a little tray with coffee in delicately patterned china. Behind him followed a young man, well made but as delicate looking as the china. He rather gave point to Gene's explanation. He in turn carried a tray on which were several glasses and an assortment of decanters containing spirits and liqueurs.
Our host placed the coffee beside us and had us helped to the drink of our choice.
"The entertainment is ready," he announced. "I hope you like your first visit, Mr. Crawford."
Sipping the excellent coffee and feeling the atmosphere of the room prickling my skin like a caressing hand, I could make out the shadowy groups of figures in the dark extremities. They all seemed to be facing inwards, waiting, Suddenly from opposite walls, two powerful yellow spotlights blazed on, converging at a level spot in the center of the hall, making a pool of light at their meeting, illuminating yellowly the faces of those seated near. I could see there were several beautiful women lying in the huddled groups, their faces nonetheless lovely from the macabre hue of the lights.
"Louis always does things on a grand scale," Gene whispered in my ear.
As her whisper died, the huge gong at one end of the room was struck. Its reverberation filled the hall with a great mellow chime, which seemed to be a living force, as if a band of armed brigands had sprung silently into the room. And as the sound faded, I became aware of a fluttering movement on the edge of the darkness and as I stared the movement became a body, a beautiful, lithe, sensuous body of a woman who must have been Indian, writhing in a dance which mingled a disdainful aristocracy with an overwhelming impression of potential savagery and abandon. She swayed sensuously, indistinctly on the outskirts of the light and then as a crash of pulsing music, played on strange instruments and reminiscent of the Polovtsian Dances pealed out from somewhere, she plunged, full-bloodedly into the light.
There was a slight murmur of appreciation as the woman's features became so suddenly clear. She was dressed in a transparent blouse which covered her body from just above her breasts to her ribs and a baggy pair of trousers of the same chiffon-like material, loose and caught in at her ankles. Covering her breasts and her hips, over these unprotecting garments, were long frills of a heavier silver material, which flapped and glinted as she moved. Thus her shoulders, arms midriff and feet were bare and her legs almost to the top of the thighs were clearly visible through the chiffon, Her face was aristocratic with a slight Mongolian flattening of the features-very slight; her body glinted brown and muscular as it swayed to the music, large dimples shadowed and unshadowed in the bare section of her hips just above her buttocks. Her breasts, modestly obscured by the silver, thrust out their covering material in a quivering ridge and, following her fine rounded legs up to the level of the silver frill, I could trace the graceful sway of her buttocks underneath the material, Immediately I wondered if she was there for the having. I felt like some mogul, watching one of his many concubines perform before having her perform in a different and more private manner.
I could not see where the music was coming from, but it was obviously not recorded and I could only presume that somewhere in the outer darkness, de Chauvreland had some authentic little band of eastern musicians-members of the club, perhaps.
The dancer, whose disdainful expression was in sharp contrast to the plunging savagery of her movements, raised her hands above her head, her arms swaying like approaching snakes and began to rotate her hips in a circular motion, at first slowly and then with a growing ferocity, while her head swayed from side to side on her neck. Then, with two quick gestures, she had unclipped the silver frills covering the more intimate portions of her finely-made body and she was spinning and rotating in virtual nudity before us. She began to shake her body so that it shivered in quick movements from her toes to her shoulders and her breasts which were large, with large brown nipples, quivered and tremored. She danced in a square, as if to show off all angles of her body to each side of the room. Her buttocks, solid oval tubes, dimpled and tautened, spread and swayed at her movement.
I felt hot from the perfume, the warmth of the place, the liqueurs and the oriental beauty of the woman before me. My sexual power had risen and was surging against its confining clothing.
As the dancer swayed towards us, her body was brown and lightly muscular, her eyes inscrutable. On the edge of the light, in front of our little group, with the music growing in crescendo, she bent back from the hips, balancing on her spread-apart legs as, shaking her shoulders, she bent right back until her head almost touched the floor behind her. Her breasts, upraised and flattened slightly with the stretching, seemed to be offered to us, the lower part of her body, spread and thrust forward, thick folds of flesh clearly visible between her legs through the diaphanous wisp of material, seemed to be offered too. I could hardly keep my place.
And then the body, tremoring, arms stretched on either side, breasts quivering, as if with emotion, raised itself, sweeping up to the vertical, inscrutable almond eyes holding us, lips slightly parted.
With the music descending, fading away, the dancer, too, withdrew her gracefully beautiful body, gradually to the outer limits of the light until her movement was a flutter and then nothing-lost in the darkness.
There was no clapping-apparently such applause was not expected. A hush seemed to have quelled even the quiet conversation of before, I was aware of an electric feeling in the atmosphere. De Chauvreland turned towards me, motioning a boy to refill our glasses.
"How did you find our dancer?" he asked. "Superb," I enthused. "Is she a member or just entertainment?" My host smiled.
"She is much in demand," he said, anticipating two or three questions ahead. "But today, to celebrate your joining us, you may have priority."
I cast a sidewards glance at Gene.
"Go ahead," she said. "You'll like me all the better after you've tried an inferior brand."
De Chauvreland grinned, non-committally.
"You will have to wait until the end of the show," he said. "Perhaps by then you'll have changed your mind."
"There was something about her sphinx-like expression that fascinated me," I admitted. "Where did you find her?"
"She is Mongolian by birth," de Chauvreland answered, "but her mother was Indian and she was trained as a dancer in the religious temples. It was her choice to be a dancer, although her parents were rich and she had no need to do anything. I met her, here wh
ile she was on holiday. She has an appetite which dancing alone will not satisfy."
Somewhere a different music had begun, starting like the beating of tomtoms.
"Where do you get your music from?" I asked.
"The music does not come on a commercial basis," de Chauvreland, said, smiling. "A club such as this gathers its members from far and wide and we lack no talent and almost no nationalities."
The music had grown to a savage rolling of sound. We could have been in the heart of Africa at some tribal festival. And it was with the savagery of Africa that the "act" began. A huge negro sprang into the light, dragging with him a negress, whose refined features told of a European influence. The movement was abrupt and savage, but done with a fine balletic feeling and rhythm. It was obvious to me that these, too, were trained dancers.
The woman mimed a look of terror and collapsed where she was flung by the man.
Their bodies, dressed only in red sashes wrapped around their hips and loosely carried between their legs with a similar sash round the breasts of the woman, gleamed in supple sinews in the light, which flicked suddenly to green. The man's was coal black, the woman's much lighter, but still darker than brown. She was slim and quite beautiful even from a European standpoint.
As she cringed in feigned terror, the music beat out an inexorable and sinister repetition of drums and some wooden instruments which I could not place.
The negro circled the woman, boasting his power, writhing his hips, waving his arms from side to side, stamping his feet. Then, towering over her, he drew her, as if by some magic electric power, to her feet, so that, reluctantly, she joined in a gently swaying dance with him. Each faced the other and he seemed to be weaving a spell over her as they shook their shoulders in time, together stretched their bodies, turned, whirled and rotated their hips.
Gradually, the negro's movements became more full of power and so, it seemed, the woman's movements reflected the power in growing abandon, while her face, with its half-European features, contorted in the pain of helplessness.
A gleam of satisfied power filled the face of the negro as, with a jerk, he whipped away the sash covering the woman's breasts. She clutched her hands to her bosom in her uninterrupted dance, holding them there for a moment, before they, as if magnetised and straining against the magnetism, were drawn away from her body, revealing her great, well-poised breasts, soaring, twin orbs of chocolate flesh towards her tormentor.
The negro circled her, towering into and over her with a witch-doctor's rhythm of power and possession as her arms fluttered towards him in a warding off movement, only to recede again as if invisibly repelled. The man's red-wrapped hips began to revolve faster as the music grew in a sinister sexuality, faster, too. Following his movements the woman's broader, red-clothed hips, also rotated and flexed with growing abandon, while her breasts writhed and jumped and her face revealed the terror of her helplessness against his power.
Moving in towards her, the negro caught at the sash around the woman's hips and slowly, as she spun, twisted it from her smooth body, twirling her like a top so that she went on spinning on the edge of the circle of light, which flicked to red.
The negro raised both hands above him in a sinister gesture of triumph, his broad lips, gleaming eyes, opening and piercing at his prize. Swaying his hips again and beckoning her towards him in a devilish gesture, the man moved towards her while the woman, mouth open, eyes filled with fear, rotated towards him, hips swivelling, naked and gleaming. With a gesture he had her turn and followed her, hips working as she swayed, buttocks large and brownly hollowed, tensing and untensing before his eyes.
While her smooth, gleaming back was thus towards him, the negro pulled away his covering and there was an involuntary gasp from Gene and some of the other women as his erection shot into view. God! It was enormous. I doubted if any woman could take it. But women have an amazing capacity.
At a motion from his finger tips, his captive, rotated round to see his strong black, primeval body. Her fear-crazed eyes, fastened on the massive stiff penis and her body seemed to shrink back without actually doing so. Her head swayed from side to side as if begging, imploring, trying to escape, but vainly unable to do so. Electric cords bound their bodies together.
And as a diabolical smile of evil crossed his face, the woman came hip-jerking in towards him. A few inches from him, she stopped and they faced each other for several seconds, writhing, while I guarantee everyone in that room was in a sweat of desire and anticipation.
Within inches of him as she was, the negress seemed absolutely dominated by the massive power of the man and, stretching his hand above her head, he stared into her face as the music took on a threatening, stormy rhythm; and, her mouth moving as if uttering prayers, the woman began to sink, inch by inch, fighting against some dread power, to her knees and then to her side on the floor at his feet. Her hips were jerking backwards and forwards in thunderous movements to the music as the negro sank, in a spiral it seemed, strangely, to the floor by her side so that they were again facing each other a few inches apart, writhing their bodies at each other in sensual movements on the floor.
The woman's head still was straining as if mentally she were trying to escape but could do nothing against the physical power the negro exercised over her body.
Slowly, painfully, she moved over onto her back, while the women in the audience groaned. Her face was contorted with horror and fear, her legs now wide apart giving a fine view of her open vagina, her hips rotating, buttocks brushing the floor in a light swishing.
The negro, whose erection must have been as thick as most men's wrists and, it seemed, as long as their forearms, writhed himself to his knees, an evil grin radiating from his features and moved in front of the woman's open thighs, looking at his victim, looking at her involuntary sacrifice.
On his knees, swaying, he towered before her. She seemed to try to rise, failed, and in helpless abandon finally thrust her hips, her abdomen, her mound with its wide open offering, up to him.
The negro writhed down to her, his enormous penis, thrusting an inch from her Vagina. Her head fell back in terror and the lights flicked one after the other the colours of the rainbow and the drums played a great beat as he tore into her agonised belly.
Involuntarily the women in the audience groaned again and the men stared in mixtures of desire, horror and triumph. The negress seemed to have accepted the huge rod better than most people could have believed, Her body simply flexed, her head flopped this way and that.
The music tom-tommed faster and more furiously and somehow the movements of the two bodies still seemed to be part of a dance, each containing a savage power, each being carried away finally by the natural evolution of the sexual act.
The woman's hips still rotated, buttocks still brushing the floor and the man's narrow hips, thrust up and down, his small buttocks tightening into little melons and relaxing again each time he burst his organ farther into her flesh.
The woman's strong thighs clasped his slim hips, her legs wide, clamping him on alternate beats of the drums. Her long brown arms encircled his broad athletic back; her breasts seemed to hold him away from her by their great size. We had a perfect view.
The light had changed to orange, which seemed to give a purplish hue to their skins as the negress drew up her thighs, her calves, clasping her naked feet around the muscular legs of her master. We could see that his enormous penis was almost completely sucked in. It seemed that it must be penetrating right through her body.
Another drum joined the others as with a thrust he embedded the whole of his massive strength into his victim's channel and she writhed in convulsions. Yet another and another joined as the two bodies rode together to an abandoned climax.
Women among the audience were moving uneasily as the climax drew dear; some, I noticed-including Gene-had their hands on the knees of the men they were with and their knuckles showed white. The men seemed to have eyes for nothin
g but the spectacle of the savage, primitive lovemaking being performed on the cushions before all eyes.
The negro's mouth had opened, his hips were pistoning like a young bull's and, despite the woman's thrusts in the opposite direction, each stroke he made thrust her several inches along the floor away from him. Her lips were wide, tongue flicking along their dry lengths. They had both begun to make low noises, like some jungle animals, in their throats.
I marveled at the size of the woman's aperture to contain such an enormous organ as her mate's. My penis, thrusting against my clothing as if it would burst through at any moment was, I knew, nothing compared with such a giant.
And then as the drums beat an ear-splitting tattoo, the negro gave a roar. Muscles were bunched on his great muscular body. He was a splendid savage and the woman, whose body he was racking mercilessly, was no less fine in appearance in the abandon of the final throes. The roar was the cue for a wail from the woman, both of which cries broke off into strangled bursts of breath as the negro shattered his load into the open body of the woman and she opened to the extremity to receive it.
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