A moment of delirium followed; the contraction of all her muscles gripped him and sucked him up eagerly, greedily; and after a short spasmodic convulsion, they both fell senseless side by side, still tightly wedged in one another.
—And so ends the Epistle!
—Not quite so, for nine months afterwards the Countess gave birth to a fine boy—
—Who, of course, looked like his father? Doesn't every child look like its father?
—Still this one happened to look neither like the Count nor like Teleny.
—Who the deuce did it look like then?
—Like myself.
—Bosh!
—Bosh as much as you like. Anyhow, the rickety old Count is very proud of this son of his, having discovered a certain likeness between his only heir and the portrait of one of his ancestors. He is always pointing out this atavism to all his visitors; but whenever he struts about, and begins to expound learnedly over the matter, I am told that the Countess shrugs her shoulders and puckers down her lips contemptuously, as if she was not quite convinced of the fact.
The House of Borgia
After the dissolvement of her marriage, Lucrezia withdrew to the Convent of San Sisto in the Appian Way - partly to escape the various items of scandal which were rocking Rome, partly to appear to act with the decorum her situation demanded.
She was to spend a period of some six months in her own private quarters, taking part with the nuns in daily prayers, joining with them in much of their work.
For some weeks she lived with them, praying, making baskets, carving small figurines in wood, walking in the quiet grounds, feeding their dozen hens. She was happy for a time to be free of the world in which she always felt a little as if she was living on the summit of a volcano that was likely to erupt unexpectedly.
But, at the end of that time, accustomed as she was to fierce and frequent intercourse, she began to feel an aching void in her loins, began to consider how to best soothe it.
During her walks in the grounds she had particularly befriended a young nun who had been in the convent only a short time before her. This young girl, whose name was Carlotta, was designated to show Lucrezia how to make the baskets and the little wooden figurines.
They got on very well and it soon became apparent to Lucrezia that the younger and unworldly Carlotta was quite fascinated by her.
Lucrezia managed, cleverly, to discover that the girl, who had never had a lover, was taking ill to her new and voluntary exile. She felt in her a need which she didn't understand, although listening to her confused explanations, Lucrezia was only too well aware of the trouble - the young girl needed a good fuck.
Carlotta was very attractive in her own way. She was dark, with a long face and slightly Jewish nose dominating long, well-defined lips. Her body was completely concealed under the shrouds of her long robes, but the melancholy attraction of her face was quite enough to excite Lucrezia in her present manless state.
Giving way to the girl's hinted-at curiosity, Lucrezia began, during their walks in the grounds, to tell her a few things about her sexual life. But always she exaggerated the brutality of the male, making him sound an utter, unbearable brute.
'I don't think I could stand to have a man using me in such away,' Carlotta said one morning as they sat staring at the water lilies in the little stream which ran sluggishly through the lower reaches of the convent grounds. 'I should feel stripped of any sense of dignity I'd ever had.'
Lucrezia took the plunge.
'Yes. If the choice was between man and this convent, I would choose a cloistered existence within these walls,' she said. 'But, fortunately there are other things one can do.'
The girl raised her fine, dark eyebrows.
'What - other things in place of a man?'
'A woman, Carlotta. Women are much gentler and more loving than men. And they understand a woman's needs whereas most men are selfish and oafish in their lovemaking.'
'But...'
'I think,' Lucrezia went on quickly, 'much as I respect the Mother Superior and the individual right of choice, that any woman who locks herself away in a prison betraying her function as a woman and displaying a fear of the world which belief in God should not justify.'
Carlotta stared at her, shocked. She had never dared voice such sentiments, but they fitted well with her present mood of boredom and rebellion.
'You only have to look at the majority of the women here,' Lucrezia continued, 'and you see immediately they're women who are too ugly or too witless to succeed in a competitive and natural world.'
She took Carlotta's hand.
'But you don't belong among them, Carlotta. You are lovely and full of life which won't allow itself to be kept in check forever.'
The girl was flattered and moved by the words which were spoken to her in such sincere tones. They sped her own unformed impulses along the channel that Lucrezia intended.
'I feel you are right,' she said. She glanced at the distant figures of the other nuns wandering in the upper part of the grounds among the trees. 'I'm beginning to wish I hadn't taken my vows.'
'You should make the best of things as they are,' Lucrezia said. 'We are both in the same cul-de-sac of frustration. We should help each other.'
'But what can we...?'
'We can take the place of men for each other.'
The girl dropped her eyes and gazed down at the lilies. There was a silence for some seconds.
'I - I wouldn't know how... and - and I'm not sure that it's...'
'We all have deep centres in our beings which others may never reach,' Lucrezia cut in, 'but unless they do, unless we try to help them to, we all live lonely, unsatisfied lives, lives which wrinkle us up with bitterness, the feeling of having missed what was essential.'
Carlotta raised her eyes from the stream and found herself unable again to withdraw them from Lucrezia's deep, compelling gaze.
'Come to my quarters after evensong tonight,' Lucrezia went on, 'and I will show you what it means to reach that centre.'
The dull peal of a bell calling them in to prayer cut short any reply the young girl might have made. She stared at Lucrezia, dropped her eyes at last and walked away toward the building. Lucrezia smiled after her for a moment and then slowly followed her.
That evening, alone in her quarters - two rooms at the far end of a wing of the convent - Lucrezia, garbed only in a dressing gown, waited for Carlotta to come. She was almost certain she would come although the girl had given her no answer. She knew how the possibility of sexual adventure could play on one's nerves, stimulating, frightening, exciting all at the same time.
For Lucrezia, too, this would be the first lesbian experience and the idea filled her with the same lustful chill of eagerness that her first fuck had - especially as she had been deprived of her conjugal and fraternal rights for some weeks now.
She found herself unable to keep still as the minutes went by following evensong. She rose time and time again and looked out of the sloping window down to the grounds. At last she sat on her bed and tried to concentrate on the pages of Boccaccio's Il Decamerone which she had smuggled into the convent with her.
As time passed she became more and more anxious. If Carlotta didn't come now she would die of frustration. She put down the book and stared out of the window again before walking into the next room where she studied herself in a small, silver-backed hand mirror.
Her heart leapt as there came a light tapping on her door. She ran to open it and almost clasped the young girl to her bosom as she drew her into her room.
Carlotta smiled at her briefly and stood uncertainly just inside the door while Lucrezia closed and bolted it.
'Make yourself at home,' Lucrezia urged, turning around to her.
Nervously, the girl went to the window and looked out as if to reassure herself that the outside world was there, solid and unchanged. Lucrezia watched her pretending to interest herself in the exploration of the rooms, pretending to examine the few bo
oks, flicking pages over with a pointless speed.
'I was afraid to come,' she said at last. 'Wasn't that ridiculous - we are quite free to visit one another's rooms.'
'We are quite free to act as we please,' Lucrezia added.
'Yes,' the girl said uncertainly.
'I have another gown - why don't you make yourself more comfortable and put it on,' Lucrezia suggested.
She handed over the garment and Carlotta took it nervously.
Lucrezia turned away and studied Il Decamerone, listening to the rustle of clothes as Carlotta slipped out of them. She kept swallowing with nervous excitement.
At a well-judged moment she glanced around and caught her companion naked. Carlotta gazed at her with wide, embarrassed eyes and Lucrezia glanced back at her book immediately. But not before she'd had a glimpse of the girl's small, firm breasts, high up and dark, with the splodge of dark nipple giving them body, and her slim figure below it with the eye-catching fuzz of dark hair above her thighs. Lucrezia felt almost matronly beside the girl's small proportions.
She did not look up again until the girl came and sat beside her on the bed. Carlotta seemed to have lost some of her uncertainty. It was as if she'd reminded herself that she had, after all, come for a specific purpose and that there was no point in trying to pretend she hadn't.
Lucrezia replaced the book on a shelf over the bed and lay back on it, looking at her companion. Carlotta looked even more attractive out of her nun's sombre garb, and the long V-neck of the gown revealed a smooth stretch of her succulent-looking skin between her breasts. The beginning of their bulge on either side of the valley of flesh was heaving with a nervous emotion.
'You are really very lovely,' Lucrezia told her. 'It was a great mistake for a girl like you to get such a mad idea in her head that she wanted to pass the rest of her days in a tomb.'
The conversation brought a sense of normality with it and Carlotta's voice hid a trace of relief as if a spell had been broken.
'If you hadn't come, I might never have realised it,' she answered.
'Sooner or later you would have - but I'm glad it's through me that your revolution is to be achieved.'
Carlotta had again, as in the afternoon, become lost in Lucrezia's eyes. They seemed to hold her hypnotically. She came, as if Lucrezia had commanded her, and lay down on the bed beside her. Lucrezia touched the girl's cheek, lightly.
'Remember that this is the only way to liberate yourself from the horror and monotony of a death in life,' she said softly as her lips followed her hand.
Lucrezia was not very surprised to find that a relationship with a woman gave her as strong an erotic urge as with a man. It was as if it were something she'd always known, even when her conscious thought had included nothing but images of her many lovers' embraces. Now she felt the soft, smooth skin of the girl's cheek against her lips, a softness and a leafy fragrance which were missing in a man, and she felt her spirit stirred with the upsetting excitement of a new and forbidden experience about to come to fruition.
She slipped her hand into the girl's gown and Carlotta winced. Then her hand was caressing the small, firm breast with the lightest of touches. Her lips moved over the girl's face without losing contact - and found her lips. The lips were still, slightly reluctant and unsure. But as Lucrezia's hand moved from one breast to the other and tweaked the nipple, as her tongue played hide and seek with Carlotta's lips, the mouth opened with a sound which was near to a sigh, the lips relaxed and then kissed back.
Lucrezia's tongue gave up its game and lunged right out to fill the mouth which opened and spread at its assault.
Gently, her hand untied the belt of the gown. The material slipped slowly down to the bed off the glossy flesh of Carlotta's hips and thighs.
Lucrezia's hand rested on the girl's waist for a moment, the index finger playing with her navel. She noticed the girl was trembling faintly, like a leaf in the merest zephyr. She let her hand float away over the glassy expanse of flesh, lingering, unhurried, exploring every part while her tongue continued to caress the moist, heavily-breathing lips.
As her advancing fingers encountered the silky fan of pubic hair, she slowed. She let her fingers course through it as through money. Under it she could feel the flesh swollen in a little mound, like a slight rise in the ground covered with a fine grass.
Carlotta wriggled her hips very slightly. She seemed ashamed of their movement, which was like an effort at escape.
Lucrezia sucked heavily on the lips which were trembling now in unison with the body.
With her free hand, she awkwardly unpulled her own belt and then pushed the plump flesh of her thigh against Carlotta's.
Slowly, as if stroking a timid animal, she allowed her fingers to continue on their downward progress. They moved down the rise and into the hot little hollow between the oozing flesh of Carlotta's tightly-gripped thighs. Her path was barred for the moment by the instinctive inward pressure of those thighs. She stroked all the flesh she could reach and was rewarded with a sudden seepage of moisture around her fingers.
She moved her lips off Carlotta's and kissed her neck.
'Relax, darling,' she whispered. 'Open your legs.'
'I can't bear it,' Carlotta whispered back after a moment. 'It makes me jump every time you touch me.'
'All right - just let it go naturally. It'll come.'
Lucrezia went on with her gentle fondling. The hollow was very warm now and Carlotta was letting out an odd 'oh' every so often from deep down in her throat.
Moving her lips down the neck, over the slim shoulders, Lucrezia invaded the breasts which were taut and straining with sensation. She closed her mouth over a nipple and sucked hard and strong, bringing forth gasps of torment from the girl.
Carlotta's thighs relaxed and, awaiting her moment, Lucrezia was able suddenly to advance her fingers so that the texture of flesh changed and she knew she was in the beginning of the wet ravine formed by those nether lips. Carlotta clasped her thighs together again, crushing the tormenting hand, but Lucrezia bore the weight and tickled the wet flesh with her fingertips.
She drew on the nipple again with her lips, sucking in much of the breast behind it as she could.
Carlotta thrust her breast at the lips which seemed to be drawing milk from her shapely udders. She arched her hips and gave way suddenly, opening her thighs, relaxing so that the raping hand was suddenly right between her legs, the fingers in at their target.
Lucrezia moved a finger in the suddenly conquered vagina. Carlotta groaned in submission.
Slowly Lucrezia titivated and explored the flood-washed well. She pushed in through the tight ring of flesh, to the accompaniment of a little squeal from Carlotta. She thrust up, and then up again, feeling the hips instinctively pull up away from the hand and then back as they became used to the exquisite pressure.
Steadily Lucrezia sucked the breast, gnawed it, remembering all the things she liked a man to do and doing them with that greater finesse which was born of her intimate, subjective knowledge.
Her fingers could move more loosely, more freely now. The ravine had become a great river, like a dried up wadi suddenly swollen with the seasonal rains, the channel leading from it had become bigger, more accommodating and the hips were moving and bobbing against hers, brushing her flesh with another's exciting, strange flesh.
Breathing hard herself, Lucrezia moved her finger out of the hole and fastened it on the hard little clitoris which had reared up with its first touch from an alien hand.
Carlotta cried out and then spread her thighs in complete, won-over invitation as the finger bit into that little stem of sensitive flesh. She was wriggling incessantly, her mouth wide open, gasping for air.
'Oh God, oh God!' she exclaimed.
Lucrezia worked furiously and delightedly on the clitoris which expanded at her touch, grew harder, longer. She could feel passion growing in it as her finger and thumb pinched it, tweaked it, stroked it, masturbated it. There was only one th
ing left to make Carlotta's initiating delight into utter rapture.
Lucrezia slid down her body, revelling in the tight, straining pressure of flesh against hers. Her wet lips followed the swells and hollows of the body in their descent. She withdrew down to Carlotta's thighs with them. She ran her lips down the thighs, kissing tantalizingly on their buttery, yielding insides. The thighs twitched, clasped her head, relaxed. She heard the fury of Carlotta's moans washing down upon her ears like the continual flow of waves against a reef.
Her thighs clasped and unclasped, tensed and untensed continually; her hips wriggled like fish on a hook and she was fastened to the bed with her own overwhelming passion which was no longer timid but demanding.
Sliding her lips up the thighs, Lucrezia met first the slippery ooze of fluid glossing the tops of the legs. She lapped it like a dog. It represented the passion of a lovely girl - nothing unpalatable about that.
Over the swamp and to the very brink of the ravine, a plunge of the tongue and she was kissing and licking in that inundated wadi which squirmed and pressed against her and squashed its side flat against her mouth.
She searched, her tongue leading her blindly in the wadi until she found that steep, stiff monument. She grasped it in her lips and Carlotta's hips went mad, writhing and twisting so that Lucrezia had to hang onto her prize as if she were on a wild horse. But she clung to it, sucking it voraciously while a thin whine of passion, broken often by a deep moan, crashed down on her ears from the tortured face high up above her.
Her hands grasped those slim hips. How slim they were compared to her own. They made Carlotta seem that much more girlish, innocent, helpless.
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