Anonymous: Tableaux Vivants

“Parbleu!” said I. “I had forgotten that your husband had served in Africa. It is he who has taught you this.”

“Yes,” she whispered, “it is very wrong, but I do not care a bit about it any other way.”

It was in the midst of a ball given by M. de Saint-Cherin, her father, after an intoxicating valse to the dying strains of the orchestra, that Suzanne drew me out of the reception room into a boudoir, and from thence to her room, the door of which she closed and bolted. Then, throwing her arms around my neck, she abruptly glued her lips to mine.

“They want to marry me to that Marquis de Berg-op-Zoom whom I detest, and it is thee whom I love.”

“That booby! At least he will not have thy first kiss!”

“Indeed he will not! Ah, Richard! if you were a millionaire!”

“Because I am poor it is all the more reason for you to give me a little of Berg of Zoom's goods. Another kiss.”

“Two kisses.”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“And if I were to ask you to be mine-mine entirely-before being his?”

“Ah! What are you doing, Richard?”

With one hand I was opening her corsage, with the other I was raising the folds of gauze in which she was enveloped. This beautiful body was still quite moist from the heat of dancing. An odour of essence of violets, mingled with I know not what subtle and fallow perfume from her skin, floated in the room. A globule of sweat rolled like a warm dewdrop between the two breasts of the young girl, another drop pearled on her thigh. My fingers were swallowed up in a dense thicket, a veritable fur. I clitorised her.

Even yet, when I think how beautiful she was, with her enormous wealth of black hair twisted a la diable, with her eyes equally black, burning and languishing, her chiselled features, her mouth slightly full in contour and of a vivid scarlet, I believe myself still at the commencement of my dream. Suzanne had a slight moustache on her upper lip, the true moustache of a young lad. Nay, she was almost as hairy as a man. But she had the hand of a duchess and the foot of a fairy.

I fell on my knees before her, and slipped under her raised petticoats, which sank over me, burying me beneath its folds. My mouth encountered a clitoris of greater length and magnitude than the majority of women possess. I commenced pressing my lips to it with an almost furious avidity.

I am always indignant when I think that there are unhappy Boeotians who have never caressed their mistresses in this manner, and yet flatter themselves that they know them.

It is the kiss alone which penetrates into the intimacy of a woman and goes to her very heart. The member is blind, the lips and the tongue, on the contrary, are subtle and sure.

There are coyntes (why shrink from the word?) which have a fallow scent; others, again, have the savour of raspberries.

Suzanne's head drooped on my shoulder as she ejaculated. Excuse me if I tell you that I then drew forth my sword, and that her two hands closed round it. “Show me what I should do,” she murmured.

Her dress of rose-coloured tulle was quite inundated.

Meanwhile the ball was approaching its close. Suzanne had to return to the ballroom. I wiped her dress. Pointing to a wardrobe, she said to me, “Conceal yourself there until my return.”

I obeyed. This wardrobe which I entered breathed forth an enervating odour. In it were hanging the dresses which Suzanne had taken off. I set myself to reflect on my double happiness. I was not going to marry Suzanne, and I was going to have entire possession of her.

I had not to wait very long before Suzanne re-entered, attended by her chambermaid. I ensconced myself in my hiding-place between a blue silk petticoat and a lace mantle, drawing the folds of the petticoat over my face, and leaving only a peephole for one of my eyes.

“Make haste!” Suzanne was saying, as she entered. “Quick, Julie, I am in a hurry to get to sleep to-night.”

She unclasped her corsage herself. Her dress fell.

“Mademoiselle,” said Julie, “will not have her hair done up to-night?”

“No; only take out these flowers.”

The petticoat followed the dress to the ground.

“What a hurry Mademoiselle is in! Was Mademoiselle amused to-night?”

“Yes, yes. Don't chatter, Julie.”

“Does Mademoiselle require the chamber pot?”

Suzanne glanced towards the wardrobe and smiled, hesitated, smiled again, and sat herself astride the night-chair.

Her maid came behind her and drew off her chemise to replace it with her nightdress. Suzanne quickly relieved herself, naked as Mother Eve.

“A napkin, Julie; a napkin!” she cried.

Julie handed her a napkin. Suzanne took it, and saying she would get into bed herself, dismissed the girl, and bolted the door.

Then I came out from the wardrobe. I covered this burning and golden flesh with millions of kisses. Everything in this unknown country was new to me. No! I shall never forget the black and silken line of hair which escaped from the valley lying 'twixt her two admirable buttocks. The dear girl was so well disposed naturally to love and pleasure that she was not astonished when I glided my tongue along this dainty passage.

“You kiss that also!” she said to me.

A single night made her learned and expert in every manner. Ah! The good times which were in store for Berg-op-Zoom!

Eight days afterwards they were married. In the morning, just before the ceremony, Suzanne wrote to me, “Come! Julie is cognisant this time. She will let you in by the garden. I want you to kiss me in my wedding dress.”

I went. The maid was waiting for me. “Julie, my girl,” I said to her, “you can make your fortune as sure as I shall make the first child of the Marquis de Berg-op-Zoom, your new master. Take this, and be silent.”

Julie took my purse with many thanks.

However, the wedding carriages were rolling up to the door of the house. Suzanne made one bound from her brand-new vehicle to her room. That very morning she had added another bolt to the door.

We couldn't wait long enough even to go as far as the bed. The first chair received us both. This is, perhaps, the most favourable position for prolonging the pleasure.

Destruction to the wedding dress! I tucked up my rider's clothes, crushing in a heap the immaculate petticoats and the mystic veil. Suzanne wore on her brow the flower symbolical of virginity. Never did orange blossoms receive such injury. All at once the voice of Berg-op-Zoom resounded through the house, “Suzanne, my dear Suzanne!”

“Don't believe that I will ever give this booby caresses like thine!” said Suzanne to me. As she spoke her lips were clinging to my mouth. The adorable girl, my glorious pupil, had never thrown so much art into the sacred act. She raised herself and let herself alternately descend upon me. My member penetrated into her stomach to its very hilt, came out, and again re-entered.

Presently, feeling that the orgasm was gaining on us in spite of ourselves, she remained immobile, closely pressed against me, encoynted to her very heart. I slipped a finger between her two dusky and satiny cheeks whence escaped this bouquet of black silk which was one of her most piquant charms. I buried this finger with transport; I could have wished to touch her entrails.

Our mouths remained glued together, our tongues mingled.

At this moment Berg-op-Zoom thought it proper to knock at the door. “Suzanne, open to me, my dear Suzanne.”

She had without doubt slightly lost her head, for she replied aloud, “There is nothing left to open!”

The fact is, every part of her was filled. I could not prevent myself from laughing, and the movement which this stifled laugh caused throughout my body achieved our pleasure.