Jacky S - Suburban Souls, Book II

LILIAN TO JACKY.

Thursday, January 19, 1899.

My very own Jacky,

Are you? No, you are not. You do not love your little girl as she ought to be loved.

I almost had an idea of what would happen to you Thursday night, and I waited a good long time before going up to my room, supposing that if you had missed the train, you would have thought of returning here. I am truly sorry at what happened to you, without nevertheless being able to pardon you the affront you put upon me after all for next Sunday.

No, you are not a man, as you fear a few moments of bad temper or a scolding, for that is the only reason that prevents you coming on Sunday. I can plainly see that I shall never occupy anything else but the second place in everything and every way.

I thank you extremely for all the commissions which you have done deliciously well, therefore I will abuse your kindness and ask you to be so kind as to go to the Opéra Comique when you receive this note, and take the eight-franc seats you mention for Saturday evening.

We will settle up Sunday if I see you, or by letter if you do not come. I count upon your amiability for these tickets. Can you send them to me by post?

You will lose if you don't come. You would find something good, for I feel inclined for a little naughtiness. Those who wish to profit therefrom, please take notice!

I love you too much and I am unhappy.

LILY.

January 23, 1894.

I had executed all the commissions entrusted to me by Arvel's daughter, and had been able to obtain for her, or rather for her father, a very large percentage, such as he would probably not have succeeded in getting. And by the manner in which the little piece of business was done, he must have known that I had managed it. The seats for the theatre, I also bought, and sent by registered letter, to avoid the accident (?) of the preceding October, and I also wanted her to feel that I had never forgotten the lost bank-note. She was so careful not to allude to this when she saw me, that she no doubt felt the implied reproach. I have no recollection how I answered her last letter, but I think I sent her a statement of accounts, and once more impressed upon her that it was impossible for me to leave Paris on a Sunday. I added that I should come down to Sonis on Monday night, the twenty-third of January, by the usual train, with all the receipts for her Papa, and another volume of Justine, ready in an envelope, and if I did not see her, I should slip everything in the letterbox of her villa, and return the way I had come.

So I went accordingly, and found my Lilian strolling in the dark with her dogs. To my great surprise, she was extremely gracious, and had evidently given up as a bad job an idea of trying to drag me away from my dominical duties. She had enjoyed herself very much at the opera, having gone with one of her workgirls. I replied that I had intended to go myself and see her at the play, and she said I ought to have done so. I could not very well answer that perhaps she had not gone with the girl, or that if she had, the latter might have told her parents that I was there. All this proved the bidden complicity of both mother and father, and had I opened my mouth on this topic, it would have led to useless quarrels.

I told her during our walk that Lord Fontarcy was shortly coming to Paris again, and very probably he would show a desire to see her once more.

“You would have to be very kind to him this time, especially as Clara would not be there. You could not refuse giving him pleasure with your mouth, the same as you like to do with me.”

“Oh, no, I could never do that to him! I would use my hand, but nothing else. I have no idea of disgust with you. I would do anything for you!”

“We will see later how far your devotion will take you. I shall feel great excitement in forcing you into the arms of my friend, and I am sorry I do not know anybody else I can trust. You can have no idea how pleased I am to think that you love me well enough to prostitute yourself for my pleasure.”

“Yes, I do love you and all your ideas.”

She said this in a low voice, under the influence of an inward wave of voluptuousness, for I must not forget to remind the reader that our conversations, during these nocturnal rambles, were carried on to a running accompaniment of the most lewd kisses and reciprocal gropings and touchings.

“I have the vilest ideas with regard to you,” I continued, “There is nothing revolting, degrading, or horrible between man and woman but what I should like you to execute with me, and I will eventually force you to say that I have become a vile, repugnant brute in your eyes.”

“Never, never! You don't know what you say. Have I not told you over and over again that everything you do in regard to the pleasures of love is perfection, and just what I like? I have enormous delight with you.”

“I am afraid you would refuse many things when it came to a pinch. Look at all the horrors described in the book you are reading, and which no one should ever know you have perused. By the way, I have brought you down another volume. Well, you have noticed how the poor martyred heroine, Justine, is forced to go with nearly all her persecutors to the water-closet, and wait until they have evacuated, to cleanse their fundaments with her tongue. Would you do that with me?”

The answer came quickly, without hesitation:

“Certainly, I would! I'll go to the closet with you. But I won't let you go with me.”

I now made her tell me the story of Gaston's attempted rape in the train again, and I could not help excusing him. She agreed with me that she had done wrong to lead him on, having never granted him the least favor, but now, knowing what she did about men and their desires, she would never have let him kiss her and play with her to such an extent, if she had no intention of giving way.

This talk and a lot more of the same kind, that I cannot now remember, had made both of us most fearfully excited, and we must have formed a strange picture, if anyone had met us, on the dark road. Lilian's hat was all awry, her hair disarranged, and her face, neck, and throat glistened with the saliva my delighted tongue had deposited on her warm flesh. We held each other closely embraced, and her arms must have been black and blue from the way I had pinched her, always much to her delight.

I desired her greatly that evening, and in my pocket was a leather belt, which I had bought that day, as I had hoped my wayward girl might take me into her house again. Of course, I did not tell her of my peculiar purchase.

I had noticed that she was much stouter, as I held her in my arms, and I told her so. She agreed that there was a slight increase of fat.

“That is because you are no longer a virgin,” I explained. “What makes you say that? I am a virgin, I assure you.”

“You seem strangely altered in many little ways,” I answered, “and your entire bearing, which last year was that of a young girl, is now to my idea more like that of a married woman.”

She laughed. I continued:

“I can soon see if you are a virgin or not.”

“How?”

“I have only to insert my finger gently, if you will let me.”

“Certainly, I will. Why not?”

“Why not indeed? Come along, put your foot up!”

“What do you mean?” she asked, feigning surprise.

“You have only to place one of your little tootsies on yonder bench and I shall be able to tell you in a jiffy.”