Anonymous - The Romances Of Blanche La Mare

When the question of dinner was mooted, old Ma Osborne grinned, “Well me dears,” she said, “I haven't worried about getting you any dinners, because knowing you like and your habits, I've took the liberty of telling Lord Hingley of the house, which is Christ Church College; me dear, that he might be at liberty to call. And Lord Hingley, me dears, will see as how you have a better dinner than I might be able to offer to you her.”

I was inclined to be annoyed, but held my peace.

Maud Knock (the one with the mole) became business-like at once.

“Many thanks, I'm sure Mrs. Osborne,” she said, “but who is Lord Hingley, he's not on my visiting list?”

“Is he all right?” chipped in the moleless sister, “none of your courtesy title paupers, eh, what?”

“All right; that I would say he is. Ten thousand a year he has, as I should know, dearies, my husband being his scout for night on two years in college, and as generous a gentleman as ever was.”

The sisters Knock nodded assent, and Ma Osborne retired beaming.

The highly recommended Lord Hingley presently made his appearance accompanied by his friend, Mrs. Charles Latimer; apparently they had only reckoned on two, and I saw breakers ahead, for, without conceit, I knew well enough that neither of the sisters could hold a candle to me in looks, or in any sort of attraction.

We were conveyed in cabs to Mr. Latimer's room. Mr. Latimer was a rich young gentleman, son of the famous brewer of that name, and he occupied the most elegant apartments. He was plain but well groomed, and very well dressed. Despite his origin he was a gentleman. Lord Hingley was nice looking, if rather stupid, and obviously rather too fond of drink. They were both scrupulously polite to us girls. We had a most admirable dinner, cooked and served in a style which would not have disgraced a smart west end restaurant, and we all of us drank rather too much champagne, to say nothing of subsequent liquors.

Still nothing happened, and the men made no attempt at love-making. The sisters obliged at the piano, so did I, and after I had done so, Lard Hingley contrived to get me alone in a corner.

“I say,” he stammered, “you're a lady, aren't you?”

“I'm certainly not a man.”

“But, don't joke; you aren't like the others how did you come to be living with Maud and Mabel?”

“Because they are my friends.”

The poor boy became very nervous, so I explained.

“I am a lady by birth, but who I am and how I came to be here, I don't care to have anybody know. If I told you my father's name, you would probably know,” that was a good bluff, considering the name was the same as my stage name-poor old Pop La Mare- “so don't ask.”

But he squeezed my hand; not as a man would squeeze the hand of a chorus girl tart, and I knew that he was in love, the first young man or title who had loved me. He likewise made an appointment for the following day, to meet at the Queen's Restaurant for lunch, subsequently a drive, and a hasty little dinner at his own rooms to follow-(he lived out of college).

I went down to the theatre on the following morning-the first time I had entered a theatre as a member of a theatrical company, and that early as I was, several of the girls were there before me, and the best places in the dressing room, which was to contain six of us girls, were taken.

There were the twin sisters Knock, Lily Legrand, a show lady of more of less mature age, but undeniable charm of figure, and little Bertha Vere, Restalal's mistress, who was not, however, allowed any special privileges in the company because of her relationship to the “Guvnor.” I had to hang my clothes up in the middle of the room, and do without a looking glass. My brand new make up box occasioned great joy among the other girls, who all appeared to have come with the tiniest remnants of the necessary powders and pigments.

My first day in Oxford, also my first day on tour was fairly uneventful. I went out to lunch with my lordling friend, but he treated me with extreme courtesy, to say nothing of a very good lunch. I found out afterwards that Oxford boys, while always delighted to get to know any actress on the road, yet expect little in return for their hospitality. My young man did not even attempt to kiss me, though we sat for a long time in his rooms after lunch-I think that he was even rather shocked that I smoked.

When I got back to my lodging I found the sisters Knock there, back also from a luncheon party. They had brought on my letters from the theatre. One of them was from the poet, and a distinctly improper nature. Its pretty indelicate imagery, and a most sensual drawing by an artist friend which was enclosed, brought so much moisture on my legs that I had to get upstairs and wash before I dared face the semi-public undressing of the theatre dressing room.

As the majority of the company had appeared in “The Drum Major” before, we had no dress rehearsal, and I had not even seen my costumes till I got to the theatre than night. “The Drum Major” was a tights play and all the girls in our room wore those fascinating garments. I was rather anxious to see how the legs of the other girls looked. Mine I knew, were all right, a little on the small side perhaps, but quite perfectly modelled. I could submit to the difficult task of inserting a three penny piece between my naked thighs when placed together, and keeping it there. I had also silk tights, a present from Mr. Annesley, who had informed me that the management considered cotton good enough for the chorus. He had found out the color of my dresses, and had these made for me.

The girls in the room displayed little delicacy. Maud undressed stark naked, and walked about the room rubbing herself down with a towel. Pier figure was good. Shapely legs, if perhaps a little too muscular to satisfy the artist who takes his ideal from the ancient Greek statues, but that was the fault of her dancing training. A firm, rather brownish skin, but without wrinkles, she wore no corsets, and round breasts with scarlet nipples. Her arms were also muscular, and she had the hair under her armpits shaved off, though a great abundance of dark luxurious curled round the lips of her cunt and blossomed up on to her stomach.

Lilly Legrand kept her vest on while putting on her tights, not omitting, however, to show the hair on the lower portion of her body, and the sexual organ underneath. Mabel Knocked stripped boldly to the buff, and displayed a figure which was almost an exact counterpart of her sister's, but she was more modest, and turned her back on us while she hurriedly slipped into her tights. Little Bertha, Restall's mistress, was far more discreet, and got into her leg attire under cover of other garments. The reason for that was, I afterward discovered, that she padded. I was also as modest as might be, and immediately aroused the suspicion of the eldest Knock girl that I had come to the theatre with my pads on, a common enough practice with some chorus girls who are ashamed of letting their companion tarts know that nature had not been altogether kind to them. She took me by surprise, and ran her hand all over my legs. “Genuine,” she pronounced, with a laugh, and Bertha looked envious.

I was one of the officers. It was a military play, and I had practically to open the show with five others, headed by our captain, a very dapper little lady who was the principal boy of the play. When I first walked on to the stage, I could hardly see for fear (luckily I was placed last). I felt practically naked and the music surged in my ears and it was only when I heard the other girls break into the surging melody of the song that I regained enough self-possession to join them. However, in half an hour I was all right, and got the brace of lines allotted to me off swimmingly.