Anonymous: The Romances Of Blanche La Mare

“But my dear chap,” was the answer, “what an awful thing to say; I should think you would get yourself badly disliked sometimes and get thrown out of some houses.”

“Well,” admitted the candid one, “I do get disliked sometimes and I have been thrown out of houses, but I get a hell of a lot of fucking.”

MORAL-Oh-Mankind, remember that the woman is as often as not, as keen for it as you are-and don't be NERVOUS.

After that we got on splendidly. He undressed, was soon stiff and in again, and we had a long, glorious, slow grind, exquisite pleasure the whole time, and always that delightful feeling that there was much more ahead, not just a few more strokes and the business completed. Twice was all I would allow him, though he wanted more. I made him sponge me all over with hot scented water, rub me down till I glowed deliciously, and dress me. He was no novice at the game, and the teasing little kisses with which he would accompany all the business of drawing on my stockings, fastening my drawers, getting me into my corsets, etc., nearly made me fall again. When dressed at last, we went downstairs. I just found time to whisper to Madame Karl that it was satisfactorily done, and we got a cab and went off to have tea at Claridge's room among all the ambassadors.

Madame Karl seemed thoroughly pleased when I got back home. She was all over me, and gave me a hat lately arrived from Paris which I had coveted muchly. And as my lordling friend had bought me a diamond brooch at Streeter's, I did fairly well.

The secret of what I had done did not remain a secret-I don't know how it got to the ears of the girls, but after dinner, when we had all together that evening, one of them got me alone in a corner of the drawing room and whispered, “So you've been with Lord X-, this afternoon?” My blush was sufficient answer.

“Come out with me this evening,” she whispered, tickling my hand, “I can promise you a lot of fun.”

Her tone, and the gesture with which she accompanied her invitation, gave me full well to understand that something naughty was in the wind-“Must I ask Madame Karl's permission?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“My dear little Nemmy,” said Madame Karl, when I told her, “of course you can go, but I warn you that this will be something quite out of the common. Nelly knows more than a bit.”

Now you mustn't run away with the idea that Madame Kirl kept a bad house in the sense that her assistants were tarts and nothing else. As far as they were concerned, there was precious little wickedness performed on the premises; but Madame gave them a free hand on their off evenings, just as all the swagger dressmaker's establishment in London and Paris do.

“They all have their latch keys at Gay's, and at Madame Marie's, too,” says Gladys, “I was at the latter for a bit myself and I know.”

Nelly was the youngest of Madame Karl's assistants, a little older than myself, and only just promoted to the dignity of long skirts. She was a pretty blonde, very well favored by nature, with a deliciously plump arm and shoulder, and very well developed breasts. Her legs were perfect; she was one of those few girls who could stand upright in an ordinary position, close her legs and keep a three penny bit between her thighs. She was proud of this and often used to show us the trick.

She was delighted when I said I could come, and insisted on lending me a dress. “Your own evening frock is delightful, my dear,” she explained, “but it isn't quite what we want for this evening.”

She put me into a three quarter length gown, extremely decolette, but filled in about the shoulders with lace (which, as a matter of fact, rather added to the suggestiveness of the confection). It was so low at the back that I had to wear a corset which was little more than a band round the waist, and my nipples almost escaped in front. She, too, put on a three quarter dress, I began to see that this looked like a flapper party.

To cut a long story short, Nelly took me to a house in Cadogan Gardens, a swagger enough place to look at, and explained that it was kept by a woman of good family who added to her own rather diminished income by running it as a meeting place for men and girls. “She's quite the best and nicest procuress in London,” Nelly explained, “She's delightful to all the girls who go there, and you can be perfectly certain of your money.”

That there was money in the air, had never occurred to me when I accepted Nelly's invitation, but I didn't shrink on that account, I could do with a little of the root of all evil just then. Then Nelly told me that the parties varied. On one evening, for instance, our hostess would collect a few married women who were prepared to go astray from their titular lords and masters; sometimes quite young married women, and sometimes ladies who had attained the prime of life without losing their good looks-(these were for men who desired a lot of experience from their bedfellows)-and sometimes young girls.

“That'll be us, this evening,” I said.

“Well, not exactly; we come into the kids party. We are for the men who want very young girls.”

I gathered from Nelly also that our hostess was prepared to find anything. She organized coster girl parties, bringing up pretty little East-enders; and even parties at which very depraved young men could exercise their desire on quite elderly women. “These parties,” said Nelly,” are the most paying of all, for she gets money from both sides, since the old women are under the impression that she has to pay the young men-oh, she's very very clever.”

We were taken to Mrs. Cowper in a large room which was a cross between a very elaborate boudoir and a hot house. That is to say, it was lighted by skylights like a studio, carpeted with some soft material into which one's feet sank almost to the ankles-I found out later that a thin mattress lay underneath the carpet-and was full of flowers and ferns of every kind. From the roof of an alcove depended a vine covered with luscious grapes. A table bearing a glittering tea equipment stood in one corner, various small tables bore wine and spirit decanters. We were ushered in by a large page boy, a dark boy, an octoroon I thought, and exquisitely beautiful, with a kind of girlish loveliness. “Surely it's a girl,” I whispered to Nelly, nodding towards the boy.

“Oh, is he,” said our hostess, rising, “Come here, Claude.”

When the boy came to her, she laid her hand on the front of his trousers, slipped down her fingers and showed us a dear little standing prick. The boy laughed and made his escape.

Then Mrs. Cowper noticed me: “Good Heavens, Nelly,” she cried, “I had no idea you'd brought a stranger; whatever must she think of me, my dear?”

I could not do anything but blush, and Mrs. Cowper continued: “After all, I daresay Nelly has told you we're not very proper here,” and she laid her arms on my shoulders, kissing me lovingly on the lips.

Mrs. Cowper was I suppose about thirty-five, and uncommonly beautiful. Her figure was perfection, and the dress she wore showed off all of its delights. The dress was carried out in a design of ferns. Ferns, quite small at the waist, but gathering size as they fell lower, made the skirt; the bodice was one large bunch of ferns, out of which grew her ivory neck and shoulders; she had ferns in her hair, and two little pearl and diamond ferns for earrings.

I sat by her side sipping a liquor while Nelly briefly told her who and what I was.

“You'll do for me very nicely, dear little girl,” she said, “I think you will just suit a man I've got coming this evening; let me see, are you a virgin?”

I had half framed the word yes, when she suddenly ran her hand up my clothes, and felt my trembling little cunt-“Oh no, you're not,” she said, with a laugh, “and you must not pretend to be. I never deceive my patrons HERE.”