Anonymous - Frank and I

The summer wore on: Frances, with Miss Martin, and Dora, went down to Eastbourne; while I started off to Norway on a fishing excursion; but I did not get much sport, as it was too late in the season. However, I enjoyed my tour very much, as I had never been in Norway before. I liked driving in the carioles from place to place; and I admired the magnificent scenery of the fiords; though I was disappointed with the blue-eyed, flaxen-haired damsels. Many of them were pretty, but they did not appear to have any fun in them; and the few that I poked were great big cold creatures who lay like logs under me, hardly even moving their broad fat bottoms at the supreme moment.

Frances and I got back to London about the same time; and things went on between us pretty much as before. She always had numbers of invitations, but she kept herself disengaged one night in the week, so that I might dine quietly with her and Miss Martin. On those occasions we were always merry at the table, and when the meal was over and we had gone into the drawing-room, Frances would sit beside me in a corner-while Miss Martin played the piano-and tell me what she had been doing with herself since she had last seen me: and she would frequently ask my advice on various matters. But for all that, I had an idea that she was keeping something back, and that we were gradually drifting apart.

After all, I was getting on for forty-five years of age; and she had younger admirers, any one of whom would marry her.

I never said a word; knowing that in due course of time, she would tell me everything. And I could see that she had already begun to look upon me more in the light of a guardian than a lover; though she still seemed to enjoy the pokes I gave her. She and Miss Martin had become great friends; but I know that Frances never told her true story to the governess; nor did that lady ever find out that I was carrying on an intrigue with her employer.

Miss Martin had however told her story to Frances, who related it to me one day. It was a very ordinary story; without the least touch of romance. I will give it here.

The governess was a married woman. Martin was her maiden name. She was the daughter of a poor person in Devonshire; and she had been married when she was twenty years of age, to a man who was cashier of a large bank in Plymouth; and who had a good salary. The marriage had turned out badly; her husband took to gambling and betting, and he lost a great deal of money; then he became a drunkard, and ill-treated her: finally he embezzled money belonging to the bank; and to avoid arrest he fled the country; leaving her penniless, after three wretched years of married life. Fortunately there were no children. Her father and mother were dead, and she had no rich relatives to assist her. But as she was well educated, and could get testimonials as to her character, she turned governess, and had supported herself ever since her husband had left her. She had never heard from him; and she did not know whether he was alive or dead. Frances also informed me that Miss Martin had confided to her, that she-had never been embraced by any man but her husband, and that she had been longing for an embrace ever since he had left her.

The two ladies had lately taken to amusing themselves with photography. Frances had bought a complete outfit, intending to do everything herself, with the assistance of Miss Martin. So they had fitted up a dark room in which to develop their plates, and as they were both clever, neat-handed women, they soon had made themselves fairly proficient amateur photographers.

They photographed each other in various costumes and they “took” me in all sorts of attitudes; they “took” the children, and the servants; and they made excursions into the country, photographing old houses, or anything else that struck their fancy.

One afternoon, when the photography “craze” was at its height, I was having a cup of tea with Frances in the drawing-room after a very pleasant poke; when she suddenly asked: “Do you think Miss Martin has got a good figure?”

I replied: “She seems to have a. good one; but when a woman has got on all her clothes and her corset, one can never tell how much of her figure is natural; half of it may be due to the dressmakers’ art. The only way of finding out whether a woman has a good figure or not, is by seeing her naked. Now I have often seen you naked; therefore I know you have a most lovely figure,” I added, kissing her, and feeling her bottom.

She smiled, looking very much pleased. Then she went on: “Would you like to see Miss Martin and me naked together, so that you could compare our figures?”

I laughed, thinking she was joking. “I should very much like to have a chance of making the comparison, if it were possible.”

“It is possible,” she said coolly. “You shall see us both stark naked to-morrow. We are going to photograph each other in a state of nudity, and you can hide behind the curtains in the alcove while we are at work. Of course, she won’t have the faintest suspicion that you are there, so she will be perfectly at her ease, and you will be able to make a thorough inspection of her charms.”

The idea tickled me immensely, and I lay back in my chair, laughing heartily; then kissing Frances, I said: “You are a wonderful woman to have thought of such a thing: It will be awfully good fun, and I shall enjoy the scene immensely.”

“Oh, I know yon will,” she said smiling. “Be here tomorrow at a quarter to two. Miss Martin is going out shopping in the morning, and will not be back till two o’clock; and by that time you will be behind the curtains. She won’t have the least idea that you have come to the house during her absence.”

“I shall be here without fail to inspect the lady; I am sure she has not got such a good figure as you have,” said I, taking Frances up in my arms, and placing her a-straddle on my thighs. Then I gave her a sitting poke.

As soon as all was over, and she had shaken her petticoats straight, she ran away to dress, as she was going out to a dinner party; and I went off to my club. I ordered a good dinner, and while discussing it, I thought of the “Living Picture” I was going to see the following day. The spectacle would be a most charming and piquant one.

It is not often that a man gets a chance of seeing a modest woman in a state of complete nudity. I do not think many married men ever see their wives quite naked. Now Miss Martin was a modest woman; she had never been seen nude by any man but her husband-perhaps he had never seen her-and she would be perfectly unconscious that she was being looked at by a man. The whole thing would be delicious! After dinner, I played a few games of billiards, and then went back to my chambers, where I read and smoked until it was time to go to bed.

Next day, punctually at a quarter to two o’clock, I arrived at the house, and on entering the drawing-room found Frances there with the camera, and all the rest of the paraphernalia, in readiness for taking the photographs. We kissed; then we looked at each other and burst out laughing. After chatting a few minutes, we heard a knock at the door of the house. “There she is,” said Frances, her eyes sparkling with merriment. “Now get behind the curtain. You shall see some fun.” I took up my position; then she left the room. There was an easy-chair in the alcove, so I sat down and amused myself with a paper I had brought with me. In about twenty minutes, the door was opened, and the two ladies came into the room, laughing and joking with each other; and at once began to get the plates ready. As they tripped about the room, making their final preparations, I saw that they had nothing on but their chemises and wrappers; their bare feet were cased in velvet slippers; and their long hair was flowing loose over their shoulders down to their waists.