Anonymous: Eveline

I felt at the moment the "little devil" my friend the fair young man of Soho had called me. I slowly descended the broad stairs. John was in the dining room. He was employed in clearing away the lunch things.

"Where are the maids, John?"

"Sippett is upstairs, miss, the others are both gone out. It is their turn out, Sunday afternoon."

"Where is the butler-and the cook?"

"Cook is preparing for the dinner in the kitchen, miss. The butler is asleep before the kitchen fire."

"Make haste. Clear the things away. I want you, John."

"Yes, miss."

I threw myself into an easy chair. I waited. Presently John returned.

"Oh, Miss Eveline! How you did give it to him?"

"No more than he deserved, John."

"Anyway he got it very hot, miss. I doubt if he'll ever come back."

"I have hurt my hand very much. It aches, John."

I held it up. My little palm was all red, and tingled dreadfully.

"So you have, miss. You're still all of a tremble."

"Only wait, John, until Sir Edward comes home."

"Well, miss, of course it is not my place to say so, but if I was you, miss, I should say nothing about it. My lady has been going on for nearly a year now like that. Sir Edward knows it, miss. But he can't stop it. No one can stop a woman, miss, once she takes to that."

I held up my hand to show him. It stung and burned. John took it respectfully in his big paw. He carried it to his lips as if I was a child.

"Poor little hand! Kiss it to make it well?"

It only wanted that. I broke into a flood of tears. One touch of sympathy is worth a sack of gold sometimes. How lonely I was! Why was I thrown into this man's arms?

I leaned my head on his shoulder. John's attention was divided. A great part no doubt was full of sympathy for me. The rest was centered in an effort to protect his best livery.

"Don't take on, missy. It's all right-I knew how it would be. I was nearby. When I heard the sound of that smack, miss, why-I was in it too. I would have knocked him silly, if you hadn't."

I kissed John on the mouth. John kissed me back. I dried my tears and saved his Sunday livery.

"Are you sure the butler is fast asleep, John?"

"Well, miss, he always takes an hour after his dinner, Sundays, and he's only begun snoring about five minutes ago."

"John, you're a good fellow and I like you very much."

I smiled up at him through my tears. I put on the air of a spoiled child.

"I want to feel that thing again, John."

He looked right and left-then he listened.

"There's no one about now, miss."

I had suited the action to the word. My hand was on his plush breeches.

"Oh, John! How stiff it is! My hand can't get round it."

His eyes glistened. He got more at home.

"Put it in here, miss."

He undid a couple of buttons. I plunged my hand down. I grasped his huge limb. Only his shirt covered it now. It was hot and throbbing. I pressed it. I pinched it. I tried to get my hand under the shirt.

"Wait a minute, miss. If you must, you know, you must."

He undid the other buttons. His limb was now free with only his linen over it. It stuck up in front of him like a great peg to hang dresses on.

"What a beauty he looks, John!"

"He is that, miss. My mother found that out when I was a little 'un, miss. She used to show him to the neighbors. One old single lady used to bring him biscuits."

"Biscuits-John-why? How could he swallow biscuits?"

"I ate 'em for him, miss. They went down to him that way, I suppose. They were ginger nuts, miss. Anyhow, he got fine and large."

"You ought to give him a name, John. I shall call him Robin, because of his red breast. Come here, Robin."

I had released the prisoner from his confinement. I beheld the man's nudity erect in all its glorious proportions. How shall I describe the thing which reared its noble crest close under my nose as I sat in the low chair, its huge white shaft standing out against the curling black hair of John's belly? The blue veins coursing over the pale wavy surface; the big bell-shaped top-dark, menacing, its knob descending until a little slit-like aperture terminated its broad surface, which pouted on either side like ripe cherries.

"What a beauty he looks, John, my Robin!"

The man's lust, however, was rising furiously all this time. It was no child's play for him. I had excited the lion. It wanted flesh. He lost much of his subservient manner-his respect. He knelt down and pushed his hand up under my clothes. His cheek flushed and his breath came hot and fast.

"My good Lord, miss, how beautifully made your legs are! What lovely stockings-oh, what a soft thigh! Ah! Oh! How delicious it is! It's like so much velvet!"

The last exclamation was called forth by his touching a certain central portion of my person, the moist and hot reception with which his finger was regaled giving him evidently the liveliest pleasure.

"That's where Robin wants to go. That's where he'd like to hide his head, miss. Just in there!"

He slipped his finger in and tickled my button acutely-deliciously. I retained my hold of his thing. I gently moved the loose skin up and down.

"I am afraid he would not be content only to hide his head there, John."

"He can be very soft and gentle when he likes, miss."

"He may go wherever he likes, John. Only be careful and quiet."

He now lost what little self-restraint was left to him. He caught me in his strong arms. He rubbed his body against mine. He kissed me on the mouth. Our tongues met-my eyes looked into his. He read desire-hot, voluptuous desire, there. We both groaned to indulge it- to enjoy-to satisfy it. We were mad, and there was more than method in our madness. John glanced all round. The armchairs and sofa were tempting, but then it was just possible we might be interrupted. Suddenly an inspiration came to him. By the door he could hear all approaching footsteps. The case was desperate. There was no time to be lost. He pushed me roughly with my back against the door. His breeches' flap was already unbuttoned. His nakedness was in full evidence. I assisted him to raise my clothes in front. He pressed his belly against me. He stooped. He thrust his hot, long limb between my legs. I opened them to make way.

"You must be quick, John. Listen! Do you hear anything?"

"No, no, all is quiet. It is the only chance. Let me do it. I am bound to get into you now, miss."

With my own hand I guided the red head to my slit. I rubbed it between the lips of my orbit, up and down, testing my hot little button with its dimpled tip. He bore forward. It slipped in. In and up me half its length at least. I put my hands on his broad shoulders. I raised myself to meet his fierce thrusts. With each strong effort he almost lifted me off my legs. It was all the way inside me now. I moaned faintly. The pleasure mounted quickly. John hissed his ecstasy in short gasps.

"Good Lord! It is so tight! I'm nearly coming!"

He gripped me round the haunches with an iron hold. He moved in quick, short jerks. I met each thrust with my own. His limb grew hard and even stiffer. I wanted more of it. He pressed me to him. I felt his discharge. I knew he was flooding my interior with his sperm. I cared for nothing but to receive it all. He withdrew in haste. My parts were swimming. My thighs were slippery with the thick warm seed. A pool of it lay on the carpet between my feet.

"Oh, John, you have nearly killed me. You must never do that again."

I ran upstairs to my own chamber. I made liberal use of my toilet appliances. I neither cared, nor feared, for the results of my imprudence.

Twenty minutes later, John came to announce the carriage at the door. He assisted me into it with the most respectful and matter-of- fact air in the world.