Anonymous - The Oyster, Volume III

'What's that?' asked George, indicating a stout wooden pole with a cross piece at one end and a round piece at the other with five short legs. 'A poss stick,' said Cousin Algernon. 'It is used to stir up the washing in a tub when it is soaking in the hot water.'

'I am afraid that George, like so many men, has never paid proper attention to the domestic duties that have to be performed in any household,' said Gwendolen. 'I used to venture into the servants area at home when I was much younger,' said George, 'But I was firmly excluded after my mother found me helping one of the maids to adjust her clothing. There was also the small matter that she was holding my youthful prick in her hands and licking the tip in a most attentive fashion.' 'I assume from that that you have led an active life,' said Cousin Algernon. 'A man after my own heart. But for the present, could you give me a hand in setting out a nice derangement of objects.

Our amateur painters can then make the decision as to which pose they would wish Babette to adopt.' At this moment Babette herself swept into the room. Truly a magnificent creature, she was wearing a regal purple robe which entirely swathed the bountiful promise of her body but yet which hinted at the well-fleshed splendours it concealed.

We were quickly introduced and she embraced us all warmly but briefly.

'Cecily, I have heard all about you from Algernon,' she said. 'Do either of your friends have any knowledge of the world of the artist?'

'I have a distant cousin who is employed as a designer of pottery at Messrs Doulton's establishment,' said Gwendolen. 'But she does not have to appear in a state of undress?' asked Babette. 'Not at her place of work,' answered Gwendolen, 'Although on more private occasions she is frequently quite eager to reveal herself in a state of nature.' 'Perhaps I might be introduced to this cousin,' I interjected. 'She has the sound of a person of sympathetic disposition.' 'You will have much in common,' said Gwendolen.

'Fucking and being fucked is her chief delight. What a quartet we will make.' 'Quartet?' I queried. 'She has a sister of similar tastes. Their mother is also a woman with refreshingly unconventional ideas. They now also have staying with them Rosalind Murphy. You may remember her. She was a year behind us at school.' 'Rosie!' I exclaimed. 'Rosie with the rosy bottom. What fun it will be to meet her again.' 'Enough of this chatter,' said Cousin Algernon. 'Our would-be painters will be making their entry shortly.' With this we fell to sorting out the pile of domestic articles. George and Cousin Algernon pulled the mangle into place and a woman appeared with pails of warm water with which the washtub was filled. In a trice the stage had been set for Babette's performance. Our amateur artists were led in. For a moment they fell silent in awe and anticipation at the sight of Babette. She, as yet fully clothed, moved among them, exchanging greetings as they were introduced. Ranging from the middle-aged to the elderly, one and all appeared to be respectable and sober representatives of the professional and upper commercial classes. Two, I vaguely recognised as men of some importance in Public Affairs. Two others were of military bearing and a third, of Gallic appearance, had the ribbon of the Legion d'Honneur in his lapel.

'Gentlemen, I am honoured to welcome you to our Private Master Class in painting from Life,' said Cousin Algernon. Let us now prepare ourselves.' Easels, paints, palettes and canvases were produced. There was a intent bustle of activity. Babette advanced on them with an armful of smocks. 'To avoid any splashes,' she said. 'Painting is an enjoyable but messy exercise.' She passed among them, removing coats, slipping the smocks over them, buttoning them or tieing them briskly at the back. Many of the gentlemen were clearly quite excited at the touch of her hands. One who in turn attempted to place his hand on her splendid rump, had it firmly removed but all was done with a half-smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye so that not only was no offence caused, but a teasing air of promise caused the gentleman to become somewhat purple with pleasure anticipated. 'Gentlemen,' said Cousin Algernon, 'Madame Babette will now take up the first pose of the evening. However, the choice is yours. Would you have her at the tub, at the mangle, or possibly on all fours in her imposing imitation of a servant engaged in scrubbing?' A veritable babble of competing voices was raised. 'The mangle,' cried one.

'No, no, for myself, I would prefer to see her leaning over the wash,' said another. Two others were adamant that they could only do justice to their subject if she was crouched down. Yet one was all for her presenting her bottom to the class whilst the other, somewhat confused about domestic positions, I considered, wished to see her on her back. 'As though she has had a slight mishap on a slippery floor,' he explained somewhat unconvincingly. Cousin Algernon let the argument rage for some minutes until it quickly became apparent that no one faction was in the ascendancy. 'Gentlemen,' he said, raising his voice to cut through the uproar. 'Since I can see that agreement is not be to easily reached, I have an alternative idea.'

With that he clicked his fingers and a small but sturdy kitchen table was conjured up, along with a rolling pin and a large quantity of dough. 'May I present Madame Babette Kneading Dough!' With the flourish of an experienced actress, Babette marched across to the table and in one flamboyant motion, shed her purple gown. A gasp of admiration rose up from the assembled gentlemen artists, for underneath she was utterly and hugely naked. With an exquisite sense of timing, she leant over the table and seized the soft, pliant mound of dough. As she forced her hands into it, squeezing it back and forth, then shaping it and thumping it flat again, her breasts swung between her arms, her belly rubbed against the table and her tremendous buttocks jiggled up and down with the effort of her labours. Her audience stared at her open mouthed, hardly moving, so transfixed were they by this vast vision of nakedness. From the back of the assembly there came a stifled groan. Several were visibly shaking with suppressed artistic inspiration. Then first one and then a second, pulling themselves together, took up their brushes and squeezed paint on to their palettes. Next there was a scraping of easels and stools as a number of them began to move into their preferred positions. I noticed that he who had been loudly in favour of the kneeling-seen-from-behind pose rapidly moved into the appropriate line-of-sight. I also noticed that he stationed himself within no more than an arms length of the twin subjects of his delight as they rose and fell in their majestic rhythm. 'Alas, I grow increasingly short-sighted,' he said hurriedly in order to justify his close proximity to Babette's bottom! 'A more convincing excuse if only he were wearing an eye glass or spectacles,' whispered Gwendolen, nudging me gently. The three of us were now standing quietly against the wall as this amazing tableau vivant unfolded itself before our fascinated eyes. Now the gentlemen fell to their painting with a quiet but splashy intensity. Brushes charged with full loads of paint were slapped and smeared on canvases. By the sweeping motions of their paint strokes I could understand that the great curves of Babette's body were being energetically, if none too skilfully, transferred to canvas. Cousin Algernon, in his role of teacher, moved from one to another, advising and encouraging. Here he deftly showed one how to mix a convincing flesh tone. There he demonstrated how to achieve the fullness of texture demanded by the subject. Meanwhile Babette plunged and swung and thrust and kneaded. At one point the self-declared short-sighted gentleman crouched down on the floor peering intently up between her massive thighs. 'So difficult to catch the play of light and shade low down,' he muttered, with even less conviction this time. 'Ah, yes, a close scrutiny of his subject is a sign of a true artist,' replied Cousin Algernon. 'But you would not wish to impede the view of your fellow artists I believe.'