Anonymous - The Oyster, Volume III

A little reluctantly, the myopic enthusiast withdrew, understanding that a polite reprimand had been given. Then Babette paused in her labours. 'Please, gentleman. A moment's rest for Madame Babette,' said Cousin Algernon. A subdued ripple of disappointment ran round the room but this was instantly replaced by a collective sigh of pleasure as Babette stood upright and then slowly stretched herself. All eyes were on her as she displayed the full splendour of her body. Paint dribbled unattended from wavering brushes. Several of the gentlemen sat down with shudders of emotion, some almost bent double as if in pain. Trousers were hastily adjusted and first one and then another hurriedly left the room in order to answer an urgent call of nature. Babette turned to our direction, her lush pussey hair standing out proudly against her flesh, and winked very slightly at us. I smiled back but swiftly resumed my most demure countenance. George stepped forward and handed her her robe which she put on with an easy but most provoking twitch of her shoulders. 'A short break for refreshment before we resume our artistic endeavours?' suggested Cousin Algernon as a decanter and glasses made their appearance. After ten minutes or so, Cousin Algernon called upon his class to resume their places. 'Another three quarters of a hour will be enough,' he said to us quietly. 'I find that my more mature students can only stand a couple of hours.

Such is the intensity of the artistic experience that for the most part they will be quite drained and more than ready to adjourn quietly to their clubs or their homes.' So the second half of the art lesson passed. Babette, clearly a woman of considerable stamina, ploughed her swaying, quivering way through a second mountain of dough. As she sprinkled flour on hands and board to prevent the mixture sticking, smears of flour and dough transferred themselves to her face, her forearms and even to the Himalayan mounds of her bosom.

As first a lump of dough clung from one dark plum-like nipple and then as a sifting of flour settled on her luxuriant bush, so the brush work of the amateur artists became more and more wild and erratic. As though in sympathetic response, flecks and gobbets of pigment landed on smocks and faces. Whilst some were working themselves up to a positive frenzy of strokes and dabs, so others began to grow slack and exhausted. Eyes began to glaze over and brushes wilted in trembling hands. Soon several members were standing open-mouthed, sucking air into their labouring lungs like athletes at the end of a long foot race. Babette herself began to move slower and slower, though still driving and pummeling the dough. Beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead and trickled down her heaving flanks. As she breathed ever more deeply her chest expanded and contracted and her enormous breasts undulated, rising and falling in a surging tide of flesh. Her well-planted legs flexed and trembled while her short-sighted posterior attendant, knees buckling, lowered himself on to his stool and sat there gasping for air like a landed trout. 'Time, gentlemen, please,' said Cousin Algernon. 'I feel we have accomplished enough for one evening.' There was a half-hearted groan of disappointment but fatigue had indeed caught up with the best part of them. 'I hope though that you will all come again,' he continued.

'I suggest we reconvene in two weeks time at the same hour. I propose to join you in attempting to do justice to Babette Kneading Dough. If I am satisfied with my own work, I might, when it is completed, put it up for auction, restricting the bidding to those here present.'

This scheme was enthusiastically welcomed. The class began to filter out to the cloakroom in order to wash and generally make themselves presentable enough to face the outside world. Babette clutched her robe round her once more. She favoured the assembly with a sympathetic but slightly roguish smile as she stalked out to her dressing room. A few last lingering glances were directed at the generous hemispheres of her buttocks as they disappeared, like a double eclipse, behind the enveloping draperies of the curtain. Then the amateurs de la peinture bid their goodbyes and ambled out into the early evening air. 'You must all stay while everything is tidied away,' said Cousin Algernon. 'Babette will be rejoining us in a few minutes, as soon as she is refreshed and clothed once more. I have a couple of bottles of claret and some whisky also. We must all take a little wine in order to celebrate what I believe to have been a highly successful event.' We fell to drinking and light conversation.

Presently Babette reappeared. A glass or two restored her to full vigour and animation. We plied her with questions about the rigours of life as an artist's model. 'It can indeed be tiring at times,' she said. 'But that is generally the way with work, is it not? Yet I find that there is great satisfaction to be gained from it so long of course as one does not mind appearing unclothed before members of the opposite sex. For my part, I must confess that I have always had a certain yearning to appear upon the stage, in the theatrical limelight.' 'Do not artist's models usually pose motionless,' I asked. 'I know that, clothed or unclothed, I should find it impossible to keep still in one position for more than a moment or two. Would one not suffer terribly from aches and cramps?' 'Holding a pose for any length of time is indeed a demanding discipline,' she agreed. 'It is one that can be learned quite easily, but I confess that I do infinitely prefer your Cousin's moving presentations. If I am an actress manque, then Algernon is an actor-manager manque and an accomplished Master of Ceremonies as well.' 'I see that there are attractions to the job,' I answered thoughtfully. Babette looked at me with an appraising gleam in her eye. 'Do not take this amiss, Cecily, but I think that you may well have the makings of a model. I suspect that under that modest but quite charming dress there is concealed a fine display sufficient to hold the attention of the most discerning audience. Might I be allowed to…?' 'Oh, no!' I said, as natural modesty vied with a little tingle of excitement, 'No, I don't think I possibly could…' 'Madame Babette,' interrupted Gwendolen. 'Although it is two years since I saw Cecily, my memories of her are such that I can indeed confirm you in your beliefs. Cecily unclothed is a sight for the connoisseur's eye. Cecily, we are all friends here. I do implore you to allow us the pleasure of seeing your lovely titties. If Madame Babette will give you some instruction in the art of posing…?' 'Why, yes indeed,' she answered. 'I would be delighted to be confirmed in my belief that you have a most fetching figure.' 'Mouth-watering,' said Gwendolen. 'Oh Cecily, how excited I am. Two long years since I last feasted my eyes on your titties. You do not know how often I have dreamed of them and longed to nestle against them once more.' 'Dear, sweet Gwendolen,' I said. 'What a wonderful speech. How can I possibly refuse you.'

'I should perhaps withdraw from the room,' said George, 'I would not like to intrude upon such an intimate scene.' 'I also,' said Cousin Algernon, although with a marked hesitation. 'No,' said Gwendolen. 'Cecily, it would be too cruel to deny them a first sight of your bountiful charms.' She turned to them. 'All Cecily's body is a sight for sore eyes. She has the nicest, best-shaped bottom that I have ever clapped hands on. Her waist is adorable and I swear her pussey is the warmest, most welcoming pussey in the whole wide world.'

'Gwendolen,' I said, 'You go too far.' 'Oh! don't be cross,' she answered. 'I am so looking forward to an unveiling.* 'Well, I said, a little shocked and confused with the daring of such a plan but beginning to tremble with the excitement of it all. 'You will have to help me.' Gwendolen eagerly hugged me. She buried her face in the nape of my neck and then before I had time to protest any further, I felt her fingers dextrously begin their work at the buttons of my dress. There came the sudden breath of cool air upon my now exposed back. I crossed my arms protectively over my bosom with a quick pang of shyness. Light hands played for an instant along my bare flesh and then my dress was pushed forward over my shoulders. As I stood there, huddled and uncertain, Babette strode across to me, lifted my chin and looked me straight in the face. 'Not like that, Cecily,' she said. 'Keep your head up. You should be proud, not shamefaced. You are about to present your audience with a show for which they should be privileged and grateful.' Emboldened, I did as she said. I straightened my back and stretched out my arms. George and Cousin Algernon unbuttoned my cuffs and Gwendolen pushed my dress and chemise off my shoulders so that it descended and gathered in a rustle of silk at my waist. I turned and presented my bared breasts to Gwendolen for her approval. Then, hands on hips, I deliberately twisted slowly round to the rest of my audience. 'Cecily,' said Gwendolen. 'How lovely they are. Surely they are even larger and more delectable than I had remembered. You have grown a little since I last saw you.' 'Such succulent fruit,' said Cousin Algernon with an expansive gesture. 'Oh that a man might suck sweet nectar from those ripe nipples.' I recalled that Cousin Algernon had always tended to the florid in his manner of speech. George meanwhile was quite tongue tied. Babette, her hands on mine, held me at arm's length and gazed with professional approval at me. 'You are a delight, my dear,' she said.