Anonymous - Memoirs of a Voluptuary, or the Secret Life of an English Boarding School

“Well, there is a special meeting there a week from today, and if you like, I will take you both. No Gaston, you will not need to pose again as my little brother! The meeting I speak of is one of a particular kind, and is not of frequent occurrence. I would take great pleasure in bringing you both to this event of ours. I am allowed to bring lads with me, but you see, it is necessary that they should be well born and attractive and also discreet. Now I can vouch for you as all three, so the rest is easy. Our rendezvous is not the place you know, Gaston, on this occasion, but a villa in the environs.

“The new guests always present themselves in costume, but I will make all arrangements of that sort. You shall come and see me tomorrow and I will take you to a dressmaker. He will see to everything that you want.”

We spent a pleasant evening at the theater where the scenery and singing charmed me very much, although I could not follow the words to any great extent. On coming out, Cecil took us to supper at a restaurant not far away, and then drove us home and, bidding us goodbye, requested that we should come and see him at noon the next day.

In the morning, we were awakened by Pierre, who brought us coffee. Owning to my presence, he preserved a modest and respectful attitude, which extracted sundry whimsical remarks from Gaston, who tried to give him a pinch. But he drew back exclaiming, “No, no, you must not; Monsieur Charles is looking at us.”

Gaston laughed loudly, crying, “What of that, Pierre? You must not take him for a simpleton. Wait till you know a little more about him.” He sprang out of bed and, rushing at me as I lay, seized my hands, saying, “Here he is Pierre. Come and have a look at him.”

Pierre frowned a reproof but was unable to repress a smile, and at last obeyed de Beaupre's injunction and came towards me.

“What is the matter with you?” continued Gaston. “Why don't you pull the clothes down?”

“Oh, but Monsieur, I could not,” he replied. “Perhaps Monsieur Charles would not like it.”

“Oh, wouldn't he? You try and see,” persisted Gaston, and thus urged, Pierre did as he was bidden. The sight of my legs, as he further uncovered them, prevailed upon him, and he no longer exhibited any hesitation but turned up my shirt, with a little laugh, and placed his hand on my cock. I curled myself up as he did so, but made no protest, and he played lingeringly with my member, finally giving it a kiss. But he then concluded that this was enough for the present and threw the covering over me again. It was a beginning, and spoke of more eventualities in the future.

By mid-day we presented ourselves at Cecil's and found him ready for us.

“We have not much time,” said Gaston. “We must be back for luncheon.”

He took us to the Couteriere he knew, who made the necessary measurements while Cecil supplied her with all the particulars he required. The confabulation was such a long one that we got a trifle impatient, but it was over at last and we all made haste back to the Faubourg St. Germain.

A day or two later, Cecil called on the Prince and told him of the invitation he had given us, merely saying, of course, that he would like us to spend the evening with him.

On the day in question we repaired to the Avenue Moche rather late in the afternoon and found Cecil impatiently awaiting us. After a pleasant hour or two, he took us to the dressing room to be attired for our parts. Maurice figured large in this scene, being assisted by Julius, whom I regarded with considerable interest, recollecting de Beaupre's account of what took place on his engagement by Monsieur. He was a decidedly pretty young man, but was scarcely calculated now to give one the impression of strict monastery breeding, for he tripped about in the liveliest manner and displayed very much less reserve in his demeanor then did Maurice.

Cecil had made the most elaborate preparations for adorning our persons. Our costumes were of the eighteenth century period, and I felt myself quite imposing when I had attired myself in a pair of white satin breeches, with white silk stockings, shoes with diamond buckles, a white brocaded waistcoat and a full skirted coat of white satin, glittering with embroidery of brilliante.

We were now ready to start, and as soon as we were notified that the carriage was at the door, we descended to the porch.

The drive was a long one, taking us right away to the farthest suburbs, but we finally passed through a gate and after going up a short private road drew up before the portico of a large stone villa. The doors were shut, but on knocking, we were admitted to the hall where our coats and Cecil's wrap were taken by a servant.

I found the exquisiteness of the surroundings to match Blackie's tales, and as we entered into the fantastic villa, I reminisced about the initial days of school when he told his colorful stories of Society X. My heart raced with excitement and intrepid anticipation, and not a little disbelief that I was actually going to be among the members of this mysterious club.

We were late arrivals and the rest of the company of young men were already assembled. They were every bit as charming and dashing as Gaston had related, only more so, for tonight, they too were dressed in full eighteenth century costumes. I smiled with satisfaction, thinking that Gaston and I outshone all the rest in plumage.

Gaston and Cecil were instantly recognized and we were soon surrounded by the smart looking young men as they kissed Gaston and Cecil on either cheek.

“May I present Charles Powerscourt,” said Cecil. “Please welcome him as my guest.”

The young men all greeted me with the greatest of friendliness, and I felt at ease almost instantly in their affectionate company.

“Now that you have come, Cecil, we will have some refreshments and thereafter the entertainments can commence,” said one young fellow with chestnut colored hair.

“But where is Sir Henry?” I whispered to Gaston. I was strongly desirous to see the great man about whom Gaston had talked at such length about.

“I am certain that he will make a grand entrance presently,” replied Gaston.

We followed Cecil to a long table where a profusion of grapes and wines and the finest cheeses had been laid out. There was soft music being played by a small orchestra in one corner of the large room, the soft, beautiful music echoing off the lovely veined marble of the floor.

As we sipped our wine, some of the members of Society X began to dance slowly with one another to the music. I was enchanted with the sight of so many young men enjoying such passionate conduct with each other so openly and liberally. I could even see from where I stood that some of the men's members were straining their breeches as their partners danced close and stroked their buttocks.

The wine began to go to my head, and I looked towards Gaston to find that his cheeks were flushed rosy with the fragrant bouquet and exciting display of so many handsome men before us. Just then the doors to the grand apartment were flung open and a man who could've been none other than Sir Henry entered the room.

I had never seen a more striking man in all my life. His shoulder length blond hair hung in loose curls about his broad shoulders. His full lips turned up at the corners in a gay smile, and his eyes! His eyes were the most electrifying color of green I had ever seen. They were positively feline, and turned up slightly at the corners giving his entire face an elegant sleek look.

The members of Society X immediately ceased their dancing to greet him.

“That is Sir Henry!” said Gaston excitedly.

“I guessed that,” I replied, never taking my eyes from the newest arrival. He too was dressed in full eighteenth century attire, and I have to admit that his costume was by far the most elaborate. Cecil and Gaston advanced to greet him, and I followed rather reluctantly.