Anonymous - The altar of VVenus - The Making of a Victorian Rake

" She won' t be back. She' s gone away."

" Where can I find her?"

Nobody knew, or if they did know, which was more likely, they were not disposed to tell. Wouldn' t another girl do just as well? Clearly, in the matter of having one' s cock sucked, they were unable to see why any fine distinctions between girls should be drawn.

I shook my head negatively, my heart too full for words. I wanted Rose and nobody but Rose – the disappointment was too keen to consider a substitute. They all looked drab and unattractive in comparison with the vanished Belgian. I backed out of the door, went down the stairs I had ascended in such a pleasant glow of anticipation, to turn my steps disconsolately homeward.

A week later I paid a belated visit to Josephine. She received me with open arms, overjoyed at my return. Indeed so affectionate was her greeting that I felt a twinge of conscience for my dereliction and unfaithfulness.

There were few visitors in the reception parlor, and as it seemed probable that we should have the evening free from interruption we lost half an hour or more acquainting each other with what had happened in the interval of our separation.

Needless to say, I omitted to tell her about Rose, and simply delayed my return to the city an extra two weeks to account for not having seen her earlier.

The story of my adventure in the country, which I confided to her quite frankly, convulsed her with laughter.

" What did you let her get away for?" she said. " When you start any thing like that you ought to finish it. If you had held her, and given her one good fucking she' d have kept quiet about it and had been after you for some pretty soon! Had her in a hay loft, and your fingers in her pussy, and then let her get away from you, I' m surprised!"

" I didn' t exactly let her," I said and rather sheepishly explained how I had been defrauded by the slippery little country maid.

" Well, I won' t try to get away, darling, but first you know what I want! I haven' t had a good frigging since you went away!" she laid her head against my cheek, separated her legs, and I put my hand over her cleft. A few preliminary caresses, and my finger tips began to play with the little protuberance which was so responsive to their touch. She shivered with pleasure and murmured:

" Darn it, Gilbert, you could win a girl with just your finger even if you didn' t have anything else. You' ve got just the right touch, and not one man in dozens ever learns it."

" Why do you like this better than the real way?" I asked.

" Oh, I don' t know. Variety, I guess. I get it so much the other way it doesn' t thrill me anymore. Maybe it' s because I' m lazy. This way you do all the work and I just lie still and enjoy myself. Some men like it better by hand then the regular way, too," she continued reflectively. " There was a girl here once, she left before you started coming here, that wouldn' t do anything but frig men with her hand. She was awfully pretty, but everyone thought she was balmy to expect to make any money that way. They called her Miss Jackoffsky in fun. But they soon found out she wasn' t nearly as crazy as they thought. Men started coming and asking for her, and they kept coming back, time after time, and the landlady finally decided she was Frenching me instead of jacking them off. She fixed a hole in the wall of her room, and we watched when she had a man in the room. But there was no fake about it, she didn' t do a single thing but jack them off with her hand. Sometimes the man would beg and coax her and offer extra money to let him fuck her, but she never gave in and that same man would come back again in a few days. It was the strangest thing; she got so man calls some of the other girls began to get jealous of her and were so nasty to her she finally left. I bet you there were men coming here asking for her for six months after she had gone, and they never would take another girl when we told them she wasn' t here. So you see," she concluded, smiling, " I' m not any worse than some of you men. It feels good, and I like it."

" A nice soft tongue would feel still better," I ventured.

" It might at that," she commented pensively, after a moment' s silence. " Sometime:"

In this moment there came a sudden knocking at the door, and from the other side, the voice of the mistress of the establishment calling on Josephine to hurry, as there was a crowd in the parlor, and all the girls were needed.

Inasmuch as I had already exceeded by far the time I was entitled to occupy Josephine, there was nothing for me to do but disgustedly put on my hat and coat and depart.

It was about eight- thirty and as I wandered down the street, wondering how to most enjoyably the evening with the small capital in my possession, I saw a train with the sign " Wonderland" approaching, and acting on impulse of the moment, I ran out and boarded it.

Wonderland was an amusement park situated on the outskirts of the city. Here were cheap shows, skating rinks, carousels, and an infinity of catch- penny devices. On holidays, Saturdays and Sundays, the place was well patronized, but there never was much activity on week nights, although many of the concessions remained open. It was reputed to be a fine place to " pick up" girls, although at this moment I had no other thought in mind than to kill an hour or two of time agreeably.

When we reached the park I got off, paid the small entrance fee and went inside. Few of the entertainment features were operating but here and there were signs of activity with barkers, pitchmen and touts shouting their wares or extolling the qualities of the entertainments. I idled along, indifferent to their supplications, for I had on previous occasions seen about all there was to be seen.

From a distant section came the strident but not unmusical notes of a mechanical organ, operating in conjunction with a merry- goround, and toward the source of this music I wended my way. Under a blaze of colored lights, to the tune of " Sweet Rosie O' Grady," tigers, giraffes, lions, horses, elephants and other gayly painted members of the animal kingdom were flying around in a dizzy circle, rising and falling with mechanical precision in what was supposed to be the equivalent of wild flight.

As I watched them flashing by on their never ending journey something caught my eye which instantly awakened more than merely passing interest. This something was a girl of thirteen or fourteen, sitting astride a ferocious tiger which, with uplifted, menacing claws, swayed backward and forward, as it whirled about the course. The object of my interest was out of sight almost before I had gotten a brief glimpse of her, but brief as it was it was sufficient to hold me there for further contemplation.

A mass of yellow curls bobbed up and down with the swaying of the feline steed and with each downward movement a short dress billowed up in the air displaying a generous expanse of flesh above the top of her hose.

I watched this seductive bit of femininity with increasing interest till the contrivance on which she was diverting herself came to a stop and she clambered down, displaying further expanses of flesh and panties as she swung her leg over the bark of the wooden effigy. Departing through the narrow exit, she ambled down a passage between two rows of ring throwing and other swindle schemes with me close at her heels and watching covertly over my shoulder, to see whether there were any parents or older companions in the background. I saw nothing to indicate that anyone besides myself was interested in her movements, and as she paused to inspect a display of knick- knacks in a window I sidled up to her and murmured in her ear:

" Having a good time, cutie?"

She looked me over appraisingly and with not but brief hesitation replied:

" Not very. Nearly everything' s closed up."