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

Applying my mouth more firmly against the coral folds I succeeded in getting her clitoris compressed between my lips and then imparted a vigorous suction to it. Almost instantly, the hitherto motionless form began to show signs of life. I felt vibrant tremors in the flesh of her thighs where they pressed against my cheeks and perceived the muscular contractions of body and limbs as her physical organism began to yield to my ministrations. Maintaining her clitoris a prisoner between tightly compressed lips, and without relaxing the suction I was applying to it, I again glanced up. Her eyes were wide open, distended, and fixed upon me with the intent, strained expression of approaching orgasm. The slender fingers, which before had rested idly upon the arms of the chair, were now clenched tightly around them.

My own passions augmented by the knowledge that she was near the edge of orgasm, I slipped my hands under the cheeks of her bottom and pressed her closer to me. This movement brought a quick response. There was a violent, spasmodic shivering in the thighs which were compressed about my cheeks, and a sudden flow of moisture bathed my lips. The pressure of her thighs increased for a moment, and then relaxed. I felt her fingers on my forehead, pushing me away. I arose to my feet, trembling from the effects of the intense stimulation. Again she was lying with head thrown back, eyes closed. Except for the rise and fall of heaving breasts she might have been one of those exquisite, little tinted porcelain statues one may sometimes see in private collections in Holland – jewels of erotic art in which no tiny detail of life and color is omitted. The heaving of her breasts subsided. The violet eyes opened, and scrutinized me quizzically.

" Was that what you were thinking about, Gilbert?"

And then, little fingers closed over the edge of her gown and drew it around her naked body, veiling it forever from my view. A shortlived romance was over, and as I look back over the span of years, it seems more a dream than a reality.

In the early part of the year 1922 my grandmother died in Scotland leaving, as estate, bequests in money to various members of the family including myself, and shortly thereafter I received as my share the tidy sum of one thousand pounds sterling.

This unexpected acquisition of ready cash made possible the realization of a dream I had long entertained – a visit to Paris. My father tried to dissuade me, urging the desirability of investing the money in some manner calculated to assure my future. But as in the past, I paid little heed to his counsel and proceeded with my plans. I had heard and read of wonderous things to be seen and enjoyed in the French capital, and was avid to experience its delights in person.

With two hundred and fifty pounds in my possession, I embarked for Paris. I had studied the French language in a desultory fashion and although I could not speak it with any degree of fluency I knew enough to understand and make myself understood.

The visitor in Paris with money to spend has no difficulty in discovering ways to spend it and people anxious to assist in the task. Indeed they seem to gravitate toward one as though literally endowed with some uncanny instinct for smelling money, and had it not been for a most fortuitous accident, the relatively small amount of money with which I was provided would have been greedily snatched from me, without having sufficed to cover a fraction of the program I had outlined. The accident referred to was the chance meeting of a British friend, some years older than I, and well versed in things Parisian. He was on the point of returning to England, but before departing he gave some pertinent advice about trusting myself to affable strangers, and introduced me to a member of the French Surete, or Secret Police, who, during his hours of leisure, which seemed to be plentiful, was disposed to act as a confidential guide and companion in consideration of a modest fee.

And a better guide it would not have been possible to find, for not only did this man know every inch of Paris, but his presence assured me respect, and protection from impositions. He understood English fairly well, and we formed a sincere friendship.

In his company I began to learn something of the real Paris night life – not the flamboyant surface, with its imported American jazz orchestras, etc., but the secret undercurrent, which only the initiated could penetrate. My new companion was familiar with secret resorts from the lowest and most abject dens of vice in subterranean cellars to luxurious temples located in respectable appearing edifices, scattered through the city.

On the occasion of one such outing, I struck up an acquaintance with a well dressed cultured gentleman who like myself was unaccompanied. We had a few drinks together and the man, evidently taking a liking to me, invited me to accompany him the following evening to an exclusive club in which a motion picture was to be displayed. He has seen the picture once, but was so impressed with it, that he wished to see it a second time. I was much interested, for I had not as yet had an opportunity to see a picture of this nature, so gladly accepted his invitation, agreeing to meet him the following evening.

Half afraid that his friendship had been born of the numerous libations we had shared, and that it would be forgotten before the birth of a new day, I was early at the prearranged meeting place. My fears were unfounded, for punctually at the hour agreed, he appeared.

We ate dinner together, and when it was concluded, we took a taxi which turned so many corners I quickly lost all sense of direction. We would up finally in a quiet street, and came to a stop before a large stone edifice which, as far as its outward appearance indicated, might have been the residence of some banker or retired politician.

A touch of the bell, a few words exchanged between my companion and the doorman, and we were inside. Turning our hats and coats over to another attendant, we proceeded down a hall which led us to a spacious saloon, in one extremity of which was a stage. Comfortable chairs, lounges, and sofas were distributed about the place, in number sufficient to accommodate a hundred or more guests. At the moment of our entry, the saloon was lighted and there were, between men and women, some sixty or seventy persons present.

I glanced around curiously. This was clearly a place of the elite. The women were gowned in the height of fashion and most of the men were in formal dress. Colored liquors were being served in thin long stemmed glasses and as my companion and I crossed the room toward an unoccupied settee, he was greeted familiarly on all sides.

As soon as we were seated I began a survey of the feminine element and quickly observed that among the women present were many, both young and beautiful. The entire lack of formality and constraint, the freedom of their movements, the generous display of breasts, backs, shoulders and legs was suggestive of the demimonde, and I could hardly restrain a feeling of envy toward the men whose company they shared. In imagination I followed them after the conclusion of such entertainment as this we were about to witness to luxuriously appointed apartments where with senses aflame, they abandoned themselves to wild orgies of lust.

As my gaze wandered from face to face it came to rest upon a young woman of rare and striking beauty over whom a vapid faced Frenchman was hovering and showering with exaggerated attentions. The woman I guessed to be in the neighborhood of twenty- five. She was dressed in black, and the front of her gown was cut so low that it barely reached the nipples of two singularly large and beautiful breasts, whose upper halves were entirely exposed. Always an admirer of pretty breasts, this exotic charm alone would have been sufficient to engage my attention. Her figure was slim, a fact which further accentuated the prominence and contour of her breasts. Raven black hair threw the pallor of a face of lily- like whiteness into sharp contrast. She did not look French and my impression was that she was Italian or Spanish.