Her head with its dark upswept curls was bowed over the task, allowing only a glimpse of her warm gold features, the sharp young nose or the almond eyes. As she toiled on hands and knees, her back was slim and straight, her waist hollowed downwards a little. The lad at the glass watched open-mouthed and wide-eyed from behind her. In such a posture, the pants-denim was tight and smooth as a skin over the deliciously rounded cheeks of Miss Jones's bottom. Better still, the shape of her figure is such that she appeared to be offering them deliberately parted-a rear access between her legs-to the lad who gazed upon her. The hammerhead in his trouser pocket seemed larger than at first and the industrious boy was evidently trying to polish it a little, as I judged. Throwing discretion to the winds, he moved forward and stood over the minx, as if anxious that she should see his interest in her. A pale dark-haired girl appeared in the shadows of the emporium and said something which attracted Miss Jones's attention. But Miss Jones, randy little piece that she is, merely glanced at the lad and then turned a malicious smile upon the other girl. Unnerved for a moment by the second girl's appearance, the lad withdrew, only to return a moment later to the object of his silent adoration. I saw the pale dark-haired girl, a solemn little spy, reappear and speak to Miss Jones again. I swear I could read the words on her lips. “It's that man, Car'-he's watching you again!” Miss Jones finished her task and stood up. She walked away to where the other girl was standing. If you have any further doubts as to her moral character, lay them to rest. With her back to the lad, Miss Jones bent over tightly, as if offering a final derisive view of what he loved so much, and looked round at the same time to see what effect her display had upon him! The sight of her backside's trim round cheeks presented in so vulgar a manner made him tremble as if in a mild seizure. He turned a moment later, thoughtful and subdued. I was intrigued to see that the hammerhead had vanished as by the wave of a magician's wand. With a malicious light in the catlike beauty of her face and a giggle on her lips, Miss Jones drew back into the shadows. When the randy young bitch returned to the Villa Lola, I had been there some time and was dressing for dinner. Hearing sounds of her in the next bedroom, I could not resist making use of the convenient peep-hole which a previous master had installed. It was not mere voyeurism on my part, Gussie. I had already watched Miss Jones display herself to her admirers in a manner which had clearly given her a secret satisfaction, however much she appeared to scorn their attention. Now I longed to see what the true effect of it would be upon the little wriggler herself. Making not a sound, I sat on a chair, removed the little round shutter, and applied my eye to the aperture. Miss Jones was standing before the long mirror, admiring herself. The dark slanting eyes with their tight heavy lids were motionless, the tall brow, sharp nose and fine-boned features made a study in immobility and composure. She seemed to hesitate and I wondered if she might restrain her triumph until she received a visit from the man to whose pleasure Mr. Bowler has assigned her. Can you not guess, my dear cousin? It is “Signore,” the sublime poet of Patria and Amore-our neighbour- whose needs Miss Jones serves. Yet he has many calls on his time and might not have had the leisure to ride her round love's steeplechase last night. So it proved to be.
Without drawing her gaze from the contemplation of her own mirrored beauty, she adjusted the three glasses of the dressing-table this way and that. I did not at first understand the purpose of what she was doing. However, Miss Jones undid her working-pants and pushed them down, stepping out of the tangle of cloth which lay about her ankles.
She also unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off so that it fell to the dark richness of the Persian carpet. At last she was naked, like a randy little gold-skinned odalisque or a lewd almond-eyed temple dancer. Then she turned and walked across the room with that tight lascivious little swagger of her trim hips which is her most characteristic movement, I began to understand why she had altered the angles of the triple mirrors on the dressing-table. As she walked, the randy little piece could watch herself reflected from front and rear, thanks to the triple mirror in one corner and a finely framed costume mirror that stood against the opposite wall. She made her way to the long Regency sofa with its thickly padded crimson velvet and its ornamental scroll at one end. It was on this that all the mirrors had been trained. As she lay there, on whichever side, she could see her light gold beauty reflected from the front and the back simultaneously. She stretched out naked on the soft crimson velvet, the upper half of her body turned over a little on her front and one knee drawn up slightly, which gave a delightfully saucy distortion to the perfect shape of her bottom-cheeks. Posing like this, she was the boudoir beauty-lascivious and perverse-of which Romantic Europe has dreamt this past century! There is, to be sure, a perversity in the manner in which Cara Jones uses her body, the lewd postures which she so instinctively adopts. Yet her true perversity is in her cunning young mind. By the aid of the mirrors, she was now using the sight of her own body to excite herself! As she saw the slim upward branching of her Levantine-coloured thighs, her straight slender back and narrow waist, the smooth tan of her trim bottom-cheeks, she began to caress herself gently. At first it was no more than a gentle self-stroking of those parts which are agreeable to stroke-the flanks and belly, a little firming of her nipples between finger and thumb. But the sight of her doing this to herself was as if she had been spying on a pair of lesbian lovers. Unable to resist, Miss Jones slid a hand down and intruded her fingers between her thighs. She manualised with the slow expertise of one who has had ample practice-and expert tuition!-in the art. I have always thought it of the utmost importance that a slave-girl of whatever age should be obliged to self-love regularly and should be taught to do so with skill. It relieves those troublesome feminine tensions and leads to more ready obedience of one's own commands. So, like a lewd little harem wanton, Miss Jones performed upon herself now. Yet I cannot too strongly insist that her pleasure was ten times the greater for being able to see herself do it. She is entirely self-sufficient for she loves no one as intensely as herself. I watched her enjoy the most ecstatic bliss of honeymoon romance with no other person near her. She brought herself off twice, shuddering and groaning, before the time when the maid knocked at her door to announce that dinner was to be served in half an hour. The nimble fingers seemed to heed no warning. They parted the trim gold buttocks, stroked and tickled her between them. They plagued the slippery pussy again and again, tickling the little clitoris until Miss Jones shuddered and groaned with the delicious torment of it. They milked her sly cunt until she threshed and squirmed her thighs on the fine sofa. Once she tried, without success, to spank herself. How eagerly I would have done that to her, for the little bitch made me late for dinner!