She did not, I confess, seize upon the invitation at once.
“We'll see,” said Julie with an impatient toss of her fine blond mane, “Perhaps you may escort me. For the moment, though, you'd best leave off following me as you have been doing the past half-hour. Even if I shouldn't mind it and shouldn't call a policeman, my friend-my boyfriend that is-won't stand for it. A hefty fellow, he is.”
With that, the little minx went on her way. Discouraged? You think me discouraged, Maude? Never, I promise you! I have spoken to my idol, the object of my adoration. I will not be denied. I cannot be denied, having come so far. I know who she is and where she may be found. I have touched her hand and heard her voice. I have seen the shape of her pretty bottom-cheeks and the line of the scandalous little panties which she wears. I shall triumph, Maude. Believe me, I shall triumph. If I should be denied now-if I do not triumph-I have no idea how I can endure it. To tell you the truth, my thoughts about Julie since seeing her close and hearing her voice have become a little unworthy of the great Petrarchian love to which I aspired a few nights ago. I think more and more of Julie with her knickers down.
Julie with her slim and childishly fragile thighs spread wide. Julie with her mouth rounded upon my stiffness. Julie arse-upwards, cheekily inviting my attentions over the sofa cushions. Julie shuddering and whimpering as the pulse of passion is released deep in her belly.
I daresay all those men who view her behind the counter or at her chores have similar thoughts to mine. Yet none feels the effect of them as deeply as I. Oh yes, I am in love, dear Maude. My case is worse than it was to begin with. Quite incurable. Your own devoted Augustus Anonymous Augustus and Lady Maude V. Lady Maude to Augustus Lago di Garda, 11 June Augustus, dear!
How could you? How can you be so lacking in self-respect, in prudence, in loyalty to your family and your class? Do you forget who you are that you demean yourself before such a base creature as this Julie? Once and for all, my cousin, she is a tart, a common shopgirl, almost a whore I suspect. If not for your own sake, then for ours, think of what you are doing! She is not worth a single outpouring of seed from such a man as yourself. And I must say, Gussie, that were I more closely your kin than I am, my concern would be to bring proceedings before the Commissioners in Lunacy to have you protected from your own follies. Next you will be telling us that you wish to marry the little slut! A fine thing indeed to find such a face at the far end of-the dining-table or upon the pillow beside you in your own bedroom. I really think, my love, that Dr. Raspail has proved a disaster in the matter of your neurasthenia. Will you not reconsider, Augustus my dear? Will you not, after all, leave England and come to us here in Italy for the season? The light and air would do you good.
The Italian way of dealing with such problems of the heart as yours would at once put many matters into perspective for you. If you will not consent to that, then, I beg you, let my own friends make arrangements for your entertainment at home. I do not expect you to live like an anchorite. Of course you must have young women to occupy your attention. Indeed, your present malaise gives you an appetite for the strong meat of shopgirls and trollops. So be it. They shall be provided until you have had your fill of them and are prepared to return to the rarer and finer delicacies offered by young girls of our own class. You are at present in a dangerous state, mon ami, where you really may ask the whining and sullen Julie to be your wife. And if you do not attempt that, I fear you may be guilty of some act which may cause her to scream for a policeman. Oh, have no fear. There will be no legal action. The police do not come quite as cheap as they once did. On the other hand, there are few of them who would not be content to ignore Julie's protests and walk away with your sovereigns chinking in their pockets. Yet the scandal may spread just the same.
What is it you want, Gussie? Only ask and it shall be provided.
Do you yearn for a coltish young blonde with the features of her pale oval face as hard and crude as Julie's? Must she have sturdy hips, shortish thighs, and full bottom-cheeks? Why, you shall have that creature in your bed this very week! Do you prefer a strapping young wench with lank dark hair and fringe, firm pale features, straight back, trim thighs, bottom cheeks sturdy and broadened? Only say what you would have! Would you like a pair of sisters on the threshold of their teens-daughters of good middle-class family? Then you may have brown-eyed and brown-haired Joanne of the rather weighty hips and seat, partnered by her cadette, Claire, of the trim little figure, cropped hair, and gymnastic ability. If it is none of these, only whisper your secret longings and they shall be provided for. Do you secretly long to see Joanne and Claire head-to-tail on your bed in their passion? Would you embed your manly stiffness deep between the puppy-fat cheeks of Joanne's bottom? You have only to ask, dear Gus, and you shall enjoy thrills enough to make you forget the very existence of the wretched little tart, Julie.
Best of all, you should come to us in Italy. I promise you there is entertainment enough! Since I last wrote, matters have developed most amusingly here. Not only do we have Carissima Jones at our disposal but the nymph Marit, a Scandinavian student of fifteen who has been put under Mr. Bowler's tutelage for a month or two while she learns the language and customs of Italy. I assure you, dear cousin, that Marit will offer you all the charms of Julie with the added thrill of a young girl whose body and mind have not yet reached the full growth of womanhood, so that you may train her in the way you would have her develop. You do not believe me? Very well. Imagine yourself in this resort, somewhere near the pink paving of the promenade and the palm trees stirring in the breeze. The youth of the town and the young students gather there in noisy groups. Among them you would find Marit and some other girl who takes language lessons at the summer academy. One sight of Marit would make you forget the little tart by whom you have been ensnared! To be sure you shall have her dressed in the same blouse and tight denim of your idol. What would you see? A pretty little creature, charmingly indifferent to the authority of her elders and betters, Marit has those firm and pert little features which match the lightly sun-browned silkiness of her fair skin. The tilt of her nose and the tight little chin are as charming as her blue eyes and the light brown waves of lustrous hair which are worn loose and trimmed just where they lie upon her shoulders. You might see her in some cheeky little summer cap, sitting at a cafe table with the others, smoking a forbidden cigarette, and you would long only for her. Mark's figure is just of the sort you prefer. Indeed she likes to show it in the tightest jeans-denim of beachwear. Her legs and thighs are still narrow and straight, quite as slender as those which you admire through the bookshop window! Her hips are lean as those of any fourth-form schoolgirl and Marit's bottom-cheeks are still slim and tightly rounded. You have only to join us here, dear Gussie, and this nymph of Norway shall be yours with all her adolescent promise. You hesitate! Perhaps Marit at fifteen is not ready for such things as you envisage? You would be quite wrong in that, my dear, and I will prove you so with the evidence of my own eyes. Marit has the certain knowing hardness about her which betrays her knowledge of men, though I do not think she has experienced much even with boys of her own age. You would alter that for her, would you not? How do I know all this? Last night there occurred the most amusing incident of all. The Signore with his bold eyes and waxed moustache paid us a call after dinner to share coffee and liqueurs and to inquire most charmingly after our well-being during Mr. Bowler's short absence in Venice. At a late hour, he took his leave and was shown from the room by Miss Jones. Mark had long since been despatched to her room so that we might talk of things freely in her absence. The Signore is most intrigued by the Scandinavian surname Aas, which he feels sure must be derived from a vulgarity of some sort! Ten minutes after he had left my company, I went upstairs to my own room and was soon aware of a murmuring which came from beyond the wall. Our randy young Miss Jones was not alone in her bedroom! You may be sure that I lost no time in drawing up a chair and applying my eye to the spy-hole in the wall. One does not hear very much, for the walls are conveniently thick and I do not suppose that Miss Jones or the Signore who was with her now thought that anything of their activities could be overheard. To my astonishment, Miss Jones was dressed as if for her work the other afternoon, in tight pants and blouse. Indeed she was now performing the very chores which had attracted the attention of several gentlemen to the shop window. The Signore sat in a chair behind her, one hand playing with his waxed moustache while he watched her. He was for all the world like the young man whose trouser front had bulged with such a load while he watched Miss Jones at work on all fours!