"If he does that to her before my eyes I'll cream despite anything I can do to hold it back. I know I shall!" I thought to myself.
In the light of experience throughout subsequent years I confess this: that the sight of another woman being Frenched by a man, or a woman Frenching a man, reacts upon me more violently than any other spectacle of a lewd nature. My senses are excited to a frenzy at the sight of this act, and if I let myself go I can have an orgasm without even touching myself, but simply through the impulse conveyed to the genital system through the trajectory of the eye.
Having accommodated Hester comfortably on his strong chest, Mr.
Hayden reached over and took me by the arm, manifesting by his motions that I was to seat myself across his middle, impaled upon the turgid emblem of masculinity, behind Hester. Obeying his wordless indications I crouched over him, passing my arm around Hester and clasping her plump bubbies in my hand. Then, gently, breathlessly, I sank down until I felt the entire length of that glorious member throbbing within the living sheath I was providing for it.
But, alas, to my consternation, barely had I perceived the contact of his crisp hair on my naked cunny than my emotions, overriding all powers of resistance, as though deriding my futile efforts to hold them in abeyance, rebelling incontinently, loosed themselves and in a second I was gasping, writhing and suspiring in a regular paroxysm of passionate ecstasy.
As the reverberations gradually died away and my thoughts took on a semblance of coherency, I was filled with mortification. What would Mr. Hayden think of such amazing lubricity and precipitation? Hester, surprised at first, had twisted around, and now burst into laughter.
"What happened?" she gasped.
"I don't know!! I did it… I couldn't help it!" I answered, shamefaced.
Mr. Hayden was also laughing.
"You're a fast worker, Sister," he said, his sides shaking, and realizing that I was momentarily, at least, exhausted by the orgasm, he added compassionately: "Better get off and rest a moment while Hester and I catch up with you!"
I discharged myself and threw my still trembling body on the bed beside them. With his hands against Hester's knees Mr. Hayden pushed her backward to take the place I had vacated and a moment later his cock slid in between her legs. Crouching over him, supporting herself on her hands, Hester worked gently up and down on the glistening shaft, alternating from time to time with a twisting, rolling movement of her hips as she sank down upon his member, completely hiding it from view.
As I watched this sensuous play the tide of my own passions began to gather anew. Yielding to sudden impulse I inserted my hand between Hester's thigh and got my fingers around the base of the white column which was transfixing her. With each of her downward lunges my hand was compressed between the two bodies, and each time it was compressed my own clitoris throbbed in sympathy.
Hester began to moan softly. A delicate color crept into her pretty cheeks, and her movements became more vigorous. As I perceived the more forceful pressure of her moist cunny crushing down upon my fist, and the strong, regular pulsations in the hard flesh about which my fingers were clenched, the fires of reawakened lust again blazed within me. My sexual potency was back in full force.
In this opportune moment Mr. Hayden murmured something to Hester.
Instantly she ceded the post of honour, slipped forward, and again crouched over his face. A second later I was on the throne she had vacated, and with my arms embracing her from behind, was quivering in response to the throbbing of the rigid shaft which penetrated me and filled me with its soul-stirring warmth.
To the accompaniment of Hester's low moans as a vigorous and active tongue teased her organism into expression I gasped out my own ecstasy and clung to her, half-fainting, while jet after jet of the hot balsam of life flung itself against my womb.
I was no longer a novice. I had graduated from the chippy stage of harlotry and was a full-fledged practitioner of the oldest profession. I was now a professional prostitute.
Mr. Hayden came regularly, adhering faithfully to his program of impartiality, and his visits were interludes in which both Hester and I forgot the sordid, commercialised circumstances under which we were prostituting our bodies and enjoyed ourselves like healthy, robust young animals.
CHAPTER 7
The next patron to whom my companionship was pledged by the astute Madame Lafronde was Mr. Heely. Mr. Heely had been until now what was termed an occasional parlour visitor. He drank little and had never taken a girl upstairs, but he was very liberal with gratuities and it was suspected that he was more than well-to-do. He was a man somewhat between fifty-five and sixty, very courtly and dignified, a gentleman of the old school.
Until my advent in the bordello he had, on the occasion of his rather infrequent visits, confined himself to sitting quietly in a corner, a silent onlooker as a rule, sipping an occasional peculiar combination of liquor which was mixed in accordance with his own instructions.
Sometimes he would engage a girl in conversation and after he had departed the subject of the conversation would be reported with considerable amusement. The nice old gentleman could find nothing more interesting to discuss with a half-naked girl than politics, economics and post-war social problems!
Nevertheless, the rewards which were falling to girls who were alert enough to accord him courteous hearing were sufficiently generous to have attracted Madame Lafronde's unerring eye, and she had him tabulated for future attention.
Now I had observed a more than casual interest in Mr. Heely's attitude toward me in the course of my ambulation about the salon, and had perceived the covert squeeze he always gave my hand as he pressed a liberal tip into it after selecting the single cigar he invariably tucked away in his pocket. Consequently, it was with no great surprise that on being called downstairs early one evening to the little private room which Madame Lafronde reserved for confidential business, I found Mr. Heely with her and learned that I was the subject of the interview.
"Dear Mr. Heely has taken a fancy to you, child. If it were anyone but him, I would positively not consider the matter for a moment. But Mr.
Heely is an honourable gentleman, my child. He knows your… ah… untarnished condition, my dear, and he will be quite contented to… ah… enjoy your companionship without encroaching on your… ah… virginal integrity. In fact, my dear, Mr. Heely doesn't care for the sophisticated type, and it was exactly your… ah… so apparent maidenly innocence which intrigued his… ah… admiration. Hereafter, my dear, you will be at liberty to receive Mr. Heely any evening he wishes to call on you. You may let him select one night each week."
Mr. Heely bowed courteously.
"But I hope my attentions will not be distasteful to Miss Jessie," he interposed gently. "Perhaps we should consult her first before coming to any definite understanding. I assure her, and you also, Madame, that I will be most considerate in my demands, and will endeavour to reward each of you in a suitable manner for your kindness. Do you think you could care for me as a good friend?" he added anxiously, turning to me.
Madame Lafronde's peculiar words had filled me with amazement. I did not know what to make of the conversation. Mr. Heely was watching me with an intent, almost supplicating look on his face. I glanced uncertainly at Madame Lafronde. As I did so, the lid of her left eye descended slowly. Her face was solemn, impassive.