"Yes, Sir," I answered, "I'm sure I could care for you. Very much indeed, Sir."
The alliance was pledged over three tiny glasses of wine and it was agreed that the following evening I was to be at Mr. Heely's disposition and thereafter the same night each week.
As soon as the interview was concluded I rushed upstairs to find Hester. Into her attentive ear I poured the details of the mysterious contract. My mystification was so genuine that she nearly burst with laughter.
"But what does he want with me, what does he expect me to do?" I begged.
"The old fool has taken it for gospel truth that you're only fifteen years old and that you've never had a cock in you," she answered finally, wiping her eyes. "He'll be a regular gold mine. I had one like that once.
He preached religion to me and sucked me off between sermons. I'll bet all you'll have to do with that man will be to let him go down on you.
Those old fellows always want to do that. You'll have to pretend it's the first time, act ashamed, take on, cry about it afterwards a little and, baby, will he fill your stocking with bank notes!"
How different people were in real life to what they seemed, I reflected, as the picture which Hester's words evoked passed before my mind's eye. That dignified, cultured, respectable, elderly gentleman going down on me! It was too bizarre, too preposterous. It didn't seem possible.
Hester broke in on the train of thoughts which were passing through my head.
"Really, darling, you're lucky. Imagine having something like that supposed Italian count wished on you."
"I heard Lafronde tell Rhoda she could chase him if he got too rough with her."
This count, real or alleged, constituted something of a house scandal.
He had the whipping mania, and though Rhoda submitted to him voluntarily, the pain he inflicted on her caused her to shriek in a way which alarmed everyone within hearing.
"I think she's half in love with the crazy brute. Do you know what he does to her? He puts her across his knees just like a baby, and whips her on the bare bottom with one of her slippers. He keeps her bottom black and blue."
"What in the world does he do it for? What possible pleasure can he possibly get from hurting her?"
"Oh, what do any of them do funny things for? It gives him a hard-on, I suppose. Imagine having a man whip you like that and then wanting to fuck you afterwards."
Madame Lafronde opened the door and came in.
"You'll have to get up early tomorrow morning and go shopping with me," she said. "Mr. Heely has given some very specific instructions about your wearing apparel. Your present mode of dress is not in keeping with his ideas as to what nice girls should wear. And…" she continued dryly, glancing at a pencilled list in her hand, "he has provided the funds necessary to renovate your wardrobe."
As a result of the shopping expedition which was duly effected the following day, I found myself in possession of some new clothes which, though of the finest and most expensive material, were so incongruously at variance with the ambient in which they were to be worn that I could only look at them with amazement.
There were three black silk dresses with cream-coloured lace cuffs and bodices, all of the same general type, but varying in minor details of style and trimming. They were very beautiful, but of a style suitable for extremely young misses, and reached barely to my knees.
Underwear there was in profusion, but instead of the slithery, diaphanous tinted silk I would have selected, it was of the finest English linen and cambric; slips, petticoats, and panties with little bands of lace around their edges, and all snow-white. There were two pair of little, round-toed, low-heeled patent leather pumps, and a long narrow box filled with black silk hose.
As we unpacked the purchases Madame Lafronde said:
"Ah, yes, I nearly forgot to tell you, my dear, that your new gentleman has a special abhorrence of rouge, lipstick and face powder. He prefers nature in the raw. So you may abstain from employing your usual artifices on the occasion of his visits."
I nodded my head in assent. My mind was still floundering in a maze of contradictory whys and wherefores.
"Can you tell me, please, just what that man expects of me?"
"My girl, I haven't the slightest idea. But I don't doubt he'll treat you kindly. Men of his age often have very curious whims and ideas. My experience is that it's profitable to cater to them. Use your brains; find what pleases him, and act accordingly. If the screwy old fool thinks he has found a fifteen-year-old innocent running around naked in a whorehouse don't destroy his illusion. It will pay dividends. But remember this: he made the proposition himself that he would respect your alleged purity and right now he intends to live up to it. But if he runs true to form, before very long he'll be itching to get his pecker between your legs. And after he's fucked you two or three times it will be good-bye Mr. Heely. Now I'm only speaking in the light of experience. There are exceptions to every rule, and he might be one of them. So use your brains, girl, use your brains. This is your chance to show what you can do."
At eight o'clock I bathed preparatory to dressing for the evening. One of the pretty little black frocks was laid out on the bed waiting for me, together with the childish underwear, the silk hose and the patent leather pumps.
Having a little time to spare I decided to get out a jar of depilatory cream I had bought that day with the idea of using it in preference to a razor. To my great satisfaction it removed the hair thoroughly and easily without leaving the suggestion of a stubble which, try as I might, I had not been able to eliminate entirely with a safety razor.
The pubic mound and the sides of my cunny felt as smooth and velvety to the touch as a baby's skin. According to the information which accompanied the preparation, hair would not reappear for some time as it was destroyed clear down to the roots. This would be a great convenience, as the task of shaving frequently was growing irksome.
When Mr. Heely appeared promptly at the specified hour of ten, I was all ready for him, waiting demurely in my room, dressed in a little girl's silk frock which barely reached my knees, my hair neatly combed back and tied with a ribbon, and my face sedately free of any artificial colouring or embellishment. There had been much giggling and laughter when earlier in the evening I had paraded this ensemble before the eyes of my companions. Even Madame Lafronde had laughed.
In one hand Mr. Heely carried a large bouquet of beautiful hothouse flowers, in the other a square package containing a box of delicious candied fruit confections. I thanked him for his gifts, took his hat and coat, and arranged the flowers on my little table.
What should I say to him? What should I do? The thoughts buzzed in my head as I toyed with the flowers to gain time to decide, and ended by doing nothing except sitting down before him to wait for him to begin a conversation.
Considering our previous speculations and Hester's suppositions the visit simmered down to what constituted almost ludicrous simplicity and naivete. Mr. Heely did absolutely nothing more than sit in my room and talk, for the most part on generalized subjects, departing from these orthodox themes only now and then to pass compliments upon my appearance and conduct in his dignified, courtly way. He manifested pleasure at the good taste with which my wardrobe had been selected, and seemed to feel that I was now dressed in a seemly and befitting manner. He stayed for about two hours.
When he arose to go, he took my hand and pressed a kiss lightly upon the back of it. As he lowered it a folded bank note was resting in my palm. I did not want to look at it in his presence, so did not know until after he had gone the value of it. Before bidding me good-night he said:
"May I have the pleasure of calling upon you again next Friday, my dear?"