This was an unprecedented variation of the house regime, and I stared at her in surprise.
"Who is it?" I asked wonderingly.
"Don't sit there asking questions. Get up; comb your hair, put on a dressing gown and go downstairs."
Plainly, Madame was not in the best of humour at having been obliged to get out of bed at this hour. There was something ominously mysterious about this matter. In my mind I endeavoured to find an explanation. With chilling apprehension there came across my thoughts the suspicion that it was in some way connected with the reformatory. Maybe they had discovered how I was living and had come to get me! My face paled and I glanced toward Madame Lafronde. Her expression told me nothing.
"Is there anything wrong?" I whispered.
"You'll think there's something wrong if you ever have anyone call here again at this hour!"
"But…" I protested, "I have never made any morning appointments with anyone!"
"Oh, it's nothing serious. Here, slip this on," she answered, holding my dressing gown for me. "Tidy yourself a bit and hurry up so I can get back to sleep."
Nervously, I tied my short curls with a ribbon, dabbed a little powder on my face and followed her downstairs where, after motioning toward the parlour, she left me and retired in the direction of her own sleeping quarters.
Still wondering who in the world could have had the temerity to upset the house traditions by calling at this hour, I pushed aside the curtains and entered the room.
Standing with his back toward me, looking out of the window, was the figure of a man I did not at first recognize. I approached hesitatingly, and as he heard my footsteps, he turned and faced me.
For a moment I stood paralysed, unable to move or utter a word.
It was Rene.
The letter I had written to his friend with seemingly fruitless results had in the end been the instrument of our reunion, for through the address I had given in the letter Rene had been able to locate me without loss of time or difficulty.
He had come directly to the house, and Madame, on being informed that I was his sister, had consented to call me without delay.
In a flash we were in each other's arms, both talking at once. For an hour I sat on his lap, listening to the story of his adventures and misadventures. Shamefacedly, he confessed that, as I had divined, a long period of hardship, during which he had suffered many vicissitudes and disappointments, had been the cause of his silence.
"But, darling!" I interposed reproachfully, "I could have helped you so easily. I have lots of money saved, if I had only known how to reach you I could have sent you some!"
Our conversation was interrupted by the maid, who had come in to clean the parlour.
"Come on up to my room, darling, we can talk there, and I'll have the girl send us up some coffee and cakes!"
With his arm about my waist we ascended the carpeted and padded stairs. Within my room I hastily gathered up such pieces of clothing as were lying carelessly about and straightened out my disordered bed while Rene gazed about in evident wonderment.
"Gee, this is a regular palace you're in, Sis," he mused. "Just what kind of a place is it? That old dame wasn't going to let me see you until I told her you were my sister."
"Oh, Rene, don't you know what kind of a place it is?" I asked, in surprise.
"Well… I've got an idea. If s a kind of sporting house, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is, Rene."
"Gee, Sis, I'm sorry. I'll find some kind of work and get you out of it."
"But I don't want to get out! I'm getting along fine; its easy, and I don't mind it at all! Really, I don't! Madame Lafronde is awfully good to me, Rene, and you'll be surprised when you see how much money I've got!"
"It's supposed to be a tough life for a girl, but gee, Sis, you look absolutely topping. Word of honour," he added, standing in front of me and holding my arms, "you don't look a day older than you did when I went away. In fact…" he continued, eyeing me in a puzzled way, "you actually look younger!"
I laughed contentedly as he continued to look at me, perplexed.
"It's your hair, for one thing. Why did you cut it short? It's cute that way, but it makes you look like a kid!"
"That's what it's supposed to do," I replied, giggling. "Some of our most valued patrons are freaks that can't get a hard-on unless they think they're fucking an infant. Look…" I added, raising the short crepe-de- chine slip I had on under my dressing gown so that he could see my hairless cunny, "more of my disguise!"
"Gosh!" exclaimed Rene, breathing harder, "it gives me a funny feeling to see it like that, Sis! Reminds me of when it really was that way. But how did you get the hair off so smooth?" he continued, touching me gingerly with his fingers.
"It's some paste I put on it. It makes the hair come out clear down to the roots. Do you like it that way?" I asked, eyeing him mischievously.
"You used to think one wasn't much good until it had hair on it."
"Gee, Sis, it looks good enough to eat! And your legs, why, Sis, you always did have pretty legs, but honest, they're perfect now; you're the best-looking girl I ever saw!"
What feminine heart wouldn't have thrilled at such sincere tribute as this?
"Oh, Rene, you old darling!" I murmured, half crying, half laughing as I put my arms around him and squeezed up to him. "I missed you so much! I never have had a fellow half as good as you! I've just lain awake nights remembering all the things we used to do! Sometimes when fellows were doing it to me I closed my eyes and made believe it was you, but nobody could ever make me feel the same as you did!"
Against my stomach as I clung to him I could feel the warm pressure of something hard and rigid which was pulsing with enough vigour to make its movements perceptible through our respective clothing. I slipped my hand down inside the waistband of his trousers and sought out the disturbing element. A shiver passed through me as my fingers closed around the turgid object and a vertigo of longing which demanded immediate satisfaction, overwhelmed me.
"Oh, Rene, darling, it feels so good to have this in my hand again! I'll bet it's been up inside lots of girls since I had it last, though. Are those Canadian girls very pretty, Rene?" I asked, the eternal feminine rising to the surface as in my imagination I pictured Rene with other girls.
"Some of them aren't so bad, but I never saw one that could hold a candle to you, Sis!" Rene replied uncomfortably.
"Come on, Rene!" I panted, "let's do it quick! Nobody is up yet, but as soon as the girls are awake, I'll have to introduce you to them!"
I flung myself on the bed, and in a jiffy the object for which I was palpitating with burning ardour was buried in my trembling flesh.
With my arms entwined about Rene's neck I fluttered and moaned and received his thrusts in a regular frenzy of emotion. In it went, until I could feel his crisp hair pressed against my naked parts, and as if this penetration were not enough I hurled myself up against it and pressed with all my might so that it might reach the innermost depths of my being. Moaning, gasping, suspiring, and murmuring hysterical endearments, I clung to him, my arms clasped about his neck and my legs clenched over his strong back while my flanks quivered and strained to draw from his as quickly as possible the satisfying balm my body craved.
Hardly had I recovered from my first orgasm when there was a discreet knock at the door. While Rene hastily buttoned up his clothing I took from the maid a tray with coffee and toast. My hands were still trembling from the recent exhilaration, and my face was flushed and hot.
We lingered over our coffee for another hour, talking, laughing, reminding each other of little incidents which stood out prominently in our memories of the past.