"That's a nice way to come into a young lady's room, without even knocking," I scolded playfully. "Suppose I had been doing something I didn't want you to see?"
"In that case, I'd have, shut my eyes!" he responded. "But what would you be doing that you wouldn't want me to see?"
"Sometimes girls play with themselves when they feel naughty, and they wouldn't want a man to see that!"
"Ha!" he laughed, as he set me back on my feet and drew off his gloves.
"You're not confessing that you practice self-abuse, are you?"
"If I do, do you think I'd tell you?"
"Of course not! That's something no woman ever confesses to a man."
"Well, prepare for a shock then. I do it often."
"Amazing! I've known scores of girls and women and you're the only one that ever abused herself!"
"How do you know the others didn't?"
"Because I asked them and they said they didn't. Congratulations to you! Your score goes up another ten points!"
"Because I play with myself?"
"No! Because you admit it! Baby, you've given me an idea! I've… but wait… I'll speak of it later."
"Tell me now!"
"No; let's get comfortable and have a drink first. I've got lots of things I want to tell you."
"All right, but it's cruel to arouse a woman's curiosity and then make her wait."
"Let your curiosity suffer for a few minutes. I'll dispel it pretty soon."
"Well, then, let me hang up your things. Now sit down in this chair and make yourself comfortable. And here's that Scotch and seltzer you told me to get for you."
"It's for you, too. You like it, don't you?"
"Yes, but the trouble is, after I've had about three glasses I lose all my maidenly modesty."
"So much the better! Have three glasses right now!"
I laughed.
"Here goes number one. My modesty is now one third dissipated. What is it you've got to tell me first? I hope it's something nice."
"First, I want to tell you how absolutely topping you look. You're a good-looking girl no matter what you've got on, or haven't got on, of course, but those dresses, there's a sort of sophisticated childishness about them that's irresistible. They're devilishly ingenious. Are they your own idea, or did somebody else think them up?"
The dress referred to, as you may have guessed, was another of the little-girl frocks Daddy Heely had paid for. I had worn one the previous week and as it seemed to have taken Monty's fancy, I had selected another on the present occasion. It was a single-piece frock of black silk with a white belt, and long, tight sleeves. The cuffs, neck and breasts were lined with pleated ruffles and under laid with creamcoloured lace.
To go with these dresses I had some dainty high-heeled Spanish slippers and black silk hose which I rolled just above my knees and fastened with elastic band garters. Except for one detail the costume was eminently respectable. That detail was the extreme shortness of the dress.
It barely reached to my knees when I was standing, and when I sat in a normal posture there was no surplus material to be pulled down in a ladylike fashion. The dress was juvenile, but my legs were not. When I observed Daddy Heely's liking to sit on the floor at my feet I easily guessed the reason, and you can too.
Tonight, for certain optimistic reasons related to what Monty had first done on his previous visit, I had not put on any panties, and under the black silk frock was nothing except a diaphanous silk chemise, undervest, and brassiere.
I hesitated at this last question, not wanting to tell him the exact origin of the dresses, and as he did not press the query, I let it pass unanswered.
"What else have you to tell me?"
"Well, I must also tell you I've passed this whole blessed week positively thinking of nothing but you. I had such a ripping good time when I was here before that you've been on my mind ever since. The old pego has been in a continuous state of perturbation. Embarrassing at times, don't you know. Night before last I thought something really ought to be done about it. I tried the wife's door and it was unlocked, so I went in. She was asleep, or what I thought more likely, pretending to be asleep. The time is now, I thought, as I pulled the covers off her; the girl is here, and so is the place right there in the centre of her bird's nest.
If I hadn't been well soused, I'd have known better. This is what I got?"
And turning his face sidewise he indicated something I had not yet observed; three long, partially healed scratches down the length of his cheek.
"My heavens!" I exclaimed. "If she's like that, and you don't care for her, why do you want to do it with her?"
"Any port in a time of storm," he answered ruefully, shrugging his shoulders. "A man can't always make his cock behave."
"Well, I think that's strange! If I were a man and I didn't like a woman, I'm sure I wouldn't want to fuck her!"
"That's what you think, baby. When a man gets in a certain state, he has to do something. When I was in South Africa I even fucked kinkyheaded Kaffir girls. A half a loaf, or even a black loaf, is better than none!"
"And so, you got your pretty face scratched. It served you right. Is that all you got?"
"To all intents and purposes, yes. There were quite, a few commentaries and observations of an interesting nature thrown in for good measure."
I couldn't help laughing but at the same time, deep inside me, a little canker of jealousy that he should have wanted to do it with her began to form.
"Is your wife pretty?" I asked suddenly.
"About as pretty compared to you as a moth is in comparison to a beautiful, exotic butterfly."
His words relieved the vague foreboding which had come over me, and for the moment I forgot the matter.
"What else have you to tell me?"
"I want to ask you something. Suppose I should want to take you out some night to a show, a cabaret, a party, or maybe pass the night in a hotel, could you get away?"
"I guess so, I'd have to ask Madame Lafronde. She doesn't like to have, the girls go out, but sometimes she lets them. I've never been away all night. I suppose if you gave her something extra you could get her to let me, maybe."
"All right; that's that. She can't hold you in captivity. If she gets rambunctious I'll take care of things. And now that the incidentals are disposed of, the momentous question is: how shall we pass the night to get the most fun possible out of it?"
I leaned over close to him and, cupping my hands around my lips, slowly spelled out my recommendation in his ear: "F-u-c-k-i-n-g!"
"Moved, seconded, and unanimously adopted! Let's start!"
"Shall I get undressed now?"
"No, I want to enjoy that dress awhile first, if you don't mind rumpling it. Let's lie down on the bed and just tease for a little while."
"All right! But wait… you forgot something… you were going to tell me something else, you started to tell me and then you said you'd tell me later!"
"Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, laughing, sinking back into his chair. "Before I mention that, I think you'd better take those other two drinks!"
"Oh! It's something that's going to put a strain on my modesty, is it?"
"Better not ask any questions until after you've had the drinks."
"You're torturing me with curiosity! All right, here goes one… and… here goes the other. That makes three altogether. My modesty is now in a dormant state!"
"Well," he said, still laughing, "you put the idea in my head with your nonsense about playing with yourself. You made me think of something odd, a blank void in my life. I've been all over the world, I've lived with a dozen women more or less and enjoyed the transitory favours of hundreds of others. I've seen all kinds of naughty shows and exhibitions, and if anyone had asked me, I'd have sworn there wasn't a single act in the whole encyclopaedia of sexual arts I hadn't witnessed.