"Darling girl!"
"I do not care much for the music tonight, Papa. The instrumentation is too much for me. It gets on my brain. It makes me nervous. Let us sit back in the box. My head aches."
"Dear child! Let me kiss it-so-on the temples-on the cheek. Now say if it is not better? Give me again your dear little hand to hold in mine."
"Kiss me again, Papa. I love your kisses."
In the shadow of the box he kissed me long and voluptuously on the lips. He took my hand. He pressed it. He laid it on his left thigh. He must surely have counted on my inclination for pleasure. I felt a something which throbbed beneath the soft impression of my hand.
"You are not quite in spirits tonight, Eveline. I think the music, as you say, is too much for you."
"It is too bad to blame Wagner for my nervousness, dear papa, yet I know I am a little distraught."
I leaned my head on his shoulder. I pressed more firmly on his thigh. I felt the throbbing mass increase in volume. I turned my eyes up to his. We read each other's thoughts.
I felt his hand, trembling with passion, pass round my satin-robed bust. I even moved that the action might be facilitated. He sighed with pleasure-with longing-undeveloped, but to become realized.
"Poor papa! You are out of sorts also."
"No, Eveline, not out of sorts, but this atmosphere is not agreeable. I am half suffocated. I want air. Suppose we leave and go to a restaurant and have some supper? You hardly dined at all."
"Oh, Papa, that would be lovely!"
We descended-called a cab. Sir Edward ordered the driver to go to a certain well-known but somewhat retired restaurant.
We were easily installed. A little charming boudoir on the first floor-what they would call in Paris a cabinet particulier.
The obsequious waiter, having deposited a sumptuous supper on the table with champagne of approved mark, left us to ourselves.
"How good of you, Papa! This is fun!"
I perched myself upon his knee. My seat was not altogether a comfortable one. He shifted about. There was something terribly hard and unyielding beneath me.
We supped well. I had an appetite. The champagne warmed our blood. I laughed. I was gay.
I put a daintily booted little foot upon a chair. In so doing, I let him see well up my calf to my knee.
"How clumsy I am! I must have had too much champagne."
"My darling, let me try. See, I can fasten it at once."
"Oh, but you tickle, you naughty, dear papa! It has come undone again!"
His hand trembled with excitement. He was in no mood to draw back. His fine eyes looked imploringly upon me, alternately fierce and loving.
I nestled close to him.
"Poor Papa! Eveline loves to please her darling papa!"
My dress was well open in front. His hand still lingered on my knee, on the silk stocking around with I sought to clasp my garter. I kissed him warmly on the lips. He returned my kiss with interest. He pressed his left hand on the back of my neck. He pushed the tip of his hot tongue into my mouth. My tongue met his. We remained thus. Our tongues played lovingly together. His right hand stole forward towards my thighs.
"Dear Papa! Your little Eveline loves you dearly."
I laid my hand again upon his thigh quite by accident. It encountered the same bulky mass.
"Oh! Eveline!"
"Oh, my darling Papa!"
His hand went further. I squeezed that which I felt beneath my fingers in his trousers. There could no longer be dissimulation between us.
He renewed his kisses. His tongue again sought mine. He was beside himself with passionate longing. I maddened him still further. It gave me exquisite delight. My hand moved gently up and down his thigh. My eyes looked into his. He read consent there.
"Dear Papa! Your Eveline is your own little girl!"
"My sweet! I love you beyond all the world!"
He sank down at my feet. He attempted to raise my clothes. I did not yield, yet I offered so faint a resistance that I spurred him on.
"You have all the right to love me, darling, for I am your girl."
He bent forward over me. His face was close to mine. His passion appeared to have reached its climax. As his fingers touched the center of sensation, I felt myself dissolving in a furious sense of longing for what was to come.
I pushed my hand impudently inside the opening of his trousers. He assisted the movement, which was sufficiently suggestive. I turned aside the fine cambric shirt he wore. I grasped that which I had determined from the first to possess.
It was indeed beautiful. To my disordered imagination it appeared the perfection of man's sexual power. He pressed me down upon the lounge on which we had been sitting. He threw up my clothes. He implored my pardon for what he said he could not resist. I rendered the attitude more propitious. I was on fire. His excitement even exceeded mine. His salacious rage was pitiable. I endeavored to adjust the parts. He approached his impatient member to the orifice. The hot head sought the well-moistened lips. To my surprise-to my utter dismay-at that moment he sank forward on my prostrate body and with a groan of disappointment, he discharged a volume of seed all over my belly and my thighs.
"Cab! Drive to H Street. Here, Eveline, take my key! Or stay, I will drive you to the door, dear girl."
I noticed the cabman had a hare-lip. He was a sulky-looking fellow. I got out. Papa said good night. He wanted, he declared, a turn in the street before going to bed. He took my hand, kissed me affectionately. I had just time to whisper the one word, "Courage." He turned and walked away. It was John who opened the door. He had been sitting up for our return. He lighted a candle. He preceded me upstairs.
"Are they all in bed, John? Do nothing to awaken them."
"Everyone, miss. You are late home tonight, miss."
I was in an indescribable condition. My vitals appeared to be throbbing and pulsating. I could not remain still.
"Sir Edward is only taking a turn in the fresh air. You will hear him come in, John. He will go straight, no doubt, to his chamber. Whisper, John."
"Yes, miss. I understand."
I could not resist. I looked with eyes full of lust and longing on the strong fellow who preceded me up the softly carpeted stairs. I reached my chamber door. I took the candle from him.
"Shall I turn out the lights on this floor, miss?"
"Yes, John. In twenty minutes come quietly up to my door. I want to speak to you."
"Good night, miss."
There was no other reply, but a gleam of delight danced for an instant in his eyes as he turned and disappeared in the darkened corridor.
I had told my maid not to wait up for me. I expected we might return late. I am accustomed to managing for myself. I pity the young women who are slaves to their waiting maids. In ten minutes I had slipped out of my bodice-out of my skirts. In a few more, my hair was down-my toilet made. Under the time specified, I stood in my satin peignoir, a picture for the gods. Nothing but my chemise of fine batiste intervened.
I listened. Sir Edward had let himself in and retired to his room. My door was ajar! The house was quiet. I heard a faint scratching on the woodwork.
It was John. He entered on tip-toe. I put my finger to my lips. I closed and locked the door.
In the meantime I had arranged everything.
"John, you are not to speak at all. Listen to me. If anyone should, by any chance, come to my door, remember you must slip into my morning room through that door. You will take everything you have brought with you. You will watch your chance to gain the corridor by that way while I am occupied in replying here. Take off those things."
I was running a risk. I could not help it. I could not stand it. I had weighed all the chances. This man had nothing to gain by troubling me. He was selfishly anxious, on the other hand, about his character and his place. He knew well enough the fatal consequences to himself in case of any untoward event. He was a London servant in a first- class position. He had acquired the confidence and respect of his employers. He would retire-a nothing, a castaway, without resource, without employment. Yes, he was a safe medium. I risked it.