It was up to Tubby. He had 'doped' himself before the race, and helped himself very considerably to Martell and Mumm afterwards.
Toinette was his. After the ceremony of health drinking, she slipped her little black-gloved hand through his arm, and smiled up at him. He waggled as he walked back to the house with her. She made no pause, but led him straight to her bedroom.
Tubby walked rather sheepishly and vacuously to the window. He heard the girl click the key in the lock.
She turned on him with a radiant smile-she was sorrowful at heart that it had not been Charlie, but at any rate she was going to get rid of this tiresome maidenhead at last. She supposed it would hurt, but she was no coward, and she knew that ever afterwards it would be nice.
'Aren't you going to kiss me? I'm all yours for the present, you know.'
Tubby kissed her rather awkwardly, he wasn't much used to vice with such a young girl, and this very up-to-date, chic little Parisian flapper rather scared him. Also he was a little drunk, and he was painfully conscious that it was odds on he would be impotent.
However, he was as gallant as possible. He played with the little darling's still-stockinged legs, long silk stockings which came very near to the place of joy itself; he fingered her cunt, and he put his head up her clothes and kissed it, before he started to undress her. He tried all he knew to get randy, but he couldn't.
He would have given pounds to have been downstairs in a comfortable smoking-room chair with a brandy and soda.
She was all bubbling with lust, and shook with anticipation as he undressed. The naked beauty of the girl as she lay back eager-eyed on the bed should have roused any man to a state of frenzied lust, but Tubby's cock when he took off his trousers and revealed it, was a pitiable object, and Toinette stared in horrified amazement.
Blushing and ashamed, Tubby sank on the bed beside his victim designate, and tried by kissing and embracing to stimulate some passion. With the deft aid of the girl's fingers something in the nature of a cockstand appeared. Little Toinette gave every help: smoothed his head, his limbs, darted her hot tongue in his mouth, and eventually the end of his cock was guided into a hot, juicy little cunt.
Once it was in Tubby felt a flicker of sensuality, but soon realised it was hopeless, and resorted to strategy. Attempting some vigorous strokes which didn't get his flaccid battering ram near the expectant gate, he crushed the little darling in his arms, and made belief that he had come, and she was deflowered.
Toinette had her doubts. There had been no pain, and where was the expected blood?
Tubby elaborately sponged her, and told her what she thought was a lie, but what was really the truth, that she was the first virgin he had ever been into. Then he made a cheap excuse to go, and fled to solace himself in drink.
He was greeted with rounds of applause by the other contestants. He told a few lies about his prowess, and got rapidly drunk.
Little Toinette, vaguely disappointed, dressed, and wandered out to the garden, where she found Charlie alone, reading Candide.
He was delighted to see her and they strolled down to the bathing place.
She told Charlie she didn't think much of being seduced. 'However, it may be better next time, and I can have anyone now.'
It was a direct invitation, and Charlie made no bones about it. Like lightning he stripped himself and the child, and the two naked bodies rolled in ecstasy on the soft mattresses.
Charlie's cock was so stiff that it was almost painful. They didn't waste time on preliminaries. Her eyes wild, almost savage, with passion, she guided it in, and Charlie gave a great thrust.
'Oh, oh!' she shrieked, 'you are killing me; it's awful; it wasn't like this with Tubby.'
Charlie took no notice. He thrust brutally on, till at last he felt that the obstacle had vanished. Toinette's maidenhead was fairly and squarely broken. She had borne the pain bravely, but her eyes were streaming with tears as Charlie withdrew a penis dripping with blood.
'Why, the damned fool never seduced you at all,' he cried.
'I have been the first, the very first, my darling.'
He wiped the blood from her tom little cunt-she had bled freely-and fetched her champagne.
Arriving back, they found the house in tunnoil. Servants rushed hither and thither, the old general fussed and fumed, Maudie was hysterical, and Tubby had collapsed.
'Whatever's the matter?' cried Charlie.
'Matter, good God, man,' answered young Phil Learoyd, 'that young stranger at the sports was a Daily Mirror reporter and photographer. I was motoring up to town and found him broken down. He didn't recognise me in my goggles, and I overheard his talk to his pal. He's got photos of everything, and what's worse, he knows what we were racing for, and he means to publish it.'
'There's only one way out,' said Maudie tearfully. 'Luckily, I've always been prepared. The yacht is in full commission; I've just telephoned to Southampton to get steam up. The motors are all ready, and we've got to bundle into' em and be off. A few months' cruise for the benefit of our health won't do us any harm. The motors'll carry all the baggage we want, and there are plenty of spare clothes on board.'
It was a hurried night. The great cars tore down the pleasant road to Southampton, to find Tubby's magnificent steam yacht, the Lesbia, with steam full up and everything ready. By dinner time they were well out at sea.
The stockbroker could not possibly leave England, and Maudie had arranged for him to go to Land's End and pick them up on the wireless with news as to what was in the papers.
At four o'clock on the following day the message came through.
It was worse than expected.
Both the Daily Mail and Mirror had full accounts, only hinting, of course, at the naked-flapper events, but hinting strongly that there had been scenes of unmentionable depravity. The race, of course, was described in full detail, and the fact that the prize was a young woman's virtue was severely commented on. Each article ended with an impassioned appeal to the powers that be and the British public to rise up and destroy this hell, this monstrosity, this blot upon 'England.
'The Mirror, ' ran the message, 'has got two pages of photos, and states that they have others, too indecent to print, which they will gladly supply for purposes of prosecution.'
There was a general chorus of groans.
'I should like to see those photos,' said Charlie.
'So should I,' said Tubby.
'Well,' said Maudie, 'we'll risk it. We'll hang off the Land's End, and Phil can nip into Penzance this evening in the motor launch and get the papers.'
Phil returned that night with a sheaf of papers.
'1 kept my goggles on,' he said, 'and my collar up, as I thought my face might be in the pictures, and by God it is. I've bought all I could. Lord, there is a rush for 'em. I popped into one or two bars, still keeping my goggles on, and the place is ringing with it, probably all England is now. The general opinion is that burning is too good for us.'
The papers were eagerly scanned; it was awful. The Mirror had four photos of the big race, an especially good one of the finish, in which the faces of all the runners were distinct, and an excellent one of Tubby leading off his little prize. There was a picture of the house, 'Hell Castle', as the writer dubbed it, and snapshots of Maudie, Madame Rade, and several other individuals. The groups taken before the race began included nearly everyone.
There were no names, but at the bottom of the page was an appeal to the public to come forward and identify the characters.
'Oh Lord,' gasped the general, 'this means a long cruise for us.'
'We're very heavily victualed,' said Maudie. 'I vote we make for the islands in the Pacific.'