“'You're right, my dear fellow, you're quite right! But, you see, in Paris, such pleasures are abominably commercialized, so much so that it disgusts me. Whereas here, those two girls just now, why, you saw how eagerly they made love.'
“'Here,' I laughingly interposed, 'all women are alike. They have a fire in their cunnies and bumholes. The climate does that… the cooking and the spices contribute to it, too, Baron.'
“'Well, then, Patrick, I give you a free hand in organizing another evening identical to this one. However, not every evening — or we'd soon be shadows of ourselves, eh?' he chuckled, nudging me in the ribs. When we got back to our hotel, we asked the desk clerk to waken us so that we wouldn't be late for the appointment with the notary. However, it took some little time to waken us from the deep slumber into which we fell at once — and no wonder! — but a taxi had been called by the hotel manager and was waiting to take us to Monsieur Honome.
“When the taxi stopped in front of Count Fabian's dwelling, the notary and his clerk had already arrived ahead of us, and my master appeared pale, listless and exhausted; I ascribed this fatigue, you may be sure, not to our nocturnal adventure but to the fatigue of the long journey we had made. Seated at the table, the notary informed my master that the young girl whose guardian he was to be was an adolescent of 15, named Martine. A few moments later, a young girl opened the door and smilingly entered. When he saw her, the Baron gasped: 'Oh, it's not possible!' Mar-tine, on the threshold, stared at him; they had recognized each other. Master Honome made the introductions: 'Monsieur the Baron Prosper Agrume de Chavignac, your uncle.' Then turning to the young girclass="underline" 'Mademoiselle de Chavignac, your niece. You may kiss each other. It is permitted.'
“The girl and my master fell into each other's arms, quite moved. They regarded each other, remembering the delicious hours of the night before. Then the papers were signed, and it was decided that my master would remain for an unspecified time here with his niece whose welfare was now legally his concern. He did not stop admiring her, and when they were alone in the room, he said to her, 'You're the very portrait of your mother. The same kind of face, even the same hair, the same color eyes, and I can say also, the same amorous temperament. When your mother lived with my brother, she shocked me a little with her physical exuberance. It's true that I'm a real puritan.'
“'But tell me now, Unkie — for I must call you that from now on,' Martine giggled, while she cast me a malicious smile, 'last night, you know, there was nothing puritanical about you.'
“'Yes, last night I discovered a new face in Martine's life, or, Pamela, in fact. But why do you call yourself Pamela at the Green Squirrel, my little one?'
“'I can't help it, Unkie. I've always dreamed of dancing on a runway, of being in a music hall, but at Fort-Lamy one doesn't have much choice, and I'm not an international star, after all. At the Green Squirrel, as long as a girl wriggles her hips and shows her legs, the customers are happy. And Pamela is a warm name that suits me. Now that you told me my mother had an ardent temperament, it's only natural that since I'm her daughter, I follow in her ways. Here, the Negroes are very insipid in their lovemaking, aside from a very few who know the refinements that make a woman have a climax. So last night, when I saw a chance to meet two white men, I didn't hesitate for a minute. But devil take me if I thought you were my uncle! Anyway, it stays in the family. And you know, Unkie,' here Martine cajolingly wound her milky arms round my master's neck, 'you made me come in a really formidable way. And to think you were inexperienced — why, it was like having an affair with a virgin of my own age — except that he had a much, much longer cock,' she finished saucily and gave him a stinging little kiss on the mouth.
“' I, too, Martine, retain delicious memories of that night. You revealed incredible sources of pleasure to me, things I never even dreamed of. No, I'm not a virgin, but I was almost one, and that was why last night will never be forgotten.'
“Dear Unkie, since fate has thus brought us together, we can have our little games whenever we wish. I noticed that your handsome servant didn't disdain the pleasures of a girl's behind. My, didn't he bugger my partner perfectly, with a real technique! I'm even asking myself if the two of you — you know?'
“'Never, Martine! Never, between men — what a horror!'
“'Oh, yes, between men is a custom quite in vogue here, even though so many sex-hungry women beg only to be used,' Martine laughingly replied. 'But in case your valet likes that, well I have my Negro servant Bouzian, who will let him do it to him, and do it to him, too! And wait till you see what a big tool, what an enormous tool, Bouzian has!'
“'Come now, Martine, you don't mean to tell me you've made love with him?' my master gasped.
“'Why, of course, Unkie. Now, he took me by force the first time, but he made me spend so wonderfully I just couldn't do without him. Can I help it if there's a fire in my little slit every now and then? And besides, Unkie,' she wheedled, 'there's also our cook Marlvol. She has a very soft velvety tongue, and she adores being buggered. She and Patrick will get along famously, you'll see.'
“My master couldn't get over the thought of such orgiastic delights in this almost austere mansion; it was beyond his imagination at the start. But he soon got used to the notion, finding the inspiration from realizing that he had been endowed, thanks to his brother's suicide, a magnificent estate and a beautiful young niece who was expert in erotic games and who asked only to be his scienced tutress. Yes, fate had decided for him, and its motto henceforth would be: 'Live to fuck and fuck to live; enjoyment is the only law!'
“A bell rang elsewhere in the house, and Martine explained, 'Dinner is ready.'
(And now, let our readers follow the journal of Baron Prosper himself as to what followed.)
Martine rose, escorting me to the dining room, where I found Patrick, my valet, who had already met Marivol. I don't know what he'd told her, but she was laughing hilariously. Her face was attractive, and her figure quite appetizing, especially the jutting cheeks of her bottom which suggested the specialty of love that she preferred. Moreover, she was an excellent cook, and our first family repast was a great success. After coffee and cigars, I sent Patrick to settle our bill at the hotel, and Martine — or Pamela, as Marivol always called her — sent for Bouzian.
He was a splendid, sturdy, ebony-skinned male, and I could at once imagine the lascivious contrast between his gleaming black skin and my niece's white flesh. Just from seeing how tall and strapping he was, I had a fair notion that he must be prodigiously equipped between his thighs. My niece then asked me if I wanted to tour the estate, perhaps on horseback, and I at once agreed.
“Prepare Azalie and Zephyr for us,” Pamela ordered her Negro servant.
“At once, mistress.”
“They are two nice mares,” Pamela explained, “and they'll give us a pleasant ride.” I walked with her to the courtyard, where Bouzian was already waiting, holding the bridles. He aided Martine to clamber up, then did me the same service. Dressed as I was in a business suit, I knew I looked ridiculous, but since I wasn't going into town, it didn't matter. As the heat was suffocating, I took off my vest and handed it to Bouzian, who, removing his widebrimmed straw hat, offered it to me in return: “You take hat, otherwise sun knock you out,” he warned.
I took his advice and followed Pamela, who served as guide. We rode through fields of nut trees, coffee bean trees and rubber trees. The implacable sun scorched us, and so finally Martine turned her mare towards a clump of palm trees. A little spring appeared, gushing from a huge rock, and both of us knelt down and refreshed ourselves. Then we lay down on our backs on the thick grass near the rock. “I adore this place,” she confided, “and whenever we tour the plantation, I stop here to rest.”