That was rather a long description of a rather tame affair, my friend, but I couldn't help but describe the sort of silliness that was forever taking place in that and other cities at that time.
Being alone (Sir Ethelred having continued his journey into the Orient), I spent several days in the offices of my attorneys, and after what seemed an endless time, my affairs were settled to the extent that I was able to travel again.
With more wealth than I could ever hope to spend, I toured to France and hence to Paris. I had three distinct reasons for this. In the first place, it was necessary to go there as I had affairs of Ferry's to settle; in the second, I had never been to Paris; and in the last but not least, I wanted to replenish my wardrobe.
I had heard a considerable amount about Paris and its gaiety, and as soon as I got settled in a hotel, I went on a shopping tour. Being a stranger in the city, I asked one of the hotel clerks to suggest the best-known places in which to buy dresses. He gave me a card and told me of the high quality of the garments sold there.
I visited this place late the following afternoon, and it was in this shop that I had my first thrilling taste of what went on in this type of store. Having made known my needs to what seemed to be the mistress of the establishment, I was shown into the rear of the place.
Like many other such places, it was fitted out with a small stage-like affair upon which the models displayed various gowns, suits, underthings, and the like. As is always the case in such upscale establishments, the models were live. And while I stood waiting for the “show” to begin, another young woman entered and seated herself close beside me. I noticed that she smiled at me, and I returned the smile. Here, I thought, was a good chance to strike up an acquaintance-I knew no one in the great city and was desirous of company.
I noted among other things that she was unusually pretty, that her carriage was perfect, and that she sported a wonderful shape. This interested me, as you might have already imagined.
There was another thing about her, however, and this was that she was unusually pale. I wondered at that.
The mistress of the establishment had the kindness to introduce me to this handsome woman (I had previously told her I was a stranger in the city) and I found her charming, indeed. I told her something about myself, she told me a little about herself, and all in all, we found each other splendid company. She said that she purchased all her gowns in that particular shop, thus leading me to believe she must be well-to-do, and that being the type I sought, I encouraged her. When she discovered that I had traveled more or less extensively, she asked, “You have been in Russia?"
When I told her I had never been in that country, but that I had had the pleasure of meeting several Russians and that I admired them a great deal, she smiled and said, “I am Russian, as you have undoubtedly noted."
"And I am German,” I laughed. “We should make a good foil for these delightful Parisians.” And so I gained another friend.
I had never cared very much for French people; those I had met seemed to be narrow-minded and distant, but there is one thing to be said in their favor. When a Parisian does something, he or she does it well. And this held true in this shop.
Shortly after we had entered the place, the models began to make their appearance, and it was these very models who gave me my first look into Parisian ideas and the way they did things.
The first model, a beautiful black-haired creature, came out wearing a long black cape and low slippers. Gaining the front of the stage, the girl smiled down at us and dropped off the gown, and there before us, she stood stark naked.
Nudity was no new thing to me, but this, I thought, was about the strangest thing I had ever seen. I called my new friend's attention to this, but she simply shrugged her shapely shoulders, saying, “It is nothing, my friend. One becomes used to so much nudity, and we think nothing of it here."
"You have lived here long?” I asked.
"A year,” she answered. “I like Paris very much."
Wondering what she meant about so much nudity, I said, “You speak as though you were a frequent visitor here. Is that what you meant about the nudity?"
She smiled. “No. You see, I have been a professional woman; I was a member of the ballet, but I injured an ankle and,” she shrugged her shoulders again, “well, I never took it up again."
I found myself liking the woman more and more. I said, “I can quite understand, since you were an actress. It happens that I, too, have been an actress and am used to nudity, but one sees here and there one she likes better than another perhaps.” Pointing toward one of the models who was just coming upon the stage, I continued, “That one, for instance. I am anxious to see her undraped; she must be beautiful."
My friend smiled. My lure had been taken, for she said, “We all have our tastes. For my part, I would prefer the one over there, the little one who came on first. I could just eat her with kisses. I think her the most beautiful of them all."
A thrill passed over me. This business of eating a girl was one that you know interested me. I said, “Strange, isn't it, but I was thinking the same of the golden-haired one."
My Russian friend thawed; my last remark had had its effect. Reaching across and patting my hand, she said, “I do not wish to be misunderstood, but-well, the one you refer to is rather acceptable and can be had."
Taking the bull by the horns, I said: “Passive or active?"
"Both,” came the ready answer. “You will find Madam more than willing to accommodate."
We talked for a few minutes more, made a few selections, and as I was about to leave, my Russian friend said, “If I am understanding correctly that you are quite alone in the city, why not come and have dinner with me. I am quite alone this evening."
I accepted.
I discovered she had her own carriage, and in this we were driven to her apartment. I found it furnished tastefully. Costly furnishings were scattered about everywhere. Rugs, many of them very expensive, covered the floors, while in the center of the front, or parlor room, stood a low, broad couch. Upon this was the largest bearskin I had ever seen. It was perfectly white.
A maid took our wraps, and when she disappeared, I said, “That couch-it looks interesting,” and I looked roguishly at her.
She dropped her eyes and I wondered if I had been too hasty.
"You will undoubtedly think me a dreadful person,” she said, her eyes still cast down, “but, well the gentleman with whom I share this apartment is not my husband."
I laughed. “Naughty,” I said, “I knew it all the time, but do not allow it to worry you. I have had lovers at different times and I wish I had one even now."
"That makes it ever so much easier,” she said. “I was afraid you wouldn't understand."
Her name, I learned, was Camilla. She was in her early twenties and what she had said about being a ballet dancer was true. She was the mistress of a gentleman connected with the Spanish government who held a responsible position in the French capitol.
Summoning her maid, Camilla ordered wine. “Just an appetizer before dinner,” she said, smiling. After two or three glasses, Camilla began talking on life, and soon we were discussing-quite freely I thought-our affairs, previous and present.
Looking longingly at the skin-decked couch, I said, “It must be something of a thrill to entertain a lover while lying in his arms on such a couch."
She laughed. “I'm sorry I cannot furnish you with a desirable man at the moment, but…"
"Then I should have brought that golden-haired beauty with me,” I said, giving a slight rotating motion with my loins. “I could do with her very nicely, at the moment."
"Tomorrow,” she said, “if you have nothing important to do, I shall show you about our famed city, and who knows-perhaps we might find someone for you."