'Oh, is it the beautiful Miss Augusta, Dunn?' enquired Richard.
'She is a trifle early but no matter at all.' 'I fear not, sir,' replied the old retainer. 'It is a strange gentleman, or rather I should say a person who insists on seeing you.' 'A strange person? Whatever do you mean-did he give you his name? 'Yes, sir.
He also gave me his card and told me that he is known to you.'
How curious, I thought to myself as Dunn passed over the card and I peered over to read the ornate inscription: 'Hymie Singh Goldberg-Artists Agent.' 'That's a curious name,' I commented.
'He's a curious fellow,' grinned Richard. 'Hymie's mother was a Sikh but his Dad was the famous Issy Goldberg who was running a clothing emporium in Delhi during the Mutiny. He saved the lives of Lt. Colonel Wilson and his family by wrapping rolls of cloth round them when the mob was howling for blood and searching the shops for Europeans.' 'But didn't they want to lynch Issy? 'They would have done but he was giving free bagels and lox to any customer who purchased items to the value of five annas or more even on sale goods.
There was already a queue and rather than have to wait before pillaging and looting the store the mob went on to the next district.
By the time they returned, the Army had moved in so Issy, his store and the Wilson family were all saved.' 'That sounds an incredible tale,' said Cecil doubtfully. 'It's true, I assure you,' said Richard. 'Issy married a beautiful Sikh girl who changed her religion to his and they decided to move back to London a few years later and I believe that Hymie was born in Whitechapel.' 'How unlike the home life of our own dear Queen,' I said. 'Hymie is an art dealer,' said Richard. 'I expect he has some amazing bargains at never to be repeated prices to show me. He's quite a character so let's see what he has to offer. 'Dunn! Show the gentleman in.' Dunn looked a mite peeved but did as he was told and retired momentarily to announce our visitor. 'Mr. Hymie Singh Goldberg to see you, Mr.
Richard.' Hymie came bustling in with a clutch of unframed paintings under his arm. He was a short, quite handsome man of coffee-coloured hue and he wore a deep red turban although his clothes were of a European cut. 'Ah, Hymie, how nice to see you again.
These gentlemen are my house guests and I am sure they would be delighted to see the amazing world of art you have brought to sell me at extraordinarily inflated prices,' said Richard. 'Very droll, Mr. Richard, very droll. I earn so little on any painting you buy it's hardly worth while making the journey. If it weren't for the fact that my old Auntie Hetty lives in Brighton I wouldn't bother, and that's a fact.' 'But now you're here you'll let me see what you have acquired. Is there anything worthwhile?' 'Anything worthwhile, he asks! Mr. Richard, have I got some paintings for you! Look, here are four superb classical studies of heroines of Greek mythology. I should wain you and the other young gentlemen that the figures are undraped so if the sight of a nude girl offends, I won't take them out of the wrappers.' 'No, no, no that's quite all right,' said Cecil.
'Very well, gentlemen-here is the little collection. Now being young men of culture, you will know that without doubt the greatest single influence on Western civilisation has been the legacy of Ancient Greece. There is no corner of Art that is not founded firmly in that period and many people are well versed in the heroes of Greek mythology. 'But what about the women? We all know of Ulysses, Zeus and Hercules but what about the female counterparts? This young artist I am representing is himself a Greek who has turned his artistic talent to painting after some years making urns which was frankly not a profitable line.' 'Why, how much does a Grecian urn cost?' I asked. 'Round about two pounds or so. But that's not the point. This artist, Nedis Mousaka, has had the benefit of having those gorgeous dark-eyed Greek maidens pose for him. They have enabled him to capture the writhing golden forms of those Titans of old. Look, I'll show you what I've got.' He unwrapped the pictures and spread the four paintings on a wall. 'Look, gentlemen, the first is a portrayal of the beautiful Andromeda, fairest daughter of Cassiopeia, the second of scheming Aphrodite, the goddess born of the sea, the goddess of sexual love, you should pardon the expression, and who was most widely worshipped of all the immortals. Then there's Maria, the mistress of Zeus, the fairest daughter of Atlas, if I am not mistaken, whilst the last is a depiction of the magnificent Nike, the mighty goddess of victory and Zeus's personal favourite. 'Now I ask you gentlemen, aren't these paintings stunning? Look at the detail, the depiction of the nude female form drawn with such power and eloquence!' 'They are rather good, Hymie,' said Richard, 'and if you could only provide one or more of those delicious girls to grace my bed tonight, I'd buy the lot.' 'Oh, you will have your little joke, sir. But at the price I'm asking, they must be a marvellous investment.' We looked more closely at the paintings which were, truth to tell, rather good with the naked girls posing most sensually with complete abandon showing their breasts, bums and cunneys quite freely. 'I must say I like the look of Andromeda,' said Cecil. This painting showed the back of a girl, her hair flowing in the wind with firm, globular buttocks that fairly ached to be grabbed! [To be continued] Anonymous The Oyster, Volume III Part Two. Sketches from Life In which two Young Ladies enter the World of the Artist (from The Oyster, November, 1893) 'Today is a very special anniversary,' said Gwendolen. 'It is two years to the very day since my first fuck.' 'Oh, how delicious,' I murmured. 'It is also,' she went on, 'the second anniversary of my second fuck, and my third.' 'Gracious,' I said. 'That sounds very exciting but also somewhat complicated.' 'Not really, Cecily,' she said. 'One day. Three fucks. All one after the other.'