When Flora undressed that night she stood in front of the glass and admired the beauties of her person, the ripe smiling lips, the glossy hair, her white and heaving bosoms-those globes as yet unconquered, and then as the thought of the dildoe came into her head she lifted up her robe and looked at the seat of the experiment. A moss rose was not a more charming spectacle than that virgin fanny-a soft down surrounded a pink cleft, the pretty little tip of the clitoris peeping out and pouting as if to tempt a kiss.
" I wonder if it will hurt me? " said Flora, and she inserted the tip of her finger in her moist crack.
" Well, at any rate I will try it, " and with that resolve she got into bed.
In her sleep Flora dreamt of nothing but salacious pleasures. Dildoes red and eager surrounded her. they pressed on her bosom, they looked in her eyes, they tasted the moisture of her sweet cunt; nay more, she dreamed that one-the largest, the most eager-entered her virgin fortress and rammed his head right home.
" Ha, ho, oh, " sighed the girl in her sleep, and as she felt the acme of pleasure she woke to find her fingers moist and clammy with the juice of love, her fanny hot, but bathed in a delicious dew.
Unconsciously Flora had frigged herself in her sleep, but the feelling she experienced in the act was so delicious that more than ever she resolved to get the dildoe.
TABLEAU II
Flora woke in the morning refreshed from her sleep and with a dreamy recollection of the conversation of the previous evening.
There is something very charming in the sight of a young and fair girl awakening from her slumber, the lovely eyes unclose, and survey with pleasure the prospect of another day's life, the supple limbs stretch out-a deeper breath is taken which throws the beautiful white bosom out in voluptuous fullness, then a soft sigh of pleasure escapes the lips telling of the grateful feeling which follows sweet repose, and as a new day dawns upon the awakening mind, a roseate flush and a bright smile breaks over the countenance like. "Morn o'er the rosy hills advancing. "
Flora rose from her bed, doffed her night-dress, and proceeded to her toilet.
There is a story told of an ambassador who went from England on a mission to select from three princesses at a foreign court, a suitable wife for the young English king, in those days, when kings went to battle, the ambassador deemed it wise to select a maiden of fine physique, so he esconced himself behind the arras, when the three maidens retired for the night, and when an imperious demand was complied with, he marked that an impetous torrent from one girl denoted a vigourous and fine constitution, and he selected her for his master in preference to the other two, whose gentle rills evidently flowed from a weaker source.
To the ear of that ambassador the sound that Flora made would have been as music. It was, in fact, an appropriate overture to the enchanting spectacle which was to follow, as her undraped limbs luxuriated in the bath.
Every movement displayed to advantage her lithe and supple figure, and as she moved gave an enchanting view of white globes, tipped with rose buds-luxuriant tresses, tapering limbs, glossy skin, a mossy mound, which now and then parted in her movements, and disclosed a Coraline grotto-a virgin recess round which a thousand charms were displayed-of Flora it might well be said:
Probably the poet only confined his ideas, or at least his language, to the hair of the head, of the lady he was eulogising, but it could hold true of Flora, from the tipmost hair of her glorious head to the shortest piece of down which adorned the entrance to her virgin quim.
Her toilet completed, and her figure swathed in a charming morning wrapper, she rang tor her chocolate, which was brought her by her maid.
Well, maid she was not, for the gardener had spoilt her claim to that title.
Well, Sophie brought the chocolate, and then having made her determination that the talk of the last evening should not end idly Flora said:
" Sophie, I want you to take a message to Madam Marcelle, the milliner, you know her address."
" Yes, miss," said Sophie, pleased for fresh millinery, meant more-discarded, scarcely used articles were to become her perquisites.
" Reach me my writing case."
Sophie obeyed, and the following note was soon written and dispatched by Sophie:
" Miss McPherson, of Madison Square, requests that Madam Marcelle will call at once, and bring with her any design which she thinks will be approved of."
Two hours later Madame Marcelle was ushered into Flora's boudoir.
Madame Marcelle, one could see at a glance, was a woman of the world, about thirty years of age, of a full and voluptuous figure. There was a look in her face which shewed that though perhaps not quite " blasee " she was well up in all the pleasures of life and had tasted somewhat freely of the cups of wine and love.
A keen, shrewd and unscrupulous woman of business, she was ready at any moment to procure a dainty morsel for some old debauchee, a paramour for a lady, to discount a bill or supply the latest article of feminine costume. And yet there was a time when Carlotta Marcelle was a pretty and innocent littly milliner's apprentice. A hasty marriage, a dissolute husband and a heartless desertion completed the transformation and Carlotta had developed into Madam Marcelle. Thrown on her own resources, she had made the best use of great natural talents and was now a wealthy woman.
The last numbers of LeFollet were soon scanned, the latest fashions and materials soon approved of, and the heart of madam gladdened with pretty extensive orders and carte blanche as to cost and trimmings, and then with somewhat bated breath and a little nervous trepidation Flora proceeded to lead up to the delicate topic on which she wanted to consult madam.
" And now, madam," said Flora, " that business is disposed of, you will taste a little refreshment and spare me a few minutes to discuss the news, you are always so well informed as to the fashionable world."
"La,miss,"said madam,as she sipped the curacao that had been proffered her, " I have been so busy that I have had little leisure to note what was going on. I have lost one or two large accounts through the recent failures, and lost a good customer in Mrs. Harcourt, who has eloped to Europe with her groom."
" Oh, do tell me about that," said Flora, " Mrs. Harcourt was a very handsome woman, I remember, and far too good for that dry old fossil, her husband, and too good, I should say for a groom."
" Well, I can't agree with you there, miss," said madam. " The lady don't want means, for she has an ample fortune of her own, and though the groom may not have the education, he has the bearing of a gentleman, and what is more, is a fine manly fellow, and she, I'm sure loves him, and no doubt such a charming woman will be appreciated by him, especially after such a sacrifice. Ah miss, love is worth sacrificing all for, and I can quite sympathize with Mrs. Harcourt loving such a fine, handsome fellow, especially after being forced for five years to live and sleep with such an antiquated old fumbler as "Old High and Dry" as they call Harcourt."
" They have no children, have they? " said Flora.
" No, my dear," said Madam Marcelle, growing familiar as she grew interested in her favourite topic-intrigue-" and that was one of the excuses she offered to her father, who reproached her for her conduct with Phil, the groom."
" What excuse can you offer" said he," for dishonouring your husband?"
" Well, pa" she said, ' reach me that pen and paper and I'll write my excuse" and she took the pen and commenced to scratch the paper.