Eveline

Chapter 6

"Eveline, will you go to the opera tonight? There is Lohengrin at Covent Garden. Your mother declines to go."

"I shall be delighted, dear Papa. I have just time to dress before dinner. We can dine half an hour earlier."

Papa was pleased. He looked young and handsome that day. He really was young for his years. Hale and stout-vigorous, active, he commanded respect. He had the air and carriage of a great soldier. I was as charmed in his society as he evidently was in mine. When we were quite alone he would sit with my hand in his. Frequently he would slip a new ring furtively on my finger. When I discovered the little device, he would ask me to kiss him for it. At such times his voice would sink almost to a whisper; his eyes suffused with sudden passion. His breath would come in great sobs of delight.

I knew well enough why my mother had refused to go. She had been indulging again in champagne and soda all the afternoon.

The spirit of jealousy and mischief possessed me. I dressed with extraordinary care. I put on exactly what I knew Papa liked best. Beautiful long white gloves fitting like my own skin, softly glowing in the sparkling light from the huge chandelier. My low dress, the bodice covered with the finest Brussels lace. My jewels selected for their simplicity and their rarity, were confined to bracelets and earrings. A small bouquet of the choicest flowers rested on my corsage. He gazed upon me with an admiration that only I understood. His inordinate sensual instincts were aroused. Like the bloodhound who scents the vital fluid, so he, in his innate sensibility, scented the perfume of my being. Desire shone in his large eyes. He was in a condition of extreme excitement. It was my purpose and my intention to fan the flame.

I know I am beautiful. Do you suppose that any woman does not know the exact merit of her own attractions? I know a beautiful face when I behold one. I am capable of the same artistic admiration for a beautiful statue, a lovely picture, which is shared by all who are even novices in art. I am not usually taken for a fool. I look in my glass. I see there reflected a face, a bust, a figure and a personality which is not only beautiful-unusually beautiful-but graceful and elegant, endowed with such power to please (when I choose), gifted with such rare possession of a power to charm (when I desire to put it forth) that Eveline could have the world at her feet-did she desire it.

I am not going to indulge you with a vulgar list of my perfections- you must take the fact from me. Or, if you prefer it, close these pages. I do not want your admiration. I am not open to your flattery. Every woman, young even to childhood, or matronly enough to be the mother of a family, can readily dissect your mere flattery, if they have only the sense to pause-to think; you want something, if only to gain the attention of her you flatter. In flattering me you are flattering yourself-voila tout!

"My darling Eveline, you never looked more beautiful than you do tonight."

It was no flattery. He felt it. It came straight from his inner consciousness. From his brain to mine.

"I am always happy when I please my dear papa. You are inclined to enjoy yourself tonight. You are free, and alone with your little Eveline beside you."

I leaned towards him. I caressed his hand in mine. Under pretext that his white dress tie required arrangement, I put my gloved fingers under his nose. I could see his nostrils dilate as he sucked in the perfume of my glove.

"Darling girl!"

"I do not care much for the music tonight, Papa. The instrumentation is too much for me. It gets on my brain. It makes me nervous. Let us sit back in the box. My head aches."

"Dear child! Let me kiss it-so-on the temples-on the cheek. Now say if it is not better? Give me again your dear little hand to hold in mine."

"Kiss me again, Papa. I love your kisses."

In the shadow of the box he kissed me long and voluptuously on the lips. He took my hand. He pressed it. He laid it on his left thigh. He must surely have counted on my inclination for pleasure. I felt a something which throbbed beneath the soft impression of my hand.

"You are not quite in spirits tonight, Eveline. I think the music, as you say, is too much for you."

"It is too bad to blame Wagner for my nervousness, dear papa, yet I know I am a little distraught."

I leaned my head on his shoulder. I pressed more firmly on his thigh. I felt the throbbing mass increase in volume. I turned my eyes up to his. We read each other's thoughts.

I felt his hand, trembling with passion, pass round my satin-robed bust. I even moved that the action might be facilitated. He sighed with pleasure-with longing-undeveloped, but to become realized.

"Poor papa! You are out of sorts also."

"No, Eveline, not out of sorts, but this atmosphere is not agreeable. I am half suffocated. I want air. Suppose we leave and go to a restaurant and have some supper? You hardly dined at all."

"Oh, Papa, that would be lovely!"

We descended-called a cab. Sir Edward ordered the driver to go to a certain well-known but somewhat retired restaurant.

We were easily installed. A little charming boudoir on the first floor-what they would call in Paris a cabinet particulier.

The obsequious waiter, having deposited a sumptuous supper on the table with champagne of approved mark, left us to ourselves.

"How good of you, Papa! This is fun!"

I perched myself upon his knee. My seat was not altogether a comfortable one. He shifted about. There was something terribly hard and unyielding beneath me.

We supped well. I had an appetite. The champagne warmed our blood. I laughed. I was gay.

I put a daintily booted little foot upon a chair. In so doing, I let him see well up my calf to my knee.

"How clumsy I am! I must have had too much champagne."

"My darling, let me try. See, I can fasten it at once."

"Oh, but you tickle, you naughty, dear papa! It has come undone again!"

His hand trembled with excitement. He was in no mood to draw back. His fine eyes looked imploringly upon me, alternately fierce and loving.

I nestled close to him.

"Poor Papa! Eveline loves to please her darling papa!"

My dress was well open in front. His hand still lingered on my knee, on the silk stocking around with I sought to clasp my garter. I kissed him warmly on the lips. He returned my kiss with interest. He pressed his left hand on the back of my neck. He pushed the tip of his hot tongue into my mouth. My tongue met his. We remained thus. Our tongues played lovingly together. His right hand stole forward towards my thighs.

"Dear Papa! Your little Eveline loves you dearly."

I laid my hand again upon his thigh quite by accident. It encountered the same bulky mass.

"Oh! Eveline!"

"Oh, my darling Papa!"

His hand went further. I squeezed that which I felt beneath my fingers in his trousers. There could no longer be dissimulation between us.

He renewed his kisses. His tongue again sought mine. He was beside himself with passionate longing. I maddened him still further. It gave me exquisite delight. My hand moved gently up and down his thigh. My eyes looked into his. He read consent there.

"Dear Papa! Your Eveline is your own little girl!"

"My sweet! I love you beyond all the world!"

He sank down at my feet. He attempted to raise my clothes. I did not yield, yet I offered so faint a resistance that I spurred him on.

"You have all the right to love me, darling, for I am your girl."

He bent forward over me. His face was close to mine. His passion appeared to have reached its climax. As his fingers touched the center of sensation, I felt myself dissolving in a furious sense of longing for what was to come.

I pushed my hand impudently inside the opening of his trousers. He assisted the movement, which was sufficiently suggestive. I turned aside the fine cambric shirt he wore. I grasped that which I had determined from the first to possess.

It was indeed beautiful. To my disordered imagination it appeared the perfection of man's sexual power. He pressed me down upon the lounge on which we had been sitting. He threw up my clothes. He implored my pardon for what he said he could not resist. I rendered the attitude more propitious. I was on fire. His excitement even exceeded mine. His salacious rage was pitiable. I endeavored to adjust the parts. He approached his impatient member to the orifice. The hot head sought the well-moistened lips. To my surprise-to my utter dismay-at that moment he sank forward on my prostrate body and with a groan of disappointment, he discharged a volume of seed all over my belly and my thighs.

"Cab! Drive to H Street. Here, Eveline, take my key! Or stay, I will drive you to the door, dear girl."

I noticed the cabman had a hare-lip. He was a sulky-looking fellow. I got out. Papa said good night. He wanted, he declared, a turn in the street before going to bed. He took my hand, kissed me affectionately. I had just time to whisper the one word, "Courage." He turned and walked away. It was John who opened the door. He had been sitting up for our return. He lighted a candle. He preceded me upstairs.

"Are they all in bed, John? Do nothing to awaken them."

"Everyone, miss. You are late home tonight, miss."

I was in an indescribable condition. My vitals appeared to be throbbing and pulsating. I could not remain still.

"Sir Edward is only taking a turn in the fresh air. You will hear him come in, John. He will go straight, no doubt, to his chamber. Whisper, John."

"Yes, miss. I understand."

I could not resist. I looked with eyes full of lust and longing on the strong fellow who preceded me up the softly carpeted stairs. I reached my chamber door. I took the candle from him.

"Shall I turn out the lights on this floor, miss?"

"Yes, John. In twenty minutes come quietly up to my door. I want to speak to you."

"Good night, miss."

There was no other reply, but a gleam of delight danced for an instant in his eyes as he turned and disappeared in the darkened corridor.

I had told my maid not to wait up for me. I expected we might return late. I am accustomed to managing for myself. I pity the young women who are slaves to their waiting maids. In ten minutes I had slipped out of my bodice-out of my skirts. In a few more, my hair was down-my toilet made. Under the time specified, I stood in my satin peignoir, a picture for the gods. Nothing but my chemise of fine batiste intervened.

I listened. Sir Edward had let himself in and retired to his room. My door was ajar! The house was quiet. I heard a faint scratching on the woodwork.

It was John. He entered on tip-toe. I put my finger to my lips. I closed and locked the door.

In the meantime I had arranged everything.

"John, you are not to speak at all. Listen to me. If anyone should, by any chance, come to my door, remember you must slip into my morning room through that door. You will take everything you have brought with you. You will watch your chance to gain the corridor by that way while I am occupied in replying here. Take off those things."

I was running a risk. I could not help it. I could not stand it. I had weighed all the chances. This man had nothing to gain by troubling me. He was selfishly anxious, on the other hand, about his character and his place. He knew well enough the fatal consequences to himself in case of any untoward event. He was a London servant in a first- class position. He had acquired the confidence and respect of his employers. He would retire-a nothing, a castaway, without resource, without employment. Yes, he was a safe medium. I risked it.

He removed his coat, his waistcoat and his breeches. He placed all on a chair by the inner door. Then he came to me; his white shirt sticking out it front.

"Let me look at it, John. I want to see Robin!"

He raised his shirt. He exposed his huge limb naked to my gaze, stiff and ready, red-topped and distended already with the sense of the pleasure to come. His belly was covered with short curly black hair. I took his thing in my hand and rubbed it softly up and down. Our lips met in a moist kiss.

"What a lovely thing you have, John! But it is much too big."

His delight was intense. He was ready for anything. I kissed his limb. I put my tongue to the top of the purple knob and tickled it. I opened my moist lips and sucked it. The faint taste and smell were delightful to me.

John fairly snorted with lustful longing. I was equally impatient.

"Won't it be nice, John? You shall do it to me at your ease this time."

"Yes, miss, we'll do it properly this time. Only look at my tool!"

I thought I had never seen such a thing. It was so stiff that the head bent almost on his navel. He pressed me back against the bed. He played with my breasts. I played with his "tool," as he called it. I threw open my peignoir. He raised my chemise, and looked on my naked body.

"How lovely you are, Miss Eveline!"

John bent forward, his hot kisses covered me. He descended. I felt him licking the center button of my orbit. It was shockingly voluptuous.

"Oh, John! Oh, that's lovely."

I raised myself on to the soft bed. I lay across it. John opened my thighs and stood between. I put his big limb against the moist lips of my slit. I guided it in. In a second it went right up me. I felt it stretching open my vagina. It was dreadfully hard and throbbed with spasmodic pulsations as it entered gradually to its utmost length. Soon I engulfed him completely.

"Go gently-very gently, my dear John, you are so big. Oh, goodness, how you push!"

He thrust more carefully. My sensations rose to the boiling point. Now I wanted more abandon from the boy. I clutched right and left at the bedclothes-and then at his buttocks, raking them raw with my nails. Still he did it slowly, working deliciously up and down.

"Oh, John, dear John, it's nice, so nice now! You may push now- push! Oh! Oh! My goodness! Push me hard, John-I'm coming- John!"

The man could only breathe hard and gasp in the intensity of his pleasure. He had never had such a chance, a real young lady was such a treat to the sensual fellow that he was beside himself with passion. I told him I adored his tool. He needed no incentive, but drove up and down my little belly in an ecstasy.

I delighted to watch him; to feel the big, strong tool throbbing inside my parts. My spasms came again and again while he was having me-wave after wave.

"Oh, miss! I shall have to come directly! I'm coming now-there- there-oh!"

John gave me a convulsive clutch; he pushed in his limb to the balls. I buried my face in the pillow to prevent my sighs from being audible as he discharged. He inundated me with a torrent of hot sperm. I threw open my legs to receive it, wishing I could taste it as well. It entered my womb in gushes. He withdrew with reluctance; he dragged out his big limb, red and smoking. I wiped it for him, kissed it, tasted my own juices on it. Then I rushed to my toilet and neglected no precaution.

We sat together on the little sofa. John was never tired of feeling my legs, my buttocks, and my slit. His fingers roved everywhere and his limb very soon showed evidence of his returning virility. I stooped down, played with it and sucked it, taking it deep within my mouth, feeling it swell against my lips, and it very soon stood again fiercely erect. We neither of us spoke, but I motioned him towards the bed. I laid myself upon it and put a pillow under my buttocks. John laid himself upon my naked body. I guided his huge thing into me and took it in up to his delicious balls. He lay a long time in me, doing it slowly. Then he decided it was time to attempt something different. Withdrawing his limb from my belly, the boy lay down beside me and drew me to him and made as if to work himself under me. Instinctively, lasciviously, I understood what he would have me do. Straddling his body with knees bent and splayed, I positioned his bulbous nut directly beneath me and then impaled myself upon it, squatting low until I had it all within me, then riding it, up and down as though upon a horse. He began to buck against my weight, but to little avail. I controlled all movement. Soon he had spent in a gush of seed that sent me into the seventh heaven.

I handed the man his clothes; he dressed silently and rapidly. I watched a moment at the open door. Only the ticking of the hall clock. I waited till it struck three, and then, while the vibrations were still in the air, I closed my door upon him. I enjoyed a sweet unbroken sleep till past nine o'clock.