Aphrodizzia

FOUR

Our hero's plan for the ravishing of his nymphs-The preparations-An education in English manners and customs-Claudia made to read of pretty Jane in the reformatory-The English way of discipline with knickers down-“When in Rome, do as the Romans do”-The scandal breaks-Claudia confronted with the evidence of her public indecency-“I fear I must now send these photographs to your unhappy parents”-“Oh, no! Please! Anything but that!” “Anything but that, Claudia?” “If you wish, sir.”-Claudia examined, blindfold, for her fitness to be birched-“Oh, what is that instrument between my legs?”-“Oh, no! Nor so far in!”-“All the mercury from the thermometre is spurting out inside me!”-The evening-Claudia's bare bottom soundly thrashed-Her tears and affectionate gratitude to her master! I need not tell you, my dear Dolly, of the dismay which appeared on the faces of Claudia and the others when they saw me as master of this house.

They realised with growing consternation that the strange man who had photographed them surreptitiously on the beach was to be their guardian for the rest of the summer! I did not yet confront them with their crimes, for the full-plate prints were not ready. Yet I and my duenna prepared the girls for their fates by a simple process of education. They were to learn the customs of English society and, however unusual they might appear to be, these young ladies must school themselves to submit. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. That was to be the motto of this house. For several hours a day, the girls worked at the books chosen for them. Do not suppose, Dolly, that I gave them those choice volumes which remain locked behind wires on the top shelves in the library-tales to make pretty little maidens blush. Such gems as Beatrice or The Days at Florville, Suburban Souls or Nights of the Rajah would be imprudent suggestions as yet. But I have not scrupled to set them reading James Miles's House of Correction memoirs-for what are these but law and justice?-and even a chapter or two of the gallant Adventures of Captain DeVane, describing Britannia's imperial glories. He who would enjoy taking down Claudia's knickers must first persuade the girl that the action is consonant with morality and the code of manners prevailing. Later I hope my charming pupils will graduate to the loving affections of father and daughter in Beatrice or Jacqueline Grant arse-upwards for ravishing in the Rajah's palace. But such frolics cannot come yet. It was enough for the time being to show my pupils how the noble Mr. Miles had dealt with such girls as Jennifer Parry or Elizabeth Craig, Elaine Cox or Jane Mitchener, even young women like Susan Webb. I therefore set each of my pupils the task of composing a long account in her own words of the training of one of the reformatory girls. You may imagine how careful I was in my allocation! It was one thing to set the birching of a saucy little imp or a randy young wife for Katharine, but Claudia required a more decorous subject. In the end I set Katharine to give an account of the fate of fifteen-year-old Elaine Cox, at the master's hands-a shouting, striding tomboy defiantly tossing the lank fair hair which framed the broad oval of her face with its slum-child's snub-nosed insolence! Katharine's eyes widened as she read of the scene in the reformatory whipping-room. The pleated grey skirt of the school uniform, worn scandalously brief on Elaine's sturdy thighs, was removed. The matrons strapped her kneeling over the block. Then the white stretched briefs were pulled down, baring the full pale cheeks of Elaine Cox's tomboy bottom for fifty agonising strokes with a prison bamboo cane. Claudia, meanwhile, was made to work at the amusing tale of the youngest girl, beguiling Jane, with her lank dark hair and fringe, the openness of her firm pale features and resilient young body whose beauties touched the frontier of childhood and womanhood. Claudia was so sentimentally moved that I expected a tear to fall at the fate of pretty Jane. Younger than Claudia herself, that appealing girl with her teeth set teasingly on her lip, the lank dark tresses framing her face, was bent over the stool and fastened down. With poor Jane's knickers and skirt removed, the very matrons felt a pang at her fate. The wide brown eyes under the brief slant of her fringe were so appealing. Though the blossoming womanliness of her figure was never in doubt, there was such a tense pale innocence of youthfulness in the shape of Jane's trimly-rounded adolescent bottom-cheeks as she bent for punishment. Alas for pretty Jane. Pity her they might, but this was a chance for which every matron and master longed. Twenty-four vicious lashes with the punishment-strap across Jane's bare buttocks. Still secured over the stool, her sobs hardly checked, she was then alone with her master.

There being no witnesses to tell tales, the cane, the birch, even the braided leather of the pony-lash made their intimate acquaintance with her young backside. For two weeks or more in the washroom, the matrons watched the fading of empurpled weals and dark bruises from Jane's demure young buttocks and thighs. I will tell you of a little incident, Dolly, which may bring a smile to your lips. Claudia was busily translating Jane Mitchener's story, her eyes growing ever larger with wonderment. I could see she was having difficulty with one of the pages, which she then brought to me for my advice. Before the evening thrashings, the rules required that Jane should be inspected by the master in the afternoon so that her fitness for the whip might be certified. He removed her skirt, also the stretched white briefs which constituted Jane's schoolgirl knickers. Then she must bend over his desk while he surveyed her from behind. Young Jane was, of course, ordered to keep her eyes to the front. The inspection lasted for half an hour or so. Still Jane was greatly perplexed to know what instrument was used. In her teasing innocence she thought it was like a pair of warm whiskery lips in a pouting kiss. The kisses, as they seemed, feasted on the bare pallor of her trim adolescent thighs. They nuzzled the lightly-mossed lips of her vagina until she did not know whether the wetness came from her or them. They pouted with gentle affection over the tense white cheeks of her trembling teenage bottom. Yet they could not be lips, she said, blushing at her own explanation. For her buttocks were parted a moment later and the gentle pouting was applied to the very dimple of Jane's little anus. Then, she explained, there would be a sound from behind her as of vigorous polishing. It ended with the sense that long but random jets had splashed her bum-cheeks from a plate of warm gruel. She was told to remain bending while her master left the room for a moment. Jane naturally put a hand behind her and wiped her backside with it, studying with curiosity the marks of the warm slipperiness on her fingers.- When the master returned-presumably from putting away the instrument of the inspection-he would sometimes open the long drawer of the desk. There, among the canes and whips, was a roll of useful paper. He tore off a sheet or two and ordered Jane to wipe her bum-cheeks before pulling up her knickers. She was instructed to drop the used paper in the basket before she left and that night the master thrashed her with exceptional severity.

Imagine Claudia's puzzlement and her question to me! As a mere student of English she could not grasp the meaning of the passage! I was very gentle with her, Dolly, explaining that such posthumous memoirs often posed problems to the greatest scholars. I comforted her with the assurance that the passage of time would, in truth, make such doubtful pages clear. I was intrigued to see the contrast between Claudia's innocence and the worldly wisdom of our voluptuous Rhinemaiden, Katharine. The elder girl asked no questions. Indeed, she read avidly the confessions of the lewd old fellow who enjoyed himself so greatly with some of the reformatory girls. In this case, I would notice her pulse quicken a little as she read of the enforced kneeling over the block, the strapping down, so that the master should have fun with his whip upon the full pale cheeks of Elaine Cox's bottom.

Katharine licked her lips as the account described the vulgar rear view of the youngster's vaginal pout between her thighs and the justices gazing at Elaine Cox's arsehole. In this case too an “inspection” carried out privately in the master's study had preceded the caning. I promise you, Dolly, that with my own eyes I saw Katharine read one passage several times over with growing animation.

In her posture over the block, said the scribe, the fifth-form girl's pussy flesh had the moist look of having been well fiddled with.

Suspicious traces of grease even shone between her buttocks and the withdrawal of a deflated member had left a smear of vaseline across one fattened cheek of Elaine Cox's tomboy bottom. The girls were greatly intrigued by these strange English customs, the truth of which could not be questioned. For was not the master publicly prosecuted by the courts? And was he not exonerated, congratulated by his judges, handsomely rewarded, and sent back to continue his excellent work of moral reformation? That being the case, what could Katharine and Claudia do but bow to the law of the land and the customs of the country? I allowed several days' grace for them to grow used to this idea-and also for some truly excellent prints to be made of the incriminating photographs. Then I spoke to my duenna, Miss Leach, and showed her the evidence. Her eyes shone with moral outrage and she could scarcely keep her hands still. There were Katharine's breasts, almost life-size, in their scandalous little halter. The erection of her nipples was clearly shown to every man and woman on the public beach! Miss Leach, a tall and statuesque young woman herself, gasped at the indecency of it and pursed her lips. I showed her the full-plates of Claudia in swim-wear taken from the rear while the girl was on all fours, Claudia's tightly and briefly clad bottom-cheeks almost filled the picture. And how round and lewdly spread they were!

How wantonly the soft flesh of her cunt was displayed to the world in the tight gusset of her bathing pants! Could English morality be denied its right of retribution for so scandalous an offence? “I fear, Miss Leach,” I said, “that such girls as this will prove a pernicious influence here.” She nodded eagerly. “And so,” I added, “my duty is clear. I must send copies of these prints to the parents of the two girls and request that their daughters return to Germany.” At these words, Miss Leach looked as if the breath had been knocked from her by a sudden blow. The light went out of her eyes and dismay spread over her face. “Is that not a little harsh, sir?” she ventured. “Might some means not be found of dealing with the offence here, on these premises?” Well now, Dolly, I put on a great show of wrestling with my conscience. At last I condescended to reply. “If it were possible, Miss Leach, that their characters might be improved by chastisement-by truly severe chastisement-I would perhaps consider it. Though it would be against my better judgment.”

“One must temper justice with a little clemency, sir,” said she.

“Oh, do relent, sir! Do give them the alternative of a birching. A truly severe one!” I had never intended otherwise but I thought it prudent to appear to wrestle with my better nature for a moment more. “Do you think, Miss Leach,” I said at last, “that if I were to deal with one of these young wantons, you could bring yourself to chastise the other?” The sudden flash of passion in her eye was enough to answer my inquiry. You see, Dolly, I had already decided that Claudia's panties were the ones I most desired to take down. And by allowing Miss Leach the pleasure of disciplining Katharine all night long in the privacy of her study, I could guarantee that my duenna would be the very soul of discretion. Were I to keep all the enjoyment to myself, there was a great danger of the resentment which passionate minds begin to feel. So it was agreed. I summoned Claudia, my pulse quickening as she stood before the study desk with her heart-shaped face so solemnly pretty and the short crop of charmingly tousled fair hair so appealing. “Claudia,” I said firmly, “I wish you to go and put on the costume in which you appeared on the beach, four days ago.” She made no objection to this for, at her age, she has been well taught to obey her elders. Ten minutes later she reappeared in the tight thin cloth of her breast-halter and those sweet little briefs. She had added the black velveteen singlet whose shoulder straps left the shoulders themselves charmingly bare, but that would interfere little with my purpose. “So that there shall be no mistake,” I said quietly, “I wish you to look at these photographs and tell me if you are the girl who appears in them.”

As if I were dealing a pack of cards, I laid out a dozen of them on the desk. Claudia knew perfectly well that they were of her, for she had seen me taking them. Yet such a delightful confusion now filled her young face. “Yes,” she whispered, nodding nervously, as if she could scarcely utter the word. “Consider,” said I, acting the stern pedagogue, “the shame you have brought upon this house, your own family, and yourself by such lewd and indecent display in a public place.” Under the clustering locks on her forehead, Claudia's eyes looked so prettily startled. She was lost for words! “I will not waste breath, Claudia,” I said as I gathered the photographic prints, “Such wickedness at so early a stage of your visit! I cannot permit you to contaminate other girls by your example.

I shall send copies of these prints to your unhappy parents and request that arrangements be made for your return to Dusseldorf at their earliest convenience.” Now she recovered her powers of speech with the greatest speed. Innocent though she was, Claudia did not look it, for she appeared to offer her arse and open thighs willingly and wantonly to the camera in these gems. She leant forward over the desk and pleaded with me not to despatch the prints to her family. I thought I saw the first sparkle of a tear in her eyes.

Kneeling by my chair and kissing my hand, Claudia begged to be allowed to remain under my roof. She pressed her lips to my hand again and vowed to be “a good girl.” In her despair at my implacable moral rectitude, she implored me to inflict any alternative form of punishment- however severe. She would submit to it eagerly-and love me for it ever afterwards. I shifted a little in my chair, partly to give an impression of judicial indecision-and in part to try and conceal from Claudia's eyes the stiffening bulge of my prick in my trousers. “Nothing but a bare-bottomed whipping would suffice, Claudia,” I said abruptly, “and such a punishment would be rather unseemly.” No it would not! Claudia assured me at the top of her voice. She had read of such things in her studies- so she had!-and knew that in England girls were very often punished in that way.

“You suggest I should whip you like the young Mitchener tart?”

She nodded with something like excitement at the chance of escaping so easily. “I give fifty strokes with the cane across the bare bottom,” I said dismissively, “Never less. Sometimes more.”

Claudia quite understood and seemed more eager than ever. She is not a girl who enjoys a whipping- quite the contrary-but as an alternative to public disgrace and family scandal she wanted it badly.

“I should have to examine you very thoroughly- before and after-as is customary in reformatory thrashings.” She was so delighted at my relenting that I thought she might bend over the desk and take her pants down for my fingering there and then. And so, Dolly, I became the decent fellow who hates to see a girl's character ruined when there is a less damaging way of dealing with her offence.

I led her to the far side of the desk. “Bend tightly forward over the desk, Claudia. Stretch your arms out in front of you so that I can strap your wrists to the two far corners.” She obeyed and I anchored her in this position by the straps. What a view, Dolly! The firm broadened cheeks of Claudia's bottom in the tight sheen of emerald green briefs! The shape of pussy flesh plumply offered! The firm young thighs already bare! I saw that she had twisted her tousled crop of light brown hair and was trying to look back at me as she pillowed her head on the desk. It would never do. I took the two little screens and set them either side of her hips as she bent.

Stretched out as she was, it was now impossible for her to see what was going on behind her. I knew that I was truly going to enjoy myself with Claudia, and this expectation stiffened my prick so monstrously that I had to unbutton myself and release it. I chose a long and supple cane which would have raised panic in the hardest reformatory girl-and I opened the jar of vaseline. I pulled the black velveteen singlet well up to enjoy a view of Claudia's lightly suntanned back with the delicate and intricate bone-pattern of its vertebrae. “Do your teachers in Germany never undress you like this for punishment, Claudia? No? I'm sure they must want to. Any man with a pretty pupil like you wants to use the cane across her bare bottom.” The swollen knob of my prick touched the sheen of her briefs, nodding against a well-rounded cheek. “I shall take your briefs down now, Claudia. You'll feel the punishment more exquisitely from having the bamboo across your bare buttocks.” I took the waistband where it dented the soft flesh of her hips and stripped the green briefs down and off. The broadened young cheeks of Claudia's backside in this posture were more obviously swelling into firm femininity. I still maintain, Dolly, that it is at fifteen or so that many German beauties are most appealing in this part. Too often another ten years add a fatness to their behinds which is a little excessive for my taste. J opened a drawer of the desk between Claudia's pretty knees, obliging her to keep her legs six inches apart at that point. My hands touched the cool smoothness of her nymphlike buttocks, pressing the oval cheeks apart. I laid my finger on the little bud-hole of Claudia's anus. “I shall have to take your temperature here, Claudia, with an arse-thermometre. Before and after your chastisement:” Claudia's rear hole seemed to go suddenly very small and tight. Was it the threat of the thermometre or the touch of my finger? I slipped a hand between her legs and cupped her light-haired cunt in it. “I must also examine your fitness to receive chastisement by testing here, Claudia. I prefer not to cane a girl who is too greatly aroused. She may become hysterical or else manage to distract herself from being hurt. I think you like to masturbate, don't you, Claudia? How often do you play with yourself?”

All girls do so, Dolly, so the question is one which always has an answer. But almost always, as with Claudia, the confusion of the girl on being asked makes speech well-nigh impossible. “Answer, please, Claudia! Otherwise I must cane you and then send you back to your parents!” “I do it!” she gasped in her charmingly awkward English. “Where do you like to do it, Claudia?… In bed?… In the toilet?… In the bath?” She nodded submissively at each of these as I fondled her between the legs. “And when did you last play with yourself, Claudia?” “L-L-ast night!” The answer was gasped out after a pause. I knelt and began to nuzzle my lips over her lithe young thighs, for she had read that some “instrument” was applied here before punishment. Her knees being held apart, I feasted long on those two soft little swellings on the inner surfaces, just below the joining of her legs. I gave a little wash with my tongue. Claudia had just returned from the beach and so the soft flesh had the tang of the sea and the mineral tastes of a girl of fifteen.

Standing up again I manualised her cunt gently, under the pretext of looking for signs of her own masturbation. In five minutes more, Claudia was yielding her slippery love-dew. “Dear me,” I said severely, “You must have the medical speculum put up you, Claudia, in order that we may determine the extent of this moral disorder.” I assured her that the instrument would be warmed first, so that she might not cramp from the cold. Standing behind her, I guided the swollen knob of my erection between the rear of her thighs, parted the lips of her cunt with it, and felt myself grasped by a slippery velvet tightness. I had the greatest difficulty, Dolly, in not crying out with joy or panting hard. “We must probe you for five or ten minutes, Claudia. In the modem world, a whipping is a matter of careful science. It would never do for you to enjoy such a state between your legs when you have been brought here to suffer pain from the bamboo. We shall use the speculum to help you get such things out of your system before the caning begins.” Having delivered this load of claptrap, I began to ride gently in and out, trying to control my sounds of enjoyment as best I could. It was Claudia who came first, however. With rising whimpers of pleasure and sharper little cries, she scaled the peak of her ecstasy, squirming against the desk over which she was strapped, and yielding at last in a long, convulsive shudder. Picture me, Dolly, with my prick withdrawn and waving about, still stiff as a flagpole. I must bed it somewhere and spend-even if my reward should be the Pentonville gallows next day.

“Now the thermometre, Claudia,” I panted, “we must ensure that you have not overheated yourself.” I took a dollop of vaseline from the jar, touched it to Claudia's arsehole, and applied the knob.

I was so maddened that I obliged her to open almost at once- though with a sharp cry of alarm from the girl. Under various pretexts of taking her temperature, I buggered Claudia for ten minutes more, relishing the tightness of her adolescent arsehole round my shaft. The exercise evoked that rear view of her kneeling on all fours by the pier and presenting the smooth seat of her green bathing briefs.

Claudia's cropped hair twisted vainly to and fro as she tried to see exactly what this strange thermometre was. At last I released my spurting jet deep in her backside, causing her to cry out again with alarm at this sensation. How the devil would I explain the “accident” to her? I withdrew my prick and managed a forced laugh. “You little minx, Claudia!” I panted, “Why, you overheated the poor thermometre so much that some of the mercury spurted out through the little escape hole! How fortunate it was in your backside and not in your throat.”* Did she believe me, Dolly? I did not care then and, to be frank with you, I do not much care now. I have long thought that the only safety for me is to do as our friend Lord Frederick has done. When he left England and bought a plantation upon which “slaves” might still be held, I was half inclined to follow his example. When the “slaves” are girls of every prettiness, I cannot find a word to say against the system. Perhaps the authorities are more easy-going in Germany but here I often feel that my little enjoyments will one day put prison bars between me and the rest of the world-and I an officer and a gentleman! However, I am wandering from my subject. I now closed the drawer of the desk in order to strap Claudia's lithe young legs together. I took the long bamboo and swished it once or twice through the air for effect. Then I measured it across the firm young cheeks of Claudia's bare bottom. Oh, I assure you, Dolly, now I was the sternest of moralists with my prick at ease. And I was greatly enjoying it. “Keep your bottom quite still, Claudia. Don't tense the cheeks, you little bitch. You were keen enough to show your backside on the beach in those little green bathing pants weren't you, Claudia? Oh, yes you were. Fifty cuts of the bamboo across that nubile young backside, Claudia. I'm sure the teachers in the Dusseldorf classroom would envy me now.” I brought the bamboo down with an expert lash across the bare cheeks of the young nymph's bottom.

Claudia gasped at the agony of the naked smart. A splendid red stripe began to glow. I thrashed low down, where her softer buttocks and firmer thighs meet in a faint crease. Claudia cried out and I aimed with malicious excitement across that same stripe again-and again. My attentions raised a crimson weal across this place and drove her half frantic. Yet to increase the effect of the caning, I wanted the German nymph to feel that the bamboo had drawn blood in its first few strokes-and to fill her with horror at what lay ahead. She had asked for the cane and she would get it. I aimed again across the dangerously raised welt and this time a precious droplet rose and ran down the back of Claudia's firm young thigh. Our lithe adolescent nymph may have begged for a caning rather than the disgrace of being reported to her parents. Yet the bamboo had now branded the pale spread ovals of Claudia's fifteen-year-old bottom-cheeks with several vivid weals. As the cane drew a red droplet or two on the soft undercurve of her young arse, Claudia screamed loudly enough to be heard all the way to the Rhineland. Desperately she strained against the broad black straps which pinioned her legs and ankles, and which tethered her wrists. Let there be no hypocrisy between us, Dolly.

There was a wicked excitement in having made Claudia scream after seven or eight strokes of the bamboo across her bare backside-when there were still more than forty strokes to come. All the same, it was injudicious to allow her cries to be heard so easily. In the traditional way, when the panties are taken down they form a useful wadding but the bathing briefs were too stiff. Then I remembered Sian, the young servant with the red tresses and fair skin. Sian had had her cunt-jig and arse-exercise in this room once or twice during the past week. There in the basket lay a discarded pair of Sian's panties. Duly dampened and folded they were soon muffling Claudia's shrillness-much to the young nymph's dismay. “I'm going to make you begin all over again, Claudia,” I said gently. “We don't permit such interruptions while you're being caned. The first stroke again. If you fart, Claudia, or try any other diversions, it will merely add extra strokes to the discipline. Bend tighter. Get properly arse-upwards over the desk, Claudia, you young minx! Remember that when the cane thrashes you across the backs of your thighs, the stroke does not count.” For the next ten minutes, Claudia was frantic. Her adolescent buttocks jumped and quivered under the smacks of bamboo.

The stripes grew to weals and the strokes that crossed them made her toes curl with the anguish. Eight times I aimed across her thighs, from the backs of her knees almost to her bum-cheeks. The mop of her tousled light brown hair twisted to and fro as she tried to writhe in her straps. I promise you, Dolly, that for the next week or two Claudia's bottom-cheeks and the backs of her thighs will be too brown and yellow with bruises to make it possible for her to be returned home-even if that was my intention. Once or twice she managed to twist on to her hip, almost lying on her side. I caned her even then, on the exposed flank of her hips. Claudia knew that such strokes did not count but you may judge of her state, Dolly, by the fact that she would even incur such extra punishment to give her young bottom a moment's respite. She now has several red stripes across the flank, two or three upon the front of her thighs, and one aslant her firm young belly. On each occasion I turned the sobbing culprit over again and made her present her smarting arse for the next stroke. I confess, Dolly, that I went somewhat beyond the allocation of strokes.

I know it-and Claudia knows it. But no tales will be told. The state of Claudia's bottom this week is seen only by her bedroom mirror and the toilet-seat upon which she sits each day. Yet is it not monstrous, Dolly, that these inanimate objects should be privileged to enjoy the charms which our fifteen-year-old nymph hides self-consciously from such admirers as I? To be sure I have continued her punishment-lesson by making her work in my study each evening in the brief swimsuit in which she committed her offence. But that is not the same thing at all! I envisage a delightful and remote seraglio-well guarded from censorious eyes-and with no means by which the girls could stray. There one might keep a few dozen young ladies like Claudia to serve one's pleasures. Is it not severely logical? I might do to Claudia the very things which have just proved so enjoyable-and yet without any of the pretence at “justice” or “retribution” which English morality forces upon me. Claudia masturbates two or three times a week. At fifteen, it would be strange if she did not. But if she is going to do it anyway, why should she not be made to do it on a well-placed demonstration table for the delight of her admirers? As for the bedroom-mirror and the toilet-seat, why should they not share the contemplation of her with men who enjoy such things? The idea of necessary solitude will be at an end when she is made to understand that her master has sole right over her body and its performances. You see, Dolly, Lord Frederick has accomplished this on what he calls his “plantation.” We are rich as he. Could not something be arranged? His lordship will be passing through Berlin next month on his return from the Crown Prince's battues in Pomerania. Speak to him, I implore you, of such notions. And what of our two girls, Katharine and Claudia? You will be pleased to hear that the fat young cheeks of Katharine's arse were thrashed by the duenna-strap until our voluptuous Rhineland blonde could scarcely walk. And Claudia? Ah, Claudia! After I had finished caning her and reluctantly undid the straps, Claudia's first act was to press my hand to her lips and cover it with ardent kisses.

It was not, Dolly, that our tousled-headed nymph had fallen deeply in love with me, though she was carrying a good libation of my passion up her arse! No, it was gratitude! Tears flowed long and sentimentally.

She wept not only for the state of her young bottom-cheeks. It was pure gratitude to me as the kind master who had saved her reputation by permitting her to be punished in this enlightened manner! For the present, my dear Dolly, I bid you au revoir! Do think of Lord Fred and what might be arranged- for Natasha, Julia, Sonja, and Petra as well as the girls here. In the meantime, tell me of our high-school pair. I hope by now you have broken in the two little bitches to your ways! Your own adoring, Jack.