Maudie: revelations of life in London

65
CHAPTER SEVEN

Notes were sent round in the morning that guests could lunch and breakfast when they liked, but that everyone w: requested to be in the big studio at 1:30. The earliness of the hour was because of the light.

The session to come was to consist of the proper shaving of the other flappers, and the subsequent photographing of them. There were also a few boys, mostly Italian, who had also to go through the ordeal.

Charlie, as soon as he had disposed of his aunt, had sent for Jeannie. He decided she would be invaluable as leader of the flapper lot. He was sitting rather moodily in his room vaguely annoyed about May, and about his Aunt Lavinia when Jeannie came in. He had scarcely noticed before how really very pretty the girl was.

She came up to him, and bent down her face to be kissed, in the most natural manner. The kiss ended with the girl on his knee, and his hand up her clothes. He could feel that there was a little bristle already, even only one day after shaving.

'There's going to be some fun today, ain't there?' she queried.

'Yes, dear, very funny fun.'

'Oh, I do hope so.'

She wriggled her cunt right over his finger. He had never had that done to him before.

'Where did you learn that, you little monkey, where did you learn that?' as her cunt contracted in a vice-like grip.

'Oh, I had a Japanese lover.'

She told him the story we have heard before, and then he asked for more Japanese tricks.

'Clothes'll be in the way; come on, I'll undress you.'

She had his shirt and flannel trousers and slippers-he was still in his bathing rig-off in a jiffy, and playfully smacked his great rigid tool.

She wouldn't let Charlie help her, but slid out of her light summer frock like a practised quick-change artist.

'Have you ever tried a kangaroo fuck?'

'No.'

'Well, it is rather difficult, but very nice, and as I'm very light, and you're so big and strong, we ought to manage.

'I take a little run, and jump for your neck, throwing my legs open to go right round your waist. If you're clever you catch me just under the armpits, and my cunt fits perfectly over your cock. If you don't catch me properly, I get a nasty blow in the stomach from that stiff ramrod of yours. Are you game?'

Charlie was game, and at once. He stood waiting for the spring like a wrestler waiting for his adversary. His muscles stood up under his white skin, and his penis seemed almost bursting, so tense were the veins.

Jeannie kissed him lightly once, her tongue just brushing his lips, gave him one sounding smack on the buttocks, and retired about seven feet.

She clapped her hands, gave what seemed to Charlie a few kangaroo-like bounds, and was in his arms-and not only his arms, for he had judged her spring to perfection, and the soft pulsating walls of her cunt were throbbing round his staff of very much life. He was almost brutal to the girl-something made him forget his great strength, like 'Gurt Jan Ridd'-and he almost crushed the little dear.

'Carry me round the room, dear,' she whispered hotly his ear, 'and get very, very slowly on your back on the sofa but for heaven's sake, don't jerk it out, and keep it tight so that there isn't a bit of an inch to show between us-and then I'll show you how to finish a fuck.'

He got down, very gently indeed.

'Lie quiet, now,' she said, and sat up, ' quite quiet,' for Charlie was wriggling. She smacked his face to emphasise her words.

'Now, I don't suppose you've had it this way, you fucking sod,' she muttered-she was mad with lust now-'and if you come before I want you to, or let your cock get just one little bit loose-I'm going to use it as a lever-you'll never fuck, me again.'

Very slowly she lifted up her legs till they were almost parallel with the flanks of her soft, vibrating body, clasped them round with her arms, and twisted her little finger behind her curly-haired head.

Then she began to sway-it was a wonderful rhythmic movement, and it appeared almost marvellous that the girl could keep her balance.

Once or twice Charlie lifted his hands, fearful she would fall, but with a clench of the lips and a flash of the eyes, she bade him put them down.

'Now-now!' she said, dreamily, 'as I put my legs very slowly down, just let your-your spunk drift down till my knees are on the bed, and we'll just come wonderfully together. Stare straight into my eyes, darling, and by our eyes we can gauge the final spasm to the absolute tick of a second-now watch me.'

There was something snake-like in the fascination of her stare, as she gradually brought her legs down. It seemed to Charlie at first almost a superhuman effort to keep from madly clutching her and crushing her on to his stomach.

But gradually he came under the magnetism of her devilish eyes-he could almost feel that she was pumping the semen up his cock-a cock that to him now seemed almost a detached thing-he was fucking with his brain not his penis-with the power from her eyes informing her brain.

At last her knees touched the bed. She threw her arms straight above her head, clapped her hands, screamed some strange Japanese-sounding jargon-and-Charlie shut his eyes, while a mist of wondrous colours floated across the cinematograph sheet of his brain-a mist illumined with-well, when the present writer asked Charlie to describe it, Charlie frankly admitted that he could not. It was a dream of lovely women, and always eyes, eyes, eyes of lust, he was being fucked by eyes.

Jeannie's voice brought him to his senses. She was standing by his side, her hands on her hips, looking down quizzically.

'Well?' she queried.

'God Almighty,' groaned Charlie, 'if there are any more home like you in Newcastle, that's where I want to die.'

'You're to thank Tokyo, and a little innate impulse for that, darling,' she said; 'but it's mainly Jap- and your cock: very few men could have kept me up like that-and now I've gone and fallen in love with you.'

Charlie didn't dare answer except by a shower of kisses all over her body, which she returned with interest. She kissed what remained of the semen from his glans, and he greedily fed on the white stream which slipped down her thighs.

Charlie might have forgotten everything but for the whistle of the speaking tube, and the admonition from his employer, Maudie, that the time had come for the performance to begin.

'Get the other girls together, dear,' he whispered. 'May'll look after you all, but I'm relying a lot on you. We're going to take 'em in batches.'

They were to begin with the boys, and Charlie, somewhat foolishly from the really erotic standpoint, had produced his bunne bouche first.

The drawn curtain presented a young Sicilian, about sixteen, and almost matured. He was very beautiful in a girlish way as far as his face was concerned, but his figure was that of an athlete, upright as a dart. His black hair curled crisply over his temples; his eyes were very large and passionate; his lips were like a cleft rose.

He was quite naked, save for sandals, and a cloth round his loins. A hum of appreciation went round the spectators.

No word was spoken, but a concealed band was heard playing soft, dreamy music.

Tubby came forward with his little tray of razors, and bowed, first to the audience, then to Charlie, and then to the boy. Charlie removed the cloth, and it was seen at once that Tubby had a fine subject to work on.

The boy's tool, semi-erect, was surrounded by a forest of luxuriantly curling bush. It seemed a shame to cleave the 'love-mane' from the young Narcissus-but is not the human form, male or female, more perfect in entire nudity of hirsute growth? I think so, my readers, and so did the 'clean-shave' devotees of Rosedale house.

There was a chair, similar to that in the London studio, and gently Charlie placed the boy, who was half laughing, half shyly blushing, in position.

Tubby, looking ridiculously modern in his lounge suit, faultlessly cut, beside this young naked god, stepped up and laid his hand on the quivering penis.

Instantly it shot into life-the poet bit his thumb, lustful longing filled the eyes of the women.

Quickly Tubby lathered the rolling curls with some soap, which drifted a delicious aroma into the nostrils of all. As he followed the action of the brush by a rub of his fingers, the boy's eyes became dreamy, his phallus was stiffly erect, a mighty one for a youth, and his arms hung listlessly over the edges of the chair.

One of the girls, dressed in a black skin-tight maillot, with red sleeves, a female Mephisto en effete, handed Tubby a razor. Deftly the fat young man played round that staff of eager love. One curiously shaped instrument after another he called for, till the last curl had fallen.

He bowed in reply to the plaudits of the audience.

A girl, one of the smallest, not quite naked, but very suggestively half-dressed, came forth with a tray of unguents and powders. A boy, fully dressed in Lord Fauntleroy style, held a basin, a third girl, quite naked, brought a cut-glass bottle of scent.

Tubby, his work completed, stepped back, and Maudie, pouring the scent into the silver bowl of water till a dense, but delicate, aroma filled the room, softly sponged the remaining lather from the boy.

That done, she rubbed the virgin skin with an unguent, and followed with powder.

It was a pretty sight, a contrast again of the old world and the new-for Maudie was still in her light summer frock, just the 'river girl' in excelsis, and this young Narcissus made a beautiful foil. And all the time his ramrod was stiffly rigid.

During these proceedings the poet had behaved in a very odd manner. Being conveniently distant from the general, he had ventured to hum one or two 'little unconsidered trifles', such as: 'See how the ruthless scythesman reaps His cruel harvest with relentless sweeps Of Sheffield steel.

Oh! lovely youth, oh! sweetly formed Apollo, Thy forest falls to Roger's best ground hollow.'

He paused. And, when the final act of desecration had been performed, and Charlie had raised the lad, still soulful-eyed, still prick erect, to his' sandaled feet, the poet displayed his true nature.

Bounding to his feet, he rushed upon the boy and flung his arms round him, raining kisses on his lips.

Charlie was at first disposed to interfere, but Maudie restrained him.

'This is delightfully unexpected,' she said.

The poet awoke to lights, faces, subdued music, a general tobu bobu of clatter, laughter and applause.

The naked youth turned over to him and kissed him. The poet got up, and, with as much bravado as he could muster, swaggered back among the spectators.

He passed the general, humming, 'A wandering minstrel I-a thing of-'

'Wandering minstrel, my arse, sir,' thundered the general.

'You're a bugger, sir, a goddamned bugger, and you ought to have an umbrella stuck up your arse, and opened inside, sir. Isn't a cunt good enough for you?'

Very brilliant limes focused a large patch of the stage, and on to that were hurried the four latest virgins, 'Jeannie's little lot', as Charlie announced; prominent amongst them was the red-haired flapper whose bush had been spared because of its flamboyant beauty. 'The burning bush,' as the poet had termed it.

After that little interlude, done because Charlie wanted Jeannie's turn over so that she could help him, the boys were proceeded with.

None was so beautiful as the first Sicilian, but they were all very pretty lads. No English, but a brace of young Highlanders whose parents had sold them for the Sassenach's gold, and a red-headed Irish youngster, rather on the plump side, who thoroughly enjoyed the proceedings.

Each of the youths in his turn was quickly operated on, but the poet made no spring. It was an enthralling rather than an 'erotic' exhibition-that is from the lust-compelling point of view of the word. Minds, however sensual, when compelled more to a rapt admiration of the beauty of the naked human form, than a passionate longing to do anything to it.

Charlie's choice had been very admirable. North, south east and west he had gone; and were there to be no question whatever of immorality-per se-there was opportunity enough, and more than enough, for the most eclectic photographic panoramas of the nude.

With the girls, Maudie-now no more the Maudie of the demure 'summer girl' costume, but Maudie radiant in her glorious, flaunting nakedness-took up the razors.

She was quick, almost brutally quick, with them all, and as each nymph was clean cunted, brushed her aside, till, as she rose from the task with a pant, she had a flock of little naked loves giggling and blushing around her.

'Now,' said Maudie, as she stood up, triumphant, 'we have, decided not to have the sports till tomorrow; there is so much to arrange. In the meantime, remember, all of you that this is absolutely Liberty Hall. You can do anything you like.'

The poet began to think.

A maid brought Maudie a peignoir elaborately designed with flowers. She left the great room with her graceful, lissom walk, followed by hungrily lustful eyes.

Tubby announced that he was going for a motor drive, and Charlie said he would go too. They collected Madame Rade and her niece and went.

The old general, when he heard the hum of the departing car, began to think. Even at his age, he was very lustful, and he did want Maudie. He was safe now, with both her young men out of the way, and he knew her room.

He risked it, found the door unlocked, and walked straight in. He found Maudie lying quite naked on the bed, the sunrays glorifying the ivory whiteness of her flesh. He made a cheap excuse about 'Wrong room, my mistake,' etc., and paused.

'Oh, don't go, general,' said Maudie, pleasantly. 'Stop and chat; I'm all alone.'

He sat on the edge of the bed, and caressed her naked knee. She stroked his cheek softly.

The general was a fine-looking old man. Many years of active service had given him a figure upright as a dart. His eyes were clear and bright, and in his trousers there thrilled a lusty cock..

'You must think this place a bit thick, general,' said Maudie.

'Madame,' answered the old soldier, 'I have fought and fucked all over the world, and I have seen most things, though nothing to equal your beauty.'

Maudie was pleased. The general was old, but still he was a distinguished man and a VC. She had had pretty well every variety of young and middle-aged man, but this old hero, who had listened with the stricken prisoners of Cawnpore to the distant skid of the approaching pipes, was a novelty. She thought she'd like it, but she left it to him to ask.

He tarried. He sat closer to her, toyed with her shapely legs and beautifully moulded breasts, kissed her ears, her eyes, her lips, but still was a little nervous to ask so much loveliness to give all of herself to him.

She made him tell her of his fucks and fights. He related how when he was in Constantinople on leave from the Crimea, he had found a Turkish officer whose life he had saved in the trenches, and how he and an invalided French Zouave had been invited by the grateful Turk to see his harem, and do what they damned pleased.

It appears they 'damned pleased a lot', and the old warrior described it all vivaciously.

'I was only a boy then, my dear girl,' he began, 'and by God I loved the girls, bless' em. I believe I was the only English officer in the war invited to get into a really swagger harem-and this chap, Ramuz Pasha, was so grateful that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

'We went into a luxuriously-got-up set of rooms, with about thirty women, some mere children, lying about reading, sewing or smoking, or playing with the little tots children who pottered about the marble floors.

'Well, the pasha bet Sous Lieutenant D'Alberique at myself?100 English that we wouldn't account for the lot them between us.

'My Gad, my dear, we did, and I won another?25 off D' Alberique as a side bet. I was seven ahead. Oh, it was lovely. Those warm, smooth Eastern beauties, their breath smelling of strange spices, their lazy, languorous lust, and the delicate vice of their actions. Lord, they did know how to fuck. "When Ramus told' em I had saved his life they nearly ate me. I never faltered. Between each fuck I jumped into the great bath in the middle of the big room. The water was warmed exactly right, perfumed, and strengthened with some pick-me-up mixture. The slaves brought us coffee, liqueurs, sweets and cigarettes, and it was one triumphant carnival of vice. If there had been any more I could have gone on.

'D'Alberique and I lay back on couches, and looked at our assembled victims-lovely, lustful-eyed Circassians, Greeks, Roumanians, Herzegovinians and Turks-there were even two English girls. And after that, my dear, when I went back to the hotel I found an English society lady on her way out to the front to see her husband, and what a night I had with her. Yet, when I looked out of the window in the morning over the sparkling waters of the Bosphorus I felt like a lion.'

Maudie was interested.

'Were you ever wounded, general?' she asked.

'Only once, madame, and rather badly. I have the scar still.

'Oh, do show me.'

'It's in rather an awkward place.'

'"What odds; do I mind your seeing me naked? Come on. I'm sure it wasn't behind.'

'Madame!'

The old soldier quickly took down his trousers, and there, just below his balls, was a long vicious looking scar. Above it his balls were swollen, and his cock stiff as an iron rod.

'How dreadful,' said Maudie, 'and supposing it had been a little higher, why you might have lost this,' and she fingered his cock.

That did it. The general read assent in her eyes and almost rent his clothes oft:

He was a fine naked figure, upright as a dart, muscular and clear of skin, and he gripped Maudie in an embrace which she certainly did not expect from a man of seventy odd.

Their bodies writhed in unison as Maudie gently put the general's cock into her greedy little cunt. It was big and the entrance was difficult at first, and painful, but the pain was the pain which you and I, readers of both sexes, know to be the perfect poetry of pain.

'Oh! oh! general,' Maudie gasped.

'My dear girl,' said the old soldier, 'in one part of South Africa where I was quartered, the maidens were sewn up damme, just before they were married, and if the mar couldn't get in, he was considered no man.'

The struggle was over, the pass passed, and the general was right in, his grey hairs pressed against Maudie's clean shaved mount of Venus.

Maudie took it as a 'dream fuck', possibly the very best form of fuck there is. With tightly closed eyes she imagined the old man who held her in his impassioned embrace whose finger strokes made her back boil with pleasure, and whose prick seemed to be drawing every atom of strength out of her, as a young soldier of early Victorian days fucking his tearful girl on the eve of his departure for the Crimea. She imagined him, bearded, begrimed, and half-frozen in the trenches. She could see him carrying the wounded Turk to safety under the fire of the Russian guns. She thought of the harem episode, thought too of the honours of the Mutiny. Of the triumphal return and of the pinning of the VC on his breast by the Queen herself. Kabul, Burma, Egypt, Majuba-they all rushed like cinematograph pictures across her brain.

In fact she fucked herself through fifty odd years of history and, as the rumble of the returning car warned them, they woke out of their lust dream and spent in unison.

'Dress quick, you old darling,' whispered Maudie. 'Tubby mustn't know.'

He was into his clothes with the speed of a practised old campaigner, and met Tubby at the end of the passage with Madame Rade.

'Rippin' drive,' said the fat young man, 'took Madame Rade's kid too-she's going to arrange about sports now, see you later.'

Maudie had sponged herself, but was still naked when the two came into her room. She made Tubby be lady's maid massage her a little, find her clothes, and put her into them. Then she gave him her keys, and asked for all her jewels.

It was a large order, for Maudie had not made love for peanuts all her young life.

Tray after tray Tubby lifted out of the great jewel chest. Every variety of precious stone glinted there, and Maudie got on all she could, bar the tiaras. Somehow her unexpected act of lust with the veteran servant of Mars, and the cloud visions of the gorgeous and gory scenes she had pictured, made her want to show off, to be extravagantly overdressed. She would be Ninon de l'Enclos-in ultramodern clothes.

The result was very dazzling, and as Tubby secured the last hook, and stood back to look, he gasped.

So did Madame Rade.

'Cherie,' she said, 'you look like a modiste's and jeweller's window combined, turned into a rainbow.'

Maudie did not answer. She was in the thralls of the full sensual rapture of jewels. As she looked in the glass at her fingers, her arms, her breasts, her waist, her throat, she read stories of love and lust, of battle and murder, of every unrestrained crime committed for the sake of a woman's kiss.

"With a click of her tongue she rang down the curtain on her dreams. 'Now,' she said, 'for the great handicap race for Toinette. I think I have got it right. It's a hundred yards.

'Charlie, of course, is scratch. Phil I've given five yards, he's a bit of an athlete, and the poet has long enough legs and I think eight is fair mark. Tuberino mio, you get fifteen, and old General Fitzhugh must have thirty-five. He'll hardly last. Now, there's old Rosenberg, an immensely wealthy stockbroker, whose coming down tonight. He takes fifteen, also, and Sandy McPhail, the Paisley-shawl merchant, is a ten-yard man. He'll be here tomorrow.'

Tubby rather grudgingly assented. He had set his heart on winning the race. He coveted little Toinette, and he meant to prove his manhood by taking her maidenhead properly.

'It's going to be?250 apiece,' Maudie added-'you may as well whack up now, Tubby.'

Tubby wrote a cheque. 'But,' he said, 'Charlie may not-'

'That's all right,' Maudie interrupted. 'I owe him a bit for a job he's going to do for me. That'll be?1,750 in all.'

Madame Rade heaved a happy sigh;?1,750-for that she didn't care who broke that little wisp of skin which guarded Toinette's womb.

Tubby went, and she stayed with Maudie to smoke and chat.