Tableaux Vivants

ON THE SEAT OF A CLOSE-STOOL, OR THE CAPRICES OF NATURE

Madame Celeste de Congey having sent me an invitation to a banquet which she was giving for some friends, I went without any pressing.

I found her beautifully attired in a very low-cut dress. Two lovely globes half peeping from her corsage caused the dowagers to raise their eyebrows. Matters were made much worse by Celeste happening to burst into a fit of laughter whilst drinking. The glass of sherry would not go down. The fair one coughed; in the effort caused by this confounded cough, her left bosom burst its barrier and sprang from its prison.

She replaced it leisurely, showing no concern, all the while examining from the corner of her eye the effect which the sight of her charms had produced on the male portion of her guests.

She noticed-the rogue-that the person most disturbed was myself.

O nature, nature! Capricious in thy designs, thou hast placed the heart nigh to the stomach; hence the emotion of the one precipitates the course of the other. Thus it happened with me. Towards the close of the evening I was obliged to “seek fortune,” and slipping down the length of a sombre corridor, I discovered a dark closet which appeared to me to be a wardrobe. It was pervaded by the odour of jasmine, usual in these retreats. I entered, and groping about encountered a night-chair. Necessity has no law.

Suddenly, just as I was finishing my business, the sound of a light footfall and the froufrou of silk made themselves heard in the passage. Someone pushed open the door and came in. I did not stir.

The lady-for it was one-knew well where the night-chair was placed. She took her measures accordingly, and approaching backwards where I was seated, raised her petticoats, which enveloped me like a dark cloud. And two buttocks of full rondeur and plumpness, satiny in sheen, and grateful in warmth, sank down on me, deeming themselves gracing a different throne.

“Ah! Rescue! Horror! What is it? A man!”

The unfortunate part was that whilst all this was passing she had begun to make water. A burning flood inundated my thighs.

“Help! A man!”

“Madame, in the name of heaven, do not cry out!”

“A man!”

As though she needed to hear my voice to know that it was with a man she had committed herself. An unmistakeable sign told her that plainly enough. The mark of my sex agitated itself beneath her.

“Sir!”

She was pissing all the while.

My arms encircled this magnificent backside, my two hands were crossed on her rebounding stomach.

“Sir, sir, who are you?”

“I am your neighbour at table.”

And my hand-

“Sir! Here-and doing what you are doing!”

“It is you who are doing-I have finished.”

And a certain pendulum forced its way under the noble and puissant postface of the lady.

“Here!” she repeated. “You are a pig! You smell abominably. Pouah, sir. Insolent! Would you presume? He is entering! Fie! But it is disgusting. Ah, ah!”

She ejaculated, she pissed. How delightful and how atrocious!

“It was you, Richard! It was you!” she said to me. “On a night-chair. I never dare look you in the face again. However can we withdraw from this place now?”

“It is indispensable, my dear, that you raise yourself first, and allow me-”

“To wipe yourself. Pouah! Hold, there is in the corner a jug of clean water. As for myself, I will go to my room and cleanse myself in the wash-hand basin.”

“But it is I who received everything!”

The fact is that this dear Celeste had put me, by making water over me, in such a state that it was impossible for me to return to the drawing room.

I should say that this wardrobe was Madame de Congey's back dressing room, and that it communicated with her chamber. I rejoined the fair one there, after having plunged myself into the water jug. She helped me to strip off all my clothes, which we put in front of the hearth to dry, whilst we recommenced our joyance.

Thus began my amours with Celeste de Congey.