The Altar of Venus

Chapter VII

The little hypocrite wiped an imaginary tear from her eye and assured me soulfully that she had never, never done such a thing before, and that I must think she was a light woman to have even suggested any such thing, that if it weren't for the deep affection I had inspired in her heart, she would be greatly offended, and so on.

"I know it sounds bold, darling, but I'm just crazy about you, and my only hope is that you'll be generous!" I pleaded.

"Well," she finally agreed, "I believe my husband would kill jne if he ever found out but . . . I'll tell you what we can do. I'll take you to my apartment and we can spend a few hours together. It wouldn't be safe for me to go to a hotel because somebody might see me and tell my husband. You can meet me here Thursday afternoon.

That night I saw my friend, and advised him that the date for the trimming of the sucker had been definitely set and he promised to make all necessary arrangements to take care of his end of the program.

The anxiously awaited hour arrived, and punctually, in accordance with her promise, she was there waiting for me. And across the street idling before a shop window was my detective friend. She and I got into a taxi, and though I did not look behind I knew he was not very far in the background.

After a winding drive we drew up before a tall edifice, and as we got out, another car passed us slowly and came to a stop near the next corner.

We entered the building and stepped into an automatic lift. At the touch of a button the car moved silently upward and a few moments later she was conducting me down a lengthy corridor, before the last door of which she stopped, lifted a key in the lock, and we were inside.

Evidently there was no intention to delay things, for she lost no time in getting down to business. Seating herself on my lap, she pressed her lips to mine, favoring me with a voluptuous tongue caress which aroused every primordial instinct in my body, in fact so ravishingly intoxicating was the caress that for a moment I forgot, in the swirl of my emotions that it was simply calculated to render me an easy victim to a blackmailing scheme.

Her next move was to withdraw one of her breasts from its silkenshield. Tilting it upward with her hand she pressed the nipple between my lips. To th$ accompaniment of expressive sighs and voluptuous shivers on her part I sucked the protuberant little tit and played my tongue over the rosy circle which surrounded it.

The movement was emotional and one of my hands, which had been resting on the bare flesh of her leg, just above the hose, began an upward exploration under the semi-transparent garment. But before it got very far, she detained me, suggesting that we retire to the bedroom where I could remove my clothing and be more comfortable.

Carrying the decanter of liqueur with her she conducted me to the privacy of the sleeping quarters of the apartment.

Placing my faith in the efficacy of my detective friend's co-operation, I slipped off my clothing, and at her invitation lay down on the bed. No sooner had I done this than she stepped to the window, and closed the Venetian shutters.

"Ah," I thought "the signal for hubby."

She returned to the side of the bed and slowly unfastened the diaphanous garment which, when removed, revealed a seductive picture. But it was not entirely a nude picture. For in addition to the silk brassiere whose form sustaining pockets fitted her pretty breasts as though molded over them, and her hose and slippers, she had oh another article of apparel of old construction and which fitted like a glove about her hips and thighs. It was something like the abbreviated tights feminine exhibitional dancers use, which though effective in concealing the most intimate parts of the body leave all else exposed. Enough of this girl's body was visible to reveal a physical perfection worthy of sincere admiration and, crook or no crook, she presented as pretty a spectacle as ever delighted a masculine eye excited the envy of feminine one.

Alas, she was doomed to wait somewhat longer than she imagined at that moment, for down on the street below, a travel stained gentleman, in a dusty ulster, a small valise in his hand, returning unexpectedly from a long journey, walked right into the arms of a detective who was lounging in the doorway, and was quickly whisked into a waiting cab. He raved, swore, threatened, and pleaded in turn, but to no avail. He was not even permitted to use the telephone in the precinct station, despite his last, despairing plea.

Sufficient time had now elapsed to assure me that the gentleman's detention had been realized without a hitch, and I felt free to make a few moves of my own. My only preoccupation was that she might possibly raise a clamor which

would be prejudical to my plans. But in this moment, as though the heavens themselves were in sympathy with me, or actuated by her own reference to rain, the room darkened-and pre-ceeded by a sharp gust of wind a torrential deluge began to fall. It clattered and thundered against the sides of the building and the Venetian shutters over the windows and I knew that as long as it lasted any unusual noise in the room would be effectively cloaked from other occupants of the building.

Applying my mouth to the nipple of one of her breasts to distract her attention, I reached down and began to search for the buttoms which would release the tight garment, that up to the present had obstructed both my vision and my fingers. But I could not find them nor did I discover just where or how this singular garment was fastened. I tried to slip my hand up under it but it was skin tight and resisted my effort.

As she made no motion to assist me and comprehending that she had no intention of doing so I decided to remove it myself without wasting any more time in search of mysteriously concealed hooks or fastenings. Inserting my fingers under the waist band, I got a firm hold, and gave a quick, stout jerk. The garment ripped straight down the front.

The results were electrical. In a second's time

she was converted into a scratching, snarling, clawing little wild cat. It was all I could do to prevent her from doing me some actual physical harm before I got her clamped down in a manner which rendered her helpless.

"Cochon!" she gasped, her face livid with rage, "You've torn my panties!"

"I couldn't get them off any other way, sweetness!"

"Let me up!" she hissed. "What do you want to get up for? Aren't we going to do something first?"

"I've changed my mind! Let me up instantly! I am afraid my husband is coming!"

"But you told me he wasn't coming until Saturday!"

"I have a presentment he's coming to-day! He may be here any minute!"

"Well, if you're afraid he may come, let's hurry up and finish before he gets here!"

Securing her two wrists firmly with one hand, I reached down with the other and pulled away the remanants of the torn panties. So closely had she kept me occupied during the brief struggle that I had not even gotten a glimpse of what the torn garment revealed-but now I glanced downward, and received a surprise.

Her cunt was as devoid of hair as that of a baby. I placed a hand on it, and found that it had been cleanly and neatly shaved within recent hours.

The discovery was interesting for I knew that when Parisian girls keep this particular portion of their anatomy shaved off it means that they are submitting their bodies to a certain caress which hair rather tends to interfere with.

In plain words, somebody is sucking them.

The contact of my hand galvanized her into fresh action and I had all I could do for several minutes to subdue her again. Finally, heaving and panting, half suffocated, she lay still. And a moment later, somewhat to my surprise, the tention of her muscles relaxed, the angry expression disappeared from her face.

"You're hurting my arms," she murmured plaintively.

Cautiously, alert for some new move, I relaxed my grip slightly

She snuggled up to me and at the same time extended her hand downward. Her fingers closed about my cock and clasped it firmly. Still suspicious of this sudden change in tactics, but seduced by the contact of her soft hand, I adjusted myself to a more comfortable position by her side and waited developments. The hand on my cock began to move back and forth, and the manipulation set a series of pleasant little thrills to darting through my body. Instinctively

I hugged her closer. The sensation was so agreeable, that for a moment I forgot her unexpected change in comportment and abandoned myself to the caress. Soon the pleasurable sensations intensified and her hand began to move more swiftly. And, in a flash, I understood what she was up to.

The little fox was attempting to jack me off, hoping to get rid of me in this fashion.

Adroitly, I slipped one of my knees between hers, and then, before she had time to realize what I was doing I had her legs apart and was on top of her, with the head of my cockright against her cunt.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, when she felt it penetrating her, "Wait! Wait! Don't do it to me that way! I'm afraid of getting a baby! Take it out! Take it out! I'll suck it instead!"

The offer was tempting, but remembering her elusiveness, I thought better not to surrender the ground already won. I. gave a shove, and the result of the shove was that I found my cock sheathed in positively the tightest little cunt, not presumably virgin, of its entire career.

"Oh!" she gasped, "My husband will kill you for this!"

Curses, threats, epithets and maledictions poured from her lips in a steady torrent. Indifferent alike to threats and revilements, I

worked my.cock in and out. The tight constriction was delicious, and the obscene epithets with which she continued to shower me, instead of dampening my ardor, seemed to stimulate it. It was a unique experience. When the exquisite sensations reached the maximum of their intensity I stopped moving and let the tension relax. When the equilibrium was restored I began again, pushing my cock in and drawing it out with slow measured movements, calculated to prolong the pleasure as long as possible.

Meanwhile, the flow of curses and revilements continued without interruption. But now I began to note something incongruous. She was lifting her bottom slightly to meet my thrusts! And beween her revilements and the movements of my cock as it slid in and out of the tight, little hole, was a curious synchronism-a rhythmic relation. It brought to my mind the recollection of a funny story I had once heard, about a little boy caught in the act of masturbating himself by a maid servant who reprimanded him with a lugubrious warning to the effect that he would die if he did that. To which the boy, too far along with the business in hand to stop, replied:

"I don't care if I . . .do . . . die ….. do . . . die … do . . . die . . . do-die do-die do-die-do-die!"

While my cock was going in, she held her breath. And while it was coming out she gasped some epithet. But at the same time her bottom was coming up to meet each thrust.

I smiled down ino her face. She looked me angrily in the eye for a moment, and then suddenly her expression changed. She lay still for a few minutes and then, with a tremulous little "O-o-o-h!" began to raise and lower her hips with greater energy. I increased the rapidity of my own movements and at the same time released her hands which, until now, I had pinned down tightly with my own. Her arms came up and folded about my neck.

I had conquered the little vixen.

A moment later, heralded by several passionate exclamations orgasm overtook her, and as I perceived it, I let go also.

When the final tremors of our mutual orgastic exhaltation had died away, she sank limply back on the bed, one white forearm doubled across her face. The little red lips which but a short time before werei hurling maledictions at me, were quiet now. In silence, I slowly desengaged myself and rising from the bed, began to put on my clothing. I was almost dressed before she stirred, then sitting up suddenly, she glanced downward, to where some starchy fluid was trickling slowly down, between her thighs onto the white linen of the bed. She sprang to her

feet exclaiming:

"Oh! Yiou're probably gotten me with a baby!"

Precipitately, she rushed into the bath room from whence the sound of splashing water spoke eloquently of her precautions to avoid unwanted progeny.

I had completed my dressing when she came back into the room with a towel stuck between her legs. The spectacle she presented as she stood there eyeing me in a puzzled, undecided way, her cheeks flushed and her short black curls in disorder about her face was extremely enticing and for a moment I almost regretted having put on my clothes. Suddenly, however, I noticed tears glistening on her eye lashes. A wave of compassion swept over me, and my complacency at having bested her changed to pity. She had tried to trick me and had failed. But she was a woman. More than that-a young and beautiful one, naked and crying. What combination imaginable could be more effective to move a masculine heart?

I had intended to leave quickly for I had been in the place longer than I expected and knew my detective friend would be uneasy, not knowing just what might have transpired. But I was stirred by her melancholy demeanor. I had outwitted her, and could afford to be generous. Seating myself in a chair I said in kindly tones:

"Come here, little one. I want to talk to you a minute before I go."

Hesitatingly she approached the chair in which I was sitting. I put an arm about her naked waist and taking one of her hands in mine, said:

"You're far too sweet a little girl to be mixed up in such games as this. The police know all about it and they're just waiting to surprise you. Get out of it, honey, before they have a chance. Tell your husband to find some way to make a living without exposing you to such danger."

"Are you a policeman?" she gasped in a frightened whisper.

"No, honey, I'm not a policeman. But I have a friend who is, and he told me all about it. I knew right from the start."

To my conternation she began to weep in earnest. The tears streaked down her cheeks and fell on my hand. Touched and embarrassed, I drew her down on my lap and tried to console her.

"Now don't cry little one. There's no great harm done. There's still time to fix things up.

"Is my husband in jail?" she asked, tremulously.

"Don't worry about him. He'll be back in the morning. Maybe I can fix it so he'll be back tonight."

"Oh, will you, surely ?"

1 will if I can but if I do, you must promise me you won't let him put you in such a situation as this again. 11

"I promise! I promise!" she exclaimed heart-fully and then as an after thought struck her, she asked timidly:

"Will he know what you . . . what… I mean, we did?"

"Not unless you tell him, honey. He has no way of knowing just what happened. You can tell him you sent me away when he didn't come. Heaven knows," I added, smiling, "you certainly tried hard enough!"

"Oh' you're a good man! I'm sorry I tried to fool you!"-and again she burst into tears. "The others (sob) weren't weren't (sob) like you; they were just (sob) fresh old men!"

"I expected maybe they had it coming to them all right, but they will make trouble for you sooner or later, baby," and as the tears continued to flow, I took my handkerchief and endeavored to dry her cheeks, soothing her with what reassurances I could.

Suddenly she threw her arms about my neck and began to kiss me.

"You're a good man," she repeated, and then, lowering her eyes, she whispered: "If you want me to, I'll do it with you again before you go!

Surprised and pleased, I glanced at my watch. It was getting later and every minute my stay was prolonged would increase my friend's anxiety. He might even, if I failed to appear soon, show up at the apartment. At the same time, the virginal aspect of that nude, shaven little cleft awakened powerful temptations, I placed the palm of my hand over it tentatively. Little electric-like shivers chased themselves up and down my spine at the touch, and my cock stiffened out in anticipation.

"Come on, if you want to. One more won't make any difference now, anyway."

"What do you know about psychic stimulation?" I asked, my thoughts reverting to Irma and her theories.

"Psychic stimulation?" she repeated, wonder-ingly, "What do you mean my psychic stimulation?"

"Oh, nothing much," I replied. "Baby, I'm British but I like France and I like some of the French customs. I have little time left, but if you're really willing, Fd like to do it to you with my tongue."

"All right!" she answered tensly, "Fd rather have it that way. I'm terribly afraid of getting a baby!" and she slipped-off my knees.

Placing herself on the bed she put a pillow under her hips, separated her legs and in less

time than it takes to tell, my face was down between her thighs, and my lips united with another pair of lips, which ran up and down, instead of crosswise. Two soft little hands clasped my cheeks as my tongue penetrated and explored the secret depths. And when its activities were transferee! to the tiny little protuberance in the upper extremity of the naked incision, she writhed and moaned with ecstasy, and the little hands gripped my cheeks convulsively.

"Oh!" she gasped, "you're making me come again !"

The warm flesh against my mouth began to exhude moisture. Her body stiffened out, maintaining its rigidity for a moment and then relaxed.

I got up and with the towel she had cast aside, wiped off my lips.

"Before I go, tell me your name, honey. Your right name, I mean!"

She flushed at the recollection of the false name previously given me, and replied:

"Georgina."

"Georgina," I said, "if your number wasn't already drawn it would be easy to fall for you in a big way." And my words were sincere.

'It looks like I already have fallen for you." she responded pensively.

"Thank you, honey. I'll go now, and see about your husband."

A feeling of sadness, almost of regret, that I would never see her again enveloped me as I walked rapidly down the street.

"Sentimental fool!" I said to myself, endeavoring to shake off the gloomy sentiments which had invaded my thoughts. I had gotten what I went after, but in my heart I knew I was taking something away with me which I had not calculated on, and that the memory of a litle figure, with its disordered curls and wet cheeks against my face, its breasts, firm and white pressed to my heart while I looked down over her shoulder at the softly rounded curve of a naked bottom and the lissom swell of daintily sculptured legs, glistening through the black sheen of her hose, would haunt me throughout the years to come.

Fifteen minutes later I was at a telephone, and when the call was effected, the uneasy voice of my detectice friend inquired:

"What in the world happened? I was about to take a man and go out there. Thought maybe that little witch and stuck a knife in your ribs. She stalled you off, didn't she?"

"No, she didn't stall me off. I'll tell you later."

"Well . . . I'll be . . . did you really …??'

"Yes, yes; I'll tell you all about it when I see you. But that fellow . . . where is he?"

"Detained for investigation."

"Could you get him out to-night, if you wanted to?"

"To-night! Why … I could, I guess, but what's the rush?"

"Get him out, if you want to do me a favor. It's important to me. I've given my word, and I want to make it good. I'll get a cab and be down soon. Try and have him loose by the time I get there."

And I hung up the receiver.

The following week I was back in England.

But instead of going home, I took a room in London and in accordance with previously formulated plans, began looking around for an opportunity to invest what remained of the money grandmother had left me in some manner which would yield me a living.

After investigating many of the solicitations which came to me as the result of a small advertisement in the Daily Mail I finally decided upon revenues promised on the investment, would also provide me with employment at a nominal salary.

Once located, I applied myself diligently to the task of learning the fundamentals of the business and at the end of the first year, was made assistant manager. During this period I had dedicated my time and interest almost ex-

clusively to the business and such amorous expansion as I permitted myself was confined to that class which is usually paid for by the hour or by the night. Fastidious tastes stood in the way of any extended relationships with the girls or women which I encountered is purely phys-* ical necessities, I remained heart whole and fancy free for something like a year and a half.

And then I met Edyth.

I found her in the unromantic, and prosaic atmosphere of a big department store-a sweet faced, modest, lovable girl of attractive personality voice, immediately set up in my heart that mysterious vibration which is a prelude to what we call love.

In the wiles and stratagems I employed and the prolonged courtship I paid her, before she finally surrendered her affections and something else to me, I shall not dwell. Suffice to say that eventually she gave up her employment, and we established ourselves in a pretty little flat in Kensington Gardens.

Of ardent and passionate nature, she unfolded like an exotic tropical blossom and enshrined with her memory are the recollections of many happy hours.

She had no vices, no eccentricities; she was just a wholesome normal, adorable girl, whose heart, starved for affection, responded with pas-

sionate ardor to my caresses, a harp which had but waited the touch of a master to give forth its sweetest strains.

Edyth had beenmarried, but had left her husband after a series of heart breaking disillusions. Because of the peculiarly hard divorce laws of Great Britain, and the unique circumstances under which she had separated from her husband she had never attempted to secure a divorce and presumed herself to be still legally bound to a man she nad not seen in over two years.

The events which preceeded her separation from this man as she related them to me were so startling that despite the fact this biography was intended to refer only to my own experiences, I cannot bring myself to deprive my readers of their telling. I shall, therefore, step out of the picture for an interval, to transcribe the story, exactly as Edyth, with dramatic realism, averted eyes and frequent blushes as some of the more succulent details were recounted, told it to me. And, may I observe that in the telling, she employed a few words which I never previously, or aferwards either for that matter, heard fall from her lips.

I was eighteen years old when Vernon began to pay me attentions. He was five years older than I, and in my inexperience he seemed to me the epitome of masculine perfection. Nice looking, well groomed, gallant and attentive, he quickly captured my youthful affections. When he proposed marriage to me, my parents, solicitous for my welfare, interposed some objections for Vernon had nothing but an unimportant clerkship, and evidently had not impressed them as favorably as he had me. But this being the only tangible objection they could present against our marriage, I laughed it to scorn, and when they realized that my heart was set, they withdrew their opposition, and we were married.

I was deeply in love with my handsome husband and for a short time was ideally happy.

My first shock came when I discovered that a beautiful diamond engagement ring he had slipped on my finger, was unpaid for, and that the installments due on it were sadly in arrears. The small salary which he received had, before our marriage, sufficed for his own necessities but as he had saved nothing we were compelled to adopt methods of strictest economy. Before marriage I had been accustomed to a comfortable living, and generous parents had always provided me with money to purchase the little luxuries of dress and toilet so dear to the feminine heart. After marriage, my father con-

tinued to give me small sums destined to my own personal use, but the pressure of domestic obligations was such that I was obliged to use this money for household expenses. The former luxuries were sadly missed, but still deeply enamoured with, my husband, I would not havp given him up for all the treasures of India,

But, alas, the sweetest illusions of life are those most prone to rapid destruction.

The installments due on the ring had mounted to a figure which in our actual state of finances was apalling, and to save Vernon from the embarrassment of constant dunning, threats, I silently withdrew it from my finger, and handed it to him with request that it be returned.

This was but the beginning, and before we had been married half a year, I began to see life through less rosy spectacles. The sad realization that the idol of my girlish affections was far from being all I had so confidently assumed, was forced upon me.

Vernon was of weak character and lacked the manly agressive qualities which women require in the men they love, and without which, respect and admiration are impossible. Marriage, instead of developing these latent if at all existent qualities was having just the contrary effect upon him and day by day he was becoming accustomed to lean more on me. The money

given me by my father was now accepted as a matter of-course as being our main dependence in household finances, and his own salary was devoted almost entirely to personal expenditures.

I still loved Venon-but instead of loving him with respect and admiration, it was a pitying love-more as a mother might love a weak and petulant child.

When we had been married about a year, Vernon lost his position, and as the weeks went by, without a serious effort on his part to find another, I was obliged to seek employment. In this I was successful and though the pay was small between it and what my father gave me we managed to live.

Vernon spent most of the time lying around the house, smoking innumerable cigarettes and reviling his "rotten luck" as he called it. If I reproved him for his failure to make a more determined effort to improve his circumstances he became cross and irritable, and would leave the house, to return at a late hour of the night.

Now appeared upon the scene a Mr. George Tucker.

This individual came home one evening with Vernon, and was introduced to me as an old friend of my husband's. Mr. Tucker, though not of displeasing appearance, was an uncultured man several years older than Vernon, addicted to flashy clothing, and apparently well supplied with money. From the moment I saw this man I felt an instinctive dislike for him. His conversation was in bad taste, and the first evening he spent with us, he eyed me incessantly, assuring my husband that had he known what a "topping little woman" he had he would not have delayed so long in paying his respects.

After this Mr. Tucker's visits came in rapid succession. Occasionally he invited us out to cafes, cinematographic shows and cabarets, always with a vulgar, and ostentatious display of money. I would gladly have avoided his hospitality but Vernon insisted that I accompany them and reprimanded me for any display of coolness toward the man.

He assured me that Mr. Tucker was a person of wealth and influence engaged in many prosperous enterprises and that the cultivation of his friendship was bound to result in a solution of his own difficulties, and that I was therefore to treat him with the greatest consideration. I could not imagine what kind of business the man was engaged in-and doubted whether it could be anything of a very respectable nature, but when I questioned Vernon on this score, his answers were evasive-Mr. Tucker's interests were many and varied. Horse racing I found out later. Within a short space of time his visits

were of nightly occurence, and when we did not go to a show or a cafe, he sat around until eleven or twelve o'clock, listening to Vernon and looking at me. My intuition coupled with the many more or less frank attentions Mr, Tucker paid me told me that he was more interested in me than in my husband. There are things which a woman instinctively knows and though I was innocent and unsuspecting to a fault I simply "felt" the things this man was thinking as he sat in our little parlor his eyeis devouring my every movement, and I was astonished that Vernon did not preceive what was to me so obvious.

Soon Mr. Tucker was bringing huge, boxes of candy, tied with flaming red ribbons and other gifts which, in order not to give my husband further reason to chide me for lack of cordiality I reluctantly accepted. About this time I observed that Vernon was never without spending money, which I did not doubt was being supplied by this mysterious and accommodating friend whose attention to me was likewise becoming more, and more pronounced. Vernon's slight preoccupation for the interest the man was now openly displaying in me, filled me with amazement. I could not understand it. One night after I had shaken Mr. Tucker's hand off my arm several times in succession, I said to him:

"Vernon, I simply can't stand that man. He is too fresh. What in the world do you see in him to have him hanging around here all the time?"

"Listen, Eedy!" replied my husband, "George is the best friend I've got and it's a damned shame you're so stand-offish with him. If you had any real interest in seeing me get on my feet, you wouldn't treat him so cold!"

"But, Vernon, what has that got to do with his having his hands on me all the time? I don't like it!"

"Aw, hell! What do you want to do? Make him sore at us?"

I subsided although I was inwardly much perturbed at my husband's singular attitude. It seemed as though each day was bringing some new disillusion.

A few nights later Mr. Tucker suggested that instead of going out for the evening we send for beer and sandwiches at his expense and en* joy ourselves at home. Vernon seconded the idea with enthusiasm and immediately volunteered to go after the necessary ingredients. Supplied with money by the always accommodating Mr. Tucker he put on his hat and coat and went out.

"Girlie," said Mr. Tucker as soon as we were alone, "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Tucker."

"You know, I think a lot of Vernie, but I think a lot of you, too."

"Yes, I know you are a good friend to Vernon, Mr. Tucker."

He arose, drew his chair closer to mine, placed his hand on my knee familiarly, and continued:

"I know you're kind of up against it here. A sweet little girl like you ought not to be working. What Vernie needs is somebody to back him up, and I'm the chappie that's going to do it."

He patted my knee affectionately.

"I'm sure my husband will appreciate anything you do for him."

"And you … ? ?" he whispered sentimentally, and at the same time his hand dropped down over the calf of my leg and began to squeeze it.

There was an implication in his words I didn't like. Also his act in feeling my leg in such a famliar manner aroused my anger. Moving my chair sufficiently to dislodge his hands, I said coldly:

"I am Vernon's wife, Mr. Tucker." After a long delay Vernon returned with bottled stout, sandwiches, cheese and other comestibles.

"Well, how did you folks get along while I was gone?" he exclaimed breezily. "You know, George/ he continued,-shaking his finger with a waggish gesture, "I wouldn't trust Eeedy alone with anybody but you!"

"Damned if I didn't think you'd be safe in trusting her with pretty near anyone." responded Mr. Tucker sourly, whereupon my husband cast a sharp glance in my direction.

"You two haven't been quarreling, have you?"

"Of course we haven't been quarreling, Vernon! Mr. Tucker has been telling me how much he thinks of you."

The bottles were opened, and under the mellowing influence of the liquid contents the momentary tension relaxed and Mr. Tucker and Vrnon were soon in a good humor again. Before the evening was over I received another shock for my husband told a story which although it convulsed Mr. Tucker with laughter, suffused my face with shame at hearing it in his presence.

"Vernie, you oughtn't to tell such stories in front of Eedy! Just look how she's blushing!" Mr. Tucker exclaimed, gleefully.

As soon as he was gone, Vernon's good humor and gaiety vanished.

"What did you do to George to make him peeved while I was gone?" he asked, turning angrily to me.

"I didn't do anything to him, Vernon dear. He put his hand on my leg, underneath my dress, and I moved my chair, that was all."

"I'd like to know," he exclaimed, furiously, "why you're so damned finniky with George!"

"But, Vernon!" I protested, almost speechless with surprise, "You surely don't approve of him taking such liberties as that, do you?"

"Oh, what the hell does it amount to? He isn't going to eat you!"

I stared at him wide eyed and, changing his tones, he added coaxingly:

"Say, Eedie, why don't you loosen up a bit with George? He could do a lot for us, if you'd be more sensible. There's nothing in all this damn prudery. It isn't going to get us any place!"

As I listened to these strange words, scarcely able to believe my ears, a terrible comprehension began to dawn on me and suddenly an explanation of many things which had hitherto puzzled me made itself apparent.

I looked at him steadily, and for the first time I saw him in his true light, a weakling, a selfish, spineless mah from whom the last bit of artificial gilt was gone. And in an instant every shred of affection faded away and in its place, at the recollection of all I had lost, came a cold determined longing to revenge myself.

Even as I looked at him a plan, suggested by his own words, half formulated itself in my mind.

With simulated calmess, I said softly:

"Vernon, let's get things straight. Just what is it you want me to do to help you? Do you want me to let Mr. Tucker fuck me?"

His face flushed at hearing the ugly word, but deceived by my apparent tranquility, he replied:

"Well, Eedy, George is a good scout. You could loosen up a bit with him. Of course …" he added virtuously, "I wouldn't want any other chap fooling with you . . . ."

"Vernon, was that why you went out tonight? You don't have to hide anything from me. Now that we understand each other, I'm going to help you but I want to know just exactly what I'm expecting to do. You've already told Mr. Tucker he could do it with me, haven't you?"

Still deceived by the suavity of my tones, he answered:

"Well . . . not exactly, but there wouldn't be any great harm if you came through to him once or twice and it would put us on easy street!"

"Very well, Vernon. That's what I wanted to know. I'll do it. But the next time you arrange it, don't go out. It isn't necessary and besides, I'm afraid of him. If you want me to let

him do it with me, you must stay in the room." "But, Eedy! That wouldn't be decent! he exclaimed, in surprise. "He wouldn't hurt you! What would he think if I was sticking around ?" "You leave that to me, Vernon. You'll have to be here, or I won't let him touch me."

"Well," he agreed, doubtfully, "we'll fix. it some way."