The Colonel's Nieces

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

While Julia was exploring the ways of love with Michael Lompret, her sister was busily engaged with Maxim de Berny. She had taken up much of her time, ably assisted by Dorothy, to furnish, the place in such a way as to give enough hints to Maxim how she expected to be loved. The tremendous screwing he had given her at Madame Lucy's party was still vivid in her memory. She had loved every moment of it, once his enormous tool had found its way into her belly, but the fear of getting with child prevented her from wanting it that way again.

Thus, Maxim had to be taught. He had never recognized her, and therefore Florentine had completely reorganized her little boudoir.

When Dorothy let the young man enter, the room indicated with statuettes and pictures what many people do not dare say openly. It said that love was not merely a raw and quick way of male satisfaction. It is that there was more to lovemaking than to just screw away on top of each other and then roll away sleepily and satisfied. It implied that there was another way of giving a certain Lady Evergreen the greatest pleasure and ecstasy in a manner which some people call sinful and sick.

But Florentine had told herself with the utmost logic that the entire affair was not for the satisfaction of a certain Maxim de Berny, but for the greatest pleasure of a widow Vaudrez. What she did in that house in Paris was strictly for her own satisfaction.

“Why,” she had asked herself, “should I endure all sorts of caresses and lovemaking I don't like, and hardly ever receive what I crave? In that case,” she continued her justifying monologue of so many sleepless nights, “I might as well get married again, and then I won't have to be afraid of any embarrassing mishaps. If Maxim does not want to follow my wishes, the sphinx will have to remain a sphinx to him, and I shall have to look for another lover. I wonder what Julia is up to. She asked me so suddenly and without any warning to leave Charmettes. Oh well, I'm glad that the new reception room here is completed, and tomorrow we can exchange our experiences again.”

It was almost as important to Florentine to relive her experiences by telling them to Julia to the last detail, as it was to have the experience. Sometimes Julia worried about her beautiful blonde sister, hoping fervently that the virile Maxim de Berny would succeed in breaking down Florentine's basic coldness. If she had known what Dorothy's advice would be, she would surely have given her trusted maid a severe tongue lashing.

As it was, Dorothy guided Maxim into the little reception room where the two women intended to have him cool his heels for a while. It was a small room, the walls covered with soft green silk. Strings of gilded flowers connected the eight corners. A long, oriental couch covered with the same green silk was built along the walls. A crystal and porcelain chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling threw its clear light on the statuary grouped around the room, and the pictures hanging from the wall. A smaller heater in the middle of the room wafted an aromatic smell.

“Madame offers her excuses for being tardy.” Dorothy said, “and begs his Lordship to wait for her.” She left Maxim alone. Soon, he began to get bored, and looked around.

“This room must have been decorated by one of the best interior decorators of Paris. That's a lead I must follow. There aren't many of them, and there are also very few gorgeous blondes. Now it's simply child's play to find out who she is. But what the devil is this. Am I supposed to find out for myself who she is, or are those articles brought together for some other purpose? They surely don't belong in a boarding school for girls! This here must be Venus. She is making love to Mars. But I have never seen a statue like this. There is another nymph, or goddess, helping her! Poor Mars. And this statue is almost remarkably alive. The goddess seems to be secretly in love with herself, contemplating her own voluptuous charms. And this one! Oh, oh! That has nothing to do with classical mythology. She is beautiful and alone. But she does not seem to mind because she is very busy making love to herself. Priestess and victim at the same time? It's terrible, my dear little girl, to do these beautiful things all by your lonely self. You should ask some nice little boy to help you. But to look at the face of this little girl, it seems that the sculptor caught her at the right moment. An expression like that means only one thing. She's coming! God, I wish I had been that happy sculptor! Lady Evergreen has quite a collection. It seems to me that this daughter of Eve ignores the Laws of Moses. At least it does not seem to me that she is overly concerned about the terrible punishments with which the good Lord threatens those who eat of the forbidden fruit. There is another lady, in an almost life-size painting who is having her cunt treated in such a way as procreation surely never intended. Well, anyhow, she has an accomplice who seems to enjoy it tremendously. The woman is very beautiful, and the way she has her white thighs clamped around the neck of her lover, it almost makes me horny to look at it. Come on, my dear boy, stretch out your lecherous tongue a little further. I know out of experience that the job is very demanding. But it's also terribly exciting, and you can be assured of great rewards. The expression of utter abandon and happiness on this woman's face is a work of art. I wonder who the painter is. That man isn't very good looking. Come to think of it, only the women in this curious collection are delectable and beautiful. I wonder if Lady Evergreen is about ready to receive me.”

During this monologue, Maxim had investigated and admired every statuette, painting and etching. He now walked back to the couch and began to leaf through an album which was put on one of the little end tables. It was filled with erotic picture. However, every single one of them portrayed lesbian scenes. He began to think.

“Now what,” he asked himself, “would be the purpose of this long waiting, and this homosexual exhibition. Why am I supposed to sit among undoubtedly the most expensive collection of lesbian curiosa in all of Paris?”

And suddenly, in a flash, it came to him. He was leafing through an album with exquisite engravings. There was a couple, engaged in about every position of lovemaking one could think of. Only one position was missing. The one in which a man could get a woman with child!

And under the last engraving, written in a woman's style, it said, “Surely there are enough possibilities to express one's love, and to reach the highest peaks of ecstasy without using that one.”

“Only a real ass needs more explanation,” Count de Berny said to himself, “and I surely must have been one during our first encounter. At least, I am pleased that she credits me with common sense. She did invite me again. But dammit, how could I know what she expected from me. She looked so innocent and virginal. That goes to show you how easily one can be deceived by beautiful large blue eyes. My lady fair seems to be a true and accomplished priestess of Venus, and I may have to learn things I haven't heard about yet!”

Dorothy interrupted his monologue. “Would your lordship be so kind as to follow me?”

And Maxim entered the room where he had spent so many beautiful hours just a few days ago. The room had not changed-it had the same chestnut-brown tapestries with pink flowers. Evergreen was stretched upon a sofa and she wore a negligee which seemed to go with her name. The folds of the transparent gown showed a chemise made mainly out of billows of lace and silk. Her negligee was embroidered with ruby-colored butterflies.

Flowers adorned her hair, and a large, exotic orchid was pinned on her breast, hiding part of her cleavage. Everything she wore was in perfect harmony with her soft complexion.

It was a pity that she covered her face with a mask.

“Oh, you evil little one,” Maxim said while he took a deep breath after a long kiss they exchanged upon greeting. “I have waited so long for this moment. Three whole days without any thought other than whether or not I would ever see my darling Evergreen again. I don't know if I can forgive you!”

“Have you really thought so much about me? I am glad to hear that, and I am also glad to know that this serious occupation has not caused you to neglect to court a young lady from the chorus line at the Opera, and to have a rendezvous with a well-known courtesan behind the discreet curtains of a certain famous restaurant in Paris.”

“How do you know all these things? But let me assure you that…”

“My dearest Maxim, you do not have to find excuses. I am not the jealous type. I only mentioned it to let you know that I am not one of those empty-headed creatures who will do anything just to head a well-turned phrase from their lover's mouth, and who believe everything he says. I know precisely when a man speaks, what he says and why he says it.”

“Do you mean that we were at the Opera and that restaurant at the same time-without me knowing about it?”

“Dearest don't you know that love is blind?”

“Please, I am serious. Were you really there?”

“I did not say that!”

“But in the meantime…”

“In the meantime I notice that your passion has not yet reached the point where your instincts take over.”

“One minute, darling.”

During this conversation, Maxim's hands had not been idle, and-straying through the billows of lace and silk-had soon discovered that his paramour's gown was only held together by a few ribbons. He quickly loosened them.

And the mirror was really a good one. It showed, when the billows of embroidered silk and lace slowly dropped to the floor, a perfect woman's body. Long, blonde hairs flowed down snow-white, well rounded shoulders. A patch of golden fleece covered and enchanting little love grotto. Maxim, who wanted to show that he was not a novice in the art of love, and who had been shown more than convincingly the extent of Lady Evergreen's passion, began to cover the wonderful breasts of the young woman with passionate, hot kisses. The little buds stretched voluptuously when his lips brushed past them and stretched more yearningly when he rolled them between his fingers. He tongued her breasts, caressed them with feverish hands, and did not forget the blonde tufts under her armpits.

Florentine let him do as he pleased; her eyes did not stray from the mirror for a single second. Intently, she followed every one of Maxim's movements.

He had picked her up and stretched her across the bed- Florentine anticipated all his movements. Staring at the mirror, she slowly spread her thighs, awaiting things to come with pounding heart and high expectations.

Maxim knelt down upon the bear rug in front of the bed. His loving fingers parted the silken curls of her quim, kissing the clitoris which he had bared. He kissed it, his eager tongue lapping across it, and it began to stretch and grow under his caresses till it was stiff enough for him to suck. He rolled it between his lips, and at the same time his hands eagerly twirled the nipples and kneaded the jutting breasts. The young woman sighed with a deep satisfaction.

“Aaah… it feels so good… oh, please, go on…”

“I was right,” Maxim thought, “there was good reason for her to show me all those lesbian scenes.”

“Oooh… it's delicious… how marvelous…” Lady Evergreen became more and more rapturous. “… please, not too quickly… I wish it to last forever and ever! Aaaah… ooh… please, please, darling lover… your tongue… I feel it… and your teeth… please, bite me tenderly!”

Maxim obeyed. He pressed his lips lovingly upon this downy peach which tasted better than anything he had ever tasted. He did not spend all his energy on the stiffened clitoris. After all, his love was no longer a young girl and he rightly suspected that the other parts of her vagina had also become sensitive enough to give her the greatest pleasure. His tongue strayed farther and his fingers took over the task of playing with the pumping clitoris. Florentine was floating in ecstasy. This was superior to Julia's kisses and caresses.

“Oh, my God… my dear God,” she exclaimed, “if you keep this up I am afraid that I can't… I can't… Oh, God… don't you hear me… I don't have enough strength… I can't… it is impossible… Maxim… darling… it… oooh… I…”

Florentine's peach-blonde quim flooded, her marvelous body spasmed and jerked, and with a deep sigh she fell back into the pillows She wanted to get up because she knew that she had been understood, but two strong hands pressed her back upon the bed. Maxim had begun to enjoy his task, and he wanted to see if he could cause her to have another orgasm.

He buried his head deeply between her thighs, his tongue fervently licking the insides of her sheath, his teeth nibbling sharply on her clitoris. With his index finger he slowly penetrated her tiny little asshole, while his thumb moved upwards to join his tongue. His prickly moustache mixed with the silken hairs of the moistened cunny and Florentine began to squirm and groan.

“Oooh,” she suddenly exclaimed in a high pitched voice, “I think I'm dying… I can't stand it.!” Maxim doubled his efforts and was soon rewarded by a copious flood which seemed to be drawn from her entire body, concentrating in her cunt. With his last effort, Maxim received the entire soul of this beautiful little blonde who fell back on the bed in a dead faint, without bothering to find out if her companion had also experienced a climax.

Maxim was tempted but, despite his extreme excitement, he managed to control himself, and he did not rape his paramour. He thought, “She obviously prefers minette over any other way of having sex, and I can't imagine that she will be so cold-blooded as not to repay me in at least a similar way.”

And, he was right. When Florentine had recuperated enough from her ecstasy she sat up in bed, threw her arms around Maxim's neck, and kissed him long and passionately.

“Oh, my lover, I love you so much. You have made me happier than I have ever been.”

Her mouth drank his hot breath and her nimble fingers began to unbutton his clothes. When he, too, was completely naked, she rubbed her little nose against his rough skin and mixed in those caresses which brought new life to the hopes of the Count de Berny. She quickly slid down from the bed and pressed him backwards, returning all the delights she had received from him. Her lips trailed the hair on his chest, her tongue tipped down toward his navel, went lower, and she slowly kissed the tip of his prick. Her tongue flicked and sipped at his balls, and her sharp little teeth nibbled sweetly at the shaft of his throbbing tool. Though the young man was inexperienced in these things-he had always taken the lead immediately-and therefore a little bit shy, her ministrations brought him to the point of utmost excitement, but still he could not let himself go.

Florentine became a little impatient and she called out, “Come on, my darling… I am longing for you! I want to taste your love juices… don't withhold them from me. Quickly, give me your tool!”

The girl slipped her panting lips over the spongy head of his throbbing rod and clung tightly to it. The wealth of her scented blonde hair spilled across Maxim's belly. She also clung to his balls with her fingers, and she took the entire length of his tool so far into her, so far past lips, teeth and tongue, deep into the velvety reaches of her throat, that Maxim feared she would strangle herself on so much meat. But Florentine knew what she was doing. She stroked the head softly into her palate, tenderly into her throat, creating a marvel of suction. The wet and drawing power seemed to pull all of Maxim into her mouth. He began to writhe and twist, and almost cried out loud for freedom. The explosive force was building up in his loins, aching in his belly, but every time he was about to come, Florentine switched the speed of her caresses, the tempo of her ministration and the rhythm of her sucking. Maxim's heaving tool responded to tongue and teeth as it throbbed manfully against the insides of her cheeks and the satiny depths of her throat. Florentine pulled upon his ramrod as if she wanted to pull his very backbone down through it.

Maxim grabbed her head and began to buck in a wild frenzy. Florentine followed all his movements in perfect counter-rhythm and she drew upon him with many gulpings and smackings. She drove him once again into the marvelous softness of her throat. It was too much.

Maxim let his semen fly in tremendous spurts, for the first time in his life not in a clinging quim but into the charming throat of his Lady Evergreen, who ate so adoringly of his prick and who caressed his balls so sensually.

He fell back in near stupor, lying supine for quite some time. He was sweaty and had slick places between his legs and in the hair of his chest. While he recuperated, Florentine washed him with lukewarm, scented water and dried him with warmed towels.

Finally they were able to get up, and sat down in the other room at a table which was laden with the choicest food. They both did great honor to their late supper.

“Do you know, my beauty, that you belong to those quiet waters that are so deep and dangerous?”

“Why?” the young woman asked innocently.

“Why? Because you, my dear masked lady, have taught me in one evening more than I could ever dream of, and I am afraid that from now on a simple coupling and the enjoyment of caressing beautiful legs is no longer enough for me. And that almost makes me feel sad!”

“Really? I don't understand…”

“Yes, you do! But… if you don't regret anything, then I can only be happy. Is there, however, any chance that we will ever do it… ah… the other way?”

“I do not want to give you a flat 'no' to that question, because that depends entirely upon the future. I do not want to sound egotistical, but the chances are slim. You see, this way there are very few consequences… for me.

“I see,” Maxim said smilingly. “This way we will never have a chance to get a little heir, But tell me, my darling, if you want to continue seeing me, is there ever a chance that I will see you without your mask?”

“That is the one and only thing, Maxim, that you should not ask of me. I am afraid that we would never meet again.”

“I don't insist upon it, darling Evergreen, though I must admit that it is slightly embarrassing.”

“Only a little bit!”

“Oh, you little dictator. Your will be done.” And he bowed mockingly in her direction. “But tell me darling, who painted those voluptuous pictures in your little waiting room? And who was the sculptor? And who made those perfect etchings?”

“I have no idea. I told Felicitas what I wanted, and she saw to it that the room was decorated.”

“Felicitas, the Negro woman?”

“Yes.”

“I would love to own a similar collection.”

“Maybe she is willing to help you.” The answer was properly evasive.

“Oh, you suspicious creature. Are you afraid that I weald try and uncover your identity through the painter and sculptors? Be sure that one of these days it may happen. The Topinambours club is terribly upset that two of their members have had a secret rendezvous, and they have made up their minds that they are going to find out who the lady in question really is.”

“Two rendezvous? I assure you, Maxim, that I have never…”

“I know, darling, because the other one is as dark as you are blonde. And this daughter of the land of Spain calls herself Pomegranate Flower. That nickname would never do for you, darling. But you cannot deny that you don't know about whom I am talking. Poor Count de Paliseul is terribly unhappy. He has heard not a single word from his sphinx for days; he has almost stopped eating and drinking.”

“He does look a little bit depressed lately.”

“Do you know him?”

“I have seen him riding in the Bois de Boulogne now and then,” she evaded the question.

“The poor man. Can't you do anything for him? I am sure that his love must be a good friend of yours. Can't you put in a good word for him? Tell Lady Pomegranate Flower to have pity on him.”

“I am sorry, I cannot do that. But if I were him, I would forget about the entire episode.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I happen to know that the affair is over, and that he did not live up to Pomegranate's expectations.”

“Does she have a waiting room like yours?”.

“Not as far as I know. Moreover, it is not up to me to tell about her. I know that she would never talk about me. I am only doing your friend de Paliseul a favor, because neither you, nor he, nor your entire club will ever find out about our identities.”

“My dearest Evergreen, how about going to bed together for a good night's rest?”

“Oh, no, my friend. It is too late, and I would miss the last train.”

“What? You are leaving in the middle of the night?”

“Yes.”

“Do you live far away from Paris?”

“I live in Paris, in Rome, in Chicago, in Timbuktu. Darling, don't try to find out.”

“You are right, my love. I don't like it, but I am afraid that I have to live with it. When shall I see you again?”

“In about a week.”

“Oh, please, darling, Can't you be more specific. I hate to share the fate of my poor friend de Paliseul.”

“You don't have to worry, and to prove it to you, expect a message for Thursday.”

“It's a date!” Thursday then!” Maxim kissed his lovely lady, Florentine pulled the bell cord and Felicitas promptly appeared. De Berny was now more than ever intent upon finding out his love's identity.

“Dear Miss Felicitas,” he said, pressing five gold pieces in her hand, “would you dome the favor of telling me where I can buy an album with etchings like the one I leafed through in Madame's little waiting room?”

“I am sorry, my lord, I can't,” Felicitas answered. “But I will be more than happy to get you one. And it is not necessary to pay me in advance. His Lordship is one of those gentlemen whose credit is good, and I am one of those servants who do not betray their mistresses.”

Maxim put the money which she handed him back in his purse, and he entered the equipage with Felicitas. After, it seemed, he had crisscrossed half of Paris, the coach stopped, he got out, and-much to his surprise — he was standing in front of the Club de Topinambours. The equipage was speeding away in the direction of the Champs Elysees.

Somebody tapped on his shoulder. It was de Paliseul and a priest.

“I see you had a date again?”

“Yes, I had a wonderful time.”

“Did you find out who she was?”

“No, and I don't think I will try!”

“I have told our fellow members that I will warn them as soon as I get my invitation. They will follow at a discreet distance, and then we will know who our paramours are.”

“I am afraid I have a sad message for you, my friend. It seems that your Pomegranate Flower was not pleased with your… ah… performance…” Maxim threw a glance in the direction of the priest.

“Excuse me,” de Paliseul said, “this is Father Lang from London. I was going to see to it that he could stay at my housekeeper's during his vacation in Paris. Unfortunately, she was indisposed. I have told him about our adventures. You do not have to keep secrets from him. And what do you mean, she was not pleased with my performance?” His face flushed red.

“I am sorry, my friend. I am merely a messenger, and I have been told by Lady Evergreen who is a very good friend of your lady love, to convey this message. It seems that the ladies know exactly what we are doing and what we are thinking. I have tried to unravel the secret and I have been unsuccessful. One thing, though-I am not going to endanger any future dates by prying into their secrets. After all, I have given my word of honor.”

De Paliseul was terribly upset. Maxim told him to go into the club and get good and drunk. He offered to take Father Lang to the home of his own housekeeper, the widow Lemaitre who, he was sure, would more than happy to have a boarder.

Father Lang was as pleased as de Paliseul was unhappy. He assured de Paliseul that he could fully understand the young man's feelings, thanked him for all the trouble he had gone through in his behalf, and he told Maxim that he was very grateful for helping a poor, stranded priest in the big city.

Maxim hailed a cab, and de Paliseul went poutingly into the Club de Topinambours. De Berny and Father Lang were soon on their way to the simple home of the widow Lemaitre.