“What are you going to tell her now? What are you going to do with her? What will she say when she finds out?” I asked.
Camille did not know. The girl would find out, and then she must excuse herself as well as she could, would say it was better, and jollier, and more money making than to make dresses. Besides, the girl could not help herself and would have to make the best of it.
When was I to have her? I asked. As soon as I could get her; there she was, and I might try when and how I liked; help me more she could not, she could not insist on Louise letting me; but no doubt she would in time, no one else should have her.
I was not so sure of that. Camille was gay, and although I had for more than a year excluded most men from the house, yet she did have other men there, and I knew they would see the girl, might like her, might pay Camille; all the remarks of the retired major came strongly before me, and I thought I was going to be sold, and said so.
She replied that I was not; she would leave me with the girl when I liked; if the girl spoke to her she would advise her to let me, but would have nothing to do with influencing her beyond that; and when the event came off, she meant to be out, so that Louise’s friends could not say anything. If she went gay it was no fault of hers, young women would have it done to them, it was natural. That was the game she meant to play.
I saw that I had paid her only for bringing a girl, and must take my chance of getting into her; all she would do was to keep the coast clear. I don’t know what I really did expect Camille to do, but think I imagined that she would have got the girl in bed with her some night, let me get into bed with them, and helped to make her fuck, if she would not. This was dissipated; I was to have the chance I should have had with a servant in my mother’s house, or less, for this girl I should not see so often, and could not be sure she would be so well looked after.
So Camille went out, leaving me alone with the servant whenever I wished. I expect she went with other men at houses of friends, and so got her time paid for twice over and made a good thing of it; perhaps she thought the longer this lasted the better it would be for her. I think now that that was her game.
I began going about elsewhere, sleeping with Louise at times; but she was always pestering me about being in the family way, which annoyed me; and wanted such a lot of ballocking, that that annoyed me also. My cousin Fred wanted me to go to Paris with him, Louise said I was going to forsake her. One night after dining with her, coming out we met my cousin Fred, nothing put him off, and he would walk with us. The next day he said in his old unchaste way, which some years in India had not improved, “So that is the woman your mother says she fears has got hold of you.” It was the first time I had heard that my mother had any such suspicion, for although she had spoken to me about my wildness, she had never referred to a woman; but she had told my aunt, who told my cousin my mother was awfully astonished. For that six years I had shagged all our servants under her very nose, yet she had not the faintest suspicion of it, my pranks now coming to her ears, shocked her extremely. I told Fred, that I had had Louise’s firsts, to which he replied, that he should like to rattle his stones against her arse. “Is she a good fuck? Where does she live?” I did not mean his stones to knock against her arse as long as mine did, I replied. “Oh! You are fond of her then?” “No,” but I preferred her to myself. “Lord, what does it matter?” said he, “white women are scarce in India, there was one that all in my regiment were fond of, there was not an officer who did not stroke her, none of us minded; we say, ‘the more a cunt’s buttered, the better it grinds.’ ” I did not see it in that light, so with the remark from him, that she was a damned fine piece, we parted.
Two or three days afterwards he spoke of her again, said he knew where she lived, so I thought he was hunting after her which annoyed me; not seeing that if he had got into her, I could have left her with good excuse.
I had tried to learn from Louise if she knew where Camille went all day, but could learn nothing, one night in bed with her however, whilst handling each other’s privates, and under the sympathy generated by the rub of my fingers on her clitoris, she on my solemn promise of secrecy told me that an old friend of Camille’s had opened a glove and lace shop in O
*
f
**
d Street with Camille’s money, and that he was going to marry her. In O
*
f
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d Street I saw a small shop, there was a Frenchman in it whose face I seemed to know. I waited near it one night, and saw Camille leave the shop closely veiled, and take the best way towards G
**
d
*
n Sq
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e. Madame Boileau was like an oyster. I could get nothing out of her, although she took my money. I was sure that Camille went to the shop daily, or nearly so, and as no man came to the house, suppose she got her cunt plugged in the shop parlour.
Afterwards Fred talked so much about Louise, that I said I kept her. “There are two there, do you keep both?” “Yes.” “Then you are a fool, you can’t be sure of one woman’s cunt if you are not with her always, but two together are sure to make a couple of whores, — no wonder your tin goes so fast.”
Meanwhile I went out with him of a night, and we had different women. One night three of us went to a cigar-shop kept by two women just by
***
, it was not an unusual thing then for two to have a cigar-shop, with a big sofa in a back parlour, one keeping shop whilst the other fucked. From talking we got to business without intending it. Fred began joking the girls, we went into the back parlour, and had wine, one asked my cousin if he did not want to lie down and rest himself. He said “Yes,” but wanted warmth to his belly when he rested. “You may have my belly to warm you,” said she. “What, here?” “Oh! They can wait,” said the girl, “and your quiet friend can find his tongue with my sister. (The other girl.) I had not spoken, being at times timid at first with a woman, and especially a gay one.
We said jokingly, that we had no money. “I will take you all for a sovereign,” said she, “and the one who I say is the best poke shall give me another half-sovereign.” It was agreed, we tossed up for the order of the fucking, two went outside while the other had his pleasure. My turn came last, the excitement in thinking of what was going on made me in such a state, that I was no sooner up her than I spent; when I went out the other girl said, “You have been in a hurry.” My cousin was pronounced the best fucker. Whilst the strumming was going on in the parlour, people bought cigars, and tobacco — for it was really sold there, — little did they guess the fun going on behind that red curtain of the shop-parlour.
A night or so after, I slept with Louise, felt uneasy in the tip of my prick, and saw unmistakably that it was the clap. It was not Louise’s gift, for great was her surprize when I saw her twice afterwards, and never attempted to have her. She was annoyed, and said she supposed I had another friend, and put herself in such luscious attitudes, that I got a cock-stand, and could scarcely resist putting it up her, but saying I was ill went away. Fred said he should go to Paris without me, I was to join him in a fortnight. What with being indifferent to Louise, annoyed with her randiness, her vulgarity, and temper, being in fact tired of her and the expense, and now having the clap, I determined to break off; so wrote to Camille to meet me.
I told her I had the clap. “I thought there was something wrong,” said she, “but Louise, I can swear, has never had any other man than you, take her to any doctor you like.” Then she told me that in three weeks she meant to leave England, and Louise must do the best she could, she had taken means to bring on the girl’s courses, would I send her back to France, or must she go gay in London.
I could not bear the idea of the girl being gay, so agreed to give her money to take her abroad with her, and she accepted. By her advice I wrote to Louise, said I had the clap, and feared I had given it to her, that she would not forgive me I was sure, and so never meant to see her again.
I sent a cheque to Louise, it passed through my bankers, and suppose the girl had it. Then went to Paris, my illness kept to me, so returned to London, got a little better, longed for Louise, stood opposite the house one night, nearly crossed over to have her, but resisted, and seeing a nice woman in Regent Street went home with her. I was so impatient, that I pushed her to the side of the bed directly I was in the room, felt for her cunt, and spent in her in a minute, she had not taken her bonnet off. My spending hurt me, my doctor had told me I could go with a woman without fear of injuring her, but that for my own sake I had better abstain. She got up, and took off her bonnet, to see if lying down had hurt it. “I’ll have you again,” said I. “Let me wash, you’ve spent such a lot, it’s all running down my thighs.” Again I fucked her; and next morning my ailment came back. My doctor said it served me right.
Shortly after, “lodgings to let” was posted up in Camille’s windows. On calling, Madame Boileau came to the door. The two women had left, the shop in Oxford Street was shut up, and I never heard of the women afterwards.
I am astonished now, that I was wheedled out of so much money for a French virgin. How I could have done much that I did makes me now laugh, I must have been very green, and Camille very cunning; but I was also rich, and generous, which accounts for much. I see now how largely I was humbugged, but cannot explain or reason about it. I am telling facts as they occurred, as far as I recollect them, it is all I can do. Certainly I had a splendid full-grown virgin for my money, the toughest virginity I yet have taken, a regular cock-bender, and had an uninterrupted honey-moon. Camille was a most superior harlot, genteel, clever, and voluptuous, such as are not usually found; with her and her findings I had a year’s enjoyment, leaving me lax, blase, and a half-cured clap. What with women, horses, carriages, cards, dinners, and other items, I was a few thousands poorer than at the beginning of my acquaintance with Camille.
It’s my fate to have sisters, — how curious! — and thrice to have had the clap, and yet not three-and-twenty, — how hard!
I was very much used up, and needed rest for body and mind; never had I been so much so before. Up to the time of getting my fortune, want of money curbed my lascivious tastes, and although I had servant after servant in my mother’s house, the difficulties of getting them gave me frequent rests, and prevented me generally from exhausting myself; perhaps I got just enough fucking to keep me in health. The year’s rioting with Camille and her troupe would have tired a strong man; I never counted them, but think that in that year I must have poked something like sixty or seventy different women; I poked every one of Camille’s acquaintances, I am sure, — so it was time I had a rest.
My clap brought on a stricture, obliging me to have a bougie passed every other day to stretch the pipe open, and causing me to piss clots of gruelly blood about an hour afterwards. I dared not fuck, but once frigged, and it brought on the inflammatory stage again. At length I got better, but with a gleet which wetted the tail of my shirt through daily; doctors advised me to get a change of air, I went to my aunt’s place in H**tf***d-shire where I took cold baths, and did all I could to get myself well,
—
I was forbidden to touch a woman until permitted by the doctor.
Touch women I did not, think of them I did eternally, and deplored the time that I was wasting. I used to look at my female cousins, and long for them; my aunt whose flabby, brown-haired, thick-lipped furrow glanced at in my boyhood I used to think about, and should not have hesitated in getting a pleasure up it, had no other cunt been ready for me. I eyed the farm-women (coarse, strong, healthy bitches) with lust that made them look beauties in my longing eyes, I was boiling over with spunk, at the closet one day my turds were hard, and hurt me; the irritation affected my ballocks, my prick stiffened rigidly, I could not piss for it, the tip looked dry, as if gleet had ceased, I merely touched the top (not frigged), and out shot my sperm as I sat on the privy seat. What a relief! But what a loss of pleasure not to have injected some dear little cunt nicked in some smooth white bum! My prick seemed quite well, and I went into the fields to get hold of some girl doing field-work, or any woman, old or young, who had a cunt available, when with a throbbing my gleet returned; so I went to town to see my medical man about it. He pointed out to me how needful it was to restrain myself, I followed his advice, in two weeks was much better, and had determined to go to town to see him again about it, when I got well without him.
CHAPTER X
Fred at home.
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Smith, the field-foreman.
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A rape of a juvenile.
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Funking consequences.
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Nelly consents.
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Fred looks on.
A wide-awake fellow was Fred. When my aunt said how delighted they all were to see me so steady, and had never seen me enjoy myself so much at the Hall before, he stared. “He goes often,” said aunt, “with me to the dairy.” “Yes, and pats the cows,” said a cousin. Fred winked at me, and when we were alone said, “What’s your little game Walter, where are you cunting now old fellow?” “Cunt,” said I, “is of no use, my clap’s not gone; but thank God I think it’s getting all right again.” He was quite taken in. “You have done the best thing you could,” said he, “there is nothing here much to excite you, no woman worth having, is there?”
One morning we walked into the fields, the foreman came up and saluted us. He had been on the farm before Fred and I were born. “Well, Smith,” said Fred, “still at the old games, — any bastards lately?” “Oi am tow ould for that now, Master.” “Perhaps the girls don’t like poking now?” “Oi they do, but they doon’t like me as they did.” Smith (my cousin told me), had had the credit all his life of poking all the agricultural laborers, and had been threatened with dismissal on account of it. “He might have had a worse berth,” said I, “there are half-a-dozen girls in the field I would not mind sleeping with.” “Why don’t you have them?” said Fred. “I don’t want to lose my character here.” “That be damned, you can always have a field-girl, nobody cares, — I have had a dozen or two.”