The historical arc of the past century clearly indicates that there has been a massive thrust in the direction of a sort of decadent populism, a populism which was contained in the class structures of Europe but which has burst through the strata of containment in America - with the help of such mass cultural innovations as films, paperback books and television - and flows through every dimension of the society which, at this moment, is the most savagely lonely, the most expressively rampant and the most overpoweringly industrial on earth. There are more books published in America than anywhere on earth; there are more pounds of the flesh of paper disseminated between spines or bindings - on a given day - than anywhere in the solar system. The circulatory capacity of American books - at least within its own borders - is staggering. The circulatory capacity of American movies may well have to do with changing the perceptual capacity of the entire earth. The tonnage is immense, the consumption enormous-and this includes everything from erotic literature to poetry. Creation is no sooner presented than, with hardly a reflection, it is imitated, parodied, thrown into a mixmaster of media, turned into song, photographed, shot up on big screens where its leading characters pass through a period of hero-worshiping idolatry - and all this takes place from the throat to the gut, so to speak, a rapid digestion, skipping the by-this-time obvious heart, and certainly having nothing to do with the damaged bones of memory.
What has happened? Cries of fascist go up and down the streets of the world, cries of millennial apocalypse, of atomic doom. The mind, souped-up both by what sets its gears in motion from the outside, and by what drives it on through what it takes in;- the mind, with all due respect to the psychologists, has broken down. Over and over again. Sometimes, in many, each day; each day a sort of tense and nervous breaking down of the good old tissue of the past, the onion-skinning without hope of enlightenment, this absurd peergynting.
I am one of those who believes that the Second World War was a central event in this breakdown - even for those who were not yet born to witness it. Behind the Nazi ideals sputtered out of mouths bent on self-destruction, an actual conquest of the world lay in potentiality. That world, I insist, is not merely the one visible to the cartographical eye. Ask any man alive, and even the dead ones - perhaps first of all the dead ones - and he will let you know, after a certain time, of an awful legacy he carries, something passed down through the psychological and industrial bloodstream, some terror that passes all the couches in the world, some nightmare he cannot dislodge though all his dreams are exhausted.
I am not particularly referring to the genocidal aspect of the Nazis. The murder of the Jews is only a part of the total plan. Rather, I mean to point to a condition of continual and unabated disassociation, a sort of cosmic schizophrenia running between transcendentalism and realism - but a romantic realism (as that seems to be the term) divorced from the 'feel' of earth, a world which excites us to the depression that is itself a lid upon an older earth whose spirits we no longer care to dwell among. In such a world, seeing will be believing; a certain mutated objectivity will be the rule; a sort of applied photography of light will serve as the instrument of transcendence, and a just-feel-able cool and comfortable environment will be set up, with inlaid distances. Isolation shall not be the preface to solitude, and solitude to organic creation. Rather isolation shall be a form whose existence implies that one is being mastered. Needless to say, in 1968, we are already well into this 'machine,' this sweatless and fabricated 'body' of man.
Some of the signposts of such a world are presented, unconsciously perhaps, by The Naked and Monique. On the surface, of course, this is only another erotic book, written by a Belgian after the last war. It has a 'translated quality' that pulls it away from the Anglo-Saxon, gives it a certain heightened feel, referring as it does to that old-time, prewar, culturally 'free' world of Paris.
But what is interesting here is that the book is raced through, by means of a rapid series of episodes, pastiches less of style than they are of sexual action. I say interesting because the historical time of the book is the entire period of the Second World War. But where the descent of women in other erotic literature I have encountered, usually has taken the form of a series of at least somewhat stylized and delineated encounters, here our heroine, beginning and ending as a prostitute, telling her story in retrospect, seems ever concerned with getting the business of the story finished with as quickly as possible - with little time for the fribble-frabbles of pleasure.
Now one could simply let it go as a weak book, and have done with it. But scanning erotic literature from the wartime period of the Nazis, one finds an interesting parallel: there is hardly any work referent to that time - in the genre of the erotic - which does not have this stepped-up quality, as though what had been cut loose by Nazism was so erotically terrifying that, from that point on, everyone in the world, doctors, lawyers, artists, businessmen, prostitutes and the rest of the dramatis personae of this ever-powerful and at the same time ever-diminishing earth, could no longer accurately be viewed except in relation to his being in the act of "taking a powder." When Nazism touched the "volkish" roots with its lunacy, when it shook to the foundations the very idea of an inner community of beings called people, it did so with some unbearable diamond-pointed drill aimed at the sex and cash-registering brain of Western man stuck on himself and creating this endless rapidity which flows through our currents from everything and every being encountered. This is not to say that a recycling of Nazism is the fate of Western man. The very explosion of all the verbalized and visualized taboos will not render man exhausted fodder for some militant surrender coming forward with a gun in its hand. This very whacky, deadly and yet censorably uncensored America is the clearest indication that the machine is being fought at every turn of its own fierce propulsions. The future, of course, looms brightly only when there is an acceptance of the fact of the business of the matter of our bodies. Let that be the mask which permits the operation of that other, and intertwined, and intricate aspect of our being to continue in the dark light of its creative stance. It is to be mean, in order not to be mean. The prize continues as tomorrow's anguished day is (yes, still) certain to rise.
Rudolph Conway, Ph.D.
Los Angeles, April 1968
CHAPTER I
The Seeds Of Ecstasy
My name is Monique. I am 35 and a daughter of the Belgian aristocracy. My father was Ambassador of H.R.H. King Albert of Belgium to the former Italian court and my grandfather was a military attach� to King Leopold II.
However, since this can be of little interest to you, I shall relate my story. But don't be alarmed; this shall be no ordinary story, but will initiate some of you into my sexual experiences and by and by you will learn how I lost my virginity together with my special little ways of making love ...
My first memories are of a beautiful mansion, full of life and movement, with numerous rooms and servants which to my young eyes all seemed to be exclusively attending to my well-being.
A little later everything suddenly changed. We moved to a small apartment; gone were the retinue of lackeys, servants and chauffeurs, and we were left with only one maid.
My father was more often in Brussels than at Bruges. It seemed he was always on business; I afterwards found out that this business consisted of poker sessions at the "Cercle Noble" and conscientiously doing all the Brussels nightclubs: the "Merry Grill," "Savoy," "Pavilion Marcel," etc ...
While there, his chief business was the pleasure of downing champagne and having fun and games with scantily-clad chorus beauties.
The few times we saw him, he was always charming, good-humored and full of attention for my mother and myself. The household was joyful as in the old days. But these exceptional qualities were not sufficient to keep up a family and lead a life of pleasure on the side. To sum it all up, his "Don Juan" character ruined us.
At that time I was about 13 and had been at the Convent of the Holy Childhood three years, together with the daughters of Bruges' nobility.
I will now tell you of my first adventure with Eliane Van X, daughter of a lieutenant-colonel, who was there with me.
A lot of stupid things have been written about childhood friendships. One thing is certain: when schoolmate relations deepen to strong affection, nine times out of ten, handshakes and innocent kisses are followed by less innocuous and unsullied caresses.
Eliane pleased me right from the start. She had a luscious figure, wide eyes and a very attractive little mouth; an angelic smile lit up her face. But to me her voice was a special attraction. For so young a girl, she had a deep musical voice whose caressing tones sent me into heavenly ecstasy.
At 13 she initiated me into sensual delight.
At the age of 11, I knew nothing of sex. True, I used to laugh stupidly with the others at thinly veiled jokes, but I did not understand them. I washed my hips and my most intimate regions with the same indifference as my hands and ears.
Then came Eliane. Right away I loved her, I adored her. She attracted and conquered me. Everything about her seemed radiant and even a little unreal and captivating. I used to kiss the photo she had given me with the same ardor as my rosary and holy medals. Young children are often irresistibly attracted to someone evil. Eliane at 13 was already thoroughly vicious and perverted.
It is due to her that I developed so young this need for sexual debauchery and rapturous voluptuousness which maturity and circumstances have made me blossom out into what I am today: a perfect fucking prostitute.
CHAPTER II
The Initiation
One day Eliane asked me to come to her place for tea. Naturally, her family being of equally good standing with ours, my mother was delighted with the invitation.
I, accompanied by my nurse, went to the lovely mansion at Noordzandstraat where my little schoolmate lived. As usual she was charming and with her lovely, deep, caressing voice she invited me to view her sumptuous home. My nurse in the meantime, being acquainted with her lady in waiting, left us to err alone in the vast estate.
My little friend showed me beautiful antique furniture, paintings by the masters, the garden with its marvelous water fountain and goldfish, etc ...
Then she said:
"Now I'll show you my room."
It was a real jewel: a low bed, white muslin, the really luxurious nest of a spoiled child.
Softly she guided me to her dressing table where an upholstered armchair seemed to be inviting me.
"Please sit down."
I did so with a smile and looked at myself earnestly in the mirror.
Slowly, from behind me, two arms enfolded my shoulders.
"You're lovely, Monique."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yes, so beautiful!" Her grave sensuous voice seemed to emphasize every syllable. "I feel like kissing you."
With a fondling, precise gesture, I found myself being tilted slightly backwards and my friend's lips glued on mine.
It was a long time ago, over 20 years, yet I still remember that kiss. Since then, how many lips, men's and women's, have crushed my mouth? I don't even know, I could not count them, but that kiss I can feel even now.
Don't forget I was 11, perfectly ignorant and innocent, and nobody had ever touched my lips. I seemed to feel the smoothness of velvet, I felt a soft caress, so soft, yet at the same time a stiffening, a contortion of my whole being. Provoking, insinuating, her mouth stuck longingly to mine, would not leave me. I felt myself sinking into a sweet oblivion and ecstasy which was not quite sensual but in any case frightening.
Was it childish modesty or fear of the unknown? Abruptly I escaped from her embrace.
"What is the matter? Are you angry?"
Blushing, nearly trembling I mumbled:
"No, no ... but ... "
"Now, now, don't get excited. Haven't you ever been kissed before?"
"Yes, but never like this!"
"Ah, don't you like my way?"
"Oh, no! I did not say I didn't like it, but you must understand, it's so strange, so new!"
Eliane smiled strangely, then insinuating, feline and perverse, she came back towards me.
Tenderly and captivatingly she wrapped herself around me; close to my ear, her warm, honeyed voice whispered:
"Monique, don't you want us to love each other?"
Love! I adored her, this sweet and lovely creature. Only loving did not mean the same thing to both of us. To me, loving meant seeing her, being near, and hearing her bewitching voice; taking her hand and stroking her golden hair. To her it meant something else. I could sense it immediately.
"Then you don't love me, Monique?"
With all the ardent feeling of my youthful heart I pressed myself harder against her and said in one breath:
"I do, I do love you, Eliane ... "
Despite herself, surprised by the warmth of my answer, she hesitated a moment, then suddenly she again pressed her lips to mine. Her right hand wound around my waist, her left took my chin, then slowly crept down. She gently inserted it in my little child's dress and softly caressed my bosom, where two little mounds foreshadowed my future blossoming breasts. It acted like an electric shock; I stiffened. Mechanically my lips opened to let out a sigh and I felt my little friend's tongue searching and exploring my half-opened mouth.
I nearly collapsed.
I felt the hand holding my waist take a stronger grip and push me towards the low bed. I fell on it backwards.
I heard a tremulous whisper saying:
"Let yourself go!"
Suddenly, searching fingers knowingly crept along my legs, then to my thighs, finally reaching my last defenses. They lowered my small panties and gently massaged my most prized possession, until then virgin and intact. I felt a violent sensation of perfect anguish, naturally not comparable with the spasm of an adult, being too young to really feel sexual delectation. Still the pleasure was extreme. I lay quietly on the bed, dazed.
Eliane, her eyes shining and cheeks burning, her face afire with excitement, murmured:
"Like it?"
I could not answer. I smiled and nodded yes. Eliane waited no longer. She lifted her skirt, dropped her panties, and shamelessly, cynically showed me her little belly and lower down her fair pubic hairs.
I looked on with astonished eyes, surprised it was not like mine, completely hairless.
She took my hand and said with a hoarse voice: "Touch me."
I obeyed, and with an inexpert touch began a gentle rubbing.
"Harder, like I did to you."
I caressed quicker. It did not take long. Abruptly she stiffened, let out a soft moan and my roving fingers were sticky.
She took away my hand, put on her panties, let down her dress and, wheedling, took me in her arms:
"You won't speak of this at home?"
"Oh ... no."
"Good, in that case, be discreet and you will learn lots more about the art of love."
Puzzled, I asked:
"Who taught you all this?"
"I'll tell you, but mum's the word!"
"I promise."
"Jose de Kerbergen."
"Jose?"
"Yes, about two years ago she was the first to teach me to do what we have just done." And she burst out laughing.
"Now you do it to others?"
"Certainly. Jose, Susy, Yvonne and Annie have all had a good crack at it."
I could not get over it. All my little schoolmates, all small girls like myself, kissing each other on the mouth, rubbing their growing breasts and caressing their hairless virgin cunts!
I really could not get over it!
Eliane, who had now completely recovered her composure, was calm and serene. In fact, quite a little lady.
"Darling, let's go; tea is ready."
I could see she was used to these sexual fiddlings, as at tea time she had a good feed. It did not seem to have affected her appetite at all!
* * *
From that day onward, I, who had been so pure and ignorant till then, began to lead a different life and dreamed much about sex.
Eliane had not wasted her efforts. A furious frenzy of sexual discovery got hold of me. It was my turn now, on every possible occasion, to slide my hands under my little companions' skirts.
I grabbed every possible opportunity. During classes, pretending to look studious, apparently engrossed in my history book, I ogled my nearest schoolmate, and with a tiny smile, whispered to her:
"Your dress is torn."
Nine times out of ten it worked.
"Where?"
She would then slightly lift her skirt.
"There."
Without beating about the bush, I lifted it further, uncovering her pink thighs. I feverishly rested my hand on the choice morsel. Often they were at first astonished, more often frankly curious.
I no longer hesitated. My wandering hand slid along that soft creamy expanse as high as possible.
If there was any resistance (very rare), the skirt was firmly snapped back. I did not then insist; but more often there was none. Then I slid one or two fingers under the panties and at last reached that warm little nest, virgin and generally untouched and free from any fluff.
I had won again! During the next break, my new friend and I would go to the lavatory, where we could compare each other's unformed breasts and fondly caress and rub those little gems, our future temples of indescribable pleasures ; our little virgin pussies!
We used to call those little games "playing rub and wet."
CHAPTER III
Discovery Of Men
I was about 12. Obviously my knowledge of the other sex and especially of his physique was very limited. I had seen drawings on the blackboard and on exercise books of a manly attribute which was certainly very interesting, as all the older girls used to talk and laugh about it.
But I had never actually seen one. Then one day it happened. I saw, and how!
I was at the window of my room. This window opened onto a big garden belonging to our neighbors. Unconsciously, I watched men at work there. All of a sudden one of them, a man about 30, left his work and went towards a bush nearly under my window without seeing me. There he undid his trousers to satisfy a natural desire and I saw the "thing."
It seemed to be extraordinary and my eyes never left it for a moment. When he had finished, the man shook it and closed his fly.
I stood still, thinking. So it was about "that" they made so much fuss? Frankly, I was disappointed. I did not really know what I had expected to see but certainly not what I had just seen.
In my childish modesty I did not speak of my vision to my schoolmates, not even Eliane.
My second vision of the male attribute was much more interesting. By a sort of natural instinct (I have changed since), I did not like boys. I greatly considered them noisy, turbulent, ill-mannered, and they rather frightened me. All except one. He was a boy about my age, son of a local policeman, living next door. I used to see him going to school quietly and nearly always alone. He looked rather effeminate, pale with beautiful blue eyes. He was the only one to whom I occasionally smiled.
One day I saw him walking a little in front of me. As he walked he was reading a little book which seemed to be of great interest. He went towards the station, instead of home. Why did I follow him? I don't know. Anyway, I did so at a respectful distance. He was so absorbed by his reading that he did not look behind.
The station used to be surrounded by woods. He reached the bushes and chose a grassy and cool spot. It was summer. Hidden behind thick shrubs three to four yards away I could see him perfectly.
He lay down on the fresh grass and went on with his reading. I remember that his face, usually so pale, colored. His eyes shone and I particularly watched his hand.
Ah, that hand!
First hesitantly, then more and more vigorously, it rubbed his belly; then all of a sudden he could not resist any longer.
He threw away the book, opened his short trousers and for the second time I saw the "thing."
But what a difference from the first time! It was much smaller, pink and white. His hand by now was busy on the naked "thing." As it worked, the "thing" became longer and thicker. Faster and faster he went, then suddenly came the final spasm. For the first time I had seen an erection and its normal conclusion.
Trembling, my head on fire, I put my hand between my thighs.
So it was, one summer's day in Bruges, a boy and a girl, a few paces from each other, accomplished the parody and the prelude of the sexual act, the immortal act which rules the world.
This time I did not keep this vision to myself but as soon as possible told Eliane, then all the others.
I was the center of attention!
"Tell us! Tell us again, what happened?"
"Did you see everything?"
"What was it like, when it came?"
"Tell us ... tell us ... "
"While he was doing it, were you rubbing yourself too?"
I can assure you, we were all warm between the legs in our panties. Many of us-I was not the last-went to the lavatory to cool our excitement with nimble fingers.
A few days after this, I met the boy who had shown me so well, unknowingly, how boys get their pleasure alone.
He smiled and greeted me: "Hello Monique!" If we had not been so near my house I could not have resisted the temptation to throw myself around his neck, to unbutton his fly and to grab his penis, which I had seen so well and was dying to handle.
* * *
Then my father died: a stupid car accident, but fatal.
I loved my father; in fact, I think he was the only one I have ever loved in my whole life. He had every vice and a few good points. He was a charming and attractive fellow, a real ladies' man; seductive, unfaithful, and a brazen liar. Strictly between us, I believe I particularly loved him for his defects. In any case I am certain he passed every one of them on to me.
But I am afraid this was his only legacy. Before his death our standard of living had been getting steadily worse; now we were on the brink of poverty! Our old way of living did not help; my mother, still believing in her noble prerogatives, seriously considered them sufficient to carry on in the same fashion as before.
She merely forgot the main fact, the only real tangible thing, the one concrete reality which is stronger than all nobilities, sects, prejudices and traditions: money!
With that outlook on the world we were well on the way to starvation.
Then it happened: war was declared.
At Bruges, as everywhere else in Belgium, we began to be lulled by the "phony war." This time, we thought, and really began to believe it, they'll leave us alone.
Then came May 10th, 1940.
My mother, at her wit's end as always, decided we should go to France to the Count and Countess F-'s residence in Touraine. This she considered to be a place of safety.
Although I was only 15, I tried to talk her out of it, pointing out the long dismal columns of refugees all also fleeing towards France. There was nothing doing. Like" all muddleheaded people when they get hold of a screwy idea, she was completely and irrevocably determined to carry it out.
So it was, the next day we crowded into a small van with another noble family, bound for France and Touraine!
CHAPTER IV
In The Shelter
On May 14th at dusk we were near a small farm next to the Blekker mill at Saint-Ides-bald.
The amount of traffic in this deserted hole seemed as dense as the center of Brussels or Paris.
One endless stream of cars, vans, carts, buses and many other types of prehistoric-looking vehicles crawled along the road.
Once again, as they had been doing for the last three days, a squadron of Messerschmidts dropped a few bombs.
There was a terrific mess! Screams and cries of horror pierced the air; then a flash, a shock and oblivion.
When I came to I found myself lying on the straw in a barn.
My first vision was the homely face of a peasant woman:
"Well, now, how do you feel?"
"So-so ... "
"You are all right, you know. It's only the shock. You were brought here by local people."
Things began to come back.
"What about my mother?"
"I don't know anything about her, but don't worry, I'll find out."
She shouted:
"Jef! Jef!"
He came running in, a solid looking son of the soil, with a red smiling face despite the war and all it meant to him.
"You don't know where her mother is, do you?"
"She left for Furness."
"Gone!" I cried.
"Yes."
"How is she?"
"Perfectly all right. When we found you, you were lying alone unconscious on the road; so I picked you up," he added smiling.
"I want to join her."
"You're too weak!"
"No, I assure you I can get along perfectly well; I want to go!"
I thanked both the kind peasants and a little later I found myself taking a shortcut through the fields, which they had showed me.
I did not get very far.
I had been walking for about five minutes, when:
"Halte la!"
A soldier, his finger on the trigger, his bayonet pointing uncomfortably in my direction, abruptly jumped out from nowhere.
Surprised at seeing only a young girl, he said more gently:
"Where are you going?"
"To Furness."
"What are you going to do there?"
"I want to find my mother."
"I am sorry, it's not possible!"
"What do you mean, not possible?"
"I have my orders. Furness is a military zone. I can't let you through!"
"But I have to get through!"
"Sorry, you'll have to go back."
From a neighboring hut another figure came out. He was a sergeant. The sentry snapped to attention.
"Sergeant, this girl insists she must get to Furness."
The subaltern looked me over suspiciously, as if catching spies was one of their few distractions.
Distant but polite, he began:
"What are you going to do at Furness?"
I explained.
"Quite, quite. I know all about that. There are thousands of you looking for so-called parents. I'll go and see the lieutenant. As for now, take her away and guard her."
We had hardly started off when we heard the now familiar sound of approaching fighters.
"Run for shelter!" shouted the sergeant.
We ran towards a hangar, but he, very sure of himself, stood outside the door, peering at the sky. The next moment found us crouching down while bullets spattered round. It lasted but a moment and through it all, the sergeant stood, in all his glory, staring at the enemy.
I shall never understand how they managed to miss him.
We got out.
"Take her to the lieutenant for questioning."
"Yes, sir."
And there I was, on my way to Furness as I had intended, but under escort.
We got to the farm which was being used as the headquarters of the 2d Grenadiers. As it was dinner time, the smell of good cooking reminded me I was starving.
My guard handed me over to his two comrades:
"Watch her carefully, she may be a spy! I'll get the officer in charge."
As well as being young, I was naturally optimistic and I was frightfully hungry. "I have not eaten since this morning." I smiled as graciously as possible at my jailers.
They immediately understood me. I heard a strong Belgian accent:
"If you're hungry, you'll eat!"
He handed over his tincan after having filled it to the brim.
"Thank you."
"Drink!" the other said, laughing as he passed over his mug full of beer.
After all I had been through I ate with a will. I have never tasted anything better. I began to feel mellow and thought as my self-confidence came back that this episode was not so unpleasant after all.
For the first time in my life I was alone, free to do as I pleased, although I suppose I was considered a spy. My taste for adventure gave me confidence. I would soon be with mother at Furness, and this would have been a delightful interlude.
A sergeant stalked into the room.
"Bad news, I am afraid. The Jerries have captured Brussels. Liege is still holding out but things are really going to the dogs."
There was dead silence. I am no patriot but it gave me a jolt to realize that they were already in Brussels.
My former guard came in.
"Follow me."
We got to the shelter. At last I saw him. He stood in the center of the room under a harsh light which picked out every detail of his well-cut lieutenant's uniform. In a jiffy I took in his whole anatomy. He was a fine, upstanding young man. I immediately fell for him.
But he seemed scarcely interested.
"Sit down, Miss. Your name?"
"Monique van P-."
"Any relation to the Comte van P- of Bruges?"
"I am his daughter."
"Oh!"
He unbent a little.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"What were you doing in the front lines?"
"I lost my mother during the raid near the Blekker mill and I was trying to get to her at Furness."
"Naturally you and your mother wanted to get over the border?"
"Yes."
"I am sorry, I have to do my duty."
He got hold of my traveling bag which contained everything I had on me and spilled it out on the desk. A few letters, small change, powder, lipstick etc ...
He checked the addresses on the envelopes, carefully compared me with two or three photos from my wallet, then put it all back.
In a couple of strides he was near me. He passed his hands lightly over my back. Oh! that first contact with a man's hands! I thought I should faint.
The feel of their touch was soft and thrilling. I quivered with pleasure. But oh, he was already searching my breasts, quickly, much too quickly. Barely a fraction of a second I felt his hand on the tiny tips of my young and as yet unformed breasts. Too soon his hands worked down my belly, further down along my thighs, then gently squeezing my buttocks.
Oh, you poor insensitive fighter of a war already lost ten times over, why couldn't you understand how I longed for you to continue your probings, how I loved the feel of your hands on my summer dress!
Suddenly he stopped.
"Take your shoes off, please ... "
I obeyed, carefully lifting up my skirt as high as possible. If he had wanted to, he could have got an eyeful: my buttocks, my naked thighs, my pink panties and even more interesting juicy details.
He did not take the slightest notice. It was clear he was thinking of something else.
He carefully scrutinized my shoes, then handed them back to me.
"Thank you, you can go now. Allow me to apologize and to offer a little friendly advice: get to Furness, as soon as possible, then straight on to France. Brussels has fallen and I fear that by tomorrow we ourselves shall be completely surrounded."
"Thank you."
He saluted. Then it dawned on me, this man was a real soldier, his sole concern was for the dangers and cares of the present situation. Nothing else affected him. A real shame!
* * *
So I left the camp with a safe conduct.
Another beautiful day was coming to a close and with the carelessness of youth I was really beginning to enjoy this marvelous adventure.
Alas, I had hardly been gone for ten minutes than I again heard a familiar buzzing about my ears. I was beginning to know the routine by now. I scuttled towards a small concrete shelter I had noticed a few yards away.
It was deliciously dark and cool inside.
It had been used recently, so as the floor had been thoughtfully littered with straw by the latest occupants, I voluptuously flopped down on it.
The throbbing of airplane engines gradually drew more distant and a pleasant feeling of drowsiness stole over me. I felt the weariness slowly sinking down my legs and my whole body.
Abruptly a vivid recollection of the lieutenant came back to me. How I had loved that excruciating contact of his soft hands on my breasts, on my belly ... !
Instinctively, my hand slid to my breasts and slowly I began stroking my nipples with my right hand while my left lifted my dress.
Deftly it glided between my outstretched legs.
How dangerous can be these lonesome manipulations !
I couldn't stand it any longer. My impatient fingers tore at my slip and, still playing about with my breasts, I masturbated, languorously thinking of the lieutenant.
At last came the extreme rapture! Brutally, elatedly, I felt transported to a seventh heaven of carnal delight.
I let out a soft sigh and, blissfully exhausted, fell asleep.
I was knocked out of my slumber by a terrifying row. There was a tremendous clatter; with a fearful uproar, the roof seemed to be caving in and the floor coming up to meet me. The night was deadly black, only occasionally illuminated by the flash of a bomb exploding.
I was dead scared, I crouched panting against the floor, expecting every second to be my last.
There was a lull and for a moment everything was peaceful again. All of a sudden a dazzling light shone in my face. This time it was no shell flash but the beam of an electric torch.
Someone had come in.
Still blinded by the light, I couldn't see the intruder.
Again I heard that dreaded buzz, then a fearful explosion close by. An instant later, howling with fright, I found myself hurled to the ground by the blast.
That had been a close call!
But I felt a man's arms around my shoulders and a soft voice murmur:
"Don't be afraid, little girl ... "
He had switched off the torch. Everything was dark. Trembling, I nestled against this stranger's welcome breast.
Another explosion, further away this time; but this time I didn't yell; I just snuggled closer to my mysterious visitor.
How long did I remain there? I don't know. Now all was quiet and the shelter completely obscure. After a while I felt something hurting my breasts. I groped in the dark. Then I understood, my stranger was a soldier and the copper buttons of his overcoat were pressing into me. I was relieved. I disengaged myself gently as it was getting as warm as an oven.
He stretched out as well.
I sensed he was taking off his overcoat with the scratching buttons. All the better. He again took me in his arms and whispered:
"Don't be afraid, it's all over now."
He spoke French, with the same accent they had used back at the camp. He was probably one of them.
What if he was my lieutenant? No, unfortunately, it wasn't his voice.
At 15 I was only a kid but I already knew I had plenty of spirit. Already at that age, I was depraved, inexperienced it's true, but the least contact with a man excited me and set me on fire.
He was now in his shirtsleeves; I could feel the moistness of his body. Was he young or old, handsome or ugly? It was pitch dark. I couldn't tell and couldn't have cared less.
He was beginning to warm up too. He lay his left hand on my breasts. At last this was my lucky day!
He didn't just look me over, he got hold of my right breast and gently began stroking it.
I could not restrain a jerk of pleasure. He understood at once and went straight to work.
He slid his hand in my dress and this time started off petting my naked breasts. Then I felt him fondling my nipples.
I stiffened, and my titties too.
Still stroking and caressing, my stranger glued his lips to mine.
Eliane and other schoolmates had already kissed my mouth during our "innocent pranks." But now ... I was getting my first real kiss ... from a man.
At first I had instinctively tightened my lips but with delight I felt his tongue pry them open, insert itself in my mouth, darting in and out of my throat.
It was a long time ago, yet as I write, I still seem to feel that warm clammy mouth glued to mine, his breath sinking into me and the velvet pressure of his greedy wet lips.
I'd better not go on because I wouldn't be able to continue writing my memoirs.
It would be a shame dear readers, because it's beginning to get a trifle daring.
He stopped his kissing abruptly. His hand stopped his caresses, then without hesitation flew to my blouse. He popped out my breasts, at that time pretty tiny, exposed them fully, then avidly stuck his mouth to their stiffened points, while sucking them hungrily one after another.
This time I felt completely entranced. I sighed gently. This probably seemed rather amusing to him but made clear how excited I was. Then I became aware of an excruciating sensation of intense heat lower down, my thighs unconsciously rubbing together, increasing my desire. I was now completely gone. If my partner had ceased, I felt strong enough to hold him back and force him to take me, to possess me, to do to me what we had so often talked about at school, of which I had always dreamed but never experienced.
But he hadn't the least intention of stopping.
Not for an instant ceasing, greedily sucking my titties, his hand turned up my skirt, ripped off my last defense, then knowing fingers squeezed between my legs, amorously stroking my hairless cunt.
I exploded straightaway.
My partner grunted with pleasure, got hold of my hand and put it between his legs.
At last I held the "thing" which I had only seen twice before.
How thick, how warm!
I admit I was a little scared. Seeing and handling it at last, my opportunity had come! Not for long. He withdrew slightly, and gently spread out my legs completely.
I was half crazed by his caresses, yet in a flash I saw it all as clearly as crystal.
The fatal moment had arrived. This yearned-for moment which we had all longed for at the convent.
"It's very painful and you bleed a lot," had said my elder sister.
"It's not true, it is heaven and not at all agony," had replied my cousin.
And so on, and so on. Each one of the bigger girls had given her opinion.
Now I was going to get firsthand information.
At any rate, in my case it all went off perfectly.
My legs spread apart under his pressure, I filled my eyes with the proceedings. He placed his prick between my legs and moved upward on his knees until it was abreast of my crotch. He parted the hairless slit with an expert's touch and inserted "the monster" between my eagerly awaiting lips.
The feel of his massive tool was far more agreeable than his fingers; then, as he suddenly pushed on his member, I felt a violent scorching within me. Feeling his pecker driving deeper in, an overwhelming desire to help him in his possession took hold of me.
Instinctively, my whole body making one with his, we set off into a rhythmic frenzy of phallic ardor.
Faster and faster, deeper and deeper he pierced into me.
All of a sudden my lover stiffened, and his final spasm thrust me into a heaven of softness and relief.
It was all over.
Still only half realizing what had happened, I sank down next to him with a deep moan.
Delicately he put his arms around me.
"It did not hurt too much, did it?"
I couldn't have answered, I just shook my head negatively, then with childish ardor, passionately I clung my lips to his. Being young I put everything in that kiss: satisfied passion, tenderness and above all the ancestral gratitude of the virgin for her possessor who had made her a woman.
How long we stayed locked, now chastely together, I could not say.
Anyhow I had long ago lost all notion of time.
CHAPTER V
The Aftermath
Now all was silent outside. The night air, deliciously warm and intimate, softly wafted in.
I still clung languorously to my lover, filled with an enchanting sensation of fulfillment. He seemed to feel the same way. We were lying still, remembering how sweet had been those past moments!
Then, pressing me closer to his manly chest, he whispered caressingly:
"What's your name?"
"Monique."
"It's a pretty name. But how come you are alone in this shelter?"
The shrieking of a whistle rent the air.
My lover jumped.
"Roll call," he cried.
Quickly he dressed, while the whistling continued, piercing and persistent.
"I've got to get back to camp now, I'll try to come back; in any case where are you going?"
"I want to reach Furness where my mother is probably staying."
"Good! I believe my regiment is moving there. I'll do my best to see you again."
One last passionate embrace and he was gone.
* * *
That was the last I ever saw of him. I believe my case is quite exceptional. At the age of 15 a man took, or rather I offered him, my virginity, and I don't even know him. I don't know his name, how old he was, I haven't the slightest idea what he looked like.
Of my many lovers, my initiator is the only one of which I know nothing.
Strange are the ways of life.
Anyhow, in these memoirs, I want to express my deepest gratitude to him.
This I am able to appreciate even more now after my countless adventures. He acted with tenderness and tact, the very opposite of what I would have expected from a wandering trooper.
After all the excitement, I fell asleep. A well-deserved slumber, the sequel of my first day of love. It is not every day that a girl makes love for the first time!
Next morning I awoke to find the sun streaming in. It must have been fairly early, although I couldn't tell the time as my watch had stopped.
All was quiet. From the coast distant gunfire and an ominous column of dark opaque smoke reminded me that a war was still on.
I got to the now deserted camp where I was able to find fresh water, quickly splashed some over my face, then made a cup of cold coffee.
Unhurryingly I set off for Furness.
The whole place was in an uproar; soldiers, civilians, cars, lorries, trucks and all the rest of it blocking all traffic.
The situation did not look very promising, I was seriously beginning to wonder how I should find my mother in this mess.
Luckily I remembered that one of our friends knew the proprietor of the main hotel: "The Golden Crown."
I had no trouble locating it.
In peacetime it had been a luxury hotel, but today it looked more like barracks, a school, a garage or in fact, a dump; anything but a palace.
Meeting the owner's wife, I lost no time in questioning her.
"Yes my child, your friend, the Marquise B-, got here yesterday."
Then it dawned on her.
"You must be the daughter of that poor lady who lost you near the mill. Come quickly, your mother is terribly upset; she has been crying all day long."
She took me up to a room on the third floor, where I found all my lost friends. You can imagine what happened next. A lot of sobbing, crying, wet hankies and what have you! I shan't bother you with all that sissy stuff.
I made up an ingenious tale with a little truth and a lot of lies, which kept everybody happy, including myself.
One of our fellow travelers was the marquise's brother. He was a handsome looking character about 40, with a soft, clean-cut face and a charmingly cynical smile, in fact a typically refined and distinguished aristocrat.
The curious quizzical glances he shot at me during the revised version of my adventures made it clear to me that he, and he alone, doubted the truth of it. He gave me the impression of "feeling" that something had happened to me, that I was no longer the same.
This woman's man, with his clear insight, guessed I was no longer the virgin schoolgirl he had met at Bruges.
He lost no time in proving it.
CHAPTER VI
Discovery Of Love
Before this, he had scarcely noticed me. He had been polite enough, but distant.
Now a sudden change came over him.
His casual behavior grew into interest and even affection.
When it comes to it, all men are the same. Dukes or tramps, their methods are all alike.
To get what they want from a woman, they are all milk and honey. When they've got it, they become their real selves again: selfish, liars, domineering.
Naturally my newfound admirer was a perfect exponent of this art.
Right from the first moment, he began the groundwork. We were due to leave for Paris the next day, as the van was being repaired.
We were all six crowded together in the same room. As the room was by no means big, you can readily imagine how much space each one of us had.
I don't know how he managed it, but my aristocratic friend contrived to put his mattress next to mine.
I don't need to tell you that we all slept fully dressed.
In a way, you will understand, it was just as well . . .
So everyone made themselves as comfortable as possible in view of the circumstances. My mother, filled with joy at having found me, lay by my side, holding my hand.
Next to me, the marquis smoked his last cigarette. All day he had been perfectly charming:
"My dear little girl ... my dear Monique ... how glad I am you are safe and sound."
In other words, the usual line of a professional seducer.
For a man who during the years had hardly looked or spoken to me, he was certainly quickly making up for lost time.
Tired out by all they had gone through, everyone slept soundly. Only two of us remained awake: Jack and I.
He was still, his cigarette glimmering in the dark. A long last pull before he threw it away. The next minute, his presence came dangerously closer.
I heard a soft, hardly audible voice:
"Are you awake, Monique?"
"Yes."
"I suppose you're still thinking of what happened yesterday?"
"As a matter of fact, I am, my dear viscount."
"Please, don't call me viscount, just Jack."
"But I never ... "
"Before, you were only a child."
"Now, I suppose, I am not?"
He grunted hesitantly, then added quickly:
"I seemed to have noticed a great change in you since yesterday."
I played dumb.
"What do you mean, since yesterday?"
"Nothing in particular, I merely had the impression you did not tell the whole truth."
"What are you insinuating?"
"Now, my dear child, I am your devoted friend. You can tell me everything; I shall understand. I am old enough to be your confidant. I can assure you, all I want is your happiness."
With that, I felt my hand imprisoned gently in his.
Needless to say, I had no intention of describing the goings on in the shelter!
Despite myself, I really don't know why, maybe it was my youthful inexperience, the silence of the night, or my passionate temperament, my willpower melted to the sound of his soft melodious voice, my resistance weakened to the tenderness of his touch.
I tightened my grip on him and whispered:
"If you only knew!"
"But I do, my child, or rather I can guess: you were alone, the night was warm, danger close at hand, then from nowhere came the safe arms of an unknown protector. What followed was so natural: a kiss, an insinuating long kiss; I needn't go on."
Like a snake, I felt him wriggle next to me, slipping his hand under my chin, firmly pulling my head on his shoulder.
A sensation of complete relaxation and well-being stole over me.
His strong, manly paw inserted itself in my light pajama, taking hold of my right breast, kneading it in a soft circling motion.
The effect of his voluptuous caresses soon sent me into violent paroxysms. Realizing my state of excitement, he deliberately crushed his lips to mine; at first slowly, then more deeply, his searching tongue probed into me.
Once more I couldn't resist the agonizing touch of a man without completely losing my head.
For a beginner I was starting off on the right foot. Hardly had I experienced the feeling of my first prick than another man was attempting to insert his member in my untried cunt.
But I anticipated too soon.
Jack, still petting my hardened points jutting out tantalizingly in his direction, savoring the flavor of my delectable palate, shoved away my pajama with his free hand which hovered provokingly over my smooth belly; at last reaching my awaiting mound, already inflated and juicy.
Despite my semi-hysterical state, I was already visualizing what was to follow. I knew the setup now, a repetition of what had happened in the shelter: kneeling between my legs and fucking me.
I was learning quickly, it seemed.
I couldn't have been more wrong; there I was jumping to hasty conclusions again.
He did not make the slightest attempt to move nearer, but his wandering fingers continued tirelessly playing about with my rosy twat.
How experienced he was! Coaxingly driving me to the very edge of fulfillment, he knew exactly when to stop. Again and again he sent me to the verge of ecstasy, which procured me an incredibly deliciously new sensation.
How many times he manipulated me to the brink of that precipice of delight, I don't know; then finally he topped his masterly touch to its heavenly conclusion.
I came immediately.
Lost in a frenzy of delight, my mouth opened to let out a tremulous moan. Luckily he had foreseen this, and his hand clamped on my mouth; otherwise we should certainly have woken my mother.
At last relieved, I relaxed. Happier than I had ever been before, I gradually cooled down, pleasantly anticipating what was to follow: that is Jack taking me like the soldier in the shelter.
To my undying astonishment, he did nothing of the sort.
He murmured:
"Happy?"
"Wonderful!"
Gratefully I snuggled closer to him. Then, with infinite tenderness, he took my hand and without further ado placed it on his cock.
Happy to be able to repay the pleasure he had given me, I clumsily took hold of his virile rod and tried my best to excite his growing member.
Deftly he guided my inexperienced hand till my willing fingers got the right timing.
Stiffer and thicker it grew till a hot milky-jet of sperm shot from his loins. This was a great improvement on my soldier; instead of playing only a passive role, I was taking an active part in the proceedings and giving my partner a wonderful time.
I felt transported with pleasure when he twisted towards me, sinking into an oblivion of primitive desire. He fell back on his couch exhausted. But he promptly recovered, then took me in his arms as if he would never let me go.
"Darling, thank you!"
We remained locked together for an eternity.
Again it came to me, this was really living. One hour with such a creature was not to be compared with all the time wasted petting each other at the convent. One thing astonished me. How differently, but oh so completely, two men had filled me with such ecstasy. Don't forget, I was young and inexperienced at lovemaking. I had difficulty in making out that sexual enchantment could be as exhilarating whether brought on by masturbation or copulation.
Anyway, I can assure you that Jack with his fingers gave me at least as much satisfaction as the soldier with his prick.
This shook all my preconceived ideas on the subject, but it happened to be a fact.
As you can see, I had yet a lot to learn. Although I still remembered my soldier with gratitude, now I preferred Jack.
Lost in a delicious torpor, we slept cemented together, his hand on my wet cunt and mine on his sticky, deflated cock.
* * *
Next morning we set off for France. Being a cool customer, Jack, needless to say, was the perfect gentleman, so that my mother and friends did not guess a thing. In any case, my mother had never been particularly bright and now she was so busy moaning about her present misfortune that she really did not have time for anything else.
The journey to Paris was uneventful as far as love was concerned. We couldn't be alone together for a moment.
We slept in the van but, unfortunately, Jack and I could not profit by it.
After three days on the road, dusty and worn out, we arrived in Paris.
CHAPTER VII
Paris, June 1940
When we got to the capital, we found all our friends gone. This was a cruel blow. There we were without money in a friendless unknown town now occupied by the Germans. At first we put up at a hotel, which turned out to be too expensive.
At this point Jack entered with masterly flourish. He had found us a small three-roomed flat where he came to live with us.
Naturally, this intimate proximity enabled us to carry on our little sexual exercises in complete security.
My dear mother was away on her "errands" all day. This consisted of looking up all our aristocratic connections, as she naively still believed her title was an open sesame to social life and fortune in this foreign town.
They were all very polite but absolutely useless.
Needless to say, this suited the lovebirds perfectly. Jack was able to carry on my initiation to love without hindrance.
He gave me my first lesson in the art of complete nudity.
I went to his room, where he studied me longingly. Then, murmuring sweet nothings, as only he was able, he began to strip me, till I had nothing on but my shoes.
His hands, with a gentle almost feminine touch, worked up my naked legs. Like grasping tentacles his thrilling fingers glided on my ankle, slowly, tentatively up my legs, then caressingly down again.
As you can imagine, the effect on me was miles different from the girlish tickling at the convent. Just the feeling of his touch and I was entranced.
With maddeningly languorous gestures he massaged the velvet approaches to my inner temple till, rhythmically and insidiously, he was on my clitoris. Pursuing its deliberate purpose, his hand moved slowly over filmy material, gently caressing the soft flesh between my hot thighs. A few final dexterous strokes completed his masterpiece, sending me off on the crest of turbulent passion.
Jack, increasing his possession of me every day, improved my education so that we could share greater pleasure together.
Another of his pastimes was watching me walk across the flat with only my pajama top on. He had taken care to cut off all the buttons in order not to obscure the view, thus not restraining the freedom of my ever growing breasts.
He carefully scrutinized the hidden channel between my two lily-white protruding buttocks, making a thorough examination of my soft, dry pubic hairs.
Having filled his ocular senses to the fullest, he got hold of my tits through the convenient opening in my pajama, his nimble fingers again playing their loving rhapsody, his expert mouth greedily sucking their hardened tips, nibbling their rosy surface, gradually sliding to my belly, then further down, to my eagerly awaiting lips, already moist with burning desire. There he lingered long enough ... until I came.
Now it was my turn.
I threw away my only piece of clothing and stood revealed in complete nudity. I poured passionate kisses all over his hairy chest. He offered me his steaming sex, which, kneeling to its height, I gobbled greedily, turning his balls deftly in my hands as I had used to manipulate the beads of my rosary at the convent.
Closing my eyes, I tenderly pressed his penis into my lax mouth. Holding it firmly, like a spoiled child refusing to eat his dinner, I found my tongue lingering around its swollen head, licking it till it became longer and smoother. His red-hot poker seemed to burn right into me, then an endless spurt of sperm flowed into my mouth. Full of the taste of him, I had a volcanic eruption.
The most surprising thing was that it was I who had to beg to be fucked.
He did not say no, but in the normal way it would never have crossed his mind to do it.
After a particularly riotous bout, we lay together, relaxing.
"Darling."
"Yes ... "
"I don't know how to put it ... what I mean to say is, why don't you give it to me like the soldier in the shelter?"
Hesitating, he tried to change the subject.
"Aren't you satisfied with our way?"
"You know I am! Still I would really love you to take me fully."
"Well now, if that is your only worry, I shall be only too pleased to oblige."
No sooner said than done.
Jack produced the necessary item, my hand oscillated to good purpose, and a couple of minutes later his tool was ready.
He tilted me backwards on the bed, bringing back memories of my little friend Eliane. Kneeling over me, he spread my legs apart. He clamped his hands behind my waist and drew me towards him, his stiff prick imbedding itself in my juicy cunt, twitching and grabbing at the incoming monster. Shoveling in and out like an enormous piston into the well-oiled machinery of my greasy vagina, deeper and deeper it dug into the nether regions, opening the dam of his incoming hurricane and loosening the now irresistible pressure of my tidal flow.
* * *
For the first time in my life I had felt the complete satisfaction of a well-fucked woman.
The skillful manipulations of my cunning teacher were the fulfillment of the foretaste given me by my unschooled soldier.
During this latest experiment, I scarcely noticed a fact which later on became obvious: Jack got more satisfaction out of digital caresses than the normal sexual act of copulation. In other words, my depraved professor had no particular liking for the common coital possession.
He was nearly a unique specimen, and among all my other lovers, seldom have I met one with similar tastes.
All the same, despite this peculiar perversion, I adored Jack and during our moments of freedom responded eagerly to all his advances, lending my youthful body to all his vicious and abnormal desires.
I can only hope all the ladies reading this, especially the unsatisfied beginners, will have such a genius in the art of love to satiate unfulfilled cravings.
In this way they will get to know more about sexual intercourse than Dr. Kinsey himself.
* * *
Unhappily dropping this pleasant subject, I shall have to relate something a lot less pleasant.
One evening Jack came in later than usual and I immediately saw by the look on his face that something was up. I was right. After supper we went into the lounge.
"I want to have a serious talk with you both," he said, addressing my mother and I. "I am afraid I have bad news. I don't want to hide anything from you. I am in the secret service, and much as I would like to stay, my duty calls me away. Please don't make a scene, it can't be helped. I shall leave you all the money I've got as I don't need it now; you can pay me back after the war. I'll try to get back to see you both. For the moment, I think you will be safer in Paris."
The next day Jack and I had our last meeting.
After preliminary skirmishes to put us in the mood he took me. To my astonishment he lay me down, tenderly stroking my thighs which opened immediately, then slowly, almost religiously, without the usual complicated fondlings, inserted his rod and dug into me.
I came at once. A trifle later I felt the flood of his boiling sperm pouring into me, as he murmured tenderly:
"Darling ... darling ... "
Many times I had heard him say these words in the same circumstances but never with such affectionate devotion. As I listened to him I felt this was the end of our happiness and a last farewell.
On the same evening he left us. I never saw him again.
CHAPTER VIII
An Understanding Boss
The following months were the blackest of my life.
The money Jack had lent us soon vanished into thin air and we were reduced to selling off jewelry to make ends meet.
But even this source of supply eventually dried up, leaving us one gloomy morning without a bean.
Young as I was, I realized this precarious situation couldn't be allowed to go on any longer. I decided to take the bull by the horns and start working.
However, my dear aristocratic parent had other ideas on the subject. She considered it disgraceful for a daughter of such a noble family as ours to lower herself to actually working. This she judged to be the final word in social degradation.
Nevertheless, we had to eat, so after having had to listen to her incessant moaning, I finally decided to ignore her and curled up in the sofa while perusing the advertisements in the day's paper. This, incidentally, had been bought with our last penny.
"Saleswoman wanted urgently. Even inexperienced. Novelty store, 14 Rue des Italiens."
The very next morning, at nine sharp, I was on the doorstep admiring the attractive window display. Right away I felt I had come to the right place. I went in. A very smart young woman came across to meet me.
"Good morning Miss, what can I do for you?"
"Good morning, Madame, I have come in answer to your advertisement."
"Very well. Please sit down, I will call my husband."
It seemed things were turning out all right. Obviously she was the owner's wife. She looked charming and understanding and I sensed this should not prove too difficult to handle.
A moment later a handsome man of about 30 put in an appearance.
"I hear you want to work for us. You look very young to me. How old are you?"
"I am 18," I lied glibly, not wanting to seem too young.
"Have you ever worked before?"
"No sir, I am afraid not. I have only just left school, but owing to the war ... "
At this stage he noticed my strong Flemish accent.
"You do not sound French."
"No, I am Belgian. My mother and I left Bruges because of the war."
His wife cut in:
"In that case you must speak Belgian!"
I had difficulty in restraining a smile.
"Everyone in Belgium speaks French and Flemish. As you can see I can speak French but my native tongue is Flemish."
"It is a pity you cannot speak German, as we have a lot of German officers as customers and my husband and I cannot understand them."
Luck was with me.
"Flemish and German are rather alike. If I speak Flemish to one of your German customers he will understand me, and vice versa.
I felt them warm towards me.
"This young lady seems to be just right; what do you think?"
"I quite agree. She looks the perfect type to . . ."
The doorbell interrupted the conversation as a high-ranking German officer stalked into the shop.
He saluted and spoke in clumsy French, groping for each word:
"I would like some perfume, please."
Jumping at the opportunity, I took the liberty of turning to the officer and assumed my most attractive smile.
"Dag, Mijneer Officer."
Pleasantly surprised to hear someone speaking Flemish, he burst out:
"Do you really speak Flemish Miss?"
"Ja, Mijneer."
"Ach so! I would like a small bottle of expensive perfume."
"Jawohl, mein Herr Officer."
I explained his wants to the owners, handed him what he had asked for, gave him his change, and showed him out with warm thanks in his mother tongue.
The gratified look on his face as he went out had an immediate effect on the couple. They both crowded round me, congratulating me on my excellent performance. I was hired on the spot.
And that is how in the year of 1941, I, blue-blooded daughter of a noble family, became a saleswoman ... at the monthly hiring rate of a thousand francs.
* * *
This was not much, but enabled us to live. Despite my mother's continuing indignation, I gradually grew to like my first job. The customers were mostly rich and elegant, thus taking me back to the luxurious way of living we had had in Bruges.
But there were more attractive benefits.
Very often masculine employers make use of their position to seduce and force their unwelcome attention upon the younger female staff, threatening to get rid of them if they don't give in. In my case it was the other way around. I fell in love with the boss.
At the beginning I had been so busy learning my new job that I had no time to think of anything else. However, after a while I got the hang of it and did everything almost automatically. This left me the leisure to study the customers, the way they behaved, their dress, their jewels, etc ...
Then I got fed up with this little pastime and began to observe the owner and his wife.
The lady of the house was particularly attractive. She was a fine figure of a woman, always tightly laced in well-cut dresses with plunging necklines, so that she seemed to have great difficulty in preventing her generous white breasts from bursting out at her least movement. As she paraded in the shop, swinging her finely molded hips in well-modulated undulations, she was the perfect incarnation of sex appeal.
She was so sexy that the errand boy, only about 13, used to ogle her surreptitiously, then run to the lavatory, where imagining her naked body in bed next to his, he would let loose his mounting desire with agile fingers. After having had a good toss, he would come out scarlet, his eyes bulging from their sockets.
This is to show you that her charms were fully appreciated even by precocious kids.
Her husband was more distant and aloof, although very kind. I was near him eight hours a day. Jack had left me thirsting for his caresses.
Some nights I used to fondle my tits, then slide down to the ever open lips of my un-satiated moist cunt, digging my probing fingers in the pulpy flesh until their tips were sticky with my juices. Licking them ravenously, I tried to recapture the delight of gobbling Jack's enormous prick. A poor substitute indeed!
Instinctively I had an intense desire to make love with my attractive boss.
Men are all the same. When it comes to sleeping with a pretty girl, you can always count on one hundred percent cooperation.
Rene, for that was his name, may have seemed offhand, but he was no exception to the rule.
Despite my youth, I had been well-groomed by Jack, and knew how to get what I wanted.
One morning I happened to be alone with Rene. I pretended that one of the upper shelves needed cleaning, and climbed up the small ladder. As soon as I was on the top, taking particular care to spread out my legs as far apart as possible, I called him over with a ravishing smile,
"Do you really think these bottles look their best up here?"
Coming over, I must admit he looked first at the shelf, then answered:
"Yes, but I should shift them more to the right."
He was now right underneath me. Leaning toward the shelf I parted my legs even farther. I gave him a front-row view of my thighs and his searching gaze seemed to bore through my dainty translucid panties into my yawning, expectant trench.
He was tactful enough not to show his growing excitement, but merely added:
"I think tomorrow morning we should tidy up the higher shelves."
Okay, my friend, I understand, you had a good look today, you want a better one tomorrow; I won't disappoint you.
So next morning, when dressing, I conveniently forgot to put on my slip.
When I got to the shop, putting on my most innocent air, I inquired:
"Shall we see to the higher shelves today, sir?"
"Yes, why not."
In a jiffy I was up the ladder, giving him an eyeful of my naked crack.
It did not take long. Standing perfectly still, his eyes pouring into my unvirgin forest, his gaze took on a crazy animal look of awakened passion.
This time I was sure he had been able to make a minute investigation of my inner regions with particular reference to that mysterious triangle crowned by those blonde curly hairs.
He took hold of himself in a moment, but only the better to work out his next move.
"Come down to help me fix these bottles."
"Certainly sir."
I had hardly gone down two or three rungs when I felt two strong arms lifting me and putting me down on the ground. Two hands grasped my breasts. My head drawn backwards, his greedy lips stuck to mine. Intoxicated, I opened my mouth. His searching tongue found mine. Our teeth knocked together. Under his expert pressure, my breasts stuck out under my light dress. A long satisfying kiss ended with a soft sigh.
His voice hoarse, he gasped:
"Did you do it on purpose?"
"What do you mean?"
"Not putting on anything underneath."
My only answer was a diabolical smile.
Wasting no more time, he introduced his hand under the dress. Lightly shimming over feverish thighs, he found my expectant furnace. His burning fingertips worming their way into my red-hot cunt produced a sensation of utter ecstasy and, squirming and shivering, I unloosed the accumulated overflow of mammal orgasm. J
I stayed pressed to him, motionless, as he looked down at me, smiling, apparently well satisfied with his morning's work. Then he drew me towards the back of the shop.
"But what about your wife?"
He shrugged negligently.
He laid me down on the rug. Again he lifted my skirt and, reverently contemplating my cleft still over-boiling from excitement, slowly, without hurrying, he thrust his lance into me. He was not in the same class as Jack for all the preliminary diversions, but he was an artist at the normal sexual act.
Now slowly, then faster, he carefully worked up to a calculated rhythm, always just stopping on the edge of his spasm and mine.
At last the moment came. Pushing his monster to the climax, he filled my inside with endless waves of hot milky fluid which mingled with the outgoing tide of my orgasm.
A few moments later, letting down my dress, I sat down on the sofa. I could not resist saying:
"How marvelous it was!"
My new lover burst out laughing, then kissing me said:
"You may be a trollop but you don't make any bones about it."
That was my first contact with my third lover.
Anyone seeing us just afterwards busily tidying up the shop would have been surprised to have learned what had just gone on.
As usual, when his wife came in she greeted me with an affable smile. I was young and rather stupid then; I felt very nearly sorry for her.
This did not last long, however.
Next day my lover surreptitiously murmured:
"I will meet you in my studio tonight after we have closed."
"What about your wife?
"Don't worry your pretty little head about that."
After we had closed up, he showed me into his apartment above the shop.
His wife had been gone for about an hour. I asked where she was.
"Don't worry, she is out."
He sat me down on a large and comfortable sofa where he undertook to strip me. I protested feebly.
"Please, what if she should come in "
"It doesn't matter, darling, she is out."
As I have already told you, when a man kisses me and strips me, playing his tingling fingers all over my anatomy, pawing me with frenzied caresses, it sends me out of my mind. I can't help it, that's the way I am made. So naturally I had no time left to worry about his absent spouse.
Rene popped out my two ripened pears, with their tiny upturned points, nibbling and sucking them; then, unfastening my skirt while idly stroking and kneading my buttocks, he lifted it over my head. With the result that, a minute or two later, I was stark naked on the cushy sofa.
Then his famished lips worked down on my neck, on my pouted lips, on my breasts now as hard as rock, then on my belly already arched towards his willing, slithering tongue.
I was already lost, when all of a sudden, despite myself, I heard a slight noise. My eyes widened and I uttered a cry. His wife had come in!
I leapt off the couch, completely out of my mind. I looked everywhere for a hiding place. I wished the floor would swallow me.
A soft and ironical voice nailed me down.
"Well my little friend, what's got hold of you?"
Bewildered, I stared at her, fascinated.
She was leering at me mockingly.
I must have looked a perfect fool, absolutely naked; I gazed into her eyes fearfully.
She had the cheek to ask me what I was doing.
At that time I was still naive! The legitimate wife of my lover found me nude in his arms and she just smiled and asked me what I was frightened of! This upset all my preconceived ideas. I have seen worse since, but just at that moment it seemed incredible.
There was more to come.
Still smiling, she approached me and tenderly forced me down on the sofa. I had no will of my own, but was like a puppet in her hands.
As she bent down to my level, to my astonishment, her fur coat opened, revealing her completely naked body.
I was so bewildered that I had difficulty in taking in what was happening to me.
With fondling and wheedling gestures, she maneuvered my body into a more comfortable position, then, with a swift movement, rid herself of her superfluous garment, revealing her sensuous, provoking anatomy.
Her fully shaped breasts already stuck up towards me like a couple of spoiled poodles begging for biscuits.
The black bushy hairs of her pussy hypnotized my eyes like priceless jewelry.
She was a sexy bitch!
Still with a charming smile, she bent solicitously above me. Her charming voice was now a little strained.
"Well, Monique, you did not expect to see me here, did you?"
I shook my head negatively.
That was all I was capable of doing by now.
She took my head in one hand and with the other stroked my breasts. As she did so, hers protruded dangerously towards my face.
She went on:
"Why couldn't I join in with you both in your fun and games? As usual, Rene has told me all about it. He has already described your beautiful, promising body. I can see he did not exaggerate. It also seems you have a healthy sexual appetite and an inexhaustible thirst between your rosy petals. It's only fair I should want to have my share of it. My dear husband told me I should be very satisfied, and I can quite believe it after having seen you."
While she had been speaking, I had forgotten all about her husband. Now, looking round for him, I found he had wasted no time; he had also stripped. He was completely naked!
Smiling, his whole face afire with desire, he scrutinized the two female beauties who stood revealed before him.
His battering ram thrashed the air with renewed ardor.
He came towards us, then spoke to his wife.
"What do you think of her Suzette?"
"She is a marvel, a real gem, darling."
I heard no more, as Suzette, having had enough of just looking at me, pressed her lips to mine, forced open my mouth, inserted her throbbing tongue with deft strokes, tasting the full flavor of my salivary excretions. Hysterically, her hands forced my buttocks upon her body, while from behind Rene darted his red-hot poker into her.
This touched off my orgasm.
To my great surprise, he fished his rod out of her and, seizing me roughly, stuck it agonizingly through my labia, up into the vagina, high up towards the cervix, undulating his behind furiously between my legs. His self-imposed frustration disappeared on the first entry. Up and down he drove his penis, growing thicker and stronger at every stroke; I clung to him desperately, moaning softly. I clutched his advancing knob, welcoming it into my dark tunnel. He put his hands round the delectable mounds of my buttocks. As his searing tool advanced deeper and deeper into me, I felt him sucking and nibbling at the tautened points of my breasts. His cock was now an enormous beast roaming into my primeval forest, ready to burst at any moment. He gasped, caught his breath, then lost it in a great out surging of his lungs as he discharged shot after shot from his "big bertha"; answering his precise aim, I exploded into myriads of tiny fragments of excruciating spasms.
CHAPTER IX
A Clumsy Youth
Truth to say, I was now very happy. We got along on my salary and I worked in a pleasant atmosphere. Above all, my sexual appetite was satisfied.
In fact I had all I desired, not only a lover, but also a mistress. Not everyone could have done as much at my age!
Nearly every night after work, we used to hold our intimate gathering. Rene and Suzette fulfilled all my desires. We had hardly closed when I would run to the studio. I would strip in a jiffy, then, naked, stretch out, already satisfied. A few minutes later they would both come in wearing their dressing gowns. As that was all they had on, in a second we were all naked and unashamed. Alternately one of us would be the willing victim on the sofa. If it was Rene, we would stretch him out, our eager lips traveling over every crook and cranny of his body. The poor fellow! He would soon find himself in such a state of over-boiling passion that one of us would generously offer her cavernous orbit to quench his slaking thirst.
If Suzette or I was the tender victim, Rene and the other partner would put her into such a state of hysterical frenzy that she would scream and yell for his phallic manhood, while the third musketeer struggled to interest her groping tongue with her open cunt.
Now and again, Rene had to go away on business. Suzette and I would console ourselves as best we could with a rubber imitation of his magnificent tool. It was on such a night that I left the shop after a bout with Suzette.
Our feminine caresses had not, I must admit, satisfied me. Rene's monster was really irreplaceable.
Strolling by the opera, I decided to go to the pictures on the Boulevard de la Madeleine. They were showing "The Emperor's Waltz" with Marika Rokk. After a while I was completely absorbed by the film.
"It is a good film, isn't it, Miss? Don't you agree Marika Rokk is lovely?" I heard a husky voice whisper. I had not noticed him come in.
"Yes, she is."
Becoming bolder, he leaned towards me:
"You are even more beautiful!"
He could not possibly see me, as it was pitch dark.
"Really, sir ... "
"Don't be angry, just let me take your hand. I promise I will be good."
He got hold of my hand and started creeping up my bare arm. Trying to stop him, I unfortunately pressed my tit lightly on his forearm. Waiting no longer, his hand left mine and gripped my right breast. My first thought was to take is away but he squeezed lightly and once more my volcanic temperament got the better of me.
Nervously I contracted with pleasure. He noticed it at once and, taking advantage of the situation, darted his hand into my bosom where he could fondle my naked breast. His other hand lowered on my warming thighs, parted my willing gams and offered his stealing fingers to my enfolding suckers. With knowing rhythmic movements he sent me off to a sentimental journey.
Obviously well satisfied with the result, he soon made me understand that one good turn deserves another. Deliberately he took my hand and placed it on his rapidly growing member.
Not wanting to seem ungrateful, I willingly complied with his wishes. Undoing his fly, I did my best to procure him a delightful release.
He was well on the way when he stopped me dead.
"No," he whispered, "not here. Let's get out of this place!"
Like a robot I obeyed. I followed him out.
In the light of the boulevard, I studied him intently, as I had hardly seen him in the cinema. He was about 25, of medium size, and not too bad looking. However, he was rather poorly dressed. Still, the cut of his clothes did not matter much for what was to follow.
This was to be another surprise.
He drew me to the nearest dark spot.
There he whispered:
"Stay as you are; that's perfect, but bend a trifle further forward."
I had my back to him, and pushing me downwards, he stood behind me, lifted my skirt, downed my slip and poked his rod into me. This new position was not at all displeasing; on the contrary I very soon flooded his genitals as well as his trousers with my treacly spending. My partner, deeply engaged in my passage, mingled his ejaculations with mine.
To my astonishment he did not let me go, but twice again in rapid succession he proved to me that although he might choose peculiar places to make love, he could do it often and well!
Notwithstanding, I had already noticed that, since the war, this had become a national custom. As soon as darkness came, every dim nook and cranny, every gloomy doorstep and embrasure, as well as all the other possible hiding places in the capital, were filled with clinging couples copulating in the moonlight. Their shadows rocking together in the gathering dusk seemed to be an everlasting cry of defiance against the occupant, the war, and the stupidity of the human race in general.
* * *
Anyhow, this open air sport was right up my street. I met him again several times. However, after a while I grew bored with always undergoing the same exercises.
I failed to turn up at our next rendezvous, leaving my acrobatic lover to find another partner who would be willing to bend her posterior to allow him to swing his elephantine trunk into her yawning cavity.
All in all, after this interlude, I appreciated even more Rene and Suzette's affectionate and refined caresses in their cozy intimate studio.
* * *
One fine day in the year of 1942, I discovered I was pregnant; a couple of weeks later it became a certainty.
Of my four lovers, I could eliminate one right away as being the culprit. This was my soldier, as that was already two years ago.
This left Jack, Rene and my acrobatic friend Emile. Jack was the least likely, as due to his abnormal and perverse ways, he had only fucked me three or four times. Moreover, it was he who had carefully instilled in me the basic principles of the necessary precautions to take immediately afterwards.
The same went for Rene. Our amorous trio took every care after our triangular diversions.
The obvious one was my outdoor companion, Emile.
There were 99 chances out of a hundred he was the one, the municipal council having negligently omitted to provide running water on the streets for those who preferred to make love in the open.
In any case, it made no difference. Whoever it was, the result was the same: I was pregnant. The outlook was bleak. There I was, supporting my mother and I on my salary. What was going to happen to us? How was I going to hide it from my mother? Who should I turn to for help?
What a fool I was! Rene and Suzette obviously.
So a little later, after one of our three-cornered marathons of sexual intercourse, while puffing negligently at a Turkish cigarette and sipping their last supply of whiskey, swilling its delicious flavor inside my palate, I blurted out my problem:
"I am sorry to break up this intimate atmosphere but I would like to ask your advice."
"Certainly, darling!"
"If it is humanly possible, you can be assured of our help."
"That's settled! Thank you! I am pregnant!"
"You, pregnant?"
"Maybe you're wrong."
"No, unfortunately not. Listen while I tell you everything." I proceeded to unveil the whole story.
Smiling, Suzette agreed with me.
"As you say, it's almost certainly your bestial lover, Emile. My precious darling, you really should be more careful about making love to an unknown stranger who cannot even afford to take you to a room with the necessary toilet impedimenta, but finds it convenient to fuck you in public, like a mongrel and a bitch."
"You would have done better to have brought him here, to make up a foursome," Rene added.
"True enough," exclaimed Suzette, already thrilling at the idea of another manly item.
"You are both right," I said, "but what about my problem?"
Suzy thought for a moment.
"Tomorrow I shall give you something which I hope will do the trick."
I hugged them both gratefully and went home relieved.
* * *
Next morning, Suzette handed me a small tube of darkish colored liquid, telling me to take a teaspoonful every two hours.
Unfortunately, the result was most disappointing. The only tangible consequence was that I had to leave early with violent stomach pains. Then Suzy got hold of the address of a midwife with a special talent for that sort of thing.
I hurried over to her place.
"Only too pleased to oblige," she said. "It will cost you 5,000 francs."
"That's too much; I can't pay you all that right now. I will give you 2,000 now and the rest later."
Actually I had not a bean of my own to spare and 2,000 francs had been lent me by Rene, who could not at that time afford more as business was not too flourishing.
"Nothing doing. I said 5,000 cash or nothing."
"Please! I'll give you the rest later."
"I am sorry; in this business it's all or nothing."
Helplessly I went home. There, another blow fell. My mother was very ill and the doctor prescribed only the most expensive medicine, only available on the black market.
How easy everything is when you have plenty of money!
I had none at all!
I remember crying with rage, alone in my bed that night. It comes back to me even now, clearer because it so seldom happened.
Something in me became hard and merciless, and in one night I changed from a young carefree girl into a heartless, grabbing, skeptical, ambitious and perfidious woman, ready to take my place among the riffraff, profiteers, spivs and high class prostitutes who ruled wartime Paris, crushing and dazzling lesser mortals with their money and ill-gotten wealth.
CHAPTER X
Angela
I had already especially noticed one particularly elegant and refined lady. She often came in to buy perfume. I was naturally attracted to her and I believe she had also a sisterly feeling towards me.
So that, when one morning she inquired solicitously after my health, I admitted to her that all was not well with me.
As it was obviously impossible to go into any detail in the shop, she handed me her card with a personal invitation to meet her at the Casino de Paris.
Showing Suzette the invitation which read "A. C.-artist," I learned with amazement that she was the star of that famed establishment. Suzy added meaningfully:
"If you have fun together, don't forget to give us all the details."
The very same evening, at half past nine, found me knocking at her loggia. Her maid answered and motioned me to a sofa, as her mistress was on the stage at that moment.
I had hardly had time to take in the surroundings of her dressing room when abruptly Angela came in.
I had a job recognizing her. Her face heavily daubed with makeup, her head crowned with a magnificent feather headpiece, she was cloaked in a scarlet dressing gown which revealed her fully shaped legs.
She recognized me at once.
"Ah, my dear Monique, I am so glad you have come to see me. I will be right with you, so that we can have our little chat."
At these words, she threw away her mantle, standing revealed in complete nudity, except for a tiny silver triangle covering her most intimate parts.
She was a real beauty!
Despite her heavy stage makeup, I sensed underneath a youthful and unwrinkled face, below which her finely shaped breasts stood out firm and opulent, pointing their rigid carmine tips in my direction. Her perfectly smooth belly made an attractive setting for that minute triangular protection which fitted her so well. Her well-muscled thighs and her black-stockinged, elongated legs in their high-heeled shoes strongly supported her vigorous and beautiful body, born, it seemed, for the pleasure of good living and passionate caresses.
Sitting close to her on the sofa, I told her everything, only omitting my employers' perverse pastimes.
She listened in silence, then drawing me to her bosom, she embraced me gently.
"You poor thing! I have to get back on the stage now, but come to my apartment, 17 Rue Royale, at six p.m. on Sunday and we shall be able to have a longer chat."
"Thank you."
We parted almost immediately and although she had not kissed my mouth, her two naked breasts had seemed to be magnificent fruits bursting with sap, and during her platonic kiss I had time to notice her eyes shining in that strange way, common to both man and woman, when their senses are aroused.
Needless to say, I turned up on time at the appointed hour the next Sunday.
The door opened and Angela herself showed me into her private boudoir.
"Sit down, make yourself at home, as today we have plenty of time. First let us have a cup of real coffee."
As owing to the war I had had nothing but ersatz for the last couple of years, I thanked her gratefully.
I again narrated my tale, this time going into more detail. I hardly had time to finish when she went across to get her bag, out of which she fished a roll of bank notes. She handed them over to me, telling me to go the very next day to see the midwife and get rid of this embryo.
On the spur of the moment, I refused.
"I can't accept such a huge sum, because I won't ever be able to pay you back out of my salary."
Strange as it may seem, I was entirely sincere. This woman was being kind to me and a curious sentiment, possibly the remains of my noble ancestors' pride, urged me to refuse this money which I so badly needed.
Her face hardened.
"You are going to take it! My dear girl, you are very attractive and I like you awfully, but I am not a mug. I hardly know you and I haven't the slightest reason to make you a present of 10,000 francs. So I am only lending them to you, together with the means to pay me back and earn a lot more for yourself.
"Let us be practical. You are young, very pretty, in fact, the living image of a well-born and intellectually superior aristocrat. What have you got out of it so far? Look at you now; here you are selling perfume for a miserly wage with which you cannot even afford to buy all your meager rations. That's nothing to be proud of! Do you really think if I had done the same as you, I would now be a well-known star? Don't you believe it, I would also be an obscure saleswoman on the verge of starvation!
"Don't forget that there are only two ways for a poor but good-looking and intelligent woman to get out of the rut: to become a complete wanton or join the salvation army.
"I know people use a lot of highfalutin' words about honesty and modesty, conscience and all that usual rubbishy nonsense, but let us take a concrete example: What's conscience anyway? An illusionary invention of people who have never had to make a quick or dangerous decision in their lives.
"You are still young, charming and attractive. If you don't use these powerful gifts now, before it's too late, you are either a weakling or a fool. It may be hard to swallow, but it's the truth. The world is made up of the oppressors and the oppressed. I am sure you are clever enough to be on the right side of the fence."
For the first time in my life, I suddenly found somebody who could put into words what after all I had always believed in, and which was to be my guiding principle ever after: the law of the jungle.
"Is it a deal?"
"It's a deal! I'll take your money, and before six months are up, you shall have it back; and thanks for everything, not only the cash but your excellent advice. Before long I shall become like you, the toast of the town."
She opened her arms and I flung myself into them with ardor. I kissed her passionately. Losing no more time, Angela, before I was aware of what she was doing, slipped her hands into my dress, pulling it up to disclose my peerless legs, then running them up my white thighs. Kneeling beside the sofa, she, caressing me with soft, knowing fingers, dipped their tips into my knickers. Slowly slipping them down my buttocks, she gently eased the soft flimsy panties down my thighs and tossed them aside. She expertly spread out my legs to show the pink lips of a delicious quim, nestling in the proud bush of my crisp pubic hair. As her ravaging fingers worked with fluttering motions into the pouting moist pinkness of the pulsating cranny, I moaned in the ecstasy of lascivious torment.
She unzipped my gown and eased its loosening folds over the pouting breasts. She threw herself on me, her eager lips seeking the erect nipples, while working furiously at the moist, straining, thrusting mount of my maddened passion.
My knees were high in the air, my thighs wide open to the thrusting fingers of my amorous partner. My fanny was now wide open to the lascivious push of Angela's fingers and I was filled with such a frenzy as I had never known before. I suddenly arched up from the couch like a stricken animal, my buttocks quite clear of the sofa. I thrust forward with my haunches so that Angela's fingers dipped more deeply into the softness of my pouting ring. Then she slipped her hands into the tops of her drawers and with a swift, sensual movement, undulated out of them. She unhooked her brassiere and her rosy tits sprang out. Then she came towards the place where I was lying; I stiffened as Angela raised my legs, and parted her own.
She slipped her crotch up between my thighs so that our pussies were together. Then she took hold of my shoulders, clasping her hands over them. She began to pick up a rhythmic movement as we pulled on each other and rubbed our throbbing pubes together.
Suddenly she freed herself from our embrace and slipped from the sofa onto the floor. Angela pulled me by the ankles so my buttocks slid over the edge of it. She gripped my white thighs, spread them out, clearing my small slit.
Unexpectedly, Angela's head thrust forward, deep between my awaiting, quivering thighs. Her tongue thrust out, vibrant. Then she dipped it deep into the soft warmth of my dilated cunt, searching into my crack, that pulsed at each stroke of the agile tongue.
At once I gave a wild, moaning shriek and collapsed. Her head rose and gazed at my face, but once again she lowered it and lingered softly with her greedy lips in my mount, while her hands were across my quivering belly. That was all I could stand, I had such an orgasm that I fainted.
Awakening a while later, I remained silent for a moment. I wondered if I had to give her the very same pleasure she had just given me. No longer did I hesitate, but slipped down to her twat, paying back my share of it. I was not long on duty. Well stimulated, she came too, moaning and screaming.
After this pleasant interlude, we discussed practical ways of putting into application her excellent theories.
This brings us to a new chapter in my way of life.
CHAPTER XI
My First German
Before long I had a chance to put Angela's teaching into application.
For some time now, I had noticed a high-ranking middle-aged German officer, on whose frequent visits to the shop had seemed to take a more than perfunctory interest in me.
I had taken an even more pronounced interest in his long black Mercedes, which, with its outstanding pennon bearing an enormous black swastika, denoted a high-ranking member of the German high command.
He was handsome in a brutal sort of way. His hair was blond and naturally curly, his face thin and pale, with clear-cut features, which together with his steel-blue eyes, gave him a cold and cruel look. But when he smiled, his sensual lips seemed to illuminate his whole expression, and he managed to look quite attractive.
Deducing from his smart, brand-new uniform on which hung the highest Nazi decorations, including the iron cross, as well as the generously gold-braided shoulders, that his pockets must be well-filled with marks, I decided to take special interest in him.
Next time he put in an appearance, I turned on my best Hollywood smile.
Stiffening to a rigid position, he bowed as though I had been the mighty Fuehrer himself. I could hardly restrain myself from bursting out laughing in his face, but instead I accentuated my best welcoming smile. He stared at me intently, as though I already belonged to him.
"Gutten Tag, Fraulein. Allow me to present myself: General Karl von Hetzer of the ever victorious German general staff, conqueror of the combined allied armies and defender of the Fatherland.
"You are a very sweet girl and I should like to have the pleasure of getting to know you better."
So saying, he took my hand and kissed it. A respectful, gentlemanly gesture, but a trifle too prolonged to be perfectly innocuous.
From behind the cash desk, Suzy gave me a broad wink. She had not understood one word but his gestures made their meaning clear.
As for me, I pretend to be slightly embarrassed and, blushing modestly, asked him what I could do for him.
"Give me some perfume; anything will do, as long as I receive it from your pretty little hands."
Not bad at all for a beginning. I decided to encourage him.
"Why are you so kind with me, Herr General?"
"Why indeed, my delicious doll? Because I have never seen anything as beautiful as you are. You are like a Greuze painting of a Madonna. You are the living image of Aryan youth, with your angelic profile beneath the aureole of your golden tresses."
It was a pity that Suzy could not understand what he was saying about my pure and angelic character; she would have died of laughter.
Still, on the whole, his behavior seemed to indicate that he was a gentleman of my social standing, which would be of help to me in my dealings with him. This badinage went on for a while; then, getting down to the point, he asked at what time I was free in the evening. I told him.
"Gut. In that case, with your permission I shall be waiting outside with my car tomorrow evening, and I hope you will do me a favor of accepting my hospitality for a while?"
Feigning a moment of hesitation, in order not to seem to jump at his offer too quickly, I accepted.
The now familiar glint of male desire came into his eyes; for the fraction of a second he looked like a famished tiger licking his chops at the sight of freshly killed meat. At the same time, his usually pale face flushed slightly and his upper lip trembled almost imperceptibly. In a flash he again became an arrogant and too polite general of the immortal Third Reich. He took my hand again, and with the same formal decorum of his entrance he made his exit.
* * *
Next evening, at six sharp, the long black Mercedes waited on the opposite side of the street.
My two amorous bosses, to whom I had of course spoken of my rendezvous, wished me luck, not forgetting to make me promise to give them all the juicy details of what we had all three thrillingly anticipated was to be my lot.
As soon as the driver saw me come out, he rushed to open the car's door, stiffening to attention as I stepped in.
I was getting up in the world. A mere saleswoman who was already being saluted by a flatfoot of the glorious, all-conquering Wehr-macht.
General Karl von Hetzer welcomed me into his car as though he had been a lord greeting a duchess into his castle.
"Wie befinden Sie, Miss? But let us not be formal, what is your first name?"
"Monique."
"What a charming name. And where does my little Monica want to go?"
"Where ever you like, Herr General."
Leaning toward the driver, he barked a curt command.
The car sped on noiselessly into the night. We were alone together on the deep, comfortable cushions. It was dark, but surprisingly he remained a perfect gentleman. He just took my hand in his and held it gently the whole way, making banal conversation.
Awhile later, stopping abruptly, I had a glimpse of a guard presenting arms, then we hurried into a darkened building.
We went along a somber corridor, ending, as a brutal contrast to the blackout, in a big, brightly lit, well-furnished room.
I stepped back, ill at ease. I felt awkward in my plain black dress among all the high-ranking officers accompanied by a few women with expensive evening dresses, mostly low cut with plunging necklines, hardly covering their prominent bosoms.
"Don't worry about them," said my escort smiling.
At our appearance, there was a general silence, followed by a clamor of "Heil Hitler," and the clicking of highly polished boots.
We went over to a quiet corner table, where he ordered cocktails.
Over a drink and a cigarette, in answer to his inquiries, I told him about myself. I did not, of course, tell him everything. For instance, I did not speak of my noble birth; I also left out my love affairs. Perhaps when I got to know him better, I would speak of them, but if he was naturally perverse, it would only excite him; on the other hand, if he was the sentimental type, the whole thing would be off.
When I had finished, he thought things over for a while, then excused himself for a moment. Coming back five minutes later, he got hold of my handbag and deftly inserted an envelope into it.
"My dear Monique, I have to leave you now, but before going I have left you a sum of money as a token of my admiration and friendship. We shall meet again at the same time and place the day after tomorrow. With it you can buy a dress or whatever you like."
I thanked him warmly.
"Don't thank me now; we shall see about that next time we meet."
Back in the car, pressing our bodies close, we kissed passionately, but to my great surprise he let me go almost at once.
The car slowed down outside my door, and we took a formal parting.
As soon as I got back to the privacy of my room, I opened his envelope, which contained 5,000 francs!
* * *
Next day I gave a triumphant account of my outing to Rene and Suzette.
They entirely approved my handling of the situation, but begged me not to forego our private sessions on his account. I reassured them. I had absolutely no plans to stop caressing and being caressed by this expertly vicious couple, who knew so well how to thrill and satisfy me.
After having taken a couple of hours off to go and buy a new dress at the black market, I ran to Angela's place.
She received me with open arms. Congratulating me on my performance, her face hardened when she found out that my lover was a general of the Wehrmacht. She considered it dangerous, although it might be profitable.
Before parting we could not resist one long languorous kiss, our lips stuck to each other's and our tongues darting feverishly in and out. If I had not promised to get back to the shop as quickly as possible, we would soon both have been stark naked, once again resuming our lesbian pastime.
* * *
On the appointed day, punctually on the stroke of six, my new conquest drove up.
I was hardly in the car when the general congratulated me on my purchase, praising my elegance and good taste. He went on: it was about time we should go and have supper at a little place he knew.
Now I guessed what he was getting at. The usual routine. A good meal, followed by an even better fuck. This is usually known as the fleshly prelude.
Having gone so far, things now had to follow their habitual course and reach their logical conclusion. After all, I had now made up my mind to be kept by men, or, in short, to become a prostitute. Since my principal occupation was now in the bedroom, I might as well take it smiling. Anyway, it probably wouldn't be bad at all to have my slit explored by the member of a general of the ever-advancing German spearhead.
This was the first time I was going to give myself for money.
I must say, I admired his taste in restaurants. It was cozy and comfortable inside, and we were shown into a small private room which he had reserved. He was a real gourmet. To the accompaniment of soft music, I ate the most delicious meal I had tasted since before the war. In fact, I made rather a pig of myself, while my friend remained silent to let me savor every tasty dish.
At last, having had my fill, slightly flushed with good food and drink, I thanked him effusively.
"Happy?"
"Delighted!"
"Gut. In that case let's get to business. Monique, you lied to me!"
"Who, me?"
"Certainly. You are not Monique an unknown saleswoman, but Monique van P- daughter of the Ambassador of Belgium to the Quirinal. Furthermore, you did not come to Paris alone with your mother. You came with the Marquess van Becker, but above all you omitted to tell me about Count Jack van M-, who was your lover."
"However did you find out all this?"
"My dear girl, this country happens to be under our control. We have to know what goes on, and we do. The Gestapo is very thorough and it was child's play for me to uncover your lies."
I quickly recovered.
"I did not lie to you, but merely left out certain details of my private life. Why speak about my noble past when I am at the present moment only a poor unhappy saleswoman?"
"Don't mistake me, I don't reproach you any of it. On the contrary, you might have understood that a Viscountess is worth a lot more than a mere saleswoman. As for your lover, that of course is a question of personal appreciation."
I smiled and kept silent.
He took my hand and said:
"Still friends?"
"Very much so."
"Soon we can be even more, if you want us to!"
I did not hesitate, I had a feeling it was better not to do so.
"Why not? I like you, and you seem to find me to your taste."
"Even more than you think."
As he said this, he smiled cruelly, already mapping out his next move.
* * *
To think that some poor fools make out that love is always the same!
Up till then I had had four lovers, all of which, as I have already carefully explained to you, had different ways of making love. My fifth one, Karl, also had methods all of his own.
When we left the restaurant, we drove to a small side street behind the Madeleine. We were shown into a comfortable studio by an attractive soubrette, who greeted the general as an old and valued customer.
Having brought up a magnum of champagne, she left us alone.
Slumping down in a cushy sofa, Karl said:
"I am so happy to be here, Monique. Come to me."
Obeying, I came nearer.
"Don't be afraid, my dear, there is plenty of room on my knees."
Now, in the presence of my first cash customer, I instinctively acted like a brazen prostitute. With a sly smile I said:
"Karl, you were good enough to offer me this dress which we both like; it would be a shame to crease it the very first day I wear it."
Saying this, I fumbled with the zipper, and it slipped in a cascade of black foam to my feet. I stepped out of it and stood revealed in my jet-black undies.
Wasting no more time, I sat down on his lap.
The same animal look I had noticed before again lit up his face.
He immediately got hold of my breasts, which he fondled slowly.
His voice became hoarse.
"Your undies might also get creased."
"You are so right!"
Getting hold of the flimsy material by the bottom, I deliberately slid it up my body; then, finally ridding myself of it, I flung it aside.
As I had no brassiere, the only hindrance left was my black knickers, which I had left on to create a favorable first impression.
The general reacted promptly. Getting a little redder in the face, he drew me to him.
"You're hurting me."
"I'm sorry."
My naked breasts had been slightly scratched by the iron cross on his uniform. He took off his coat, and to my surprise, putting me in the armchair, knelt before me, and with honeyed gestures took off my shoes.
The contact of his fingers, as soft and precise as a surgeon's about to perform an intricate operation, again filled me in a matter of seconds with a well-known and beloved sensation of pleasure.
His hands went wandering over my breasts, carefully massaging their points until they stuck out hard and pointed. Then his sensual lips lighted on my rigid tits, sucking in with fervor their points, while his teeth nibbled them greedily. In a jiffy, my last piece of clothing was thrown off.
Dropping, down to my ankles, his wandering mouth started to work slowly up my legs, lingered there but a moment, then further up to my thighs.
From his position, his face was hardly six inches from my quim, he could see every hair, every luxurious curl that clustered and made exciting the sweet mystery that lay beneath. He gently parted the lips of my vagina to get an even better view of its rosy softness. Without hesitation his lascivious tongue darted into my heavenly chasm, playing with my clitoris for a while, but suddenly he clamped his mouth tighter over my gaping aperture, and the scorching point of his ever accelerating tongue plunged me into a paroxysm of fulfillment.
In an instant he was naked beside me.
It was then that I began to be a little frightened. His gentle caresses now turned into a cruel frenzy. He got hold of me, lifted me off the armchair brutally, and threw me on the nearest divan.
Then he rolled me over, pinching me all over the back of my body till it was black and blue. He continued harder and more brutally in front. I was lost in a bewildering, mixture of pain and pleasure. Beating and kneading me with increasing vigor, I soon resembled a red-hot oven. This animal heat redoubled his frantic desire.
At last he threw himself on me, but he was in such a state of excitement that I had to get hold of his hairy cock to guide it into my lair, where he buried it with phallic ardor. Faster and faster, tightly enlaced together, we rocked in exhilarating rhythm.
Groaning and moaning in perfect harmony, we approached the end again and again, as despite his apparently uncontrollable vigor, he delayed the supreme pleasure of ejaculation as many times as possible.
Finally we could stand it no longer, and our hot love-juice mingled together.
He was rather a peculiar type.
Now tender, then fondling, and again brutal. And I was even more surprised to notice that we had hardly recovered when he once more became charming, even cool and somewhat distant. He was the sort of man who while making love resembles a wild beast, but no sooner had he finished than his self-control immediately took over, leaving him as unruffled as before.
CHAPTER XII
Aryan Orgies
After a short rest and the usual necessary intimate wash, my new lover reappeared, smartly turned out in his uniform and looking now very formal:
"Monique, I have just had excellent proof that you are no beginner at this game. That is all very satisfying and enables me to give you certain details concerning myself.
"As you will have noticed, I do like making love in the normal way, but only from time to time. On the other hand, I take a lot of pleasure in certain practices which are called vices by some narrow-minded fools. In other words, I hope to be able to obtain your full cooperation in helping me to get certain feelings which might at first seem to you to be a trifle abnormal."
I listened to him in silence, wondering what he meant exactly by what he had just said. I was most curious about what was to follow and on the contrary was only too glad to be taught something original. So, with a promising smile, I agreed enthusiastically.
He seemed very pleased and concluded:
"Now we have to get down to practical details. I intend to give you 10,000 francs a month in order that you should be able to live in comfort with your mother. Will that suit you?"
"Perfectly, thank you!"
"No need to thank me. Then it is a deal?"
I thought it rather amusing he should use the word in connection with our agreement. I asked:
"I would like to ask you a personal question; are you by any chance in the army as a career?"
"Yes I am; why?"
"Because I think that you act more like a businessman than a soldier."
He burst out laughing.
"So I have often been told before. I find it a lot more practical to clearly define each other's side of the bargain. Do you mind?"
"On the contrary, I like your frankness."
"Perfect. There is just one minor point to clear up, however. There is to be complete freedom to come and go on both sides. The only thing I don't want you to do is to choose your lovers among the officers of the German headquarters in Paris. Apart from that, you can do what you like, in the same way as I!"
"That's okay with me."
"That is what I like to hear, Monique. I believe that we were made to understand one another." He drew me to him in a long passionate embrace. I responded to his caress.
"You are a real glutton for sex, aren't you?"
Saying this, he pushed me aside gently.
"So I have often been told, and your obedient servant!"
* * *
Two or three times we made love in the same way, and I was beginning to think that he had forgotten about his abnormal perversions, when one day he said:
"Can you be free for a whole night?"
"That's asking rather a lot, but I ought to be able to manage till four in the morning."
"Good, in that case if you could make the necessary arrangements I should be very pleased."
"All right, you can count on me."
I must explain that my mother, as well as being very unpractical, would swallow almost anything. As she had of course noticed the improvement in our standard of living, I had concocted a charming tale especially for her benefit: I had met a couple of German aristocrats at the shop, who helped us financially and took me to a show now and again. My venerable mother, as long as I moved in the same social sphere, considered it perfectly natural that a daughter of Flemish nobility should mix with eminent German court circles.
So she found it quite normal that I should have been invited out by my high-flown friends, the following being her only comment:
"Our family has its rightful place in European society. I hope you have fun!"
She could not have found a better way of putting it: I was in fact going to be among my equals, my sparring partners during the night's bout were titled. But what a mix-up there was going to be, possibly a cocktail of aristocrats, but certainly a salad-bowl of legs, thighs, breasts, buttocks, cunts and cocks!
Karl, faithful to our old routine, turned up at six. We immediately hurried to our usual hideout.
Surprisingly, he got out of uniform and put on a fashionable civilian suit. He had hardly finished when three people came in.
First, two young women in elegant uniform. One was a blonde, slim with milky-white skin; she could hardly have been 20. The other was bigger, stouter and a brunette. She was about 30. Her pouting breasts were barely kept in check by her tight-fitting uniform. Last of all came a very young man whom I recognized at once as a lieutenant.
He came forward to salute the general, smartly bringing his heels together with a vigorous bang.
"Please, Eric, no more soldiering here! As you can see I have taken off my uniform and soon everyone will be in civilian clothes. But first, let me present you to each other.
"My dear Monique," went on Karl, turning towards me, "I have great pleasure in presenting you to Hilda, Frieda and Eric."
We exchanged the usual polite greetings.
Unashamedly, the three visitors began stripping. Hilda took off her coat and skirt, only keeping on her scanty pink undies. Her tiny tits pointed out under the diaphanous material. Her thin panties underlined the undulating curve of her hips, barely covering her pussy.
Frieda wore a white semi-transparent chemise. Her heavy breasts bored their brown tips out aggressively. She did not bother with knickers. She was completely naked under her chemise. Her black hairy sex made a sharp contrast to the fine white fabric. At last, Eric was also down to his underwear. He was a beauty too.
His creamy-white skin encouraged us to imagine his well-trained muscles, in spite of his rather effeminate appearance. Unable to restrain myself, I squinted at the growing bulge in his pants.
Karl noticed this, and asked somewhat ironically:
"Not bad, is it? Do you like it?"
I answered with a smile.
"All the better; you will be able to appreciate its virility at work."
Frieda came nearer to me and, getting hold of my chin, said to Karl:
"Isn't she nice?"
So saying, she placed her hands on my breasts, stroking them, and commented:
"These are small but well-shaped. Get hold of mine!"
She guided my hands to her breasts. I had great difficulty in fitting my palms around them as they were so ripe.
Karl cut us short.
"Come now, take it easy! Get dressed again, you will be able to make up for lost time later."
At this his face lit up with his now familiar bestial expression ...
We piled into the car and shot off rapidly. I noticed that the driver had been replaced by Eric.
We got to a luxurious mansion near the Etoile. Everybody got out. Karl himself opened the gates. There was no one on the premises, not even any servants.
We were soon cozily installed in a large living room, filled with sofas running along the wall. There was a well stocked bar, to which we all crowded. Drinks to suit every taste, anything from whiskey and vodka to champagne and schnapps. After we filled our glasses generously, the party began to warm up. Literally, as well as metaphorically, because as all the apertures were hermetically sealed, the room being over-heated, Frieda shouted out:
"It's too warm in here. Come on, let's all undress!"
The actual words she used would probably be better translated in the following manner:
"My cunt is as warm as a furnace; who is going to cool it?"
No sooner said than done. In an instant she was stark naked. Standing like a colossus, legs astride, breasts jutting out, a magnificent figure of a woman, she looked the living image of the goddess of love.
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
Hilda, with careful delicate movements, rid herself of her superfluous apparel. Frieda, welcoming her entry into the arena, gave her a resounding thump on her lily-white buttocks.
"Hurry up, my pet!"
Her behind took on a vivid hue from Frieda's playful pat, and she smiled cunningly. Quickly Frieda ran to Eric.
"Aren't you ready yet?"
Saying this, she gave him a hand taking off his trousers, not without first groping at the right spot, that is to say, his pants, which she took down with growing satisfaction. As I had supposed, Eric was well armed for the good fight.
I turned round to find Karl already bare. Rapidly I compared the two manly members. I admit a choice was difficult, if not impossible. But I did not have long to make a decision. Frieda, who seemed to have taken charge of the proceedings, stood before me:
"Are you not warm enough, keeping your clothes on?"
"No," I answered with a laugh.
"That's just as well! Hilda come and help me undress this namby pamby!"
Hilda obligingly came over, her whole body undulating in provoking motions, like a vicious wildcat. I felt her hands glide over me dexterously, my clothes flew in the air, and under the insidious caresses of their expert fingers which worked all over my body, I trembled with expectation.
Not for long! As if I was as light as straw, Frieda picked me up in her robust arms and carried me over to the divan, where she lay me down. Then, turning towards the two men, she said:
"We are going to prepare this dainty dish ... to be consumed warm."
Joining her, Hilda added her efforts to Frieda's, and both of them began to kiss and lick me; at first my face, then the lower part of my anatomy.
In a second or two I was completely gone, and when Frieda buried her head against my slit, while Hilda held out her breasts to my mouth, I sunk into ecstasy, at first moaning hoarsely, then uttering a piercing cry.
When I opened my eyes once more, Hilda stared at me intently, her eyeballs ready to pop out at any moment, while the two men looked on with ever increasing interest, which seemed to flow down to their hardening rods. Frieda, now fully worked up and triumphant, administered a hardy slap on my buttocks, crying out:
"Jolly good! You are getting the hang of it, but it's only just started!"
I was to perceive the truth of this at once!
Now it was Hilda's turn to take my place on the divan where she offered herself up, her tits pointing out, legs wide apart exposing the panorama of her pussy. Frieda and I lost no time. Our lips and hands worked overtime on her slim white body, taut as the strings of a violin vibrating under our masterly flourishes. Suddenly Frieda shoved her over on her belly. Softly at first, then more and more violently, rising to a frantic crescendo, she smacked her naked posterior. Under her magical touch it became pink, then quickly changed to all the colors of the rainbow. A nerve-racking moan forced itself out from the depth of her throat as she raved with carnal delight under the painfully exhilarating blows.
Frieda, eyes blazing, redoubled her strokes, and getting hold of Karl's well blown-out prick, inserted it in the little martyr's wide-open cunt. Under this new crucifixion, Hilda could no longer restrain herself and with long drawn-out sighs of agony, she unloosed her flowing torrent.
I now took an active part in the game. The mistress of ceremonies pushed me into Eric's arms. Getting immediately to action stations, he maneuvered me to the required position, vigorously knocking his battering-ram against my gate, which was only too pleased to grant admittance. Digging in and improving his position every moment, his spearhead worked back and forth inspecting my outposts. After these preliminary skirmishes, his heavy artillery bombarded my headquarters in wave after wave. Under them I was forced to an unconditional surrender of erotic passion.
Frieda, perfect embodiment of satanic lust, was well satisfied with her two performing couples, and while she looked on appreciatively, her feverish hands were lost in her hairy forest.
After this was over we had a short break for drinks and a visit to the bathroom. During this lull I was able to turn over in my mind the unknown forces which could be unleashed by these sexual orgies. During the preceding scenes, all outward pretense had been dropped; gone were worldly polish, rank, and all the common civilized attributes. We had merely been five bodies, five sexes gone back to the superb basic animal pleasures of prehistoric times, to which we had added the refined, ever-improving vices of modern civilization.
I had hardly finished this philosophical digression when Frieda called the meeting back to order.
"It's all very well that you four have had your fun, but I have had practically none. Hilda and Monique, you will do me the pleasure of preparing the other two to satiate my thirst. It's about my turn!"
We complied only too willingly.
Hilda leaned over Karl, spread out on the divan. As for myself, I looked after Eric with special care. This young man's skin was like velvet and I found it delicious to run my fingers and my" lips on his smooth white body.
I was the first to get Eric to the required point.
"Stop! Number one is on the ready! Wait a moment, Monique, for number two. Right now number two is also beginning to look shipshape!"
Very satisfied with our groundwork, Frieda looked at us ironically.
"Now, my little dolls, I'll show you how to satisfy two men at the same time. And I won't need any help from you!"
So saying, she offered herself up to both of them, their pricks almost meeting in her, and with superb timing she worked them up to their mutual ejaculation, while she herself went off maddeningly.
The party went on till two a.m. The car at last took me home. Luckily, my mother was asleep because despite my youth I could not have looked as fresh as a daisy.
What a night! My first night of real orgy. Drinks and aphrodites! In a few hours I had been possessed by two men and kissed, caressed and hugged by two women. And what women! Hilda was a delicious little devil with an innocent face and perverse tastes. Frieda was a hungry tigress who was never fully satisfied. All this ran around in my head like a top, and I fell asleep, dizzy with drink and fucking, into dreams full of erotic visions.
CHAPTER XIII
A Profitable Pastime
I must admit luck was with me. In a short time, I was promoted from an insignificant saleswoman to a wealthy, well-kept lady.
Karl, as long as I would take part in his parties, usually comprised of five or six, as long as he could see me naked among them, was satisfied, and the rest of the time was my own. As you can well imagine, I made full use of it ...
On one particular night, I saw many well-known people from the theater and the cinema, as well as high-ranking German officers and, of course, the usual diplomats.
The evening was marked by its well-bred atmosphere. Still, by about two in the morning, people were getting warmed up by the numerous drinks they had wolfed down. I found myself the center of attraction next to the bar, and it was due to an apparently innocuous incident that I was able to catch my first really big fish.
A high German dignitary, General von Brentano, very impressively, although slightly tipsy, proposed a toast to the Fuehrer.
Everybody stood up, lifted their glasses, and to the sound of clicking heels there was a tremendous shout:
"Heil Hitler!"
I was the only one not to get up. What got into me? Was it the drinks? Was it hitherto unknown patriotism? I don't know. But anyway, without worrying about the social faux-pas I was about to commit, in a voice trembling with emotion, I also lifted my glass and shouted out in Flemish:
"Heil de Koning Leopold III!"
It had the effect of a cold shower on them. But in a sporting way the German officers smiled indulgently.
"She is very young."
"After all, she is Belgian."
Conversation went on as before.
I felt a hand gripping my arm. In his well-cut Luftwaffe uniform, General von Brentano asked for the favor of the next dance.
We danced in silence. My partner kept staring at me intently the whole time. When it was over, he took me to a deserted alcove and very gravely said:
"My dear young lady, I admire your courage. You have got what it takes! To dare to cry out your loyalty to your king among so many Germans is an impressive performance. Especially in a woman of your tender years, such behavior is worthy of the deepest respect.
So saying, he bowed and kissed my hand.
* * *
My new admirer was very different from my other ones. Up to now I had had to deal with lovers whose only concern was getting the maximum of pleasure out of me. They looked on me as a beautiful doll whose only purpose in life was to provide fresh meat for their unquenched desires. Herman von Brentano belonged to a different race altogether. He was sentimental.
In his case, I had to watch myself. Rather than making an exhibition of my body, I understood at once that with him I should have to play the role of the poor seduced girl who had been forced by circumstances to get someone to support her.
Not a very amusing role! Especially with a fiery temperament like mine, as well as a lover like Karl, who was incredibly perverse and who specialized in wild orgies. I had begun to get a real kick out of those midnight brawls which filled my sleeping hours with visions of numerous naked bodies in artistic poses.
But this new situation was worth it.
On our first meeting, Herman gave me a check for 10,000 marks. Nothing less than a small fortune! And he had not even touched me, except for a respectful hand kiss. I think I can say without boasting that I was an immediate success at playing the ing�nue. I chose exactly the right words to describe what a poor unfortunate girl I was, forced to sell myself to support my aging mother and to keep the wolf from the door. With a break in my voice I gave him my own account of our departure from Bruges, my so-called rape in the shelter, my struggle for life, my poor mother who was always so ill, etc ... I can assure you that my story was full of pathos. My public, which consisted of Herman, swallowed it hook, line and sinker. He loaded me with presents and it was only a month later that he worked up enough courage to ask me to sleep with him. This he did with infinite tact. I could not resist being grateful to him for his gentle handling. When I was naked, he looked at me with a sort of religious ardor. He mumbled passionately:
"I love you, you are so beautiful, my darling! It is divine to see you like this! How generous you are to give me your youthful body!"
And all the rest of it.
He at last decided to lay me on the bed, then took me reverently, still carrying on his childish prattle.
Naturally, like all his kind, he made love just about as clumsily as a bear trying to rape the Venus de Milo. I felt absolutely nothing, but took great care to make out that I did. This was a good thing, because as we parted, he handed me over a draft for 20,000 marks.
I had fallen on a mug with a capital M!
But, you may ask, what was happening to Karl, Rene, Suzy and Angela during all this? As you can imagine, I was not the sort of woman to be satisfied with studying the ceiling while Herman fucked me, without any variations; so it was with unadulterated joy that I would get back to my erstwhile bosses. Of course, I was no longer working at the perfume shop as I was now Herman's official mistress. My mother knew nothing of all this. Luckily she was as shortsighted as a bat, as far as my private affairs went. Right in the middle of the war, I was dressed like a princess. We now lived in a well-furnished apartment near the Chaussee d'Antin. Every day we ate our fill of succulent food while about two million people in Paris nearly Starved. This, of course, my honorable mother considered perfectly right and fitting, owing to our title.
I also had a comfortable studio on the Champs Elysees where Herman and others used to come to see me. This my gray-haired parent knew nothing about.
As for Karl, one or two orgies with Hilda and Frieda now and again kept him happy.
Me too.
I carefully planned my life of debauchery to procure me money first, then luxury, enjoyment and pleasure.
That is why, for the pleasure of it, I often went to see my former employers. When they saw me coming, they would not waste much time. A few words of greeting and off we were again.
Bent over me, kissing me, pawing my breasts, pinching my buttocks, licking my juicy cunt, Suzy and Rene fired off numerous questions:
"Tell us what happened with Karl last time?"
"Did Frieda tan Hilda's hide?"
"How did Eric fuck you?"
"What new sensations did Frieda think of this time?"
I answered as best I could, giving as many details as possible. These appetizing novelties used to put us in the right mood, provoking plenty of erections and ejaculations. Now Rene would fill me with his virile manhood while Suzy worked on the rest of my body with her lips and hands, now I would do the same to her bottomless pit.
I did not for all that forget Angela.
With her it was different. I had slept with her, even finding it most delectable, but that was not the real reason that I used to meet her again at the Casino de Paris or at her flat.
I never forget a bad turn, nor a good one.
It was thanks to her and to her friendly advice and guidance that I had got out of the rut I had been in the year before. I had a deep feeling of affection and gratitude towards her. When I kissed her, it was more in thankfulness than with sexual intent.
Lately she had changed subtly. She, of course, congratulated me on having followed her counsels and having changed my way of life, but I felt she was more than a little put out when I used to talk of my German lovers.
One day, angrily, she blurted out:
"You only sleep with collaborators or Germans!"
I was astounded. I never had stopped to think of it in that way. Fate had thrown a German officer into my life as my first financial lover, and it had followed naturally that I had continued my exploitation of the same circle of people. I had not bothered to look any further. I was not interested in politics, but I understood at once that Angela was almost certainly in the resistance, and very definitely anti-German; no doubt she listened punctually to the BBC every day.
Soon she was to be satisfied, because I was to have a new lover who was neither a German nor collaborated with them.
CHAPTER XIV
Black-Market Scavengers
My present lovers, being in the army, were not available all the time. In fact, they were only free at night, as their mornings and afternoons were taken up with their duties.
This suited me perfectly, as it left me all day to do what I pleased.
It was February, 1943. The sun was already getting to be warm, and I felt like going for a walk. So I went to the Concorde, then strolled up the Champs Elysees. Dressed in a well-cut black suit, an expensive fur thrown over my shoulders, I sauntered along, clicking my heels on the hard bituminous surface of that famous thoroughfare. I intended to go and have a drink at the Lido. As I walked along, nonchalantly swinging my hips, I day-dreamed of how far I had gone in the last year. My sizable bank account, my jewels, my furs, my numerous luxurious dresses, in fact all that made up my present well-being flashed through my brain. It may be a good thing to think while you are walking, but it is even better to stop doing so when you cross the road.
However, coming to the corner of the Avenue Victor Emmanuel III, I stepped onto the road, lost in thought. With the result that there was a shriek of brakes and an angry voice cried out:
"Why can't you be more careful, you silly little fool?"
I stopped in my tracks, barely an inch from the bumper, taking in the fact that it was due to providence that I was not now under the car. The voice went on:
"Are you going or coming, you silly ass?"
He was going too strong for my liking, so, without budging an inch, I flung back at him:
"Can't you be a little more polite, you ill-behaved road-hog!"
As you can see, in two years, the little Flemish girl had now got a good working knowledge of the French language.
While we exchanged these mutual compliments, we looked intently at one another. I got a good view of him, and he an even better one of me. With the result that he got out of his car, and now smiling attractively at me, he said:
"I beg your pardon, my dear lady, I was a little rude. But you must admit that if I had not stopped dead, you would have been even deader."
"I agree I was in the wrong, but I do find your language a trifle overdone!"
"Let's say we were both to blame, and I beg your pardon. In order to make it up to you, let me offer you a drink."
Still laughing, he got hold of my arm and started pulling me towards his car.
He certainly was not lacking in cheek!
I was going to protest when a copper chimed in:
"What goes on here? Do you think I am going to let you park at the corner of this avenue for long? Don't you know it's forbidden? Get going, otherwise you'll get a fine!"
My companion took this opportunity to shove me without further ado into his car, slam the door, start up, and off we went.
We left behind us the figure of the portly policeman, shrugging his shoulders and waving his baton in all directions.
Racing up the avenue, he burst out in loud laughter saying:
"As you can see, my beautiful lady, you have caused me a lot of bother. You nearly threw yourself under my car, and then to crown it all you almost got me a fine. You will have to try and make me forgive you for it!"
"What do you mean? How dare you?"
"I do, and I repeat: you will have to make up for it. That is to say to begin with you are going to come along nicely and have a drink with me; after that ... we shall see!"
"I don't know that I have anything to be forgiven for, but what I do know is that you are incredibly cheeky!"
"I couldn't agree with you more my dear. It is, as a matter of fact, one of my principle qualities, and believe me it is very useful in life."
"To force women to get into your car?"
"Me, force you to get in? Not at all. The proof of it is that you climbed in willingly. There was a policeman near us, and you only had to say a word to get me arrested by this dignified representative of law and order, if you had wanted to."
What could I do with a specimen like that? Laugh. That is exactly what I did. Naturally, he took immediate advantage of this to put his hand on my knee, which he fondled artistically. Then I felt that he was going to work up higher along my thighs, without any warning.
"Really, you nearly ran me over a while ago; it is quite unnecessary to start again. Two hands are not too many to drive with, especially in your case."
"That is where you are mistaken. One is quite enough; the other one can be otherwise employed. I am used to it."
"I don't doubt it for a moment, but right now leave my legs alone. Or else I will get out!"
"You wouldn't do that to a well brought-up fellow like me, so kind and gentle, so ... "
Suddenly his lips stuck to mine. There was only one of two things to be done: either I gave him a resounding smack or I returned his kiss. I chose the better solution, as he was beginning to amuse me. He had the presence of mind to slow down, and, moreover, in 1943 there were not many cars on the road. It was just as well, because his kiss went on endlessly. It went on so long that my tongue also began searching his mouth and I felt a sudden heat come over my whole body.
I sighed when he let me go at last. He again laughed, uncovering his splendid ivory-white teeth, and getting more and more cynical.
"Not bad going for a man still driving with the other hand, don't you think?"
"I'll agree with you there! But you have a colossal amount of cheek; you must have had more than your share when you were born."
"Too true. But that is not all; I am also full of other attractive qualities. For instance, I am gallant, kind, thoughtful and amorous ... "
"Is that the lot?"
"Not at all! I am especially well-intentioned towards lovely women like you."
"You certainly seem to be in love with yourself!"
"I adore myself, and you above all!"
With that he got hold of my waist, let his hand creep up to my breast, then gently pinched its nipple.
This time, he nearly lost control of his car, but managed to straighten out in time, enabling me to get loose from his grip.
"Please, I beg you, stop! You are going to kill us! Let's go and have a drink if you like, but I have no intention of committing suicide, even if you have."
Filled with self-confidence, he let me go and with an air of assurance went on. "You are right, we had better stop; we can make closer contact later."
He stopped. Here was a man who knew where he was going!
He had just missed killing me at three o'clock that afternoon, and at six I was in bed with him in his flat near the Etoile.
We had hardly sat down to have our drink at the cafe, when he at once told me without beating about the bush, that he had no doubt I should soon be fucked by him. During this conversation he was pawing me conscientiously. He even managed to slide his hand under my dress, reaching my V spot, which he had knowingly fondled. All this without the waiter or several customers nearby noticing anything.
As always, I could not oppose such strong arguments.
Half an hour later he was undressing me, still laughing and messing about. Soon he was in his birthday suit, obviously highly satisfied with his body and in particular his whacking prick. At last I felt him in me, vigorously thrusting his monster in and out, threading it again and again in my cunt, but never moving in all the way. I fitted him like a glove. Soon my whole fucking ass was trembling and I caught the rhythm just right, pushing back against him each time his cock started to dig in. I was doing it so well that I could feel he was having trouble keeping his load back before I was ready. Somehow he managed it, and we both let rip together, moaning and shaking in perfect harmony.
Afterwards, lying by his side smoking the inevitable cigarette, I stretched languorously. My new lover, still enjoying himself, instinctively kneaded my hardened tits as he declared:
"Darling, you are a real wonder!"
"Me?"
"Yes, you make love just the way I like it; you are a walking encyclopedia of copulation!"
That night, alone in my bed, I asked myself why had I slept with the fellow? Partly because he had awakened my senses, but the main reason was that he amused me. He was gay and full of life, cynical without being boorish, amazingly cheeky, and his joy of living appealed to my youth.
All my German customers were always just so, but their refined politeness and their worldly gallantry only made me appreciate my light-hearted, attractive friend all the more. How long this would last, I had not the slightest idea. Come to think of it, what was his name? I had not even bothered to ask him. Next day I saw him and obtained the missing information:
"John L-, 36 years old, at your service. What's yours?"
"Monique P-, 19, all yours for the taking."
"I did not expect anything less from you. Thank you. Let's have a good fuck?"
"Why not!"
You can imagine that with a partner of his ability, time flew.
He made love like he did everything else, joking and laughing. He was not especially perverted. He gave and took his pleasure without many subtle refinements. But one of his chief qualifications was his well-built anatomy, more particularly the bit of it he stuck into me. I can assure you that when he fucked me I was well and truly ripped apart. He knew it, and naturally joked about it.
"Look how lucky you are to have such a wonder fitting in your hole! Seriously, though, have you ever seen anything to be compared with my majestic member?"
"You fool!"
"On the contrary, take a good look, and you must admit that I am a really splendid specimen of human nature."
Carefully examining the object of our discussion with my hand I had to agree he was right.
"Now that you have been able to get a good idea for yourself, I am going to prove to you that not only is it good looking but also very useful." This he would proceed to do, without further ado.
All this, I repeat, was very amusing without going any further. But Angela's advice now came back to me: "To get ahead you must get the maximum out of men."
It being so, should I consider him as an agreeable pastime, or try to make use of him?
He himself was to furnish the key to my problem.
After several meetings, he showed me his private hideout in which, to my amazement, was stored a small fortune in scarce commodities. Everything from coffee and sugar to cigarettes and whiskey.
Still laughing, he said:
"Hold out your arms."
Then he loaded me up with some of those rare items.
I bent under their weight.
"Enough, enough. I cannot carry all that!"
Condescendingly he helped me, while playfully patting my arse.
"Take as much as you can carry."
He did not have to say it twice. When my mother opened the door to me, she widened her eyes unbelievingly. She had not seen anything like it for years. My realistic side again gaining the upper hand, I made an inventory of what he had given me. If I had bought it in the black market, it would have cost me at least 25,000 francs.
He was getting to be interesting!
That is why our idyll went on. John was an intelligent black marketeer. Gaining confidence in me, he explained:
"You see, darling, now I have reached an understanding. I was called up in 1939, when I was sent on the Maginot Line. Then when the Panzer Divisions and the Messerschmidts fell down on our ill-equipped and demoralized army, I considered the war lost. All the same, I did what I was told, that is to say nothing. The net result was that I was taken prisoner. At the stalag I learned indirectly that our little pals back home in Paris were making piles of money, while we were rotting in the prison camps. So I also decided to make a packet. The first thing to do, was to get back home. So I made out I was sick, and in consequence, at the end of 1941, I got back.
"As soon as I was free, I started to deal in cigarettes, ersatz, of course."
"So that is what they are! You can keep your filthy fags!"
"Don't worry, the ones I gave you are real, same as the ones I smoke."
"That's better, thank you."
"That's all right. For the moment I don't want to poison you. So with what I made out of cigarettes, I was able to expand my trade and now I deal in all sorts of other things."
"Are you very rich?"
"Not at all, I have not a bean. But I live riotously for the moment; after the war we shall see what happens!"
My joyful lover jumped over the sofa, laid me down on it and, exhibiting his pride and joy, invited me to taste it, assuring me that this at least was no ersatz.
I gulped it down greedily, my hands cupping his balls.
CHAPTER XV
Intrigues
One morning after a particularly strenuous party I woke up at about eleven. I felt pleasantly refreshed. I yawned lazily, then stretched out voluptuously. Pushing back the sheets, with a wondering eye I roamed over my naked body. Needless to say, I always slept stark naked. Mechanically I fondled my breasts, my perfectly smooth belly, my well-shaped hips, and smiled with satisfaction.
In a while it took me back to all those other roving fingers which had played out their symphony on my anatomy. These memories, helped by my expert fingers, were just about to send me off, when the doorbell rang.
Damn it, this was no time to interrupt me! I took my fingers from my furry nest, already full of love juice, licked them dry, and waited. I had not the slightest wish to open up. Then the bell rang again imperatively.
Getting fed up with the noise, I put on a dressing gown and went to see who it was.
A young girl stood before me.
"Are you Miss Monique?"
"That's right, what do you want?"
Hesitating, the girl whispered almost inaudibly:
"I am a chorus girl at the Casino de Paris, and come from Angela."
"Very well, come in," I said, my ill-humor vanishing at once. "It's a long time since I have seen Angela; tell me, how is she?"
My visitor was obviously shaken. She seemed to be scared.
"Why don't you answer me? Has some misfortune befallen her?"
"Yes."
It was an unpleasant shock.
"Oh! Is she dead?"
"No ... but ... "
"Cough it up, girl! What's the matter with her?"
"She was arrested three days ago!"
"What for?"
The young messenger looked at me bewildered, and repeated:
"I tell you she was arrested by the Gestapo!"
I was beginning to get the hang of it: it all added up, General de Gaulle's portrait, the BBC broadcasts and Angela's hatred of the Germans and those who worked with them. She was in the resistance and had gotten pinched.
"By the Gestapo?"
"Yes, and I came to see you because some time ago, Angela said to me:
" 'Things are getting hot for me, I can feel their nets closing in. If ever I get arrested, go and see Monique van P-. She has good connections among the German high command and maybe in remembrance of what I did for her in the past, she will be willing to use her influence in my favor.' That is all there is to it; Angela has been taken so I came over."
"You did well, because I never forget a good turn. Angela dragged me out of the mud, and now I am going to repay her. Have you any idea of what I can do to be of most use?"
"Come at once to see the head of our organization."
At first, I could not understand what she was talking about, then, abruptly, it dawned on me. She thought I was also in the resistance and that I was in Angela's complete confidence. I made my position clear at once.
"I don't mind trying to save Angela, but I know nothing of your underground activities."
Unfortunately, I had spoken too quickly!
The apparently anodyne girl was from one moment to the next transformed into a determined woman. With a violent gesture she drew out a pistol, which she pointed menacingly in my direction, and shouting brutally:
"Hands up, and be quick about it or you are a dead duck. So you are not Monique van P-, and now that I have told you everything, you are going to denounce us! I am going to ... "
I cut in immediately, because I felt that this fury was going to fill me with bullets at point-blank range.
"Please, I am Monique, Angela is my friend and I do want to save her!"
Still jutting out her dangerous little toy in my direction, she cut in:
"Where does Angela live?"
"Rue Royal."
"What was her last part at the Casino?"
"She was the leading lady, and it was called 'Naked in the Stars.' I may also add that she has a brown beauty spot just below her left breast about the size of a five-franc piece."
This time I had struck the right note. She lowered her revolver.
"Can I put my hands down now?"
"Not yet."
What a terror! I was beginning to be tired. To add to this discomfort, my dressing gown had opened out, giving my would-be killer a complete panorama of my entirely bare body.
This, however, did not particularly inconvenience me, nor her, come to think of it, now that her anger was cooling down. Anyhow, she went on:
"So you are not one of us?"
"No."
Rapidly I explained in a few words why I knew Angela, and why I owed her so much. I had won!
"I beg your pardon, but we have to be so careful; the Gestapo is forever on our tracks, so ... "
"Now, can I put my hands down?"
"Yes."
The raging witch of a moment ago had again become a harmless girl.
"Thank you very much; I was beginning to have enough of your physical exercises. Now that you have quite finished your childish gunplay, let us sit down and talk like friends. First, would you like a cup of coffee?"
"Certainly, thank you."
It was ready in a few minutes, and as I was hungry, we also had biscuits and cakes. My young visitor's face lit up with pleasure, as I could see. Being a chorus girl at the Casino de Paris and a member of the resistance was not the ideal way to get a good feed in wartime. She was as hungry as a bear.
"You wanted to blow me to smithereens, but I can't blame you for it. Here, have some more cake!"
"But ... "
"Now, now, let us not get formal; go on, take some!"
Before you could say Jack Robinson, she had wolfed down the lot. Now that she was smiling, she even looked quite appetizing.
"Now we can go and see your boss."
"Yes, let's go, he will be able to tell you what to do."
"Very well, in that case I shall now get dressed." I got up, and discarding my dressing gown, provocatively naked I stared her full in the face. A troubled look came into her eyes. Well now! It was then that I remembered what I had been doing when she came in. Why shouldn't she help to give me the pleasure I had sought alone? It would be more fun that way.
Still with nothing on, I flitted around her, pretending to dress. Her eyes never left me for an instant. Suddenly she asked:
"How do you know that Angela has a beauty spot below her breast?"
I smiled.
"Because I have slept with her. What about you?"
She hesitated, then spoke up.
"Me too."
I could not forego such a unique opportunity. I got nearer to her, stuck my naked body to her, while tantalizingly holding one of my breasts towards her mouth, and questioned her hopefully:
"Don't you want to do it with me?"
"Yes, I do!"
Her avid mouth took my hardened tit and sucked it greedily. In a flash I was on her, ripping aside her flimsy dress, then dragging her to the center of the room as naked as a worm. Having put the wireless on, which was playing soft dance music, we started to dance together, bodies pressed firmly to each other's, breasts against breasts, mouth to mouth and cunt to cunt. Our hips moved together in harmony, and she quickly lost her initial fear and wonder, her body reacting vigorously to my passionate undulating movements and the beat of the music.
I pulled her down energetically to the rug. She fell naturally into a position on all fours, enabling me to slip my body under hers so that my mouth was at her cunt and her spread legs offered themselves to my lips. We moved into each other immediately, and I clutched her rosy buttocks while my tongue fitted at the damp lips that spread their treasure before me. Her arms were firmly gripped around my back as she buried her head between my wide open legs. Soon she flopped down completely upon me. Our lips and tongues continued licking and sucking at each other's cunts.
Then I was again on my feet, but only in order to be able to dig my fingers into her bush, pushing them deep into her pouting lips, and then out again, as she lay on her back, arms flung out. We continued sucking, grabbing, and probing into each other, till we were once more sprawled out on the rug in a sixty-nine, and as the music played louder and louder we worked at each other more and more frenziedly. Then we came as the music ended in a crescendo, our bodies writhing and squirming in an exploding orgasm.
"That's better; now I am afraid we shall have to get down to more serious matters!"
We dressed quickly and went out.
"Where are you taking me!"
"You will see."
She led me to the nearest metro. It is superfluous to say that being a general's mistress I had all the necessary passes delivered by the German forces: Aussweis, permission to go about during the curfew, a permit for requisitioning taxis, etc ... That is why I wanted to call one over. She objected, saying that it was not safe, so we took the metro. We got off at the Porte de Vincennes. There she went into a small grocer, where after a short conversation with the owner, we got into a small van. And what a van! Dating back to the 1914 war, it looked more like a nissen hut than a vehicle fit to get people about. In any case, if the driver's idea in driving round the Bois de Vincennes had been to make me lose my sense of direction so that I had no inkling of where we were, he succeeded perfectly.
Soon we stopped in front of a small villa, lost in the woods. We got out and a middle-aged man opened the door. He was a brutish-looking character, who showed us into an office where a distinguished-looking individual was busy writing at his desk. He looked up and greeted my companion in a familiar way:
"Good morning, Mado!"
So that was her name; it was the first time I had heard it.
He turned towards me.
"Is your name Monique van P-?"
"Yes," I said, "Miss Monique van P-," stressing the Miss.
He understood and smiled.
"Miss, if you insist, we need your help."
"I know."
"So Mado has put you in the picture?"
"Yes."
"In that case ... "
Just at that moment the evil-looking fellow who had opened the door stalked into the room. He was beginning to get on my nerves, and I must have got on his, because he shot me a ferocious glare.
My expensive clothes and good looks were obviously not to his liking.
He cut in on the man sitting behind the desk.
"Miss indeed! My blooming foot! This painted doll won't come back, boss, you can see that she is one of them, and she will give us up. Let me search her ... "
The gorilla approached me.
The dry, metallic voice of his chief nailed him where he was.
"Come here, I say! Get back to your place behind me and shut up! Now to go on: Miss, you are a friend of Angela and it is in your power to save her."
"That is why I am here."
"I know, the problem is that at the moment Angela is a prisoner in a well-guarded German prison, where we can't do anything. But in exactly three days she is to be taken to Fontainebleau to be judged and no doubt condemned to death, or deported to Germany, which comes to the same thing. A black maria will make the transfer from where she is now to the Gare de Lyon. In order to get to Fontainebleau she is to be taken in a special truck attached to a merchandise train. During the journey we are going to free her, together with three other prisoners. Our difficulty is to get word to her. You are the only one who can get permission from the Gestapo to visit her. When you get to her cell you will give her this cigarette. Inside it we have written all she has to do on very fine paper. But I warn you that during the whole time of your visit you will be constantly watched by two policemen who will observe your every move. The rest is up to you."
"I will try."
He held out his hand, smiling:
"Good luck!"
The hairy ape showed us out, and if looks could have killed I would have dropped dead on the spot.
An hour later I was back at my place with Mado.
We again had coffee and cakes, after which I questioned her:
"So you are a chorus girl at the Casino; I gather you don't earn much?"
"No, not a lot."
"I see, and you are also in the underground movement?"
"I hate the Germans!"
"That is your business, and even if you are only spurred on by an ideal, it is all very right and proper. Only, when you are young and beautiful, it's a crime not to profit by it. Do you follow me?"
"I understand, but I want to be faithful to my fiance Albert, who also works at the Casino."
"In that case, I won't insist."
"Monique, I would like to ... "
"What?"
She came nearer, cuddling up to me. "Like we did this morning!"
"Well, after all, why not?"
In a jiffy we were both completely nude and once again our greedy fingers and lips tasted the delicious caresses of lesbian intercourse.
After we had dressed again I said:
"You just said, you wouldn't be unfaithful to Albert for money, didn't you?"
"I would not dream of it!"
"But you have just been lying with me. What do you say to that?"
"That's entirely different; it wasn't for payment and you are a woman!"
What a girl! I could not make heads or tails of her.
* * *
Enough play; we had to get down to business. I had to get hold of a permit to visit Angela. Who should I ask? Karl or Herman? Then I had an idea; why shouldn't I ask Hilda, with whom I was on excellent terms, quite apart from our nightly fun and games.
At ten o'clock I waited for her outside the Majestic. When she appeared, very dignified and prim in her tight-fitting uniform, I could not restrain a smile. Who indeed, seeing her now, would have willingly believed that this proud woman loved to be whipped naked by Frieda and fucked in all sorts of different ways, often by two men at once.
When she saw me, she greeted me effusively.
I got straight to the point.
"Hilda, I want to ask you a favor."
"With pleasure, anything you say."
As we strolled along I told her that Angela was a great friend of mine, and that I needed a permit to visit her to bring her what comfort I could.
She let me go on, then gripping my arm more tightly, her face now as hard as bronze, her voice becoming harsh and authoritative, she remonstrated me:
"Monique, I don't believe you realize what you are asking me to do? First, only the Gestapo can give you what you want, and I don't belong to it. Even if I could, I wouldn't. I am a German; you cannot really expect me to help the terrorists. Your friend Angela is in the resistance, and a fervent enemy of the mighty Reich and the Fuehrer. Don't count on me to belie the trust he has in me. If your friend had been sent to prison for any other reason, such as black-marketeering, I could have helped you, but I would sooner cut my throat than help a woman like that!"
I saw she was mad at me, so I did not insist. I now went to see Karl. He was more understanding, but he confirmed Hilda's words.
"Political prisoners belong to the Gestapo; I cannot do anything for you. As you may know, the Gestapo and the Werhmacht are not exactly on intimate terms. Still, if you really must see the woman, see Otto Bugaerts, one of the high prison officials. You can always try, anyway."
"Thank you very much."
"Not at all. Let me give you another piece of advice, don't put on any underwear, as Otto is often willing to do something for you if you do something for him in return. I guess you understand?"
"Certainly."
"Nine times out of ten, as he is always in a hurry, he signs the permits standing up next to his desk. In so doing he could easily tear your knickers if you had any on, do you catch on?"
"Thanks for the information. I'll make good use of it!"
* * *
A quarter of an hour later, a taxi dropped me off outside the Gestapo. I was stopped at the door:
"Where do you think you are going?"
"To see Otto Bugaerts. I am a friend of Suzanne L-."
The name of the German ambassador's wife had an immediate effect. A couple of minutes later I was respectfully shown into his private sanctum.
"I hear you are a friend of Fraulein Suzanne L-."
"Yes, I am, I even had the pleasure of seeing you at a party she gave two years ago."
It was perfectly true. I had recognized him at once. He had not recognized me but was polite and pretended he had.
"Ah yes, of course."
"I have come to ask you a favor."
I went over my speech again.
At that, his attitude altered.
"Do you know that Angela Colet is a dangerous terrorist?"
"I know nothing about that; I only wanted to see her as a friend."
"I believe you, but political prisoners are held incommunicado ... "
As he went on, I remembered what Karl had told me, and, with expert gestures, I crossed my legs, thus pulling up my skirt as high as possible and enabling him to see right up my pussy. The effect was immediate, I noticed his face light up with sadistic pleasure. Now I unloosed my big guns!
I got up, and leaning on purpose above his desk I gave him an eyeful of my breasts, as I never wear brassieres and my dress had a plunging neckline.
While showing them adroitly, I murmured softly:
"I would so like to see her ... "
He also got up, and now as red as a beetroot, came round towards me and, taking me by the waist, blurted out:
"You will be nice to me if I give you your permit, won't you?"
My only answer was to reach for his penis, bulging out under his uniform.
That did it!
He shoved me on the desk, whipped up my dress and violently dug into me, all in the fraction of a second. Rapidly digging further in, he grunted once or twice like a hog, then, satisfied, came out again.
There was a man who wasted no time! Straightening out my dress I thought again about what Karl had told me: "No panties and you get your signature." He was so right.
Meanwhile, my famished ravisher had again become a rigid member of the Gestapo, putting his seal on my permit. While handing it over with one hand, his other arm shot out into the air as he cried out, "Heil Hitler!" I smiled graciously in return.
* * *
That is why on the next day I was able to get into the prison. Two policemen in plain clothes politely guided me to Angela's cell.
One of them told me that they would be present during our interview and that if I wished to give anything to her I must first of all hand it over to them.
I had intentionally brought bread, chocolate and oranges. The two jailers carefully investigated them, afterwards handing them over to the prisoner. I tried to kiss her, but they intervened at once:
"It is forbidden to touch the prisoner, Miss!"
"All right."
I did not press the matter and went on making small talk with Angela.
All of a sudden, I opened my bag, got out my cigarette case, and took one. Then feigning to have forgotten, with my most gracious smile I offered some to the two men.
They hesitated, saying they were on duty.
"We are alone here, no one will notice."
Finally they accepted, allowing me to throw one over to her.
The two men had by now lit theirs and mine.
"What about my friend?"
Then in a flash, I took the first cigarette I had in my mouth and threw it over, with a broad wink to Angela, taking care to turn my back to the two policemen.
I prayed she would understand!
She had. I saw her light the second cigarette with the first which she kept, now out, in her hand.
I was successful in my mission, the rest was now out of my hands.
CHAPTER XVI
The Wehrmacht Versus The Gestapo
Highly pleased with my performance, I went home. I had paid my debt to Angela and felt I had earned a rest.
It had not been very easy, and the acrobatics with Otto had not been in any way pleasant.
Now that I came to think of it, it was the first time I had felt nothing while a man fucked me. He had hardly begun to have any effect on me when it was already all over, leaving me unsatisfied. I decided to make up for this small inconvenience as soon as possible, and to relieve my nervous system with someone who knew his business and, if possible, was at the same time gay and full of life.
John! Obviously, exactly what the doctor ordered.
So the next day I phoned him. He was not at home. I then tried Sirio's, where he generally hung out, and managed to get hold of him.
"Is that you, John?"
"Yes, who is speaking?"
"One of your mistresses."
"Good, which one?"
"Monique."
"Monique, I was just thinking about you."
"Me too."
"I adore you."
"Same here. Come over to see me."
"What, now? Do you need me?"
"Yes, you personally."
"You flatter me. Which part of my body do you need in particular?"
"All of it, but I will hang up now; as it is forbidden to use obscene language on the telephone, we might get cut off. I will be waiting for you."
Twenty minutes later he rang, kissed me hurriedly, then, without speaking but doubled up with laughter, he began to undress.
"What is the matter with you?"
"Monique, I guess that today you need all my charm as well as my great big cock and my sex appeal. As I am a good guy ... "
"Come off it! Is that all?"
"No, you are attracted by my extraordinary sexual accomplishments, which I can quite understand, but you don't do so badly yourself."
"You fool!"
"So, in order to satisfy your wishes, I am getting into my work clothes; that is, none at all. Anyway, what are you waiting for?"
In a jiffy he rid me of my dressing gown, and this joyful Adam carried his Eve to the sofa, where he got on top of her.
He, at least, knew how to make love. His mouth and his hands worked busily all over my anatomy. They wrenched my buttocks apart, exposing the soft downy slit and the little temple of illicit love, round and pretty as a rose. His whacking great cock stuck into the awaiting crevice, driving deep to my roots. In and out he rocked as I responded gratefully to his penetrating monster. Again and again, it shot into me, as every tissue was crying out for punishment. My cavern was now voraciously awaiting each entrance like a tiger about to spring on its prey. I tightened around his slithering member, bringing unbearable pressure on it, till it exploded into me. My grasping tentacles did not allow him to leave my fountain of love till I had pumped him dry.
After an instant of rest, he dexterously jumped down to the carpet, and still hugely enjoying himself, exhibited his now satisfied tool, saying:
"What a beauty. Monique, you are a lucky girl!"
Half laughing, half convinced, I could only answer:
"You have rather a good opinion of yourself, but apart from that I reckon you know how to fuck."
"I have been aware of that for some time! Right now I am famished. Get dressed so that we can have a good meal."
With that, my genial joker, patting me on my behind, sent me off to the bathroom. I had been wise to have this little distraction because the next few days were to be highly eventful.
After he had left me, my senses now satisfied, I lay on my bed, which looked like a battlefield, and rested, reading a good book. Once again I was interrupted by that damned bell ringing. Not very pleased, I went to open. Who should I see but Mado. She looked very excited and embraced me effusively.
"We have done it!"
"What?"
"Angela is free! She escaped!" I had nearly forgotten all about this in the arms of my ardent lover.
"How did it go?"
"It could not have been better!"
Volubly, she gave me all the details.
Having finished her story, still trembling with joy, she cuddled up to me and shamelessly she slid her hand into my dress and fondled my breasts.
Gently I pulled her away. I did not feel like having a woman today.
"No, darling, not now. I don't feel in the mood."
Mado pouted like a disappointed child.
I showed her out, telling her I should make up for it another time.
Relieved, I again took up my book.
Not for long! The telephone rang once more.
"Is that you, Monique?"
I recognized Herman's grave voice.
"My dear child, I have a couple of hours on my hands, and with your permission I should like to come and spend them with you."
What a bore! Unfortunately, it was difficult to refuse such a well-furnished wallet.
"I await the pleasure of your visit, my dear Herman!"
Some minutes later, my sentimental lover was kissing me tenderly. I again had to listen to an interminable flow of tender, devoted words. Truly this courteous man would have been perfect for a young and sentimental young girl. However, that sort of thing was hardly in my line. I knew that after his poetical discourse the General would at last feel the need to handle my well-molded figure. I wished he would get on with it as soon as possible. That is why, while listening smilingly to his honeyed words, without appearing to do so, I maneuvered my dressing gown in order to show off my breasts at the same time I crossed my legs provokingly. The presence of my naked flesh had the hoped-for effect on the lyrical General.
He came nearer, and still carrying on his barrage of talk, stroked my tits. This got him going. Still smiling, I got up, and letting my gown fall to my feet, I offered him the whole works. Now he really got started. He took me in his arms, laying me tenderly down on the sofa.
He undressed, then joined me.
The proceedings were getting well under way.
With this customer there was nothing for it. I had to pretend to feel something, as I did not in the least thrill to his clumsy technique.
Legs apart, I had to help the General to achieve his end, while pretending to enjoy it.
Having reached his goal, he would pant, out of breath, as if he had climbed up the Empire State Building, wasting his energy whispering tender phrases:
"My dear love, my pretty doll. It is heaven to possess you! I adore you!"
And it went on and on. Instead of driving me crazy with his baby talk, he would have done better to have hurried up to reach his climax.
At last he came. In a very polite way, I let out a few sighs to make him happy.
This interlude over, I was in the bathroom when the bell rang again.
Who could it be? I hoped it was neither Karl nor Eric.
Its shrill sound continued to pierce the air. I got some clothes on, then went to open the door.
I stood rooted to the ground with terror when I saw on the doorstep a member of the dreaded Gestapo accompanied by two policemen.
"Miss Monique van P-?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Polizei!"
They came in.
"You are under arrest, but before going we are going to search this place."
I stayed open-mouthed, absolutely incapable of uttering a single word.
Suddenly they froze to attention.
General Herman von Brentano, standing stiffly in his bemedalled uniform, questioned them briefly:
"I heard everything. Why have you come here? Is it to arrest this young woman?"
"Yes Herr General."
"On whose authority?"
"General, I have a warrant for her arrest."
"But who made it out?"
"Obersturmfuhrer Reder of the SS."
"I am General H. von Brentano of the Paris High Command. This young lady is under my personal protection. Get out!"
"Herr General, I am afraid I have to carry out my orders. I only accept orders from my direct superior, Obersturmfuhrer Reder."
The General straightened up even more, then cuttingly replied:
"As a General of the Wehrmacht, I order you to clear out this instant!"
The SS hesitated. Obviously he was working out his next move. He was, of course, perfectly in his right, but on the other hand the General was a personal friend of the Military Governor. Cunningly, he got out of it.
"General, I did not know you were here. I shall have to go to see my superior. In the meantime, I will leave both my men here, so that the lady will not be able to leave before I come back."
The General, as a soldier, had to give a good example, so he could do nothing but agree.
With that the SS disappeared.
Herman drew me towards him and questioned me in a whisper:
"What have you done, Monique, to get the Gestapo after you?"
I explained briefly, naturally omitting the part about the cigarette and being fucked by Otto.
He smiled.
"All this seems rather trivial. I will get you out of it."
I felt very grateful to him. He made love clumsily, hardly better than a young virgin boy of 15. He got on my nerves with his sentimental slush, but he was a rare specimen of a delicate and devoted gentleman.
I kissed him languorously with thankfulness.
We were interrupted by the reappearance of the SS. This time there was also a newcomer, who rigidly presented himself:
"Obersturmfuhrer Reder, head of the Paris Gestapo."
"General H. von Brentano."
"General, I hear that you are opposed to our arresting this young woman?"
"You are quite right."
"I would like to believe that you don't know the real facts: your prot�g�e helped a dangerous terrorist, Angela Colet, to escape."
"It is all a lie. She has told me the whole story; she only went to see her at the prison."
"Just so, and it was during this visit that she warned her that the train she was traveling in would be attacked by the underground."
"It's not true. You have not the slightest proof."
"We are certain of what we say. That is quite sufficient. General, despite all the respect due to your rank and your heroism, I must beg you not to interfere any more with my mission."
Then, turning towards the two policemen and pointing me out, the Obersturmfuhrer ordered:
"Arrest this woman!"
In a hard, biting voice, Herman cut in:
"Stop!"
Despite themselves, the two froze to immobility.
Very calm now, but sour-looking, Herman said to Reder:
"Just a moment."
Then he stalked over to the phone.
"This is a priority call, give me the Military Governor of Paris at once. I am General H. von Brentano."
There were a few moments of silence, which seemed an eternity, then I heard Herman explaining my case to the Governor. Then: "Ja, Your Excellency! Ja'wohl, Your Excellency. Viele Danke. Hochachtung, Your Excellency!"
Herman hung up, then addressed himself to Reder:
"By order of his Excellency the Governor, the warrant for this lady's arrest is canceled. Get out!"
Pale with anger, Reder answered coldly:
"I shall take up the matter with the Ober-sturmfuhrer Himmler in Berlin."
"And I shall go to Field Marshal Goering himself. Now salute and scamp!"
The four men clicked their boots, then disappeared angrily.
* * *
We were alone, and for the first time since I had known him I was sincere with Herman. I threw myself in his arms and kissed him. I put everything I had in that kiss, tenderness, respect and gratitude, and I felt in such comfort, my head resting against his large shoulder, that I would have liked to have stayed there forever and ever.
CHAPTER XVII
The Fallen Idols
However, fate was again to take a hand in changing my destiny.
Karl came to see me one day, and with his usual enigmatic smile and his faintly sarcastic voice said:
"Monique, I want you to be at one of our farewell parties tomorrow night."
"Certainly."
"This is going to be the best one we have ever had!"
"Why, did you find the others so tame?"
"Perhaps ... "
Still smirking mysteriously, Karl's blue eyes sent me a joyous flame.
So next night our merry band once more gathered at the appointed spot. Frieda, still as impatient as ever, questioned:
"Well, what are we waiting for?"
"We have guests tonight," answered Karl.
"Ah! Who, may I ask?"
"You will see in a moment."
"Men or women?"
"Both."
"All the better; as the saying goes, the more the merrier."
At that moment a couple came in. He was tall with graying hair, obviously a soldier who seemed awkward in his civilian suit. She was slim, very blonde and good looking, and she somewhat resembled Hilda. There was, however, one queer point about them. They both had masks on. To add to this, they did not say a word. From all this I deduced they wished to remain incognito; but as far as taking part in our foul manipulations went, they certainly did their share. We were hardly all in our birthday suits when the unknown woman caught me by one breast and, taking Hilda in the same way, lay down on the sofa, motioning us to caress her.
Naturally we hurried to oblige her. She had a magnificent body. I got hold of one of her sharp, tasty tits with my lips, biting and licking it feverishly, while I fondled the other with my ever-wandering hand. As I savored the flavored juices of her blossoming fruit, Hilda worked lower down at her pussy. While passionately stroking her legs and thighs with her clammy fingers, she voraciously inserted her darting tongue between the lips of her vagina, groping deftly into her simmering, yawning crack.
So I offered a heavenly vision of my arse-hole, being busily bent over sucking in the masked woman. It did not take long to feel a stiffened prick digging into me, and as I was certain that it was neither Karl nor Eric, I deduced, without turning around, that it was the stranger. As his rod slithered in and out, his hands busied about my backside, pinching and kneading it. All at once I felt him get out of me, and I saw that he had left me in order to get into Hilda, who was in the same position as myself. Then he abandoned her as well, and ripped into me anew. Three times he changed partners, then at last burst his tremendous ejaculation into my eagerly awaiting cunt.
I will not dwell longer on that night's orgy. All I will say is that there were two more people than usual, and that they were not the least active!
When we were again dressed, ready to go, Karl, who had drunk less than usual, as well as the others, spoke solemnly in a slightly hoarse voice:
"My friends this is, as you know, our last night together. My dear Monique, we shall all be truly sorry to leave you. In a few days, we shall be gone. The Allies are closing in on us. We have done our duty in Poland, in Italy, in Russia and then in France. Now we are going to try to defend our threatened Fatherland."
Eric chipped in:
"All is not finished yet."
"We have lost the war," said the masked man sadly.
Karl looked at him with deference and agreed:
"Our dream is over. The Third Reich has ceased to exist. But our sacred duty as patriots and soldiers is to fight on to the bitter end."
What an extraordinary man. Without any transition, he had become a noble human being, who hardly 15 minutes before had been wallowing in a frenzy of debauchery.
"Monique, you are the only stranger here. We are now going to bid you good-bye. We shall in all probability never see each other again, but I am sure I am speaking for all of us when I say that we wish you the best of luck from the bottom of our hearts."
Very touching indeed!
We left each other in silence. Only Karl kissed me, slipping an envelope in my bag, murmuring gently:
"Thank you, Monique, and adieu. I shall never forget you ... "
Several days afterwards, General Herman von Brentano stepped into my studio in the full paraphernalia of his rank.
He took my hand reverently:
"Monique, this is the last time I am going to see you. You know what has happened. The Allies are just outside Paris. My country is beaten. Although you are Belgian and I am German, perhaps you understand what my feelings are. My darling, I love you, love you passionately. You have filled my life with happiness. I know you are a realist, and I am sentimental, but you at least gave me the illusion of understanding me, and that was as much as I dared hope for."
I was also sincere when I interrupted him:
"You are wrong, Herman, I am really attached to you, and owe you a debt I can never repay."
"I know, and I could not ask for more. Monique, my dear child, adieu, and may God be with you!"
The General kissed me like a father, and it seemed to me that his sad blue eyes clouded for a moment.
CHAPTER XVIII
Marriage
From the vantage point of my balcony on the Champs Elysees, I looked on the joyfully delirious scenes of the liberation. I saw the yelling crowd shouting and gesticulating, welcoming the Allies, especially the women hanging on ferociously to the all-conquering Yankees.
I have always hated these noisy exhibitions and that is why I took no part in this minor upheaval. I stayed at home during all those feverish days.
At last, sometime after, I decided to go out.
I went to Sirio's, where I usually went to have a drink. The place itself had not altered, but what a difference in the customers! Gone were the rather rigid and aloof German officers, now replaced by laughing and rowdy American officers, shouting and making a glorious din. A few women gripped on to their arms, while others sat on their knees, all of them making a hellish noise.
I sat down at a relatively quiet table and made myself at ease.
I had hardly done so than two officers, speaking in broken French, asked me if there was room for them.
I nodded, and studied them. They were British officers, as calm and well-behaved as the Americans were noisy and rude.
One of them, with an attractive smile which showed off his superb teeth to the best advantage, offered me a cigarette.
"With pleasure Sir, thank you!"
It was five years since I had spoken any English, which I had picked up at the convent. But I liked these two, and I made an effort to remember what little I knew of their language.
"It's so nice you speak English. We don't speak a word of French, and this makes it very difficult for us in Paris."
Our conversation went on in this lighthearted way.
While speaking, I carefully scrutinized my two new acquaintances. I have never been attracted, like some women, by the film-star type. I consider that it is more important for a man to be kind, well-bred and to have sex appeal than to possess a well-cut profile. Casanova was not especially good-looking, and Don Juan's speeches were more attractive than his smile.
That is why I am able to say, without the slightest bias, that these two officers were in fact good-looking. Their faces were certainly well-made, but at the same time they looked a real picture of health and strength, and were not in the least effeminate.
I paid particular notice to one of them, with his schoolgirl complexion, his naturally blond curly hair, and his rather slight athlete's figure.
One thing, however, worried me.
All my lovers had as a rule been very forward, and always most enterprising. Whether French or German, while remaining within the bounds of good behavior, they knew how to speak to women.
But these two, especially the one I had singled out, were timid when confronted with the opposite sex. For example, when lighting my cigarette, my hand brushed his accidentally, and would you believe it, he actually blushed at this insignificant contact.
I could not get over it; in fact, it even cut the grass from under my feet. But I soon recovered.
As much as he would allow me, I was as brilliant and attractive as possible.
Having emptied our glasses, they got up, and together presented themselves:
"Sir George Lanterbury."
"Sir Philip Andrews."
In my turn, I bowed and smiled.
"Monique van P-."
Their eyes lit up with joy.
"Really! I believe my mother had the pleasure of knowing your father, Count Albert van P-, Belgian Ambassador to the Quirinal."
"You are quite right, it was my father."
So it was that in this smoke-filled cafe, among those half drunk Americans, among those high class prostitutes openly making love to them, in this atmosphere of primitive den, these two stiff Englishmen bowed to me as they would have done to their rightful Sovereign, His Gracious Majesty King George VI.
* * *
That is how I met my husband. Yes, I did say my husband, because he did not waste any time.
At our third meeting, George, blushing like a little girl putting her hand for the first time in her little cousin's trousers, asked me point-blank:
"Monique, I love you, and I wish to speak to your mother."
"Will you please repeat, clearly and slowly, what you have just said?"
He obliged, but I still could not understand him.
I could comprehend his saying he loved me, he had taken quite a time over it as it was, as up till now he had not even kissed me, but I could not for the life of me make out why he should want to see my mother! Surely he was not going to tell her that he wanted to sleep with me!
"Why is it necessary to see my mother?"
"Why, to get her permission to marry, of course!"
When he made this extraordinary statement, we were in a well-known restaurant, and I remember the orchestra was playing a Viennese waltz. Believe it or not, I was so taken aback that my head whirled around to the sound of the band, and the tables, the customers and the lights went spinning around.
Marry him! Here was a man I had only seen twice before. I had not even slept with him, nor felt the touch of his lips on my cheeks, and now he was speaking of marriage.
Monique, my child, get a hold on yourself! That is exactly what I did, taking a more serious air. He questioned me, worried about my change of mood.
"Monique, darling, don't you love me?"
Upon my word, if I said no he was capable of bursting into tears here and now. That would be the end! So, because I am a generous girl at heart, because I don't like tears, and especially because I was hungry and he had not yet ordered the menu, putting on a very creditable imitation of a modest and ing�nue young girl, I lifted my eyes to him candidly and murmured in a deliciously naive way:
"George, I love you too!"
But deep inside of me I was thinking:
"That will keep him quiet for the moment, but when he finds out that my mother and I are ruined, he will not go through with it."
Anyhow, I was by now nearly starving, so I told him to hurry up with ordering the dinner ...
But I was wrong about George, he was perfectly sincere and could not live without me. To add to his other charms he had an income of several thousand pounds a year plus a huge estate in Scotland and valuable property in London. In the usual phlegmatic Anglo-Saxon manner my fiance decided that we should get married as soon as possible, that is in a couple of months.
During this time he was perfect. I was snowed under with flowers and presents, and we did most of the shows and famous restaurants in Paris. He had, however, forgotten one important detail, my fiery passion. He seemed not to notice it. He was a "respectable" Englishman to the core. From time to time he would kiss me, not on the lips, sometimes holding my hand with fervor. That was as far as he went.
But he was starving me. During the last four years I had had more than my share of sexual intercourse and found it impossible to be completely deprived of it so abruptly.
As my tender fiance would not take care of my pussy, I had to get somebody else to do it. That is why one afternoon I strolled along the boulevards looking for a man. In a short space of time, quite a collection of gentlemen made it plain to me that they were only too willing to oblige. Some stared at me fixedly, others winked broadly, and others even spoke their mind. Some were okay, some were not so hot, and some, if you will excuse my expression, were downright lousy.
To tell the truth, on that particular day I did not really know myself what I wanted.
I desperately wanted to make love, but I could not find the right fellow.
Fed up with my fruitless search, I took the metro to go to the Bois de Boulogne. I seldom took it, and had not realized it was the rush hour, with the result that I found myself face to face with a worker who smelled of wine and garlic. I was squashed against his powerful body. Well, well! He was not so bad after all, I decided. I don't know what got hold of me that day; here I was getting worked up over a member of the proletariat in working clothes. And after all, why not, Messalina used to adore being fucked by drunken sailors and tramps.
I was a Belgian viscountess and soon to be part of the British nobility, but I was not an empress.
Too bad, he was the one for me, so I had recourse to my well-tried technique to get him going too.
With a supple and feline gesture I rubbed my breasts against him. At first surprised, he quickly responded and pressed harder to me. Then his leg insidiously slid between mine. I opened them slightly. He smiled, and brusquely his thigh stuck to my belly, so that he could certainly feel the heat of my sex through the rough cloth. His hand went round my hip and squeezed me even more, I felt with satisfaction that his virile member was already awakened.
During all this episode, the tube rolled on, and we still had not spoken a word.
Slightly red in the face, with a hoarse voice he spoke:
"Where are you getting off?"
I looked at him, smiling, my eyes ablaze, and murmured:
"Wherever you want to."
The tube was already slowing down; he got hold of my arm and impatiently said:
"Let's get down here!"
Still without a word, we got out on to the Champs Elysees. He looked me over, then spoke with a respectful note in his voice:
"You are obviously a high-class lady; how come you picked on me?"
"Let us say your manhood attracted me."
"I am certainly a lucky guy! There is only one trouble, I don't know where to take a rich doll like you!"
I had an inspiration. Why make this obliging fellow pay out a packet for an expensive room when my studio was so near. Incidentally, my fiance knew nothing of this hideout.
"Don't bother to look around, we'll go to my place."
When we got there he was awestruck by the luxury, which of course he was not used to. I poured out the drinks in expensive crystal glasses. He looked at them with admiration, then emptied the contents of his in one gulp. I admit that I, future peeress of England, now behaved like a well-trained prostitute.
Now my fully awakened senses made me almost cry out to him:
"Make yourself at ease, don't stand there gawking!"
Nearly brutally, I took off his coat, sat down on his knees, and stuck my lips to his in one of my homemade kisses. It had an immediate effect. He shoved me away, in one stride was up beside me, and fastening one hand on my breasts and the other on my posterior, blurted out:
"I want you!"
"Me too," I said softly.
I let fall my dress, whipped off my underwear, and stood provokingly revealed in complete nudity. He lifted me as if I had been as light as a feather, and, throwing me on the sofa with shaking hands, he fondled and petted me all over my body.
In a flash, he discarded his clothes and fucked me with Herculean strokes. He accomplished his task, sure of his manly strength, his virility and power.
We came together, and in this studio which had been the silent witness of so many refined vices and subtle perversions, there were only two bodies locked together in a normal, eternal embrace. We cried out our happiness in unison.
Three times in a row this robust lover sent me off. I had looked for a man, and I had found one! At last, resting after our sexual combat, he said to me in a queer way:
"It's the first time!"
I burst out laughing.
"My dear friend, don't make fun of me. The first time indeed! You make love like a veteran, and believe me, coming from me that is a compliment."
"You did not let me finish what I was saying. What I meant to say was that it was in fact the first time that I have made love with a woman of your class, so you must understand me, it seems rather strange. My previous mistresses have always come from the lower classes like me. You belong to another world, I can feel it. I did not go to university, but I can make out the difference."
"Yes, so I can see; you are evidently intelligent, so why bother about that? We made love together. It was good while it lasted. That is all there is to it. What does our difference in class matter?"
"In this case it is very important, because for the first time I feel fully satisfied. Although I am 28, it is the first time that a woman has had that effect on me. I have got you under my skin, and I believe I am falling for you."
I cut in sharply:
"Please, none of that! Sentimentality and I don't go together. I met you in the metro, an hour later you were fucking me and it was most pleasant, but that is all. Don't have the slightest illusion about it, we shall never see each other again. I don't want a chain around my neck!"
He looked at me sadly, and I regretted I had spoken so harshly. Gently taking his head in my hands, I kissed him, saying sincerely:
"Before you imagine you are attracted to me, I had better make things clear to you right away. I am not the right woman for you, but a marvelous adventure that happened once in your life. Keep this memory of me if you like. You are a nice guy, honest, frank and loyal. You need a faithful companion, to give you a lot of children and to mend your socks. I am the very opposite of all that. I am unscrupulous, and without a care in the world. Your way of making love was most satisfying, but I would soon tire of your primitive way, as I am used to sexual perversion and bizarre erotic positions. So we had better get dressed now. Have a drink, and we will part friends."
* * *
The marriage went off perfectly. However, as a result of it I had to take care of one small matter.
My husband, imbued with prejudice, had to find a young virgin girl in his bed on the wedding night. Two or three days before I had washed out my cunt, putting in a tiny piece of lemon. This was to give him the right impression.
That is why, when George got into our nuptial bed, he found his virtuous bride, not exactly trembling - it does not do to exaggerate these things - but the perfect picture of a young though experienced virgin.
With great tenderness he undressed me, kissed me at last tenderly on my lips, then, laying me out on the spacious bed, began, not so clumsily as I would have expected, to fondle and stroke my body, finally reaching that temple which he thought unpierced.
You know what I am like, and I had to bite my lips in order not to cry out after a few minutes:
"Take me ... I need your manly prick. Take me ... !"
Unfortunately it would have seemed a trifle out of place.
So I kept quiet, although I was by now tremendously excited.
At last he made up his mind, and I did not, to my surprise, have to pretend. Had I used too much lemon? I must have done, because when he came into me quite gently I really felt a violent pain.
So, with one or two cries and sighs of satisfaction, George was convinced that he had possessed his wife's virginity. This is so important to people like him, I wonder why?
Sometime later we went to London, where my husband made me very happy.
He had only one drawback. He only condescended to prove his manhood to me two or three times a month at the most. And to crown it all, it was over too quickly, without hors d'oeuvres or dessert. On the whole, I was very faithful, and I only cuckolded him four or five times in three years, and that with strangers met by chance.
I would not have hurt his love or dignity for anything in the world.
He never realized this, I am glad to say, because one day he came back with a heavy cold. This worsened into pneumonia, and despite his robust constitution, he died nine days later in my arms.
I cannot help my depraved nature, but on this occasion at least I was a perfect wife. During the whole time I barely slept more than five or six hours a day. I can still see now the look of love and gratitude on his face as he gave his last breath.
* * *
Having left me a considerable fortune, I am able to go about as I choose. I flit from one adventure to the next, never staying long, and always searching to satisfy my unquenched desire.
So should you ever meet a shapely, elegant female among your wanderings, do not despair, your turn may be next.
