I am -- I am not at all ashamed to say -- a man of appetites; so that upon reaching a new city, it is the first command of my dirty old soul to discover, with the least possible waste of time, those heavenly places of service whose talents are directed toward the quenching of the needs of stomach and loins.
It might seem interesting to ruminate upon which I seek first -- the restaurant or the whore house -- but it would be silly to litigate over matters which are so obviously dependent upon mood. I have known myself to dash into the nearest waterfront cafe and virtually bathe in the greasiest and most loathsome lentil soup it has ever been my misfortune to season; and yet I know for certain of moments equal in number when the lurid thoughts and hopes of the flesh were sufficiently potent to blank out all other thoughts and hopes, though they be concerned with my beloved food itself.
Stockholm, for instance. Ah! There was a day of gastronomic neglect; there was a day of concentrating my entire being within the narrow confines of my penis so that it stretched and tugged toward the blue Swedish sky in magnificent erection; there was a day made for fucking history; there was a day when fucking history was made.
The kind reader -- be he ever so hot and anxious to come to the heated point -- will give me a brief moment to pause so that my well-publicized strength of will may come to the fore and purge the words which follow of all instinct toward nostalgia and despair. For I must look upon the days when the organ was not unlike that versatile musical instrument which bears the same name: new and yet sufficiently well broken in to reach in its haunting manner the depths of emotion; strong, well-built, and tireless, at the height of its tone; and a thing of obvious beauty, upon which slim, golden-haired maidens delighted to play. There were no yellowed, discordant keys, no varicose veins; and a prostate was a gland, not an operation!
In other words, I was young, and may the Lord have mercy on the soul of this ancient burlap bag of bones who can not forget the fact.
Stockholm!
I knew very little Swedish at the time -- still do for that matter -- but my father who followed with evident relish the twin calls of the sea and the she, taught me at a very early age to say the magic word "fuck" in any language; and, looking back upon all the paternal counsel received, I can not but conclude that that instruction outstrips in value by yards and yards any other of his teachings.
To be sure it failed me once; and that in the ghetto quarter of a European city whose name escapes my grasp. I groped for the Yiddish word -- I thought I attained it. The man I followed led me through fifteen minutes worth of ghetto street, finally bringing our weary feet to a halt beside a grimy, weather-beaten derelict of a building. I sat down at a rickety table and after the wait of another precious fifteen minutes, beheld, instead of the treasured sack of succulent Semitic sex, a bowl of the nastiest looking mess I have ever witnessed: a beet soup which the Russians call borscht! That was the word I had chosen in my misguidance. I can almost excuse my stupidity when it occurs to me that it really is a rather lascivious sounding word whatever the hell it means!
But Stockholm, my friends, Stockholm!
You will remember that I had at the time what Americans are pleased to term "hot nuts," so that food was far from my mind. I wanted a woman; yes, wanted a woman badly enough to lower considerably my ordinarily high standards; so that when I consider what a bloody good time I had, I am moved to pleasant surprise and wonder.
In a very short time -- so short that it testifies to my efficiency and experience -- I had gleaned the fact that the red light district had its heated center along the Wasterlanggatan. It seemed rational and pleasant to procure a room on that amorous avenue since it was my intent and hope to concentrate all of my limited time upon this sector.
This I managed to do. The room was clean but ordinary, entirely suited however to my glowing purpose; which is all I need say about it.
I had bathed, lay stripped upon the bed, enjoying to the hilt the relaxation of the hot bath which is pleasantly similar to that sensation of peaceful, tired well-being which follows the fuck. I was certainly not asleep; yet I lay entranced in the afternoon's dream which was to be the evening's fact. I had just heard the bell in the neighboring clock tower chime two o'clock when I thought I heard a knock on the door. But perhaps I was mistaken, so I listened. The knock was repeated. Wondering who could come to visit me, a total stranger to any and all natives of Stockholm, I ran to the door, nude as I was, and opened it.
A young girl, almost a child, slipped in, and what was my wild surprise to hear her address me in English and very smooth, fluent English at that.
"Oh, let me take refuge here, sir, I am in trouble."
I told her to be silent and softly shut the door. I encircled her waist with my lecherous young arm and led her to the bedroom. I brought her over to the window, let the cold, grey light of the Swedish afternoon fall upon her light-haired young face. It was a lovely face I discovered with mounting joy, and my eyes sped to an examination of her figure.
Oh, lovely life! Fifteen she was, and reasonably enough, the figure of a fifteen-year-old harbored her awakening life. Straight, pliant as a reed, was my visitor; and yet the signs of womanhood shone through in many places. That wonderful age, marvelous state, when the young soul retreats from casting off the signs of a beloved childhood, yet grasps with instinct, and a curious incomprehensible yearning, the marks of the approaching woman.
She was lovely; and I placed my hand on her bosom. I felt a living globe, firm as marble. The mere contact sent a thrill through my veins. There are indeed women who have received from nature the tremendous and fascinating gift of exciting sensual desires at the slightest touch.
Nor did she flinch from my caress, if indeed it may be so termed. She gazed at me in wide-eyed innocence as if I'd asked after her grandmother. It was then that two separate thrills merged into one, tugged at my heart and my penis. On the one hand was the sensation of heartfelt joy that this little flower was mine for the plucking; another thrill gave birth, sped to my penis as the knowledge that the plucking was so deliciously near and set me aflame with desire and lust.
"How frightened I was," she murmured.
"Really?"
"Oh, yes! Yes."
"And you aren't frightened now?"
"No. Why should I be?"
"Because -- because I like you, my lovely child." Again I caressed her lovely, firm, marble-like breast. She seemed not to heed my action, but concentrated on the puzzle in my words.
"What a silly little child I should be if I were afraid because I was liked. Am I afraid of my mother? Am I not liked by her?"
I kissed her as gently as I could.
"Your mother does not like you in the same way," I said huskily. Unless, I added to myself, your mother is a very strange woman.
I could see that she was a very intelligent child and might be irked by puzzles she could not solve, so I said: "What was the cause of your fright?"
"Mr. Lindstrom."
"And who is he?"
"The husband of the lady who runs this rooming house and the shop downstairs. I work for her."
"Tell me, lovely one, what has this great ogre done to my new little friend?"
"Will you keep me here all night?"
"I shall keep you here as long as you like. It is not my habit to turn pretty girls out of doors."
"Oh, I am only a little girl. I am not a pretty girl."
How wrong she was on both counts! I gave a look at her bosom and what I saw through the half-opened chemise gave me to understand that she was anything but little. And how hopelessly, hopelessly inaccurate to say she was not pretty. I pictured her in a few years walking with a straight dignity as though the jet of life within her sprang with a graceful certainty of its own delicate poise; her legs long, her body neither opulent nor fragile, boasting a supple look; her hair a miracle gold, and her face, the lips a little too heavy, as though they carried too rich a blood, must be well-colored in that magic Swedish way.
"You're a definitely pretty girl," I said, "though I think it is nice that you are not too aware of it." The blush I half expected did not come.
"But you have not yet told me what this Lindstrom person tried to do to you."
"He tried to kiss me." I did not like the sound of that. I took the bull by the horns.
"I kissed you before. You didn't seem to mind."
"Mr. Lindstrom is ugly. And you -- you are not. You are pretty." And this time she blushed and blurted out the last few words.
"Besides," she continued, "that is not all he wants -- the kiss -- he wants something else from me."
"What else does he want from you?"
"I don't know."
I looked at her to see whether she wasn't making fun of me. But I perceived from her innocent look that she was perfectly in earnest.
"What does he do besides kiss you?"
"Yesterday when I was in bed he came up to my room and tried to open my door."
"Did he say anything?"
"No. But during the day he said, 'Do not shut your door as you did yesterday, little one. I have something of great importance to tell you.' I'm afraid of him."
"And you locked your door all the same?"
"Oh yes -- more securely than ever."
"Did he come?"
"Yes, he did come. He tried all he could to open the door. He tapped and tapped; then he knocked louder. He said, 'It is I, little Gerda, open your door.' You may well imagine that I gave no reply. I burrowed my head into my pillow and drew the blankets over it. At last after waiting at least half an hour, he went away, cursing vilely."
The picture of him in my mind was not a very pretty one.
Gerda continued with her tale of fright. "All day he looked so sulky I was in hopes he would leave me alone. I went to bed, therefore, somewhat easier in mind than I had been on the previous nights. My peace, however, was short-lived. When I looked to the lock to bolt it, I saw it was not there, and realized that he had taken it off during the day. I was wild with fright. So I ran into your room. And here I am." She smiled in a breathless way. "You won't put me out, will you?"
I laughed to reassure her. "What an absurd thing to do that would be." And I meant it. I gave silent thanks to locks that disappear.
She threw her arms around my neck in happiness.
"Then you're not afraid of me? You shouldn't mind if I were to kiss you?"
"See?" said she, and she applied her humid and fresh mouth to my parched lips. I could not help keeping my lips on hers for a few seconds while I caressed her teeth with the tip of my tongue. She closed her eyes and leaned her head backward, saying, "Oh, how nice is that kind of kiss!"
"Gerda," I asked, "have you never been kissed that way before?"
"No," she said thoughtfully, "I never have. Please kiss me again -- just that way."
2
Gerda proved to be a most affectionate child; so demonstrative was she, in fact, that I deemed it necessary to go out of doors if I was to avert indulging in her charms to the full, which seemed almost inevitable as she crept into my arms. It seems curious, no doubt, that I should want to avoid what I so obviously adore; but all I can say toward the matter at this point is that I could certainly see that my little Gerda wanted to be fucked; and not as you can well imagine by that aforementioned drip, Mr. Lindstrom. Gerda wanted me to fuck her. So that it must have been some curious and perverse streak -- which I have since got rid of -- which caused me to run contrary to her wishes and my own.
I hired an automobile and soon Gerda and I were speeding to the Swedish countryside. I was not mistaken in divining that this would be a most special treat for my little Swedish siren; she was beside herself with ecstatic delight.
Spring had begun so prettily, even in April, that it had been almost as warm as summer. Snow and ice disappeared, the ground grew green, the leaves came out on the trees, and the people had to hurry as much as they possibly could to get the seed into the ground. There was remarkably little rain for April, but there would probably be all the more in May. There was always plenty of rain -- no need to worry about that! Usually there was too much, rather than too little of it.
But May was dry and windy, with only now and then a brief shower. People expected that rain would come on Whitsunday, if not before, but Whitsunday came in bright and clear, like all the other days, and at night it grew so cold that there was frost. The frost took effect unevenly, as it usually does. Many fields were entirely destroyed, while others were unharmed, and the grass in the meadows and pastures looked fine. It was only rain that was needed.
The midsummer holidays were usually as likely as Whitsunday to be rainy, and on Midsummer Eve, dark clouds gathered in the sky. There was heavy thunder, and a few hailstones came rattling down, but that was all.
After that the sky stood clear and cloudless for two entire months. The earth became as hot as an oven. Night and day were equally full of agony and suffocation.
The grass burned brown in the fields and practically disappeared. The barley went into ear when the stalks were not more than a hand's breadth above the ground. Everything ripened in good season, and the harvesting was easily done, but there were big empty, gaping spaces in both granaries and barns.
All summer the neighborhood was threatened by big forest fires. It was hardly possible to burn off a clearing without having the fire spread to the growing woods. It was a good thing that there was little to be done in the fields, since the people had to keep hurrying out into the wilderness to fight fires.
At the end of August the nights became long and dark. The sun lost its force, and now one might have supposed it finally possible for the clouds to gather. This is what they did, too, but they packed themselves together so thick and heavy that perhaps the rain could not break through.
At the same time the water began to run dry in springs and brooks. The little grist mills stopped, and those who had grain to grind had to look up their old hand mills. In the forests all the pasturage dried up, and the cattle came back to the farms, uncalled, as if to beg help from their owners.
Now the people were no longer in doubt as to whether it was a year of famine which approached. They all went out into the forest to gather moss leaves and lichens for their stock. Their own bread they eked out, first with forest berries, then with chopped straw, and finally with dried, ground-up bark.
In October the rain ought surely to have come at last. Not that it would help that year's harvest, but at least it would be a good thing if the people could get water for themselves and their cattle, and if the grist mills could start. But October turned out to be bright and cloudless, almost like a summer month. The fair was held, then, and that usually brought bad weather, like all the big holidays. The fair day came, too, with a stinging north wind, and bitter cold, but it brought no rain.
Now it was not only the domestic animals which sought their way to the villages, but the forest beasts also came sneaking up to the human habitations to see if there was anything to eat and drink. The people, too, could no longer keep still. They began to wander just like the animals. Entire households took up the beggar's staff and started off to see if in other districts there were farms on which the owners garnered enough to be able to share.
In November there came, at last, a little downfall, but it was snow. It fell on frozen ground and was not enough for sleighing. It was not enough for anything. It was only enough so that you could no longer see the parched ground.
It was these dreary pictures that Gerda was able to give me out of her nimble little mind; so that I was able from what I saw about me to produce the just completed tale of woe.
I have no doubt that it seems hopelessly beside the point, an impression I feel obligated to correct, though it bore the ass of the reader, and -- which is more important -- though it do the same to me, for I, too, as you might suppose, have an ass. It was this state of famine, despair, and woe that brought me my little Gerda!
Think once again of a Swedish farm -- ordinarily dreary, by the way -- struggling bravely against the elements; or at least the lack of them. Think how other beliefs subside in importance when such elemental ones as the rights to food and shelter seem fallacious after all. When a child is hungry, are we silly enough to bother about strength of will which has failed us even in things so ridiculously fundamental? Are we morons, that we feel chastity matters, when a little Gerda is cold?
Not that we encourage such things. But we set our little Gerda out into the world, alone, where there is at least a chance that she will find a bed and bread; and where there is also a chance that she will not encounter a Mr. Lindstrom or if it comes to that, someone like me. Our little Gerda encountered all of these things as we know, and yet that is not the sad part of the story. She did, after all, escape the quivering clutches of Mr. Lindstrom, and, as for falling into mine, it is not the worst thing that might have happened to her.
That is not to say that I hold decency (vague word) of great moment. I told you from the very, very first, that I am a man of appetites; and they are, they were, they always will be a shade more important than any other thing. It was certainly not decency that enabled Gerda to ride through the deplored Swedish countryside with me, still virgin. Let us say that I am an artist in sex.
Since I believe that the true artist works for his own sake, it is possible that I, too, am a true artist, though the medium is unique. Art is a way of life for a man. And so it is with me. Sex is my way of life; and artistry makes it a better way of life.
It is this art in sex, or rather a certain respect for sex, which prevented me from taking Gerda then and there. Aside from being rather pathetically too easy, it would also have been not a little unfair, not a little disrespectful to my God.
Losing a maidenhead should be a great event in a girl's life. It should not occur at fifteen, nor should the great moment take place beyond twenty. Eighteen, it has always struck me, is what has foolishly been called The Age of Consent: for consent has nothing to do with it. Eighteen is the age of bloom in a woman; eighteen, therefore, is the age of plucking.
And you foolish girls, whose silly little minds harbor the belief that this great day should be coincidental with another great day: that of your wedding. For I do not underestimate the greatness of that day in your life. But why combine the two? Isn't that rather like having your birthday fall on Christmas Day so that you get only one present for every two? I can not keep from shrieking out at you: "On your eighteenth birthday go out and get screwed!"
And yet I had not the slightest intention of waiting for Gerda to reach that delicious age of ripeness. It is one thing to have theories in which we believe; it is quite another to reinforce them with sufficient strength of will to withstand the rappings of three years heat in the tropics.
Ordinarily I should merely have left a girl of fifteen to her own devices, thereby retaining respect for my own. I should have gone on the hunt for a virgin of eighteen, or an older girl already broken in. But I could not see myself rejecting what fortune had obviously donated with no strings attached; and Gerda's manifold charms were so stirring that I saw no harm in inconvenient principles sitting in the rumble seat for once. They had, perhaps, been in the driver's seat too long.
And, possibly now you can see how it was that Gerda awoke in the morning still virgin, though she breathed beside me in the nude all night; and, yet, how she was to lose her maidenhead before rising.
I was the first to awaken. It was a moment before I realized the reality of circumstances; before I realized that the soft warmth pressing against my back was the lithe young breast of Gerda. I turned easily so as not to jolt her out of sleep. I gazed searchingly at the miracle of long-lashed innocence which lay in such magnificent peace.
And if it is at all possible to pick out from the intertwined past one single, clipped instant of time, and say that is the moment when love began -- which faculty I believe denied to us all -- if it is possible I say -- well, it was then, as I looked at the sleeping Gerda, that I first felt the stirrings in the pit of my stomach which tell me I am in love.
I decided to fuck her then and there, and the very fact of this intent rendered my blood a sea of fire.
I hopped out of bed with great agility. It occurred to me to strip the sleeping figure of the blankets so that I might glory in her nudity. It was not cold; the sun was blaring off its heat as if to impress; so I did so.
It was natural and right that my eyes should settle on her lovely little cunt, barely pestered with hair. I kissed it ever so gently; but for a mere moment I lost hold, and knocked the tip of my tongue into the crack. She trembled under me. She squealed. Then she awoke with a start.
I have said that she possessed a nimble little mind, and there is no exaggeration in the words. She gathered in the scene in but a moment. It took no longer to banish away the fog of sleep.
"What a wonderful way to awaken anyone," she uttered joyfully, "how very, very clever you are."
"How very, very wonderful you are," I replied.
I raised my head from between her legs as I spoke.
"Oh," she said, "you have stopped."
"I can continue if you like."
"That would not be quite right. You have kissed mine. Now it is up to me to kiss yours, is it not?" She smiled fetchingly and I realized that the natural siren in women had just begun to act in little Gerda.
I darted to the rocking chair and spread my nude legs. She jumped to her knees by instinct and had soon planted a little kiss on the ruby head of my prick, which, as you can well believe stood like a German soldier. My hands caressed her ears and her soft golden hair, while I lay back, my eyes clamped shut in an ecstasy too agonizing to endure. I had no substance in me to wonder at the child's efficiency and imagination as I realized that she had done with kissing and was now curling her little pink tongue this way and that over my cock. I could hear her heave and pant, so that I knew she was enjoying it, too, to the full.
I was beside myself. Nothing mattered. Life, death, hope, love were entirely beside the point. There was no future. This was life, the few brief moments of concentrated life.
In a wild spasm-like gesture I clamped my hands on the back of her head and pressed downward. I feared my better than usual size might cause her to choke and cough. But the little creature was perfect: there was no end to her charms and abilities. She was sucking like a veteran! I soon realized that aiding the motion with my hands was entirely unnecessary. It was then that I was able to concentrate upon nothing but my lust and its gratification.
Up and down! Up and down! The warmth and moistness of her mouth drove me very close to madness. My legs swayed gently, stopped, twitched. I heaved upwards. The journey of the juice of my manhood along the spermatic cord had commenced in double-quick time. Nearer and nearer. I was going to come. I poised. I grabbed Gerda's head, thrust it down to the hilt while I rammed upward. I knotted my thighs around her head. Christ! With a wild cry I shot the first spurt into her mouth. Again, again, oh, again and again! It seemed as if I would never stop. Again! Again! Then I was lying back slowly regaining my senses. I still had no thought for Gerda, though it is pretty plain that I was already madly in love with her.
3
Those who find it difficult to reconcile this act with the pompous description of myself as a sexual artist will have to be satisfied with the undoubted truth: that I am not the first artist to neglect his art in order to quench the needs of the body. So be it. My senses slowly returned as I said; and among them was the sense of regret. Wonderful as it had been, I could not avoid the certainty that it might have been better. It would have been much improved, for instance, if I had turned Gerda upside down and "done" her at the same time. That also would have taken care of Gerda, of course. As it was, she was incredibly aroused, but not satisfied; and this also contributed to my remorse. The experience had been so tremendous for me that Gerda's own needs in the matter had entirely escaped my mind; and it must be pretty apparent that I could have done nothing at all for her had I been aware of them, so concerned was I with my wracked afterbody.
Nature however comes to your rescue. Directly your regret becomes intense enough to be really unpleasant, she invokes a wonderful network of reasons for not being remorseful; indeed, if you've a fairly developed sense of regret which has led you in the past to many of these unpleasant interludes, you get to have quite a mind for the business of relieving this sense of regret.
It is that way with me.
It occurred to me -- and I must say for the first time -- that this sexual artist routine was quite, quite ridiculous. Wasn't it really gilding the lily? Wasn't it something of a confession that I had become so completely jaded, sexually, that it was necessary to go to ridiculous lengths to extract a sufficiently intense sensation to make it worthwhile? I saw that my position was similar with that of a whore insisting that her customer use a French tickler.
I had mentioned with great disdain that it was quite all right for a schoolboy to ram it in carelessly without preamble, so new was the whole affair to him that at the very, very least it would be very, very wonderful. And I had called myself a man of the world as if it was the only possible state above contempt. I suppose I really envied the old clumsy but triumphant days.
It was all very well, of course, to subscribe to this nonsense. It was necessary to do so. As I say, I was jaded, and sex would undoubtedly have pretty dull results for me. And without sex, I am pretty much of a forgotten man; one can't eat all the time.
It was no longer necessary, however, to work overtime at a fuck, and with this knowledge the whole shell fell off to crumble away into dust. The lovely Gerda's manifold sides, abilities, and charms were sufficient to render the entire routine superfluous. I realized with a burst of happiness that I could spend my time in actual delight rather than the contemplation of it; and that now I should no longer be so goddamned smug about the whole business of sex. Why not be a schoolboy so long as one can be a happy schoolboy?
With many disturbing thoughts completely cleared away, then, and with a new sense of relief and incredible well-being, I could contemplate Gerda and observe the aftereffects on her of our intense party. Capable as she had been, I was certain it was the first time she had "gone down," so that I now gazed upon her with much interest, yet confident.
She lay at my feet like a contented little kitten with crossed paws. She had not a care in the world. And such an expression of adoration reposed on her sweet young face, that I seemed to burst with happiness. It was entirely without fear that I said: "You love me, Gerda, don't you?"
A radiant expression touched her face as though a celestial light had been turned on her.
"So much, dear Paul, oh, so very, very much."
"And I love you."
She heaved a long sigh of relief.
"I was so afraid you mightn't."
"Silly child; how could anyone -- anyone, be he ever so dense, possibly avoid it?"
"I am not as nice as you think."
I laughed loudly; it was so very, very like any woman in love. It was so typical. I realized how juvenile people in love become. Or was it merely that Gerda could think and react beyond her years?
"It is really so," she said in answer to my laugh.
"Nonsense. We'll have no more of this. Lovers should be truthful, and are we not lovers?"
Gerda's rapt expression was my answer. She squirmed closer to me, her arms encircled in a loving clasp around my legs, her soft, young face against my leg.
"I love you so much, my Paul."
In answer, I caressed her aristocratic young ear.
"Gerda," I said after a while, "did you like what we did this morning?"
"I loved it. Oh, I did!"
"Would you like me to do it to you?" I was passionate once more, though it had been a little, little time to recover in. But my cock was already standing as I completed my question.
"I should like nothing better in the whole, wide world!"
"Very well, my sweet. I'm going to suck the very hell out of you."
My coarseness was deliberate; it answered a need within me. I picked up my little treasure to place her on the bed. My right hand propped up her bottom as she lay in my arms, the little finger straying over to tickle her little cunt; my left hand wove around her back, resting finally on her magnificent left breast. In that manner I moved her to the bed.
I placed her right on the edge of the bed. I dropped to my knees on the floor, spreading her legs as I did so. With a desperate lust I thrust my face to her wonderful parts.
I kissed her cunt -- a lingering, liquid swipe. Then I dashed to the business, clamping her young thighs to my face.
The tongue is a pliant instrument, and the everyday uses to which it is always put make it a supple one. To a naturally good tongue, then, I had added the experience of many acts, deliciously similar to the one I was performing on Gerda. It wove in like a flash, curled beneath the upper lip. She quaked from top to bottom; and at this I edged in a little more, so that a hot-cold shudder ran through her. Her breathing was passionate and interspersed with frantic little squeals. She shuddered again and I knew she knew the agony of ecstasy.
On my own side I found it incredibly intense as I always had. The hot thighs against my face, the delicate odor of her parts, and the youthfulness of the cunt against my lips into which my tongue feverishly thrust, blended together into a huge physical sensation which I have come to believe is the most tremendous thing that life can offer.
She twisted beneath me, as though half-anxious to avoid my bewitched tongue, and that might have been the case; for who will doubt that this experience is shattering as well as heavenly to an innocent young girl?
A pioneer drop of cum leaked into my mouth, driving me to distraction and more frantic thrusts. The moment was nearing for my little Gerda.
I ceased to think. My head rammed brutally forward. It happened that she was not in any way injured or chafed by my teeth, but this was through no fault of my own. I am not a clod by nature, but so beside myself was I that considerate thoughts must have come upon closed doors.
With a loud "Oh!" my little Gerda heaved, spurting her gorgeous juice into my mouth. I pressed my face down into her cunt. Blasting her delivery into me, she flopped and flipped on the bed like a fish out of water, or a bum with the DTs.
Then, with a long high-pealed sigh, she lay quite still.
4
I awoke in the morning, the nude little Gerda beside me, the sun shooting weird little patterns on the rose carpet. I arose, lifted the shade. It was indeed a glorious morning. The clock in the rather distant church steeple evaded me for a moment, as the sun had spotted my gaze, but my vision is excellent, and I could make out with little difficulty that it was barely after eight. Yes, that was correct, as I realized that the chimes, striking the hour, had gently lifted me out of sleep.
As I say, it was a lovely morning and I was glad to be alive. I remained at the window for a moment, enchanted by the quality of the scene. You will remember that Sweden was a new place for me; and this was the first time I had seen the morning at its best, with a bright, full sun.
Different sections have different qualities of light. If you know Paris, you know, too, of a white, hot light which backgrounds the city. New York's is similar, and at certain moments, virtually identical. Sweden's, at least the light of Stockholm, is denser somehow, and darker and colder. It is less of a shock to the senses to gaze out at a Swedish morning.
The scene was gratifying, but how could I waste even a few moments from my loving Gerda?
She slept still, but I fancied we had a busy day before us, as I was to suggest that we move, and I had no doubt she would be completely agreeable. I loved my little Gerda dearly, and I intended no chance of her exposure to the wiles and dirty talents of the persistent Mr. Lindstrom. I bent over, then, planting a tender kiss on her rosy lips. She squirmed, put a hand to her face, fell into sleep again. I kissed her again and her bright blue eyes opened. She smiled sweetly.
"Good morning, old sleepyhead."
"Good morning, dear Paul."
"How is my Gerda this morning?"
"Wonderful; and in love."
"That might apply to me, too."
"I had such a wonderful sleep. I dreamt of you, too. Ah, if only I could be with you every minute of the day, and then dream of you all night long, what a happy, happy life I should have."
"I doubt if I can exert much control on your dreams, but you can be sure that every single fraction of a second of my time is yours."
"If I could only believe that!"
"Why does my Gerda doubt?"
"Please do not be hurt, my sweet, darling Paul, but from the first moment I began to love you, I have thought and feared that a little girl like myself could not have enough for a grown, strong man like yourself. Why do you not get a woman your own age as other men do?"
"Other men are fools. The flower may be more beautiful than the bud, but the joy of watching the one become the other is greater than either one can give. Besides, I love you. Cupid shoots his arrows without rhyme or reason."
"Tell me that you love me more than you have ever loved; that you could never love a grown woman as you love me; tell me that you will love me as long as we live."
"That and more, Gerda."
"More?"
"Yes. Death will not end a love as strong as ours. Somehow it will not. Of that I am sure."
"Then I am happy, Paul."
"And so am I."
With that she pressed her lips to mine -- a lingering kiss.
I told her of my plan to move us both, so that we could dwell together in safety for the rest of our lives, and to this she joyfully gave her consent. She was completely thrilled, needless to say, at the prospect of living with me; and the knowledge that she should shortly be beyond the ken of the roving Lindstrom brought relief to her heart which was easily visible on her face. She wished, also, to leave the millinery shop below, in which she had slaved for Frau Lindstrom.
It was no task to pack the pitifully few belongings she possessed. Indeed I was tempted to toss them all into the broken waste basket which nestled by the washboard. I would buy my Gerda new things. But I could see that the thrift which the parents of Gerda had instilled in her through necessity could not be tossed to winds at the first sign of a change, so that I packed the things into one of my bags to please her. But buy her new things I did, and whatever she wanted, for I was supplied with unlimited funds. Yet she was no quicker to spend my own money than she was to spend hers. This sign of breeding and character delighted me no end, and the shopping expedition made me as happy as it did Gerda. My highest thoughts of her were confirmed in this manner day by day.
I removed the packed valise from the bed to the floor. Gerda was in the rickety rocker gazing out the window, gently swaying.
"Take a good look around, my pet. You may be sure you will never see this miserable room again."
"Don't be too certain of that, my handsome friend!"
As I turned in surprise toward the doorway, I managed a fleeting glimpse of Gerda, wide-eyed and erect in the chair which she had caused to cease rocking. I knew the man I was now facing was the dreaded Lindstrom.
He was as you might have pictured. He had a low wrinkled forehead, a pointed nose, and simply no chin at all; his hair was of a faded light brown, and he was bald over the temples and crown; he was clean-shaven, and I think that if he had let his beard grow it would have been reddish brown; his mouth was small, and his lips, particularly the upper lip, were thin; he was very shortsighted and wore a pair of extraordinarily powerful glasses. He was very shabbily dressed. I was most struck by the mouth, it looked so hard and cruel. Altogether he looked something like an evil monk.
So this was to be the setting of my first test before Gerda. I faced him with assurance; poise lent a certain coolness to my limbs.
"By what reasoning do you enter a lady's room without knocking -- indeed, when you have good reason to believe you are decidedly unwelcome?"
"You should understand that!"
"How do you mean, sir?"
"We are brothers under the skin."
"I claim no such kinship, under or otherwise. I find you quite a loathsome specimen in every detail. You will go at once."
"And by what right do you command me?"
"If I were so inclined, I might bother to explain that Miss Larsen is my wife-to-be; but that might imply a certain element of respect toward you. Instead, I order you by this right!"
I held before him a clenched fist. "Get out before you're thrown out!"
Lindstrom was a wise man. With a nasty, cunning smile he padded out the door. I turned to Gerda, taking care that my facial expression was casual rather than significant. My heart leapt with joy at the gaze she returned. I could see that a new element contributed toward her love for me -- that of pride.
We were out of the place quickly enough after that and proceeded to our new home without undue adventure.
We went about the business of fixing up our new place.
"There!" I said finally, "what does my Gerda think of her new love nest?"
"Her new love nest? Ours, you silly! Oh, Paul, I think it is too, too lovely."
And perhaps it was rather wonderful. It was hung all around in carnation velvet; the window curtains and bed curtains were of the same material. The bed was covered with velvet also, and the whole set off by Torsells and bands of gold satin.
A looking glass occupied the whole of the wall inside the bed and corresponded with the mirror placed between the two windows so that the images were reproduced ad infinitum.
The rest of the furniture was in keeping with this elegant decoration. A bath was hidden in a sofa, and a large bearskin made the pretty feet which rested on it look still whiter.
A pretty little lady's maid, whose only functions were to keep the room in order and to attend to the different lady visitors, had her room on the same landing.
There were many rooms; indeed too numerous and ordinary to mention. I am not very sensitive to interior decoration. It was natural for me to take great care with Gerda's room, however, since it was my one purpose to make her happy. The result, of course, was that Gerda's room alone remained worthy of description.
My room had a certain cheery quality, even so; and it was with a strong feeling of ease that I sat in the wonderfully comfortable chair by the window, reading Moll Flanders.
I was indeed considerably engrossed in this wonderful work and might have been annoyed at the gentle tap upon my door had I not suspected -- and rightly so -- that it had been the hand of my sweet Gerda.
"Hello, my sweet," I greeted.
"Dearest."
"Are you happy here?"
"Can a bird fly?"
"I shouldn't be at all surprised."
I held out my arms as she ran toward me. I lifted my precious bundle from the floor, carried her to the fine chair. She looked up at me, a face full of sweet innocence. "Dear Paul, I want you to stick your cock into my cunt. I want you to fuck the ass off me!"
I jumped with the shock her words provoked. My face might have contorted with horror. "Gerda," I screamed, "where have you picked up such filth? You should be ashamed!"
I was sorry for my words which apparently stunned her as her own had me, for she turned white with surprise and began to cry.
I felt as though I was melting within. "Gerda, my own, sweet, precious love, forgive me. That is the first harsh word I have given you, and I promise, I swear to you, it will be the last."
At this, she ceased crying, but her eyes were contrite as she gazed up at me. I fancied she had never looked so beautiful.
"Oh, Paul," she said, "I didn't realize there was anything wrong. I had no idea I shouldn't say those words. Please forgive me. Do, or I shall die!"
A new expression flew across her face on angry wings. "That nasty Pedar," she said stamping her foot.
"Did he teach you those words?"
"Yes!"
"Who is he?"
"A boy I met this morning walking in the park."
Terror stalked my heart. If Pedar had been able to teach her the profanities she had uttered, what else, more horrifying still, might he have instructed her in, in her innocence.
"Gerda," I shrieked, "for God's sake tell me about it. And don't skip a thing. If you love me, tell everything, and quickly. Quickly." My voice had grown husky and the words faltered.
She was surprised at the turn in my mood, but she realized my new need and commenced her tale.
"It was such a lovely day that I thought I should walk in the park, particularly since you had gone away for a few hours and I was lonely. I sat down on a bench. I had been there no more than five minutes when I felt someone sit down and stare attentively at me. I looked up. It was Pedar.
"He smiled a sweet charming smile and greeted me. I saw no reason why I should not do the same, particularly since he was a very beautiful boy. He moved a little closer and we talked intimately for a little while. Then he said: 'It is very warm, Gerda, let us go and lie on the soft, green grass beneath the great tree.' We did so.
"We were soon beneath the tree, lying on our backs, watching the inability of the tree's branches to shut out the sun completely, so that bright little glints played with our eyes. Suddenly I felt his hand on my leg just above the knee. 'Do you mind that, Gerda?' he asked. I noticed that his voice trembled and had a husky quality. 'No,' I returned, 'I rather like it.' Then he said I was a sweet, sweet child and he loved me.
"His hand began to creep up my thigh, and I squirmed with a funny hot feeling as he tickled it. Then he was fumbling beneath my dress, unbuttoning my drawers."
How cruel is the mind of a child, even such a sweet one as Gerda! It was almost too much to endure. You must realize that it was no empty possessiveness that Gerda had aroused in my breast. It was love. Love unadulterated, and white hot! A ball of dead lead lodged in my stomach and life seemed a hopeless tangle of filth and degradation.
5
I rushed blindly out of the house. Gerda's piteous cries "Come back, come back" fell on dead ears, perhaps, but not dead heart. They ripped me through like many dull knives. As I ran, I thought in horror of the misery my act was causing her -- I pictured her face down on the bed, sobbing out her sweet little heart; but I could not go back at once. I was selfish, no doubt, but my own needs at the time were so intense that it seemed madness not to grant them.
I wanted to hear the rest of the tale, yet I did not. It was this double action, this tug of war within me, that made me rush out to meet the cool Swedish night. And I walked.
I walked and walked and walked; then walked some more. Suddenly I stopped in the middle of the street, giving no heed to death-dealing vehicles which teem the streets of Stockholm as they do in New York. An icy hand lay across my heart.
What if Gerda should leave in her misery? I pictured a bed empty, save for a shattering note pinned to the pillow. I cursed my folly.
I signaled a cab, promised the driver double fare if he would hasten. It was not long -- though it must have seemed years -- before the cab pulled up at the house that had been a scene of great happiness but a brief time before.
I tossed a note at the cabby -- I discovered later that it was triple rather than double fare that the driver received -- and dashed up the well-carpeted stairs.
There are few moments in a life when one can say he has jumped with joy at the sound of tears, but this was one of them. The tears of a young girl were unmistakably rolling to my ears. What if my Gerda was still crying so long as she was still there! They would stop soon enough when I begged her forgiveness.
I went meekly through the door and gazed sadly at the piteous creature on the bed, just as I had pictured. Tears had stained her cheeks and I hated myself as I barely have since; but I consoled myself with the fact that the same hand was now bringing a mounting joy to the eyes of the child as she saw I was with her once more.
"Paul," she wailed, "Oh, Paul!" An avalanche of sobs burst from her. I squeezed her within my arms, murmured little comforts while I caressed her. These actions brought on more tears, but I knew it was for the best. There are so many sobs within a person -- just that and no more -- depending upon the temperament, and I knew that as soon as she reached her quota she would be happy once again. No doubt there was a curious happiness in these tears which were now flowing from her; for they were tears of relief and she was an emotional little thing, for whom moments like these were not without splendor. At last the waters subsided and she lay quiet and exhausted in my arms. I wiped her eyes with a large, snow white linen handkerchief and she looked up with a brave, too gay smile.
"There. I am all right now!"
"Of course you are and so is everything else. Let us say no more about it. Let us just go back to our happiness."
"I was so afraid I should never see you again."
"Nothing could bring that about."
"I am so glad!"
I was so determined to take our minds off the subject and solidify and reinforce the peace that had come to Gerda, that I paused to think of a helpful device. I remembered a legend of Sweden I had read in one of the many wonderful libraries of Stockholm, just that afternoon.
"Do you know the story of the two nuns?"
"No."
"Would you like to hear it?"
"Oh yes!"
"Very well, then. Squirm around in your chair to a comfortable attitude and open your ears. For here I go:
"At the time when the Lutheran change in the church was in its infancy, there lived in the Riseberga cloister in Narke a poor nun who was so dull and listless and incompetent that all the other sisters used to make fun of her.
"One might of course think that such things should not have happened in so holy a place, but then we all know that people will be people no matter where you put them, and these shut-in cloistered ladies, who did nothing but pray and work, perhaps needed a little diversion now and then, and they got it by making fun of this impossible creature, Sister Karin.
"If the truth were told, Sister Karin was the best-looking one in the whole cloister. She was a head taller than all the other nuns, and no stouter in proportion to her height than was necessary to make her look stately. She had small hands and feet, a small head, with blonde hair, a clear complexion, and blue eyes, and was very far from homely. Furthermore, there was a certain dignity about her. At first sight one might think that this tall sister was at least the daughter of a king. But anyone who observed her a little more closely could not have failed to be surprised that she never changed her facial expression, but sat with the same kindly and satisfied look, no matter what was happening around her. And likewise it would also have caused surprise that she never changed her position, but always sat still and immovable upon her bench. But even then she maintained her dignity. It would never have occurred to her that she might lean her back against the wall behind her or cross her legs. Nor did she ever become provoked, no matter how the other sisters plagued her; nor did she ever answer in kind.
"She was not sickly, and not exactly stupid, either; only apathetic and sluggish; and perhaps there is nothing more irritating than to see a healthy, capable person sitting all day with her hands in her lap, doing absolutely nothing. Neither the sister who was librarian, nor the one who was gatekeeper, nor the one who was head of the kitchen, nor the one who had charge of the supplies, nor the one who was the seamstress, nor the one who was the gardener, nor the one who was treasurer, nor the one who nursed the sick, nor the one who distributed the alms of the cloister could find any excuse for the one who did not want to attend any charge and did not want to share the cares and responsibilities of the others.
"There was one sister whose name was Cecilia, although she was never called, in the cloister, anything but Sister Sisla. She was alert and happy and eager and active, and she was the one who teased Sister Karin the most. One time she heard a sister say that Sister Karin was so lazy that even her thoughts stood still in her head. 'Yes, to be sure, Sister Karin is lazy,' said Sister Sisla, 'but at any rate there are three occupations of which she never wearies. The first is to sleep, the second is to eat, and the third is to do nothing.'
"This conversation took place in the presence of the abbess, who at once said that there was a fourth of which she never wearied, either, and that was of praising and glorifying God.
"And this was true, for not once did it happen that Sister Karin failed to attend the prayers and devotional exercises. Furthermore, it had been noticed for a long time in the cloister that the abbess was more kindly disposed toward Sister Karin than toward anyone else. Sister Karin was a hearty eater, and it was the abbess who saw to it that she got enough food. At times she also gave her little duties which required no effort to perform. She had her darn and mend the other sisters' clothes; she had her set up the altar candles and light them, only so that it could not always be said that she never did anything.
"Without doubt she felt that Sister Karin could in no wise help being as she was, and that it was not in her own power to change her behavior. 'It is our Lord who has put her in our midst in order to test our mercy and patience,' she said. 'It is he who will deliver her from her sloth, when he finds that we have made ourselves worthy of it.'
"Sister Sisla had always found it a little difficult to understand the preference of the abbess for Sister Karin. That she herself, Sister Sisla, also stood high in favor -- that, of course, could be easily explained. She was learned, she was the cloister librarian, she understood Latin, and she could copy books. She brought the cloister much benefit and honor. But Sister Karin! She who could not even print her own name!
"Yes, that was the situation in Riseberga cloister when Dr. Martin Luther undertook the big improvement in religion.
"What could one say that it was like? It must have felt as if the ground under one's feet were trembling and shaking; as if everything around one were being overthrown, and as if in the whole world there were not a firm spot to stand on.
"Or perhaps it felt as if one had owned a large treasure of gold and silver and had had it packed down in a strong ironbound chest, and then one fine day, when one had raised the lid, one had found that both the gold and silver had disappeared and that in the entire chest there was nothing but dust and ashes.
"Yes, how would it feel nowadays, if one had been sitting in a safe and assured position and had felt certain that neither in this life nor in the next could anything difficult or unpleasant happen, if all of a sudden one were deprived, not only of the earthly well-being but also of the heavenly one?
"What did it mean, for example, to be a nun in Riseberga cloister at that time? Well, it meant, among other things, that two hundred and twenty-four farmers must pay an annual tribute of oxen and sheep, of swine and geese, of hops and malt, of grain and game, of fish and turnips, so that one might have enough for one's livelihood. It meant that one could expect to be humbly kissed on the hand by every stranger who came to the cloister seeking hospitality or other help. It meant that one enjoyed honor and respect from everyone, because by pious conduct one worked off not only one's own sins but also those of the whole world. It meant that by prayer and fasting one had acquired a treasure in that land where no thieves break through and steal. But now, now all that was to be taken away from one. Now, it was said, there was no longer any use having the cloister people. Now, all at once, they were no better than anyone else: Yes, it would be well enough if they were not held to be worse than other people; if there were circulated about them no worse slanders than about Turks and infidels.
"They must have felt as if they were out in a full storm on a rolling ship. Perhaps they could not help wondering why He who had power over weather and wind did not stretch out His hand and bid the storm subside.
"Yes, we must imagine how they felt one day in Riseberga when they had come together, the whole group of nuns, in the chapter hall. The abbess sits at their head under a little canopy of carved wood, and around the walls sit all the cloister sisters. They wear cope and veil, but otherwise there is nothing strange about them; they have good Swedish faces and Swedish names. They are uneasy and fearful deep down in their souls, but they keep themselves calm and undisturbed, both the young and the old. The abbess feels in better spirits when she has them all around her there. They love their cloister and they love her. They sit there like beloved pious daughters around a pious and beloved mother.
"The abbess says in a slightly trembling voice, that she has called them together to read to them what the country's representatives, who have been assembled in Vasteras, have granted the king.
"She reads and they sit listening, dignified and calm; yes, at times there is one or another who lets a little scornful laugh. Is that so! The king is going to have the right to confiscate the superfluous properties of churches and cloisters. But how does that concern them? They, poor nuns, have no property. They can not give up any farms or mills or fishing waters or business houses. All that, of course, had been donated to God. Was the king such a great man that he dared seize for himself what had been donated to God?
"And the cloister folk would hereafter be free to stay in their cloisters or go their way. Is that so! That is what he said, this Gustav Eriksson! But they did not at all know that it was in his service they had entered, so that it was his business to give them their dismissal. They believed that they had entered the service of God.
"Sister Sisla, who is the most erudite among them, gets up and makes an address about St. Bernard and what he has done; about the monks and nuns of the order of St. Bernard, and about the great works they have performed; and about the nuns here in Riseberga cloister and what they have accomplished for the country.
"'And the poor people of Sweden,' she says, 'when there are no longer any monks and nuns to instruct them in agriculture, in the art of gardening and bee-keeping and tasty cooking and candle dipping, and baking! Where can the daughters of the nobility learn good manners, and who is to take care of the poor, and who will shelter the travelers, when there are no longer any cloisters? Above the blessings which the prayers of pious and devout women can bring on a country, I will not speak,' continues Sister Sisla, 'because I know that about such things he cares nothing, this Gustav Eriksson. I speak only of such services of the cloister folk as he ought to have sense enough to appreciate.'
"All the sisters, both young and old, are made happy and edified from listening to Sister Sisla. One after another stands up and declares that she will stay on in the cloister no matter what may happen.
"They fortify and cheer each other. They cannot believe that the country can do without the cloister folk. They feel certain no evil will befall them. In this case help will surely come. The king will learn to his cost that against them neither arms nor power will avail.
"There is not a single sister who has not raised her voice and protested and promised, except, of course, Sister Karin. She sits straight as a rod on the bench; her face is calm and beautiful, her hands lie still in her lap, and she utters not a word.
"Then even the abbess herself feels that apathy goes too far, so that she ought to give her a prod.
"'Have you, Sister Karin, nothing to say about these sad tidings?' she asks.
"Sister Karin turns toward the abbess, but without any haste, of course, and before she gets ready with an answer Sister Sisla gets in a word.
"'Perhaps Sister Karin sits and thinks of going out into the world and making a good match for herself,' she says.
"But then Sister Karin, for the first time in her life, jumps from the bench in anger and shouts so loud that the other sisters give a start: 'This will I promise, that I shall in no way break my cloister vow before Sister Sisla breaks hers!'
"Complete silence falls in the chapter hall, because Sister Sisla is the most zealous of all the sisters, and merely to think or suppose that she might break her vow is worse than to say it about the abbess herself. It looks as though Sister Sisla would like to fly at Sister Karin and box her ears.
"The abbess must have feared something of the sort, because she rises hastily, as a sign that the session is over. All the nuns rise and bow their heads before her, and she spreads her hands out over them and prays God to bless them and make their hearts steadfast.
"That evening the abbess was able to go to bed and sleep with a calm mind. For everything had passed off in the best possible manner. And if Sister Karin had evened up accounts with Sister Sisla, the abbess could not feel so very sorry for that. For people are people no matter what you do with them.
"If only things had remained quiet after that day, if the ground had not begun to quake all over again!
"The first thing that happened was that novices and young nuns began to depart. The one who made the start left at night, climbing over the cloister wall, because she still had some shame left, but before you knew it, the young sisters began to leave in God's broad daylight, in full view of the abbess, Sister Sisla, and all the other sisters. And it was not possible to pursue them or punish them with switches or put them down in the cloister cellar. That would only have brought complaints before King Gustav, and in whose favor he would have decided, no one needed to doubt.
"But if only it had stopped with that!
"If only there had not been the terribly big tax to be paid to the Crown; if only the heirs of those who in times past had donated farms to the cloister had not come with demands for the restitution of their inheritances; if only there had been an end to the lawsuits, the disputes, and the searching of old deeds; if only the king had not kept sending soldiers to fetch the communion silver and church bells and choir copes; if only the tenant farmers had not got it into their heads that they no longer needed to pay rent; if only there had not been circulated so many vindictive pamphlets setting forth what parasitic weeds the fat monks and nuns were on this impoverished land; if only there had not been spread so many weird and evil rumors about the godless lives of popes and cardinals and bishops; if only there had not been so much else that was difficult and annoying -- then perhaps the abbess might have been able to persevere.
"But now it was impossible for her. She had to humble herself before the godless king and his godless chancellor. She had to petition him most humbly to take charge of all the cloister's estates and of the cloister itself. She had to relinquish all power, reserving to herself only the right to live there with her fellow sisters until both she and they passed on. One was obliged to become a pensioned-off crone in one's old age and make up one's mind to accept whatever support it pleased the king to grant.
"That was certainly a bitter pill to swallow for one who had once sat as a mighty lady and mistress over all of Riseberga with its church and cloister buildings, its storage rooms and barns, its kitchens and cattle stalls, its two hundred and twenty-four tenant farmers, and its grist mills and smithies and fishing waters and shares in silver and copper mines.
"On the evening when all was decided, when the document was drawn up, the name signed and the great cloister seal used for the last time, the abbess went into her chamber, closed the door behind her, and refused to speak to any human being.
"But in the passage outside her door there were two who met and they were Sister Karin and Sister Sisla.
"Sister Sisla was the confidante of the abbess and her right hand, and no one in the cloister knew how to express herself as well as she. It was only natural that she should stand outside the door of the abbess and wait to be admitted. She wanted to console and calm her -- that, no one could doubt.
"But Sister Karin, what business had Sister Karin there? She could not do or say anything which could console the deposed queen, who lay kneeling on the other side of the door beseeching God to teach her patience.
"One must, of course, admit that Sister Karin had been like another being since that evening in the chapter hall. Then she must have been aroused from the long sleep of her soul. She had begun to work and earn her keep. Not that she had been able to become quick and capable like the other sisters; she was still awkward and bewildered. But at least one saw that she was making an effort. That she would try to do something for the abbess, no one had expected.
"When the two met outside the door, it could not be helped that Sister Sisla put on an expression as if she wondered what possible business Sister Karin could have there. To be sure she had improved, but here awaited her a task that far exceeded her powers.
"Sister Karin went close up to Sister Sisla and laid her hand on her hand. 'In no way can I help Lady Mother, that I know full well,' she said. 'I only came to hear all the good and beautiful things you are going to say to our poor Lady Mother.'
"Sister Sisla was moved. Among all the other things which she disapproved of in Sister Karin, there was also this, that she never seemed to place the least value on her, Sister Sisla's, learning and intelligence. Now she quickly put her arm around Sister Karin. 'Come. We will go in and see her together,' she said.
"The abbess was kneeling in prayer before the praying desk and she heard their voices outside the door. She thought that Sister Sisla had come to complain about Sister Karin. 'To think she cannot leave me alone at this, my worst hour!' she thought.
"She went over to the door and threw it open to tell them to come back another time, for now she wanted to have peace. And when the door was opened she saw Sister Sisla standing there with her arm around Sister Karin.
"Before they had said a word the worst of the pain disappeared from the face of the abbess. She raised her hands and made the sign of the cross over their heads.
"'This is the only thing that could have caused me joy on a day like this,' she said. 'This, to see you two as friends. Now I think I dare believe that God will not foresake us.'
"After that it seemed as though things had grown a little better for the sisters at Riseberga. To be sure the church had been entirely stripped; to be sure, even the gold cross which the abbess had been wont to wear around her neck had to be surrendered to the state; to be sure, the king's bailiff was stingy and wanted to scrimp on the provisions for the cloister people; but at least they were left in peace. Still they retained their splendid big halls and houses, still Sister Sisla sat in the library and copied books, still the garden yielded spices and fruit, still the bees collected honey and wax, and once in a while there came a monk on foot from Varnhem or Alvastra who could hear their confessions and say a Mass.
"The abbess recovered her calm, song resounded anew in the church, and Sister Karin began once more to be languid and lazy and most of the time found it unnecessary to say a word.
"No new nuns came to the cloister, but neither came there any pamphlets or mean rumors, and the seven nuns who were left in the cloister already hoped that they would be allowed to stay there in peaceful rest until the end of their days.
"But then fire happened to break out one windy night. At first it did not look so dangerous, but the wind carried the flames against a few old connected wooden houses, where they got good nourishment and soon the entire cloister was only a sea of fire.
"When morning came the deed was done. The abbess and the seven sisters who had remained faithful had saved their lives but now they no longer had any chapter hall, any library, any refectory, any dormitory, any storerooms, any kitchen, or anything at all. Indeed, they did not even have a church, in which they could kneel down before their God and protest their need. The church had been burned and only its four bare walls were left.
"Now the abbess must have considered that this was a sign from God that there should be an end to Riseberga cloister forever, and she said to the sisters that now their Master had given them their discharge so that they could leave his service. She reminded them that they were all of good descent and had rich relatives. To them they should now betake themselves and ask for protection and shelter, for here they could no longer remain.
"No one opposed her and she arranged with the bailiff who supervised the Riseberga estate that he should procure horses and suitable escorts in order that she herself as well as the seven sisters might safely reach their friends and relatives.
"A few days later eight riding horses with side saddles stood outside the wretched piles of charred timbers and crumbled walls which now constituted Riseberga cloister, and in addition a whole crowd of armed men who were to escort the travelers. The poor refugees soon appeared and mounted their steeds. There was no delay before they all sat in their saddles, except, of course, Sister Karin, who always must be the last.
"'Why do you want to stay?' cried Sister Sisla. 'You can in no way celebrate divine service, you can in no way give alms, you can in no way give shelter to a traveler.'
"Sister Karin had nothing to offer in reply; instead she remained languid and dull as if she had heard nothing.
"Then the abbess waved to the bailiff that she wanted to start. She believed that if Sister Karin saw her and the other sisters ride off, resistance would be broken, so that she would quickly mount her horse and follow.
"But Sister Sisla had thought out something else. When the others had already set themselves into motion, she jumped out of her saddle, walked up to Sister Karin, and said with a firm voice, 'If you, Sister Karin, remain in Riseberga, then I remain, too.' Because Sister Sisla reasoned that if Sister Karin, who after all was a kind-hearted person, saw that someone wanted to sacrifice herself for her and remain with her, then she would be moved and at once mount her horse to save the other from this misery.
"And Sister Karin seemed to be upset by the idea that Sister Sisla wanted to remain for her sake. She stood there no longer languid and immovable but she bent forward and looked at her with eagerness and intensity. Then she suddenly sank down on her knees before Sister Sisla and kissed her feet.
"'Is it true, Sister Sisla, that you want to remain here with me? Then I thank you, Sister Sisla, I thank you.'
"Sister Sisla saw that Sister Karin was deeply moved. Her whole body trembled, her voice was loud, and tears streamed from her eyes.
"'Is it true that you don't want to ride away from me, poor, unhappy being that I am?' asked Sister Karin.
"Sister Sisla wondered whether the crisis which the abbess had expected had come. And at the same time she understood that Sister Karin must have a deep love for her, Sister Sisla, since she had been so moved by her staying. Her own heart was moved and she cried: 'Certainly I want to stay with you, Sister Karin. I will never leave you.'
"The army of nuns and their attendants left the convent forever. And what of the two sisters that were left? No sooner had the caravan been gone from sight, than Sister Sisla turned to Sister Karin and asked her tremulously why she insisted on remaining.
"For the second time in Sister Sisla's experience. Sister Karin showed not only animation but a form of radiance.
"'And why,' she said almost archly, 'dear sister, did you insist on staying with me when all of our order have left for the great world?'
"Sister Sisla blushed and stammered. She seemed taken aback by the sudden rebirth of life in the other nun.
"'Surely you know,' said she, 'that I, like you, remain to serve the Lord and our Church in our old manner.'
"'Both the Lord and our Church may be served in the world outside. Our noble mother is of this manner of thinking. If she finds the world worthy of our devotions and service, surely it is good enough for our work.'
"Sister Sisla was amazed, not only by the vehemence of the once lethargic sister, but by her frank speech and intelligent conversation.
"'Why,' she burst out suddenly, 'did you stay?'
"Over the face of the other nun came a strange look. It was an expression that Sister Sisla had seen on no face since she had taken her vows and left the outside world. It was not a look of evil or of sin, rather was it a look of truth; a look that the people of religion cover with a film of holiness and piety. It was as if Sister Karin had been always thinly but efficiently veiled and as if Sister Sisla was seeing her unveiled for the first time.
"'Do you wish to know why I stayed,' said Karin, almost fiercely, 'do you really wish to know?'
"As if in a trance, Sister Sisla, almost mesmerized by the strange look in the other's eyes, whispered: 'Yes.'
"'Then listen," said Sister Karin, and seemed to be speaking to Sister Sisla no longer, but to nothing or to everything, as she told her story in an abstracted, almost monotonous voice. 'You, the abbess (May God have mercy on her soul!), all the sisters thought me lazy, listless, and useless. I was, and no one knew why. I am, you must know it, full of sin. As a child, when I was old enough to talk, I played with myself continuously. I was an old and talented artist when I was ten years old. But that was not enough. I early learned the meaning of the carnal act between men and women, yes and women and women. I taught my older brother the sexual facts and made him practice them on me, and even my little sister was not safe from my evil and lascivious desires. I taught her the meaning of cunnilingus. Do not shudder, dear sister; there was no end to my horrible sexual ideas and desires. When I was fourteen, I knew that I was an incurable nymphomaniac. I was ashamed to allow any decent young man to marry me, and appalled at the life that seemed to be in store for me, if I followed my incredible inclinations. Do you blame me, then, for throwing myself into the arms of Jesus and the holy church? It seemed to me that only through the Passion of the Saviour could I be saved from this life of horror that awaited such as myself. I tried, my dear Sister Sisla; all during my novitiate, I endeavored to abstain from even touching myself in a carnal way. Why I would not even cleanse myself after urinating, so afraid was I that the constant desire would become insupportable. My zeal and interest was so great at first that I was carried away by faith and my religious fervor. I managed to sublimate my desires for four years. But then I was lost. The first fine rush of religion had left me, and while I was still faithful, and devout, it did not carry me to such peaks that my old trouble and desires could be overcome. I was, indeed, lost. You will say that I should not have taken my final vows, if such sin were mine, and that would be right. But what was left for me if I did so? Once back in the world, a character such as mine would be doomed. There is only one end for weak-minded sinners, or rather three ends, all equally horrible, and they are the gutter, the madhouse, and the venereal ward of some loathsome hospital. Sister Sisla, I could not face these things again. I decided to stay and fight, with all my strength, the heritage that has been my curse. It has been a losing battle, and my listlessness has been due to my final failure. I have given up all attempts to abstain from masturbation. I have been committing impurities on myself for the last five years, with my fingers, with bottles, with an effigy of man's organ that I constructed for myself out of clay, but at least I have never committed a blasphemy. Never have I used a holy or sacred instrument for my foul amusement. Five and ten times a day, all the time that is not spent in devotions or at table, I have given myself sexual joy. That is the secret of my character, of my attitude, of my physical and mental weariness. And that is why I am here now. I still cannot go back into the world. I will remain here and worship the Lord. If I worship Eros by the sacrifice upon my own person at least I harm no one but myself and there are limits to which my sins can drag me.'
"And what of Sister Sisla, during this amazing story? Never in the world had such expressions of amazement, horror, interest, and fascination passed and repassed on one nun's face. Many times she thought she had not heard Sister Karin aright. Soon, however, the desperate sincerity of the other impressed itself upon her. From disgust, her expression turned to pity, from pity to understanding; soon a new look came upon her face, a look that Sister Karin could have interpreted had she not been so abstracted by the story that she was narrating.
"'But you, Sister Sisla,' she said suddenly, turning, as if awakened from a deep sleep, 'now that you know why I wished to stay, shall you not tell me why you have thrown away, for the second time, the world?'
"'I do not know,' whispered Sister Sisla wonderingly.
"Sister Karin turned around and faced Sister Sisla. Suddenly she seized her by the shoulders. 'Have you ever been loved by either a man or a woman?' she said harshly.
"'Never,' declared Sister Sisla in the same wondering tone.
"'Have you never wondered about the relations of husbands and wives?'
"'I knew of course that certain acts took place, but since they had no bearing on our life here, or in heaven in the future, I never thought of them except as things that occur in the dim and distant world outside.'
"'Have you never had a burning or an itching between your legs, where the hair grows and the urine comes from? In that thing that the vulgar world calls a cunt?'
"'Never, until this moment, have I ever experienced such a sensation."
"Sister Karin stood stock-still, as if unable to believe her ears and her senses. 'Do you mean,' she whispered to the other, 'that you feel such a sensation in that place now?'
"'Yes,' said the other, and covered her face with her hands.
"It was not the time for discussions, for protestations, and for talk. Sister Karin, in whose blood ran the frustrated heat of nine years, could restrain herself no longer. She drew the overwhelmed, and once strong and proud Sister Sisla to a grassy knoll behind the woods and gently drew her down on the soft grass.
"Their whole world was deserted. Not a living creature was left in the convent save themselves who were in the garden spot that must have resembled the Eden of old.
"Gently Karin removed the wimple and veil from the amazed and completely powerless Sisla. Then she opened the front of her habit and for the first time in nine years gazed on a part of a body that was connected with sexual bliss. She slipped her hand under and over the still firm and youthful breasts of the other nun. Ever so gently she rubbed and soothed the tits of the unresisting and still mesmerized female. Bit by bit, she rubbed and caressed more ardently, until she stooped suddenly and took the hard pink nipple into her mouth. This act broke the final strings of her restraint. For years she had adored this woman, and now she was hers for the asking. She sucked on the breast, first gently, then violently, and soon she was biting and panting and panting and kissing. The now awakened Sisla was first frightened almost to death by the strange actions of the once meek Karin, but soon her long dormant senses were at last aroused, and she was dead to all save the marvelous sensations that she was just beginning to experience. Karin, seeing and hearing her response to this maiden lovemaking, became mad with delight and passion. Soon she could wait no longer for more protracted and keener pleasures, and leaving the breast, reluctantly but hurriedly, she threw up Sis-la's long and full skirt, and pulled off her simple convent undergarments. With a cry of delight she feasted her eyes on the untouched, unsullied cunt of the half-swooning nun who was by now burning with belated but no less ardent desires. First she toyed with the golden hairs that covered and protected the fragile pocket. Then she tenderly inserted a strong and loving finger. Soon she was stroking her, first gently, then faster and harder until the nun was screaming with fire and ecstasy and pain. Suddenly she removed her skillful finger and while the sister wailed at the cessation of such bliss, she crooned to her gently, until having arranged herself on the grass before her, she pushed her face between the other's thighs and after planting a kiss or two on the virginal cunt, began slowly to suck and thrust with her tongue. "Sisla kicked and heaved and rolled. The air rang with her screams and moans and agonies of joy. 'What are you doing to me... Oh, I cannot bear it!... It is so heavenly... Oh, it is your mouth! Your tongue!... My God! I never knew there could be... anything like this... Oh, don't stop... God, go on!... go on...!'
"Karin, herself, was maddened with passion. The feel of the warm wet organs, already liberally moistened by Karin's first efforts, the odor of her untouched cunt, the tickle of the pubic hairs on her cheek and teeth, left her almost beside herself with ardor. She continued with a skill that long abstinence had not weakened and when the frenzied victim finally gave a violent heave upward she inhaled deeply, waiting for the sweet and salty taste of the love fluid that was soon to come. With an 'Oh my God!... I die!' Sisla gave a scream and a sigh, and for the first time in her life spent her juice, right into Karin's waiting mouth. The lover drank it in greedily, sucking up the last sweet drop, until the novice begged for mercy.
"In the year 1556, ten years after the Riseberga cloister had burned, a couple of young students, who had received the right to solicit aid in the province of Narke, came strolling past there. As it was fine summer weather and they were in no hurry, they felt an impulse to enter the ruins and look around.
"They found that nothing had been carried away since the fire. Half-charred timbers still lay there just as they had fallen after the conflagration. Chimneys and remnants of walls still rose out of all the wreckage which covered the ground. The only thing that was new was probably a clump of raspberry bushes which had grown up on the site of the fire, and the students saw with joy that they were loaded with ripe berries.
"At once they began to regale themselves, but were then eagerly hailed by a couple of old cloister nuns, who sat in the sun outside the church wall spinning flax. One of them was tall, handsome, and grey haired, the other small and shrunken, but with lively eyes and hair that was still dark. Their old grey homespun copes were badly worn but decently mended and darned. Both swung their distaffs fast and briskly; the faces of both were mild and friendly though somewhat sad.
"They had called to the two students to tell them that there were plenty of snakes in the stone pile where the raspberry bushes grew, and bade them rather come over to them, if they were hungry, and taste their fare. Thereupon they fetched ale, bread, and honey, and the young lads sat down on the ground in front of them and ate and drank.
"Let us picture these students. They had been brought up in fear of everything that was Papist, and perhaps they had never before met a monk or a nun. They were quite dismayed and did not know whether they risked their eternal salvation by associating with these Catholic sisters, but as their hunger was great and compelling they probably thought they would take their chances.
"The two old cloister ladies were talkative. They asked the wanderers who they were and where they came from and when the latter related that they were scholars from Strangnas, the dark-haired one wanted to show that she, too, possessed learning, and she exchanged with them a few Latin phrases.
"The nuns asked about everything possible; about the king, about the situation in the country, and about their journey. They wondered whether the Swedish peasants were so well off nowadays that it paid to go from farm to farm with the beggar's bag.
"The youths praised and lauded. They said that the city businessmen managed well since they had been freed from the Lybeckers. The peasants had been taught and commanded by the king himself to till the soil with more zeal and understanding and now obtained treble crops. Moreover, peace and order prevailed everywhere. Everything was much better than in former days. Gustav Eriksson was the greatest king that ever sat on Sweden's throne. The two nuns looked at each other and sighed, but immediately afterwards they smiled once more. 'We are glad to hear that all is well in the country,' they said very quietly.
"The youths now picked up enough courage to ask them a few questions. Why did they remain here in this misery? They looked like ladies of high degree, and they must have relatives and friends who could receive them in their homes.
"At this the old women laughed, and the dark one answered that this was their cloister, and that they did not want to leave it even though it lay in ruins. They suffered no want here. They received support from the bailiff, and they had their quarters in a cellar under the cloister, though when the weather was fair like today, they liked to move out into the sunshine with their work. One of the youths, more observant than the other, noticed the tiniest flicker of a smile pass from one to the other; a smile such as only true lovers may share.
"Their affability and gentleness was so great that the two students conceived a great friendship for them and felt that they could not bear to think that they were remaining in these dismal ruins. They asked them if they did not know that nowadays the cloister people were allowed to live out in the world wherever they pleased.
"The two nuns gave each other a beautiful glance, and the dark one, who continued as spokesman, answered that the Master who had taken them into His service was not yet ready to give them their discharge. They hoped that they would be allowed for a long time yet to serve Him, for therein lay all the happiness they desired.
"But the youths became more and more eager at every rejection. They wondered how they could be happy here for surely they had once been used to something better than the cellar.
"Then the two women rose and taking the students with them, they went around from one heap of wreckage to the other. They told them what large chambers and impressive houses there had been here, and described with much pride their equipment and decoration.
"No matter how good Protestants the two students were, they could not, when they heard this, avoid feeling sorrow that so much splendor was lost. They told the nuns that they could well understand that they felt no special liking for the Lutheran church improvement.
"The dark little nun then began to inveigh with great violence against the heretical doctrines which were now preached in Sweden, but the white-haired one must have noticed that the two students became pained and embarrassed at this. She gave the other a little sign to keep silent and then said with her calm and gentle voice: 'Dear sister, you see, of course, that these youths mean well by us. You must tell them something which can cause them joy. Tell them that here in this cloister there was once a nun by the name of Sister Karin. She was so dull and apathetic and incapable that she was only a laughing-stock to the other sisters. But God, who can turn everything to the best advantage, sent the Lutheran doctrines to the country and thereby aroused her from her spiritual sleep.'
"When she had said this, Sister Sisla stopped her complaining. 'Then I ought rather to tell them about Sister Sisla,' she said. 'She was alert and learned, eager and zealous, but from that she had become hard and proud. She would have died in her sin, if God in his mercy had not taught her humility, after this cloister, thanks to the wicked behavior of the Lutherans, had fallen into poverty and decay.'
"Thereupon they reached out their hands to the young men and bade them depart in peace and not be troubled on their account. For what evil can befall him who knows that pain and suffering, illness and want, bitter and humiliating days -- everything -- comes from God and can by Him be turned into a blessing."
6
After the finish of this long tale, my voice was dry and hoarse, but one look at the gratitude in Gerda's face, and the realization that she had listened avidly to the story, testified it would have been worthwhile, even had the physical consequences on my own person been more severe.
She seemed exhilarated and cleansed by the narrative. And yet of what was she cleansed? True it is she partook in many intense sexual acts with me, but that she had any consciousness of wrongdoing no one can believe, and that there actually was anything wrong in what she did, I, for one, will certainly deny. Whatever my Gerda did, she did with me -- her lover. She loved me and I loved her, and love can do wrong!
It seemed time for a little love that could do no wrong.
I took her little hand and kissed it.
"If you were dressed, each portion that I should take off would disclose something new to me -- something unknown, something charming; the neck, the shoulder, the bosom, and by degrees all the rest. Like a brute I divested you of all in a moment. You did not know the value of all that you gave away."
"Then I have done wrong?"
"No. No. I loved you too much, too passionately to proceed otherwise."
I slipped off her gown, and then she sat on my knee clad only in her chemise. I pressed her to my breast; she clasped her arms round my neck, sighing and panting with amorous excitement.
"I am now touching what they call the maidenhead. When once this is broken through, you cease to be a virgin, and you become a woman. Well, I wish to caress you only in such a way that you will keep that maidenhead as long as possible. Do you understand?"
Directly my finger was fixed there, Gerda gave no other answer than by caressing me fondly and uttering passionate words. Then she entwined her body around mine, uttered inarticulate exclamations, sighed, and suddenly she loosened her hold of me, her head fell back, and she lay as if in a swoon. I undressed rapidly, tore off her chemise, and stretched her against me in the bed.
I covered her with kisses which made her writhe as though they were so many bites. Then she began in her turn to bite me with little passionate cries. Each time our lips met there was a pause full of voluptuous pleasure.
Suddenly she gave a cry of joy and seized my prick.
"I wish it," she shrieked, "I wish it!"
She then slipped under me, clasped her arms around my neck, entwined her thighs around mine, pushing her body against my own.
All my fine resolutions had vanished. At the same time that Gerda began to understand what a maidenhead was, she had lost her own.
We spent a full night of bliss -- of passionate caresses, never closing our eyes until daybreak.
"Ah," she said on waking, embracing me, "I hope now I am no longer a virgin!"
The pain which poor Gerda had suffered was not serious; but it was irritating when not counteracted by Love's pleasures. I told her before leaving that she should bathe the injured parts in bran water, with an application of decoction of marsh-mallow.
I had to explain to her the anatomy of the parts under treatment, and, with the aid of a looking glass, and thanks to the pliancy of her body, I was able to make the demonstration on her own person.
Gerda, in her innocence, had never thought of looking at herself, and what she saw was entirely unknown to her.
During the night we spent together she had acquired some vague notions of the way to beget children. I began by explaining to her the general and physical of nature, which is the reproduction of the human kind, the perfecting of the species being quite a secondary matter, a detail of society.
I further pointed out that it was solely with that object that nature had ordained such rapturous sensations in the conjunctions of the sexes, and that the certainty of eternal victory of Life over Death rested entirely in the attraction which was experienced by all living things from man to plants.
Then I went into details and explained to her the part played by each organ. I began with the clitoris, the seat of pleasure in young girls, and which is so little developed with them. I then passed on to the membrane of hymen, thrown as a veil of modesty over the vagina, which later on becomes the maternal outlet. In short, I disclosed to her all the mysteries of the organs of procreation.
She listened with the utmost attention and seemed to drink in all my words which impressed themselves one by one on her memory.
After this I left her dreaming and pondering over all I had told her, and wondering that so many things should be concealed by this veil of innocence.
My resolve was to devote my spare time to Gerda's company, but not to neglect meanwhile my usual labors. The lectures which I attended at the School of Medicine, and studies at different museums always took place in the daytime. I could therefore manage very well to carry them on concurrently with my nocturnal occupations with Gerda.
When I returned that evening to her room, I found the tea all ready, with cakes and other delicacies. In my absence she had performed the duties of mistress of the house. We therefore dispensed with the services of the maid, paying her off very generously.
We were once more alone. She had been too busy thinking to feel dull. All I had told her made an impression on her mind, and she had been pondering over the mysteries I had disclosed.
Then, her curiosity having been aroused, she had divested herself of all her garments, lighted the candles, and minutely examined her person. But as she had never seen another woman naked she had no way of knowing how perfectly exquisite her own parts and form were.
Getting tired of this examination she had set herself to read, but as chance would have it, the book she chose was just the sort of work to set her mind running again along those channels. She was in an utter state of perplexity, for the book she chose was Gautier's Mademoiselle de Maupin.
Now, this girl, in the garb of a French cavalier, made love to a young lady, and the intrigue wound up by one of those enigmatical scenes of which only the perfect knowledge of the ways of civilization could furnish any clue.
This was the very scene that made poor Gerda wonder so.
7
Therefore I told her that just as among molluscs and plants, hermaphrodites are to be found (explaining that hermaphrodites were people possessing either sex), so are human beings apt to show the same fortunate or unfortunate tendencies. There were in the animal kingdom, on woman especially, instances of bisexual organs in appearance at least, on account of the large proportions of the clitoris. I told her that the Greeks, great worshippers of physical beauty, with the view of creating beauteous forms not existing in nature, supposed that the son of Mercury and Venus had been bathing in the waters of the fountain of the nymph Salamacis; Venus begged the gods to unite her body to that of her lover. The gods granted her prayer, and from the adjunction of female beauty to male beauty there sprang a creature with both sexes, experiencing the same amorous desires for man or woman and able to satisfy them in both ways.
I promised to take her to the museum to see the Hermaphrodite of Farnese, which, reclining in an easy position on a couch, combines in its person the beauty of both man and woman.
I told her, however, that this perfect distinction of sexes did not exist in nature, though it is a fact that women with an elongated clitoris often have a marked penchant for persons of their own sex. I found, here, the perfect occasion for the telling of the story of Sappho, the founder of that worship which, though established hundreds of years ago, has still so many disciples in modern society.
"What," said the little innocent to me, "can women do together?"
"What did I do to you the day before yesterday with finger and tongue, my forgetful little Gerda? What did the nuns do?" The remembrance of my first advances to her brought a sparkle to her eyes and a soft radiance to her mouth. I pushed my tongue into her mouth and thrust it between her teeth in an effort to remind her of how adept an instrument is the tongue. "Besides," I said, "the name which was given them explains the arts to which they devote themselves. They are called Tribades from a verb which means to rub." I added "like this" and so saying pulled her to me and holding her close, rubbed her parts with my swiftly rising cock, which, covered by my clothing as it was, was still capable of making her shudder with delight at the contact.
She was gleefully surprised when I told her of an invention of the famous Sappho which was an instrument of certain materials that in shape and appearance resembled the virile member. The little imp then dragged forth my now prodigious tool, and desired to know if it looked like that. When I explained that accounting for general physiological differences in the pricks of each and every man, it looked pretty much like the object that she was fondling, she laughed and then declared that she was wholly sorry for any poor follower of Sappho who had to be content with an inanimate copy, and thoroughly thankful that she had so fine a specimen of the real thing to use as she pleased.
My little girl proceeded to prove that it was hers to do with as she willed. How quickly they learn the delightful and lascivious tricks of their woman's trade! She sucked and bit and kissed and nibbled until she had me in an agony of joy. When she thought I had been sucked almost to the point of ejaculation, and had for a moment slowed down, I surprised her by pulling my prick from her eager and loving lips and before she knew what I was about I had tossed her on the bed and was jamming my prick into her very vitals. How hot and tight she was! I have explored and tasted a plethora of cunts in my time but never was one as tight and as cozy as was Gerda's. I stroked her slowly at first but as she had sucked me into a state when control was out of the picture I soon was pushing in and out in a wild frenzy. Her little ass was bounding furiously to meet my cock and with a deep sigh I came, followed by the warm sweet spurt of her own spending.
While we were resting from our labors (labors indeed!) Gerda was still interested in Sappho and the instrument for which she was responsible. I told her then about Ezekial, who lived three hundred years after Sappho and who reproached the women of Jerusalem with making these kinds of images of gold and silver.
"Venus," I told Gerda, "growing incensed at the flourishing proportions to which the scandals of Sappho's disciples were reaching, thought it high time to put an end to the whole affair. Particularly so, as the Lesbian cult was spreading to the other islands of Greece, and in consequence, her altars were in danger of being left without devotees.
"Disguising herself as an old beggar woman, Venus journeyed to the harbor of Mitylene. Here existed a handsome young ferryman named Phon whom she asked to ferry her free of charge. However, on reaching the opposite bank it so happened that Phon became aware that his passenger was not an old beggar woman but the goddess of love and beauty herself.
"So potential and visible was the effect of the sight of Venus upon the handsome boatman that it would have been ungrateful on her part not to grant him a reward. She therefore blew all around them a cloud which enveloped and hid them from view.
"After an hour, the cloud was wafted away. Phon found himself alone, but Venus had presented him with a certain perfumed oil which, when applied to his person, would make him irresistible to all women.
"Naturally, Phon did not fail to make use of this oil, and as Sappho, when passing him by chance, inhaled the perfume from his locks, she fell in love with the comely Phon, and loved him as violently as was her wont.
"And such was the revenge of the goddess Venus. For Phon jilted Sappho and when the fair Lesbian discovered that the ferryman was not to be won, and not being able to renew the miracle of Samilies, Sappho proceeded to Leucate to leap off the rock."
Gerda wanted to know why she should jump off a rock.
"Because," I told her, "disappointed lovers who leap from the rock into the sea are cured if they safely reach the bank; if drowned, why then, the cure is still more complete."
"You mean, then, that there still are such women?"
"Loads of them."
"Just think of -- why -- wait a bit..."
"What?"
"I just happened to remember..."
"I can guess; some fair lady fell madly in love with you."
"Perhaps you're right."
"Fancy that. I should like very much to hear about it."
She curled up in my lap.
"Where shall I begin?" she asked. "Oh, it was when I was at Frau Lindstrom's. Sometimes a fine carriage and sleek pair with footman would draw up and a great lady that they called 'the Countess' would step out. When she bought corsets or dressing gowns or drawers, she always would have me in the back shop, to see that the articles fitted her.
"In the beginning, she did not pay more attention to me than to the others, but soon it seemed to her that nothing she bought would suit her unless it passed through my hands; so much so that she would buy any article offered to her as my own make, even though I had never touched it.
"I remember now -- it was four days ago -- but you will see I had never given any thought to such a thing at the time -- they had some goods to be delivered to her, and she sent her carriage saying that I, and no other girl, should take them to her. I went and found her alone in a small boudoir hung with satin, and a quantity of vases and beautiful china about. The lady's maid was there and asked whether she should wait on her, but the Countess dismissed her, saying she would not require her services at the moment. Thereupon, she requested me, when we were alone, to try on all the articles she had ordered, because if she tried them on, herself, she would never know how they fitted.
"I mentioned to her that I was shorter by a head, and that consequently it would be impossible to know how they would fit her, but she would not listen to me and began to carefully disrobe me.
"Though I was ashamed, I did not resist, and dared not open my lips while she divested me of my kerchief and my bodice, exclaiming all the while; 'Oh! the pretty neck! Ah! what beautiful shoulders! What charming little bubbies!' and she kissed my neck, shoulders, throat, and bosom, passing her hands all over me and her lips afterwards. Suddenly she said: 'But I forgot, you must try on the drawers!'
"What pretty drawers they were, with embroidery! She pulled off mine by putting her hands under my chemise, and said: 'Why her skin is really like satin.'
"'One day you must take a bath with me; is it not so, my pretty darling? I will rub you with almond paste and you will become as white as ermine; and, besides, you will have a pretty little tail like an ermine.' Saying this, she tried to put her hand on my hair, but I made a spring backwards.
"'What is the matter with you, pretty wild thing? Why do you shrink away from me? Do I frighten you?' Then she embraced me; but seeing my blushes and perceiving that I was trembling all over, no doubt she dared not push matters further, and said: 'Come, try that on yourself.' I tried the drawers on. They were too large and long for me. That gave her an excuse to pass her hand up my thighs in order to pull them up. For a moment her hand remained motionless, or I should say rather that it moved up and down gently so that it seemed as if it were trembling.
"Finally, when she had kissed me well, caressed me, and felt me all over, she said: 'I think they will fit beautifully. In fact, I am sure.'
"Then she dressed me herself, caressing me the while as before. At last, just before I left, she whispered in my ear: 'Next Sunday, do not forget that you will spend the day with me, and that we will take a bath together and that we will dine together and perhaps go to the theater together. Mind, dress yourself prettily. I shall call for you in the afternoon about two o'clock."
"But tomorrow is Sunday," I cried.
"Don't worry. She will not find me at the shop."
"Why is it that you did not mention a word of this business?"
"I have not even thought of the strange Countess when so many strange things have been happening in the last few days. What a sell for her!" With that the little witch clapped her hands.
I was suddenly struck by an idea.
"Tell me," I asked her, "would you be frightened if a woman made love to you?"
"Frightened? Why should I be?"
"I can't think, myself."
"Of course not. Especially if I am forewarned and know what is likely to happen. Come, you have some idea in mind."
"Idea? No, not particularly. I must admit, however, that I should be very amused to see how a woman sets about making love to another woman."
"As if you hadn't seen how it is done already, you old roue!"
"No, strange as it may seem, all I ever saw was some girls playing at that sort of thing for money, but that, as you know, would not be the same thing."
"That's rather a shame."
"Just maybe you could renew your acquaintance with her?"
"How?"
"Don't you know her address?"
"No."
"But you were at her home."
"The carriage took me there. But I did not notice the street or the number."
"Well, let us say no more about it then. You will find some other inamorata some day, more than one, no doubt."
"Come to think of it, you are not jealous, are you, sir?"
"Light of my life, why should I be jealous of a woman? She can only excite your amorous desires and I shall get a much better reception when I am needed to satisfy them."
8
A little later, when we had dined, she came back to our conversation about the countess.
"Would you have been jealous if it had been a man?"
"That," said I, "is another matter. If you deceive me with a man, I shall kill you!"
"Good," said the tantalizing little slut, "I was getting afraid that you did not love me."
"Do not love you? You will see." Luckily it was easy for me to give her proofs of my love. I took her in my arms and put her on the bed. In a moment we lay stark naked side by side.
Up till then, I had forgotten to pull aside the curtain which concealed the looking glass from view and slipping the cord, it was now in sight.
"How charming," she said, "now, we shall be able to see ourselves in the glass."
"Yes," I said, "as long as you can look on."
"I wager you that I will look to the very end," she cried.
"And I say you cannot."
I started the test by pressing a long kiss on that part known as the mount of venus.
"So," she said, "you will not be able to see anything now."
"I will guess as much as I can, and you will use your eyes for both of us."
And as I had done before, I used my tongue.
"Oh!" said she, "I know what you are doing now; but the sensation is even better than it was the other day. Ah! where do you put your tongue now? The feeling is so delightful! I think I shall die!... Oh! I am done!... My darling, my eyes are closing... I can see nothing. I die!"
Since the events of night after night are different only to the participants in the joys of love, I shall beg leave of the reader to say nothing of the nights that followed at this time save that they were full of delight and love.
About noon the next day, I was sketching my Gerda from memory when a ring came on the bell and my servant said that the Countess Karlstod wished to see me. I had an unpleasant foreboding.
I told my man to show her in and going to the door of the dining room, I led the way to my bedroom, which served also as study and studio.
She took an armchair, and while seeming at first to be a bit embarrassed, lifted her veil, after some hesitation. She was a young woman of about twenty-eight, tall and handsome, with beautiful curls hanging over her shoulders; her eyebrows, eyelashes, and eyes were darkest black, her nose straight, her lips as red as coral with a rather heavy chin. Her breasts and hips were rather undeveloped as compared with her magnificent height.
Finally, she seemed to notice that I awaited an explanation of her visit.
"You will perhaps think it strange, sir, that I should call on you," she said, "but you, and you alone, can give me the information I seek."
I nodded.
"There was," she continued, "at the milliner's house, a young girl by the name of Gerda."
"So, Madame?"
"She has," went on the countess, "disappeared. When I enquired of her friends and the mistress of the house, they all replied that they did not know what had become of her. But when I applied to the master and said that I was much interested in the child, so much so, in fact, that I would resort to the police if need be, in order to ascertain her whereabouts, he informed me that I might get the information from you. I beg you therefore to inform me as to where the child is."
"Madame," I declared, "I have no reason whatsoever for keeping the child out of the way, especially as you wish her well; but I was wrong, no doubt, in keeping her from Mr. Lindstrom, who had unscrewed the bolt of her bedroom so as to be able to enter at any time for his own purpose. At two o'clock in the morning the child came here for protection, and I took her in. That is all."
"She is here, then?" cried the Countess.
"Not here, Madame; that was impossible. But I had my own bachelor rooms where I took her."
"May I then have the address of these rooms?"
"With pleasure, Madame. Gerda has often spoken of you."
"The child has spoken to you about me?"
"Yes, Madame. She told me how good you had been to her, and how kind of you to care for her at a time when she was so in need of protection. I should then be sorry to deprive her of a friend."
"Sir," replied the Countess, "I can only thank you heartily and say how happy I am that the poor child, not having applied to me, should have been so fortunate as to have found refuge with you."
Then I wrote the address for her and told her how to arrive at the dwelling.
"If you will pardon my impertinence," said the Countess, "I should very much like to know when you plan on calling upon the child."
"This very evening, Madame," I replied.
"Do you know if she will be in this afternoon?"
"I am certain that she will, Madame. I have no doubt that you will find her reading Mademoiselle de Maupin."
"Did you put that particular book in her hands?"
"Oh no, Madame, she reads any book that takes her fancy."
She then declared that she had some business in a nearby street and that she would call upon Gerda directly it was completed.
I nodded and escorted the lady down to the staircase. Then I sped to the window and saw the carriage follow the turning and then set off in the direction of my rooms.
At once I grabbed my hat and hastened downstairs and was at the house before I could think another thought. I had the key in my hand as I ran and I entered the dressing room as quietly as possible. Through an opening made on purpose, I saw Gerda, sitting in a kind of easy chair, with no other clothing other than her chemise and a half-opened dressing gown, with her books on her knees, abstractedly playing with one of her little rosebuds. It was peering out of the masses of her curls flowing on her breast. Scarcely was I installed at my post, then Gerda showed signs of being aware that there had been a knock upon the door.
She stretched out her arm to ring for the lady's maid; then obviously realizing that the servant had gone out, rose, and went slowly to the door.
"Who is there?" she asked.
"I, your friend."
"Countess Karlstod?"
"Yes, the Countess. I come with Mr. Paul's consent, and am the bearer of a note from him."
"Oh, then," said Gerda, who knew the voice and recollected our conversation, "you are welcome." Upon which she opened the door.
In came the Countess who carefully closed the door behind her.
She asked, "Are you alone?"
"Quite alone," answered Gerda.
"Your maid?"
"Has gone to the dressmaker's."
"So much the better," said the Countess. "As I made sure of finding you here and wishing to spend a little time with you, I sent my carriage away. I shall take a cab when I leave. Will you grant me an hour or two with you?"
Gerda answered graciously, "With pleasure."
"Are you," whispered the Countess anxiously, "glad to see me?"
"Very pleased, indeed."
"Ungrateful one!"
The Countess then took off her veil, bonnet, and cloak and appeared in a long gown of black satin, buttoned all the way with rose colored buttons. Long earrings of coral decorated her large but well-formed ears.
"Why do you call me ungrateful?" asked Gerda.
"Because, instead of entrusting yourself to me, you had recourse to a young man."
"How could I come to you? I had not your name, nor your address, nor your number. Do you not remember that you were to see me today at Mrs. Lindstrom's?"
"And go there I did, but the little bird had flown. I must admit that you did not lose by changing your cage. I felicitate you on the one you occupy now."
"You think these quarters pretty?" asked Gerda.
"Lovely! When a young man in love sets himself to building a nest for the desire of his eyes, he outdoes himself." Then coming near to Gerda's lovely half-naked form, "Now, my pretty little one, I have not even kissed you."
Taking Gerda's head in her two strong hands, she kissed her lips passionately. Gerda instinctively drew back, but the Countess held her tightly.
"Look now, my sweet," she said, whispering in a voice that was husky with desire, "how your charming head is set off by the black satin of my dress." Then she led her to the mirror placed between two windows. The raven locks of the Countess fell over Gerda's face and mingled with her own golden ones.
"I should like to have been dark-haired," sighed Gerda.
"Why so?"
"Dark women, I think, are much prettier than light ones."
"Do you really speak the truth, my jewel?"
"Yes," said Gerda, looking at the Countess with more curiosity and amusement than desire.
"But see, child, how black I am," said the Countess.
"I think it is very handsome!" said Gerda guilelessly.
"Then you think me attractive?" said the Countess anxiously.
"Exceedingly attractive!"
"You are a little flatterer!" whispered the Countess, who put her arm around Gerda's ripe and firm young waist and drew her on her lap.
"I shall fatigue you."
"Never! How warm it is here, little one."
"You must be warm. You are buttoned up as if it were winter."
"How right you are. I can hardly breathe. If I only could be sure that no one would come, I should take off my corset."
"Don't worry about that. No one shall come."
"Good," said the peeress, "off it comes." And in a moment she unbuttoned her dress and took off her corset, keeping on only a long cambric under-gown and her satin dress which she buttoned up again, but only in part.
"And you, little one, do you not feel warm in your cashmere dress?"
"No," said Gerda, "see how light it is."
It was now the turn of the little minx to undo the bodice of her gown and appear in her pretty cambric chemise and with her naked feet in velvet slippers. The two ripe globes on her breast showed admirably under the light texture.
"Ah," breathed the Countess, "look at the little witch. She is not fifteen yet, and her bosoms are larger than mine."
So saying, she slipped her hand in the opening of Gerda's chemise.
"How marvelous and rosy the nipple is. Ah, little darling, that is so sweet and kissable. I should like to dip it in sugar and eat it like a strawberry."
Gerda looked about as if she wished to ask for my leave though I knew that she was not aware of my presence. But the mouth of the Countess was at once glued to her breast, and not only did she kiss the nipple, but she bit it also, gently, using her tongue to good purpose all the while.
Gerda could not refrain from giving expression to the pleasurable sensations which she was feeling.
"See the little imp," cried the Countess. "It is hardly come into the world and already it seeks pleasure like a grown-up woman."
"It is the other one's turn, now," she continued, "for it would be jealous if I did not kiss it, too." She seized the other nipple which she sucked as she had done the first.
"What are you doing?" cried Gerda.
"Why, I make love to you, sweet darling. Did you not see from the first day that I was in love with you?"
"Can one woman love another?" asked Gerda with a look so innocent that it would have tempted a saint.
"Little silly," whispered the Countess tenderly, "that is the only good way in the world."
Then she was in a rage against her gown. "You nasty dress; how uncomfortable it is! I will take it off, shall I not?"
"As you please, my lady."
"Do not, I beg you, call me so respectfully, 'my lady,'" she cried, tearing off her dress so savagely that she made the buttons fly.
"What then shall I call you?"
"Call me Sigrid. It is one of many names."
Now her only garment was the cambric under-gown, and she threw herself back on the lounging chair where Gerda was reclining. The little one was buttoning up her dressing gown to protect herself from the attacks of the Countess.
"So," said the Countess, "is this mutiny? Have you taken it into your head to resist?"
"Resist whom, Madame, or what?"
"Myself, of course."
"Since I am sure that you do not wish to hurt me, why should I resist you?"
"I am surely not going to hurt you. Just the reverse," said the Countess, relieving Gerda of her dressing gown. "I wish only to give you pleasure, but you must allow me to do as I please."
"But then, my lady..."
"Sigrid, Oh say do... call me Sigrid!"
"But I am a poor working girl and you are a great lady."
"What of that? What shall the great lady do to be forgiven for being a countess, you child of pride? Behold I am at your knees. Are you satisfied?"
The Countess was indeed on her knees before little Gerda, who sat in a chair, and she gently lifted her chemise in order to gaze upon certain secret charms of which she had caught a glimpse when trying on the drawers. Her avid glance peered into the arch which her two hands formed in the cambric.
"What lovely treasures I see!" she murmured. "How nicely made! What round thighs! What a soft skin! What marble was it that you were carved from, dear Hebe? In Paros or Carrara? And this little black dot! Come let me kiss it!"
And she pressed her lips against it.
"What a heavenly scent! You little coquette, it is 'Eau de Portugal!'"
"It is Paul's favorite perfume."
"Paul? Who is that?"
"Why," said Gerda, "he is my lover."
"Your lover? What are you saying, child? You have a lover?"
"Yes."
"And he has had you?"
"Yes."
"Then you are no longer a virgin?"
"No, indeed."
"Since when?"
"Since two days ago."
The Countess uttered a cry of rage.
"Oh, you little fool!" she went on, "to think you gave your virginity to a man!"
"To whom else could I give it?"
"To me, to me! I would have given you your weight in gold for it. Ah!" she said in a despairing tone, "I shall never forgive you for this!"
And she caught up her stays and her dress as if about to dress herself again.
"What did your lover do to you? He hurt you cruelly, did he not? Dare you say he gave you pleasure?"
"Oh, yes, he did!"
"That is a lie!"
"Such pleasure as I never could have imagined."
"That is false!"
"I thought I should become mad with happiness."
"Hold your tongue!"
"What does it matter to you?"
"Matter, to me? Why, it is just so much happiness that he has robbed me of. I, who thought you undefined as yet; who wished to initiate you little by little into love's mysteries; I, who would have invented for you new pleasures every day. He polluted you with his coarse caresses! That tough skin, covered with hairs; do you mean to tell me that it was pleasant to touch?"
"Dear Paul has skin like a woman!"
"I see that I am wasting my time against him! Good-bye." And mad with rage she put on her corset.
"Are you going away?" asked Gerda.
"What good would it do me to stay here now? Nothing. You have a lover! Oh, I suspected as much when I saw the warmth with which you took his part against me!"
Very rapidly, she dressed herself.
"Alas," she sighed wearily, "one more fond illusion flown away! How unhappy it is to wish to uphold the dignity and pride of our sex. I expected so much pleasure with you, you wicked child! I must weep or my heart will break!"
Sobbing, she fell on a chair. Her tears were so heartbreakingly real, her grief so intense, that Gerda got up without thinking of putting on her dressing gown and, half-naked, went in her turn to kneel before her.
"Please, Madame, do not cry so," she implored.
"What... 'Madame' and 'my lady' again?"
"Please, Sigrid..."
"Well?"
"How could I have known that you loved me?"
"Did you not see it when you called at my house."
"I was too unknowing... I suspected nothing."
"You are not innocent now?"
"Not quite as much as I was," said Gerda, laughing.
"She laughs at my grief," cried the Countess wringing her hands in despair.
"No, I swear I do not! I swear it!" The Countess shook her head. "All is over now! I could forgive but I shall never forget. But I must not be weak. Adieu! You will never see me more! Adieu."
Beside herself with grief, the great lady, like a lover who has just become aware of his mistress's unfaithfulness, opened the door and rushed downstairs and into the street.
9
Gerda waited for a moment and listened, thinking that she would return; but the angry woman had indeed left for good. Gerda closed the door, and, turning around, perceived me at the entrance to the dressing room. She uttered a cry of surprise. I burst out laughing and she threw herself into my arms.
"How happy I am now that I was not naughty!"
"Did you find it very difficult?"
"Not too much. I must confess, however, that when she kissed my bosom a kind of burning sensation went through my whole frame."
"So that now I should not have to use violence."
"Oh, no."
I took her in my arms and seated her in the lounging chair in the same position in which the Countess had placed her.
"You told her it was my favorite scent. Will you let me try it?"
Whereupon I proceeded to do so. The scent of her perfume mingled with the maddening odor of her sweet sexual organs turned me into a satyr for the moment. I brought forth screams of joy from my little one and while she was emitting her burning fluid, I leaped upon her and felt with my penis the warm hot bath of her cum which was soon mingled with my own.
"Do you know," said I a little later, "that the Countess wore her war dress? She very actively divested herself of her stays and gown. I thought I should see her in still more simple costume."
"You would have been glad of that, would you not, you wicked boy?"
"I must admit that your two bodies side by side would have formed a charming contrast."
"I am afraid, Sir, that it is a sight which you shall never see."
"Who can say?"
"But she is gone forever!"
"Pooh, she will return."
"Will she come back at once?"
"Not at once, no."
"Have you not seen how angry she was?"
"Nevertheless I will wager that before tomorrow she will write you."
"Must I accept the letter if it should come?"
"Provided you let me see it."
"I shall do nothing without your consent."
"That is a promise, then?"
"I give you my word on it."
"Then I leave you free to act."
Just at that very moment a soft tap could be heard at the door. Gerda knew that it was the maid.
I ran to the dressing room as my clothes were very much disarranged.
I told Gerda to open the door.
In the maid's hand was a letter, which she declared had been given her by the footman of the lady who had left a short while before.
Gerda asked if he awaited a reply.
"No, because he asked me to deliver it to you when you were alone."
My little Gerda then told the maid that these precautions were both useless and unnecessary as nothing was concealed from me.
"Quite so," replied the servant, "in any case, here is the letter."
I made my reappearance as soon as the girl had left the room.
"You see," I said to Gerda, "she did not even wait until tomorrow."
Gerda said, brandishing the letter, "You are truly a good seer."
I placed her upon my knee and we began reading the letter together.
Wretched and ungrateful child! I swore, when I left you that I would neither see you nor write you again, but my love or my folly, I know not which, is such that I cannot resist one last attempt to secure you for my own. I am very rich, I am a widow and I am free to live and love exactly as I choose. I lived a life of misery with my husband and so I vowed eternal hatred of men and I have kept my vow. If you should wish to love me, but be sure child, only me, I shall willingly forget all that has passed between us and that you have been sullied by a man. You told me that you were not aware of my love for you and my love is such that I shall take your word for it... you see I want to believe you. Ah, were you only unsullied! But complete happiness does not exist and I am ready to take such small pleasures as come my way.
If you will love me, if you are willing to forsake that monster who seems to have won your heart away from me, if you will not see him again -- I will not say I will give you this or give you that, but I do say that what is mine, shall be yours; we shall live together, my house, my carriage, my servants shall be your own. We shall never leave one another. You shall be my friend, my sister, my darling child. You shall be more than that -- You will be my adored mistress! But mine you must be completely. I am too jealous to have it be otherwise! I should die were it not to be this way.
I beg of you to send me a prompt reply! I await your letter as a condemned man, on death's doorstep, awaits a reprieve.
Sigrid
Gerda looked at me and we both laughed.
"It would appear," I said, "that she does not mince matters."
"She is mad," replied Gerda.
"Mad with love of you, I don't doubt. What shall you do?"
"Not reply, of course."
"Of course you must reply."
"Why so?"
"Would you dare be responsible for her death?"
"Ah, Paul, you cannot fool me. You wish to see the Countess in the state of Nature!"
"But you know very well that she hates men."
"You will make her like them!"
"Little Gerda... if you do not like it..."
"It is all right. Only promise me one thing."
"And that?"
"You will not make complete love to her."
"And what does my little one mean by complete love?"
"I mean that you may use your eyes, your hands, even your tongue... but I keep the other thing for myself!"
I told her that I swore to do so, on our love, and she accepted my pledge.
"And now," I said, "let us think of her ladyship's letter. The situation which she offers you is not to be despised."
"I leave you? Never in this world! You may turn me out of your house, you may throw me back to the world. Since I came of my own accord you have every right to do so. But I would rather die than leave you."
"We will say no more about it then."
"We must find some other means."
"I think so, too. You must write this."
"What?" said Gerda, upset at the idea of writing so important a document.
"Take the pen."
Then I said, noticing her reluctance, "The Countess would willingly pay a krone for each of your misspelled words."
"Then if I write twenty-five lines, it will cost her twenty-five kronen?"
"Never you mind about kronen. Write what I dictate to you."
Then she took the pen and wrote as I quoted to her.
My lady:
I fully understand that a life such as you offer me would be full of happiness; but I have been too hasty, and if my present life is not happiness, I have at least found some tinge of it in the arms of the man I love. I would not leave him for any consideration in the world. He would perhaps soon be reconciled to my loss, for they say that men are changeful, but as for me, I know I should henceforth live in sorrow.
I am grieved to give you such a reply. You have been so good to me that I love you with all my heart, and if we were not kept apart by social distinctions, I should wish to be your friend; though I can understand that you would not much care to have for your friend a woman you would have liked for your mistress.
In any case, whether I see you again or not, I shall ever keep in my remembrance the sensations which I experienced, the kiss that you imprinted on my bosom and the impression of your breath when your mouth touched my body. When I think of that kiss... I close my eyes and sigh... I feel happy... I ought not to mention this, for it looks very much like a confession. But I do not speak now to the beautiful Countess, I speak to my dear Sigrid!
Your little Gerda, who has given away her heart but keeps her soul for you!
"No," said Gerda, "I cannot write that!"
"Why not?"
"My heart and my soul are yours. Perhaps you do not wish them to be so any longer; but I cannot take them away from you now."
"Ah, my darling."
She rested in my arms and I kissed her again and again.
"Gerda," I said, "I would give all the countesses in the world for one of those fine hairs which stick to my moustache when..."
She put her hand on my lips. It was not the first time that I noticed that, like refined natures, she would allow me to do anything to her, enjoyed too, but had an instinctively chaste ear.
I often found this delicate anomaly among women who have inquisitive eyes, ready mouths, sensual olfactory nerves, and clever hands.
"What," she asked, "are you going to do with the letter?"
"I shall send it to the Countess."
"By post or messenger?"
"A messenger, if you wish an answer tonight."
"She will not reply."
"Not reply! Nonsense! She is fairly hooked on now and cannot withdraw."
"Messenger, then. You cannot realize how much this affair amuses me. I am impatient for an answer."
"I am going to send it. I have company tonight at my house and shall be here at nine o'clock. Should a letter come, do not reply before I arrive."
"I will not even open it."
"That would really be asking too much of you."
"You can ask anything except ask me to love you no more."
"Then I shall be here at nine," said I, with a couple of kisses.
"I shall expect you."
I closed her lips with a third long kiss and left the room.
On the street I met a messenger and gave him the letter with the necessary instructions.
I was so impatient to read the answer that I made my appearance at a quarter to nine.
Gerda came to me with the letter in her hand.
"Surely," I said, pointing to the clock, "you cannot reproach me with being late."
"I wonder," she said, laughing, "on whose account you have hastened -- the Countess's or mine."
I took the letter and put it into my pocket.
"Well. What are you doing?"
"We have plenty of time. We can open it tomorrow morning."
"Why not before then?"
"So that you may be sure I come for you and not for the Countess."
Gerda threw her arms around my neck.
"Do I know how to kiss well?" she asked.
"Better than anyone else in the world."
"I seem to remember it was you that taught me."
"As I taught you that the tongue is not only used for speech."
But mine has barely been used as yet for any other purpose, except the part it takes in kissing.
"The Countess will show you it can be employed in other ways."
"Can't we read the letter?"
"You wish it?"
"I beg of you."
"Wait till nine o'clock then."
"If you put your hand there I shall never hear the clock strike."
"We shall read it at once then."
As we were both very eager to acquaint ourselves with the contents of the letter, I broke the seal and read as follows:
Dear little Gerda:
I do not know whether the letter I received from you was penned by you, or whether it was dictated to you, but if it is really yours, truly you are a little imp. On leaving you at three o'clock I vowed I would not write to you. On receiving your letter I vowed again I would never see you more, and I read half of it while protesting that I would not break my vow. But lo! your style is quite altered in the second part of the letter, you little imp. You now speak of the sensations of sex you experienced. At the very first word the veil which I had thrown upon my recollection is torn aside. I see you lying on the couch. I am now pressing to my lips the rosebud of your breast. It meets my mouth halfway. I can now hold your letter with one hand only. My eyes are getting dim.
How foolish I am. I can do nothing else but murmur your name and repeat; "Gerda, you ungrateful little flower which brought me so much sorrow, such as you are, I long for you -- I must have you -- I love you."
But no, it is not true, I hate you, I will not see you again.
I curse my hand over which I no longer had any control. I curse the passion which guides it. I take up again the letter which slipped out of my fingers as they clung to the pillow of my couch. I read that line where you recall the sensations of my breath on your form. I see that dark and perfumed spot for which I longed, and on which I was about to imprint my lips, when one single word -- but I do not hear now what you said -- I do not remember now -- I will not remember. All my memory is in my eyes. What beautiful thighs, what a splendid form. How pretty must be all that I could not see. And now for the second time. No, I will not. I am mad. For tomorrow I should be ashy pale and ugly. No, I will not do it, you pitiless charmer. Gerda, your mouth, your bosom, you... God! When shall I see you again?
Your own,
Sigrid,
Who is quite ashamed of herself.
"That," said I, "is what you call passion. I must make a sketch of you both at the supreme moment of lustfulness and erotic stimulation."
"I am shocked..."
"What will you say to her?"
"You know very well that you will dictate, that I have only to hold the pen."
"Write as follows then.
Dear Sigrid:
Paul leaves me at nine o'clock in the morning; I then take my bath. You invited me to take a bath with you. I now propose that you have one with me, though I cannot guess what pleasure you expect to derive from it.
I have not the slightest idea of what love between two women may be; you must, in this respect, initiate me into the mystery, and end my ignorance. I am wholly ignorant, to my shame be it said.
But with you I am sure I shall soon be proficient, for I love you.
Yours,
Gerda
She sealed the letter and called the maid.
"Give that to a messenger," she said.
"Mind you, have it sent this evening," I added.
"Trust to me for that. The letter shall be delivered tonight."
But she soon returned.
"Miss Gerda," she said, "the black servant of the Countess inquires whether there is a reply to his mistress's letter. Shall I give him the one you have just handed me?"
"Yes, give it to him without a moment's delay."
The maid left the room, this time for good.
"Well, she was in a great hurry, this charming Countess," I said.
"What shall I do tomorrow?" asked Gerda.
"Do what you like. I leave you free to follow your own inclination."
"Very well. Meanwhile, I shall make you as happy as I can."
10
The next day, at five minutes to nine, Gerda was in a bath perfumed with verbena, and I in a cupboard in the corner of the room, whence I could see and hear everything. All traces of my presence had disappeared, and the sheets had been changed and sprinkled with eau de Cologne.
At exactly nine o'clock a carriage stopped at the door.
The Countess was ushered in a moment later by the maid. When the maid left, the Countess bolted the door.
A lamp in a rose-colored vase of Bohemian glass shed a soft and discreet light in the bathroom.
"Gerda," cried the Countess, "where are you, my love?"
"I am here in the dressing room."
Sigrid sprang across the room in three strides. She stopped at the door.
Gerda nearly stood up in the bath, showing her Nerean-like form, with arms outstretched.
"Oh, my darling," cried the Countess, "I lust for you." And she threw herself into Gerda's arms.
She was clad in a long blouse of black velvet, fastened at the neck by a large diamond and held at the waist by a Russian belt woven with gold, silver, and cherry-colored silk.
She began by pulling off her boots and her rose-colored silk stockings. She unbuttoned the upper part of her dress, unfastened her belt, and divested herself of her blouse.
Under the black velvet blouse she wore a cambric peignoir, edged with Valenciennes lace round the neck and cuffs.
She then slipped off the peignoir and appeared in a nude state.
The Countess was really a splendid woman; the type of Diana, the huntress. Her chest was more fully developed than her breasts; her waist was as pliant as the stem of a tree that waves in the breeze; the parts below were perfection, and lower still might be seen a mass of luxuriant and reddish hair, which resembled flames shooting out of a crater.
Seeing the bath, she went to enter it.
But she was stopped by Gerda.
"Wait," said the deceiving little wench, "first let me feast my eyes upon your charms."
"Sweet darling, do you really think me beautiful?"
"Yes, I do; I do indeed!"
"Look then, look your fill! So that I may feel the burning of your eyes upon me! All this, my love, is yours! My eyes, my mouth, my bosom..."
"And this pretty bouquet, also?" asked Gerda.
"That especially."
"What a beautiful color!" breathed the young girl. "Why is it not the same as that on your head?"
"Why is the hair of my head different from the hair on my intimate person? Why am I a woman not fond of men? Because I am a compound of contrasts. Come, sweet child, make room for me, that I may feel my heart beat against your own."
Since the bath was long, there was room for both. The Countess stepped into the luxuriantly warm water and sat beside Gerda.
I could see everything, for the bath water was as transparent as crystal.
With snake-like movements, the Countess entwined herself around Gerda; she passed her head under her arm, took a little bite there, and pressed her lips to Gerda's mouth.
"At last," she said, "you are mine, you naughty child, and now I shall be avenged for all the tortures I have endured for your sweet sake.
"Give me your mouth, your lips, your tongue!" said the Countess, who in truth was a dark goddess.
"When I think that it was a man who first gave you a kiss of that kind, who taught you to return it, I am half inclined to strangle you!"
The Countess darted kiss upon kiss, like a serpent shooting its head forward, while her hand fondled Gerda's bosom.
"Oh, darling breast, my sweet one!" murmured the Countess. "It was through you that I lost my head; it is you who have made me mad with passion."
Half closing her eyes she caressed Gerda, throwing back her head and breathing hard.
"But speak to me, rapture of my soul!" she begged.
"Sigrid, dear Sigrid!" murmured little Gerda.
"How she says it, the cold little piece! As if she were saying 'good morning.' Are you not afraid that your own Paul would hear you? Wait, wait, and we shall add a sharp note to the key to make the music half a tone higher."
And her hand slipped from the bosom to the hips and thence lower still; but at that stage it stopped as if hesitating.
"Do you not feel my heart throbbing against your breast? Ah! if it could but kiss your own as my mouth presses your lips! If it could... do you feel anything?"
"Oh, yes," said Gerda, who began to feel the forerunner of pleasure. "Yes! Your finger is it not?"
"How young you are! You have had so little experience that I can hardly find the darling little love nipple which gives the flower of life to all Nature! Ah! now... Here it is!..."
"How soft and strong your finger is! What a gentle and delightful touch!"
"Shall I do it faster, more vigorously?"
"No, no! It is quite nice as it is."
"But, my child, your own hands... where are they?"
"I told you that I knew nothing and that you would have to teach me."
"What? Even teach you to have a sensation?"
"Oh, no! That will come... will come of its own accord... Sigrid... dear Sigrid... Sigrid!"
The great lady caught up the remainder of the sigh in a kiss.
"That is right," said she. "It is not enough to be able to speak a language; the accent must be right, too."
"You will find me a willing pupil," said Gerda, "I ask for nothing better than to learn."
"Let us leave the bath, then. I cannot put my head under water; and I have something to add to speech in my demonstration."
"Yes," said Gerda, "there is a fire and warm towels."
"Come," said the lady, "I will wipe your body dry."
Beautiful and proud as Thetis she came, dripping with the glistening drops of water. She thought that she had vanquished her rival -- that is, your humble servant -- and looked quite triumphant.
Borne in her arms, Gerda cast a glance toward me as if to say: "All that I am doing is in obedience to your orders."
The curtains were all drawn and the room was lighted only by the radiance of the fire.
They came shivering to the fireplace. But the Countess thought only of Gerda. I could see her, while plying the towel, praise each part of the lovely child on which her hand rested in turn. Each received its share of caresses and praise. The neck, arms, back, shoulders, breasts, all came, so to speak, in chronological order. As for herself, the heat of her person sufficed to dry her skin. Gerda remained passive under the caresses of the Countess.
Now and then the Countess would upbraid her.
"But you do not think my breasts are beautiful? I suppose so, since you will not kiss them. Do you not find my hair soft enough for your pretty fingers? I must tell you that I am all afire, and that presently you must in your turn, return all the pleasure I give you."
"But, dear Sigrid," said Gerda, "you know very well that I am a little ignoramus."
"Yes, but you said you were willing to learn. Well, I shall teach you."
They passed before me in a perfect state of nudity.
The Countess carried Gerda to the bed and lay her upon it, crosswise, then she knelt on the black bearskin, parted her thighs, and gazed longingly on that charming sanctuary of love; then suddenly, with dilated nostrils, her lips curled up, and with teeth like those of a panther eager for its prey, she pressed her lips to it.
This mode of caressing is generally a cause of triumph for a woman who seeks to defeat a male rival. She must, by dint of skill and agility, leave no cause for regret to the mistress with whom she plays a part which is not natural to her.
The Countess had not made an empty boast when she promised rapturous pleasures to Gerda. I felt somewhat jealous, I must confess, when I saw my dear little mistress roll about, writhe and pant, and almost faint under the greedy mouth which seemed to inhale her very soul.
As a student of life and of human nature, the sight was most interesting, and amply compensated me for the little fit of jealousy to which I humbly admit I gave way.
On her knees, and well settled on her heels, the Countess followed with her body all the movements of Gerda's body and her beauteous form writhed about so that I could have sworn that she lost nothing in being the active instrument, and that perhaps she even gained something by it.
At last both performers, exhausted by their efforts, were willing to lie side by side and rest.
"You must," murmured the Countess, "soon repay your debt to me, in part." So saying she drew Gerda close to her, took her hand, and placed it on that tawny part of her person which formed such a contrast to her black hair and fair skin.
But Gerda had her instructions -- and acted up to them marvelously. No doubt, the Countess had occasion to find fault with her, for I heard her whisper: "That is not the right spot, your finger is too high... There, there; now it is too low. Do you not feel something there? Well, that is where you must act. It is this tickling which brings pleasure. Ah! you are doing it on purpose, you wicked child!"
"I assure you I am not," said Gerda, "I am doing my best to please you."
"Why do you withdraw your finger, when you have hit the right place? There you are at it again!"
"My finger slips."
"You have set me all afire, and you do nothing to extinguish the flames!"
"Listen, my handsome lover," whispered Gerda, "let us try something else."
"What?"
"Lie down on the bed with your head toward the mirror, and I will caress you with my mouth."
"I will do anything that you wish."
She lay at full length, with eyes to the ceiling, her thighs well parted and her body curved by the rotundity of the bed.
This was the moment agreed upon, and I crawled out of the dressing room.
"Am I in a convenient posture?" inquired Sigrid, with a final motion of her back.
"Yes," said Gerda, "I think you are."
"You can begin, now."
I followed to the letter the instructions that she had given my little girl.
"Is that the right place?" said the artful Gerda.
"Yes. And now... your mouth... and mind, if you do not give me pleasure, I shall strangle you."
I applied my mouth to the spot and had no trouble in finding the thing that Gerda pretended not to have found. It was all the easier, because I noticed that in the case of the Countess it was longer than usual. It seemed to be the nipple of a virgin's breast excited by a lover's lips. I seized it in my mouth and rolled it gently between my lips.
She heaved a voluptuous sigh.
"That is just the thing," she cried, "and I think that if you keep on like that... I think... I think you will no longer be in my debt."
I went on as she bid Gerda, but drew the latter to me and pointed out the part that she was to take in the trio.
With me Gerda was not clumsy as with Sigrid. Divining the thousand caprices of love's pleasures, she placed her mouth where I had put her hand, and I found that she was doing to me the very counterpart of what I did to the Countess, save that there was a difference in the shape of the objects performed upon.
The Countess seemed to experience the most voluptuous of pleasures.
"Really," she said, "it is just as I like it. Ah! What a little story-teller you are; you said I must teach you; but you are too clever... not so fast... I wish it lasted forever...Oh! your tongue..."
Had I been able to speak, I would have paid just such compliments to Gerda. The passionate child had certainly the instinct of all the artifices of love.
I must confess that I derived considerable satisfaction from the caresses which I lavished upon the Countess. Never had I pressed my lips to a sweeter peach. In this woman of twenty-eight all was firm and youthful as in a girl of sixteen. It was easy to see that the brutality of man had exercised itself there only to open a way for more delicate caresses.
"How strange!" said she. "I never had such pleasure before! Oh! I will not let you go on unless you promise to commence again... The impression of your lips and your tongue is so sweet; I cannot keep it back any longer. It is coming! I feel it! No! It cannot be Gerda who gives me so much pleasure! It is impossible!"
Gerda was not inclined to reply.
"Tell me, Gerda is it you? Oh, no, that is impossible. You are too clever for a woman. A woman could never do this!"
She tried to raise herself up, but with my hands firmly pressed to her breasts I kept her down. Besides, the supreme sensation was nigh; I was quite aware of that. So I redoubled my efforts and my moustache began to play its part in the tickling. The Countess writhed and almost shrieked; then I felt the climax come; my lips gave the finishing touch, and the amorous spasm shook the whole frame of the Countess.
My excitement had also reached the highest pitch, and I gave way to it at the very same moment.
Gerda lay at my feet, half dead.
I had not sufficient strength left to prevent the Countess from rising from the bed.
At a single glance she realized how matters stood and, springing up, she cried with anger.
"Well, dear Gerda," I said, "I have done my best to quarrel with the Countess. It is you who must now be peacemaker."
With which I escaped to the dressing room.
A stormy scene then took place. I heard cries, reproaches, and finally sighs, and as I looked out, saw Gerda, who had taken my place near the Countess and was doing her best to make my peace with her.
"Ah," said the Countess when Gerda had concluded her speech. "I must say that this is good; but just now it was exquisite!"
And she gave me her hand. So we were friends again.
11
It was, in truth, a piquant and fascinating situation. A definite agreement was drawn up between the belligerents and was so enacted:
Gerda should remain my sole property.
I should lend her occasionally to the Countess, but always in my presence.
I should play with the Countess the part of a woman just as much as I pleased, but never that of a man.
This strange and amusing document was drawn up in triple copies and duly signed by the contracting parties. A clause was added by which it was agreed that in case Gerda and the Countess failed to fulfill any of the conditions of the said agreement, I should thereby be entitled, for a space of time not exceeding their duration of crim con, to rights on the Countess, similar to those I enjoyed over Gerda.
At first, Gerda feared that my love for her would be diminished in consequence of the kind of association agreed upon. I might have entertained a similar fear but this new mode of life, far from having the expected result, only fanned the fire of our love into fiercer flames by enhancing its pleasures.
There could be no jealousy on either side, as we strictly adhered to the various clauses of our agreement.
Such, however, was not the case with the Countess. Every time I acted the part of a lover with Gerda, the young girl was compelled to transmit caresses, in another form, to the Countess.
Luckily, I had not bound myself, with respect to the Countess, in the same way that she was bound to me -- that is, that she was never to touch Gerda except in my presence -- and I could enjoy my dear little mistress as often as I liked, and I never found my happiness incomplete because of the absence of the Countess. I must own that, as a sexual artist, I derived much benefit from this mode of living. Often, in the midst of our passionate embraces, I would jump off the bed, seize my notebook, and with crude pencil drawings and careful word pictures would transfer to paper the magnificent spectacle of these two women.
But, in spite of all these pleasurable interludes, I had not forgotten that Gerda had strong desires to have a future in the theater, a career for which she was very fit.
I gave her copies of Racine's Iphigenie, Moliere's L'Ecole des femmes, Hugo's Marion Delorme, and in particular, a copy of Ibsen's A Doll's House for I thought her extremely suited to the very difficult part of Nora.
The Countess had been educated in Paris, at the Convent des Oiseaux, and had there frequently taken a part in various comedies at holiday times, as is customary at ladies' educational establishments. She had been, of course, ideal in men's roles with her fine, tall figure and almost masculine voice.
I derived great enjoyment from seeing them act together, when, draped in Greek robes which leave (and rightly so!) certain parts of the body in an uncovered state, they gave themselves up to the sweet yet powerful accents of passion which distinguish Racine's masterpiece.
I finally made sure of Gerda's inborn vocation and taking the advice of one of my friends, a well-known playwright, I asked him for a letter to a certain professor of the dramatic art.
This he gave, with a smile, saying that I should warn Gerda of the amorous disposition of Mr. X.
I, myself, conducted Gerda to his house and handed the letter to him. He made her act three different parts in succession, and this gentleman came also to the conclusion that she would be a perfect instrument for the expression of the great Ibsen's art.
Meanwhile, he thought a preliminary training in light comedy would not be amiss. He gave her the part of Cherubin to learn. For the first three weeks everything went well, but after, Gerda threw herself on my neck, one evening.
My friend had been right in his expectations and warnings. During the early lessons all had been perfect and detached in his behavior, but once, under pretense of teaching her how to match the stage play with the delivery, he put his hands upon her person and took liberties with her. Gerda was obliged to shrink from his touch, which looked more like that of a lover than that of a teacher.
She never went back for the remainder of his course.
Now, I had to find a new master for her.
And when he was found, the same circumstances were repeated.
At the hour appointed for her lesson, one day, she did not find the professor in his study, but saw on his desk an open book, instead of the Moliere which usually served for her.
It was an obscene book, with engravings in keeping with the text. Instinctively she glanced at it. The title was Exploring Helga.
The title had no special meaning to her, but the first engraving left no doubt in her mind as to what was before her.
The book may have been left there by chance, but Gerda insisted that such was not the case, and that she would not go there again.
Gerda was as lustful, as passionate, and as anxious for every love expression that could be discovered, but she did not like vulgarity. During the three years that she lived with me, we went through love's ardent courses from grammar school to college, but with the exception of that one horrible incident when she returned from the interlude with the young hellion in the park, never did a coarse word pass her lips.
I now had to see that she continued her training, unassisted by amorous instructors, and hit upon the plan of procuring for her a lady teacher. I sought the advice of one of my friends, who was visiting Sweden for a short time, and who was a celebrated actress in her native Paris. She was intimate with a very clever young lady from Copenhagen, and was now earning her plaudits in Stockholm. Her name was Lovisa, but unfortunately this was falling out of the frying pan into the fire, as Lovisa had the reputation of being one of the most active tribades in Paris and Copenhagen.
The Countess, Gerda, and myself held council. I was bent upon developing to the full the talents of my dear little sweetheart, but I did not wish to widen the circle of my acquaintances as I was fully aware of the drawbacks of a life shared in a thousand ways.
I cogitated upon this important question and discussed it with the Countess. I noticed from the quickening of her breath and the expression of her bright eyes that the subject of our discussion moved her strongly. Thereupon, I quickly persuaded her to introduce herself to the great actress as an admirer of her talents, and to represent Gerda as a young girl in whom she took the utmost interest, but at the same time, to show a tinge of jealousy sufficiently marked to render Lovisa cautious. At the very time the actress had just created a part in which she was enabled to give great expression to the peculiar passion which she had received from Nature; the Countess, who felt much inclination for the part she was about to undertake, took a monthly subscription for a private box in Lovisa's theater.
Assuming masculine garb, the Countess went to her box, and raising the green screen, remained visible only to the actress.
I need not mention that she was exquisite in her fancy dress, consisting of a black velvet frock coat, lined with satin, pale green trousers, a buff waistcoat, and cherry-colored neck-tie.
I must add that she wore small black moustaches, which matched her eyebrows, and that aided her to pass for a dandy of eighteen.
Near her, on a chair, lay an expensive bouquet, from the most fashionable florist in town, and at a convenient moment, she threw this at Lovisa's feet.
No actress fails to condescend to throw a glance at a box from whence comes night after night a bouquet worth ten or fifteen kronen.
Lovisa did glance and saw in the box a charming youth who looked like a young student. She thought him extremely comely and deplored to herself that he was not a woman.
Night after night the same tribute was thrown, and the same regret secretly expressed.
On the fifth a note was affixed to the flowers. Lovisa's indifference to our sex made her ignore the note which she did not even bother to peruse.
However, when she had partaken of a lonely and somewhat cheerless supper, she suddenly thought of the note. She called her maid. Informing the servant that there had been a note in the bouquet, she asked the maid to fetch it to her.
The lovely Lesbian opened it and read it. At the first line she felt intrigued. It was penned thusly:
Indeed, charming Lovisa, it is with brow flushed with shame that I write you, but expect that I shall add like a madman. Have compassion on me, for I am obliged to confess that I am not what I appear to be, and I must add that I love you like a 'madwoman!'
Now, rail at me! despise me, spurn me -- all would be sweet to me, even insults, coming from you!
Sigrid
At the words "I love you like a madwoman" Lovisa uttered a cry.
And, as she had no secrets from her maid: "Inga! Inga!" she cried elated, "it is a woman!"
The maid replied that she had suspected as much.
"Foolish girl!" screamed the actress, "why did you not tell me?"
"I did not wish to be mistaken, Madame."
"How pretty she must be," sighed Lovisa.
After a pause of a few seconds, she asked in a languid voice: "What has happened to the other flowers?"
"Well, Madame knows that they were thrown away, in the knowledge that they came from a man."
"But this evening's bouquet?"
"Is still here."
"Let me have it."
Lovisa took it and looked at it with a pleased smile.
"Is it not a magnificent corsage?"
"Not more so than the others."
"Do you not think so?"
"Madame has not even looked at them."
"I shall not be so ungrateful in the case of this one," said Lovisa, laughing. "Help me to undress, Inga."
"I hope that Madame will not keep it in her room?"
"Why not?"
"Because there are all kinds of strongly scented flowers, besides the lilacs and the magnolia, and I am afraid that they will give you a headache."
"Nonsense."
"Please, Madame, I beseech you to let me take the flowers away."
"No."
"Of course if Madame wishes to be asphyxiated, she is free to do so."
"Don't you think it would be better, Inga, to be asphyxiated by flowers than to linger on for three or four years with consumption?"
And then Lovisa had a short fit of dry coughing.
"Madame will only die in three or four years if she so wishes," said the faithful but sharp-tongued maid, as she started to undress her mistress.
"And what do you mean by that, Inga?"
"Madame, I heard what the doctor said to you yesterday."
"You heard? You were listening?"
"I was in the dressing room... One hears sometimes without trying and without wanting to."
"Well, big ears, and what did you hear?"
"He said that it would be better for you if you had three or four lovers, than to do what you do when you are alone."
Lovisa hooted in disgust.
"I do not like men!" and she inhaled the perfume of the bouquet.
"Will Madame sit down while I remove her stockings?"
Lovisa sat down, her face almost hidden in the flowers.
The maid removed her boots and washed her feet with perfumed water.
"What scent will Madame have in her bidet?"
"The same. That which poor Olga liked so much. Do you realize that I have been faithful to Olga for six months?"
"Indeed, at the price of your health."
"Oh, I think of her when I do that... and when the pleasure comes... murmur, 'Olga! Olga!'..."
"Will you say 'Olga' tonight?"
"Hush," said Lovisa, smiling and putting her finger to her lips.
"Does Madame require anything else?"
"No, thank you, Inga."
"Madame will not say it is my fault, if she is unwell tomorrow?"
"I promise you, Inga, that if I am not well tomorrow I will not hold you responsible."
Inga left, grumbling the while, like a spoiled maid, or worse still, like a maid possessed of all her mistress's secrets.
Lovisa listened till she no longer heard the retreating footsteps of her maid, and when she was sure that she was alone in front of her cheval glass, she went barefooted and on tiptoe to fasten the bolt on her bedroom door. Then she returned to the mirror, read again the Countess's note, kissed it and laid it on the dressing table within easy reach, unfastened the bouquet, and undoing the ribbon knot of her chemise, she rested her lips on her body and allowed the chemise to slip to the floor.
This strange young woman was a magnificent brunette. She had large blue eyes always encircled with a dark tinge.
Her long hair reached down to her knees and half covered a form rather thin and meager, but of magnificent proportions, in spite of her emaciated state.
The maid's words give us the explanation of this emaciation, but she could not have accounted, deep as she was in her mistress's confidence, for the abundance of hair which adorned the whole front part of Lovisa's body.
This curious ornament reached up to her breasts, where it slipped up like the point of a lance. Downwards it ran, like a thin line which joined the mass which covered all the lower parts of the abdomen, disappeared between the thighs, and reappeared slightly at the lower part of the back.
The actress was very proud of this decoration, as it seemed to make her a compound of both sexes. She tended and garnished it with conscientious care. But what was most remarkable was the fact that her brown but splendid skin did not bear in any other part of her body the slightest trace of capillary vegetation.
First she surveyed herself with extreme satisfaction, smiling at her own reflection, then with a soft brush she smoothed down all the charming fur. Then she selected the most beautiful flowers in the bouquet and formed them into a coronet, which she placed on her head; sprinkled her whole body with tuberoses and jonquils; turned the mount of Venus into a rose garden connected to her breasts by garlands of Parma violets, and thus covered with flowers, intoxicated with their strong perfumes, she languidly reclined on a long easy chair placed before her cheval glass, so as to be able to survey her whole form. Finally with half closed eyes, her head thrown back, with quivering nostrils, lips curled up, one hand on one of her round breasts, and the other slipping down gradually, as if moved irresistibly to the altar where, as a selfish solitary priestess, she was about to consummate the sacrifice, her finger slowly disappeared among the roses. Nervous motions began to agitate this beautiful statue of pleasure; these involuntary motions were soon followed by unintelligible words, suppressed sighs, then deeper sighs, in the midst of which was muttered no longer the name of Olga, but the no less sweet name of "Sigrid."
12
Inga cast an investigating glance around the boudoir, when she entered the next morning. The easy chair before the mirror, the carpet sprinkled with now dying flowers, and Lovisa lying exhausted on the bed, all told her the story of the evening's lonely excesses.
The devoted maid shook her head and said: "Madame! Oh Madame!" Lovisa opened her eyes. "Well, what is it now?"
"When I think that the handsomest men in Stockholm and the prettiest women in all Europe would love to be your slaves!"
"Is that so strange?" asked the actress. "Do I not deserve them?"
"Madame knows that I meant the reverse of that."
"Well, Inga, you see that I can do very nicely without them."
"Madame will not listen. But, indeed, beautiful lady, you should have a lover, if only out of self-respect."
"But you know that I abominate men, Inga. Do you like them?"
"No, not men. But I should surely like one man!"
"I will not have any truck with the creatures! They have purely selfish motives in their relations with us -- to exhibit us if we are pretty, to show themselves in our company if we are talented or clever. If I ever gave myself up to a man he would have to be so superior a person that I would not only love but admire him."
She continued: "I lost my mother before I knew her; my father was a mathematician, who taught me to believe in nothing but straight lines, squares, and circles. He called God the 'Supreme Unity,' and the universe 'the great whole,' and death was 'the great problem.'
"I was only fifteen years old when he died, leaving me penniless and completely without illusions. I became an actress, and now of what use is my art to me? I despise the work which I act; I find naught but historical heresies in dramas.
"Of what use to me are my intellectual powers? I find in dramas of the heart the shortcomings of sentiment; I shrug my shoulders at the conceit of the authors who read their productions to me. Most of my success seems to me as shameful as would a bad action, or an encouragement of bad taste. I used to desire to speak on the stage as one speaks in ordinary life -- I produced no effect. I ranted when speaking -- I gained wild applause. In the beginning I composed my own parts, poetically, rationally, skillfully, naturally, and they said 'Good; very good.' Then I overdid the part and showed the whites of my eyes; I tore my hair; I shouted, I screamed, and there were thunders of applause and huzzas in the house. The men who flatter me and pay me compliments do not praise or appreciate or even understand my work. The women do not understand my conceptions of beauty.
"A left-handed compliment or one which misses its mark is as painful as any criticism. But at least I am grateful for one thing, and that is that I make enough money so as to need the favors of no man or woman.
"I truly would rather die than owe anything to a man, and to have to present him with my body for favors received!
"The unpleasant truth about my relations with women is that I can only bear them because I can domineer over them. I am their master, their lord, their spouse. But the bitches are wayward, willful, and devoid of any intellect. They are inferior beings, with a few exceptions, and created for submission. I see no enjoyment in subduing a woman. And even if one does succeed in this questionable pleasure she will only proceed to complain of being tyrannized and will deceive and cheat you.
"No, no! Listen, Inga, the ideal of domination is to be one's own mistress! To give no one person the right to say 'you shall obey me.' Nobody has this right over me. I am twenty-two; I am a virgin; like Herminica, like Clorinda, like Bradamante, and if ever I get tired of my virginity, I shall sacrifice it to myself. I shall have both the pain and the pleasure. No man shall be able to say of me, 'I possessed that woman!'"
"There is nothing to be said, Madame, since the ruling of one's life and body is one's own."
"Inga, you are wrong. You speak as if it were a question of taste. It is not. It is the outcome of my philosophy."
"Call it what you will, Madame. As for me, I should feel great humiliation in dying a virgin."
"Never fret, Inga, that misfortune will never be yours. Now, come and dress me."
Lovisa left her bed languidly and sat down to the ministrations of her maid.
As we have said before, she was not a pretty woman, in the usual sense of the word. She was, however, a fascinating and exciting looking female, and though she had never loved, except in imagination, could render excellently the utmost violence of passion. Her strange talent was one rarely met with, such as that of Dorval or of Malibran.
After her bath, she breakfasted on a cup of chocolate, reread her role, read the Countess's letter at least a dozen times, grew excited anew, and dined on some consomme, some stewed truffles, and four crawfish a la Bordelaise.
It was in a state of great excitement that she went to the theater, expecting of course that her new found lover would be in her usual place.
He, or she, was. There in her box, sat the Countess and by her side was a large bouquet. During the fourth act, in the course of a pathetic scene, the Countess threw the bouquet.
As Lovisa picked it up, she looked for the note inside, and read it without taking time to go backstage. It ran thus:
Have I obtained your pardon? My impatience is such that I have come in person to seek for an answer. If you have forgiven me, place one of the flowers of my bouquet in your hair. In this case, I shall be the happiest of women and the tenderest of lovers; and I shall wait for you at the stage door with my carriage, for I hope and beg that instead of going home sadly alone, you will do me the pleasure and honor of supping at my house.
Sigrid
Without a moment's hesitation, Lovisa seized a red camelia from the magnificent bouquet and put it in her hair, and returned to the stage.
Sigrid, in her great excitement and delight, almost threw herself out of the box to applaud, and Lovisa gracefully kissed her hand to her.
Half an hour later, Lovisa hastily got rid of her stage trappings, and dressed in a Caucasian dressing gown, she rushed out of the theater, and into the waiting carriage that was owned and occupied by her new admirer.
After the coachman had ushered Lovisa into the carriage and started his horses off at a brisk trot, the Countess took Lovisa into her arms. But Lovisa, as we know, had views concerning her own dignity. Instead of accepting the place which the Countess was providing for her in her arms, and on her knees, she seized the Countess and -- for all her slimness and ill health she had a grasp as strong as a man's -- lifted her like a child and with one movement of her thin but wiry arm, like a wrestler who lays low his adversary, she placed Sigrid across her knees, pressing her lips to hers, put her tongue in her mouth, and her hand between her thighs. "Surrender, my handsome cavalier," she cried gleefully, "rescue or no rescue!" The Countess laughed. "I surrender! I only ask one thing. I do not wish to be rescued, I wish only to succumb and die by your hand." And with a kind of fury Lovisa said: "Then die!" Five minutes later, instead, the Countess murmured in a lassitude that was almost a swoon: "Lovisa! dear Lovisa! how sweet it is to expire in your arms! I die... I die... I die..."
She heaved the last sigh as the carriage stopped in front of her house. They went up the steps of the stoop, leaning on one another, quite exhausted and panting with their exertions.
Swiftly, the Countess opened the door for her guest and shut it after they had both entered. The antechamber was lighted by a Chinese lantern, and from there they journeyed to the bedroom which was softly lit and colored by the light from a rose-colored Bohemian lamp, and finally the Countess opened the door of a dining room, in which was a table beautifully appointed and laid for two.
"By your leave, my sweet," said the Countess, "we will be our own attendants. I should be glad to keep on my gentleman's garb, but it would be inconvenient. I will, therefore, lay aside this horrid masculine dress, and appear in my war harness. Here is the dressing room. It has, to my knowledge, every convenience, and I feel sure that you will find all that you need or desire."
This was, of course, the same dressing room to which she had conducted Gerda weeks before. Upon a slab of white marble could be seen bottles of the finest scents from Paris and New York.
After five minutes Sigrid joined her lover in this room.
She was almost completely nude; she had kept on only her rose-colored silk stockings, blue velvet garters, and slippers of the same material and color.
"I beg that you will excuse my dress," laughed the Countess, "but it is necessary that I make a toilette which you rendered needful. What scent do you prefer?"
"May I make my own choice?" asked Lovisa.
The Countess told Lovisa that she might please herself.
"I see," said Lovisa, "that you have there a bottle of eau de Cologne. How about that?"
"I shall be guided by your choice."
Pouring the contents of a huge water carafe into a charming bidet of Sevres porcelain, Lovisa mixed a fourth of the toilette water with it, and proceeded to the Countess's toilette.
"And at what are you looking?" laughed the Countess.
"At you, my healthful mistress, whom I admire more than words can tell."
"That is good, my fine lady, because I am yours all in all."
"Such hair," crooned Lovisa, "and what teeth. That lovely marble column of your neck! And let me kiss those strawberry nipples! I am sure that you are going to think me hideous. I shall never dare to strip in your presence. Next to your satinlike skin, I shall look like a negress! And all that copper-colored hair. How amazingly beautiful it is. I shall look like a gutter urchin in comparison."
"Do not make me wait with your jokes, my love. If my hair is the color of fire it is because the flames are consuming its house! Please, it is you who must extinguish the flames."
She bent forward and her lips met those of Lovisa, whom she clasped in her arms. Suddenly she arose and resting both hands on her shoulders, she brought her streaming and perfumed body on a level with the lips of the actress.
At once Lovisa pressed her lips to that second mouth, more perfumed and even sweeter than the other and which presented itself so unexpectedly; then she advanced on her knees while the Countess walked backwards, and pushed the latter to a couch where she fell back, like one of the gladiators of old, with all the gracefulness required in such circumstances.
In spite of the fact that the Countess was little used to playing a passive part in love bouts of this description, she quickly understood that the dark, thin, and strong woman was endowed with a power of masculinity that was superior to that which she herself possessed. She surrendered in this instance with the same readiness as before, and as the new agent of leisure was more active and more complicated than its predecessor, she, in doubt as to the intensity of the pleasurable act, acknowledged its superiority by motions of her body which could not possibly leave Lovisa in doubt as to the sensations which she gave the Countess.
The two beautiful women remained motionless for a few seconds. All of us know that, in this peculiar mode of procuring Love's Pleasure, the sensations of both giver and recipient are alike.
Lovisa was the first to recover from her trance. She remained for some seconds on her knees before the Countess, and her eyes, her whole countenance, her smile, her arms, which in her exhaustion hung motionless by her side, all seemed to bear silent witness to her delight.
Lovisa, who was wholly insensible to beauty in men, because she was almost a man herself, worshipped beauty in women; however, she now felt a little uneasy, fearing that her type of beauty might not be altogether to the Countess's taste, a circumstance which would have been agonizingly humiliating to this strange girl.
Therefore, when the Countess began to disrobe her, after they had recovered from their play, Lovisa set herself to trembling in all her limbs, like a virgin whose untouched body is about to be defiled by eyes other than her mother's.
There was, however, no stopping the Countess in her impatience. The strange delightful emanations from Lovisa's body got into her head and her heart and seemed to intoxicate her.
With feverish impatience she said: "Come! Are you not a woman? Are you a flower? So be it, then, instead of drinking, I shall inhale. Oh! the beautiful curious thing!" she exclaimed, when she saw Lovisa's naked body. "Why, that is like silk! Like perfumed silk. What is the meaning of it?"
Thereupon the Countess began covering with kisses the charming ornament, which, as we said before, rose to a point as far as the breast, thinning out on the stomach, and widening lower down, and on which, when leaving her dressing room, Lovisa had scattered a whole bouquet of newly gathered violets.
"I confess that I am vanquished," said the astonished Countess, "not only are you far more handsome than I am, but you are even prettier!"
Leading Lovisa into the dining room, she let the light from a thousand crystals reflect on their lovely naked bodies.
Their arms were around each other's waists; they looked at one another proudly and happily, each pleased with her own beauty and that of her companion; then they took two white satin hassocks, one with gold stripes, the other garnished with silver, and they sat down to supper. The dishes and silver and food were the finest and best. Iced champagne sparkled in silver buckets and they began to sip the golden fizz from the same glass and often from each other's lips.
They were attentive to each other as lovers always are in the first bloom of passion. They helped each other to special parts and tidbits intermingled with burning kisses on arms, shoulders, lips, and even sweeter regions. The Countess poured some champagne into the opening beyond the lovely forest below Lovisa's stomach, and kneeling before her, drank it from this strange magnificent cup.
After supper, they arose, letting their hassocks tumble over on the floor, the Countess bearing fruit in a golden basket, while Lovisa held in her hand a brimming goblet of champagne.
13
Approaching the bed, with their arms encircling each other's waists, they looked at one another, as if to say: "Who is going to begin?"
"I shall begin," declared the Countess.
Lovisa seemed to be satisfied with the arrangement, for she pressed her lips to those of the Countess, imprinting a burning caress on her mouth, and then lay on the bed in a posture full of abandon.
Her lover gazed for a moment on the strange form, in which were combined the virility of a man and the graceful loveliness of a woman. She took from her hair a golden comb, studded with diamonds, that she wore, and laid it as a crown on the charming representative of the mysterious Isis who, foremost of all goddesses, was worshipped under the name of Saunia.
Gold and diamonds sparkled in the black fur, and the bauble almost disappeared in it, without reaching, however, the aperture which the jealous Countess would have wished to encompass.
Down she went, on her knees, and as the magnificent ornament which she had just added to the shrine did not hinder her from paying her respect to it, she gently laid Lovisa's thighs on her shoulders and, drawing aside the thick fur which covered the entrance to the grotto, disclosed to her view a casket of black velvet, lined with rose-colored satin.
The Countess gave an exclamation of delight at this unexpected sight and at once began to apply her tongue to the pretty sanctuary, but to her great amazement, she perceived that the passage, which she had thought free, was closed up. She arose quickly, and looking eagerly at Lovisa, said: "What does this mean?"
Lovisa laughed. "It means, my dear Sigrid, that I am a virgin, or if you would be completely literal, that I still have the maidenhead which I have protected for so long."
"I did not know that there was any difference."
"Of course there is a difference. A girl who has never been touched by anybody; the innocent who knows nothing of love's pleasures is a virgin. But one who in spite of her own private practices or her intercourse with others has been able to keep the membrane of Hymen, that is meant by keeping one's maidenhead.
"Oh, my beautiful Lovisa! I can hardly believe that at last I have found a girl whom man has never sullied."
"You may see for yourself," whispered Lovisa, "the more so, as I have to reproach you with stopping short when I was just about to feel the approach of pleasure. Begin again, my beloved Si-grid, and should there be any further occasion for astonishment, wait till you have done with me, before you exclaim over it."
"One word more, my strange lover."
"Of course."
"You say that you have your maidenhead, but you are no virgin?"
"That is right."
"Are men or man responsible for you no longer being a virgin?"
"Never in this world. The gaze of man never rested on my form; never has man touched me."
"That is all I wished or desired to know!" cried Sigrid passionately and applied her lips to Lovisa's sanctuary.
The girl gave a little shriek. She felt, perhaps too accurately, the impression of the teeth which caressed her, but almost at the same time, Sigrid's tongue replaced the teeth and that clever tongue at once ascertained the accuracy of Lovisa's statement, and that if she was no longer a virgin, at least her maidenhead was still intact.
As for the recipient of all these ministrations, she experienced all the pleasure which can be bestowed by a versatile and gifted tongue, and it was so intense that she could hardly help uttering little shrieks as if in pain. She was almost in a swoon when the Countess began giving her kisses on the mouth which had been so profusely distributed elsewhere.
Then Lovisa cried in a state of great excitement, "Now it is my turn!"
She all but fell from the bed in the posture of a wounded gladiator. The Countess took her place on the bed and drew her body close.
She murmured: "If a man had seen and heard what you just heard and saw, I should never dare to lift my head again."
At that moment, the Countess was so close to her that her hair brushed Lovisa's head. Lovisa gave a start, her nostrils quivered; she raised her head, opened her eyes, and perceived that her mouth was close to that fiery bouquet which at first sight had so excited her.
Lovisa was slightly tired, and the ardor of her desires had abated somewhat, and though not satisfied, she had more leisure to devote to pleasure. She kissed the perfumed hair fondly and began returning the caresses which the Countess had lavished upon her but suddenly she seemed struck with a novel idea, and laying the Countess at full length on the bed, she placed herself in a similar but reversed position.
The two bodies became as one; the breasts were pressed on the respective bellies. During some moments all conversation ceased for the two eager mouths were at work, and nothing could be heard but the panting respiration of the women and the sighs of pleasure; suddenly both became motionless, quite exhausted.
There was a protracted pause this time. Both seemed as if sleeping. At last they appeared to revive, and simultaneously exclaimed: "Oh, what bliss!" Panting, disheveled, with languid eyes weakened by their exertions, they slipped from the bed and lay on the long and spacious couch.
"Beautiful Lovisa!" whispered the Countess, "what pleasure you gave me!"
"And I am so glad that I have found something new!"
"Darling, I thought I should die!"
"You had great pleasure?"
"Oh, yes, but I fancy that it cannot equal that which a man can give."
"You think then, that a man in that respect is our superior?"
"Indeed, I do. We but light the fire, we do not put it out."
"Whereas a man..."
"Ah, man thoroughly stamps it out. Luckily we have some inventions which supply the place of what nature has refused us."
Then she went on: "My dear Lovisa, have you never heard of dildoes or as some term them, godamiches?"
"Do such things really exist?"
"Of course, little innocent. Have you never seen one?"
"Never!"
"And would you like to see one?"
"Indeed I should."
"Do you know the shape of man's love instruments?"
"As much as I could from statues."
"Not otherwise?"
"No."
"And you have never seen a man nude?"
"Never."
"Then I, in my turn, shall be able to show you something new."
"Do you have any?"
"I do, indeed. Of every description."
"Oh, let me see them."
"Wait, then, on the couch," said Sigrid, "and I will fetch you all my treasures."
While Lovisa dreamed of this new experience that was in store for her, Sigrid moved to her dressing room and, opening a secret drawer in her chest, she drew forth a casket and two cases like those used for pistols. She then brought forth the whole collection and laid it on the couch for Lovisa's inspection.
"First," said Sigrid, "I must show you the contents of the casket. The jewel which it encloses is not only a historical jewel, but also a great work of art. It is said to be the product of the hand of the great Benvenuto Cellini."
So saying, she opened the casket of red velvet, and exhibited a true masterpiece of carved ivory.
It was an exact life-size reproduction of man's organs of generation, and altogether an admirable work of art. On one side was carved the lilies of France, and on the other side were the three crescents of Diane de Poitiers.
This marvelous jewel, no doubt, had been the property of Monsieur de Saint Vallier's daughter, the widow of Monsieur de Breze, and the mistress of Francis I and Henry II.
With astonishment Lovisa at first examined this amazing tool and then she gazed on it with admiration. She was amazed because it was the first time that she beheld and touched a like object; she was curious because she did not know how it was manipulated; she admired it because she was a thorough artist and had a keen and sensitive feeling for beauty.
There was a cavity at the base of the instrument which came to view by unscrewing a portion of it, and that contained works almost as complicated as those of a clock, setting in motion a rod which caused some liquid to spurt out in imitation of the natural process.
Lovisa was rather astonished, and wondered at the great size of the instrument, but the Countess, with a smile, replied by making some very elementary demonstrations and experiments. She applied the instrument to her own person, and so managed matters that in a short time it was altogether lost to view.
"It works, you see," cried the Countess, "and yet you must confess that the receptacle is apparently not in proportion with its contents."
Lovisa leaned forward to make a closer inspection.
There was no exaggeration. What the Countess said was perfectly correct.
Then she put her hand to the appliance and moved it up and down.
The Countess stayed her hand. "Not without milk," she admonished.
They now inspected the next treasure, having sufficiently exclaimed over the historical one, and this one was enclosed in one of the velvet cases. This was a common dildo, of the same description as those manufactured in France or England, but more artistically made than those which were designed at the time for use in the Italian and Spanish convents, where a couple of millions were sold every year.
It was similar to that of Diane de Poitiers, of the ordinary size, that is in the neighborhood of six inches in length, and flesh-colored, but the contrivance for the emission of the liquid was not so complicated; and as this one was not as artistic as the first, the two women paid less attention to it than to the beautiful implement that had once had the honor of being used by the infamous Diane de Poitiers.
But upon beholding the third, Lovisa gave a shriek of surprise and terror. No wonder, for it measured from eight to nine inches in length, and from three to four in circumference.
"Oh!" she cried, "that is not one of Diane's. It is rather of Pasiphae!"
The Countess chuckled.
"And that is why I call it 'the giant.' It is a curiosity from South America, and gives us an idea of what the requirements of the ladies of Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Aires may be."
"But how marvelous are the works of this affair."
It, indeed, was a marvelous piece of workmanship, and was formed of some kind of gum, highly polished, and each hair was set as if by one of the best hairdressers in Paris; assuredly it had been cast, according to the practice of sculptors, in a good mold of nature.
Lovisa could not encompass it in her hand. "This is a monster, and I do not believe that there is a woman alive who could give reception to such a huge thing!"
Sigrid, smiling, said nothing.
Then Lovisa said impatiently, "Do reply! And please don't laugh at me any more."
"I am not laughing at you, my little Lovisa. Now listen. Should a woman wish to amuse herself with a jewel of that size, deliberately and without preliminary excitement, it could not be used without the greatest exertion, but supposing that two women mutually excite one another, by all kinds of caresses, that the one who plays the lover, brings the other, the mistress, to the highest pitch of salaciousness, she then applies the dildo well-coated with cold cream, and pushes it in gently, the thing will find an easy ingress and, once fairly home, will give the greatest pleasure."
"Impossible!"
"Will you make an experiment?"
"On whom?"
"Myself."
"I shall split you open!"
"Am I split open?"
"Yes," whispered Lovisa, almost mad with excitement. "I am willing."
"One moment."
The Countess, in expectation of this event, had put some cream to warm in a small silver teapot on a spirit lamp.
Fetching the largest of the jewels, she drew from the same velvet bag an elastic belt.
"Come here," she called to Lovisa in a voice that was thick with desire and impatience.
"Why?" asked Lovisa.
"That I may make a man of you."
The Countess encircled Lovisa's waist as she drew near, with the belt, to which the dildo was affixed in the proper position and she placed in her hands the Renaissance jewel, prepared with lukewarm cream; then, kissing Lovisa who trembled and who now resembled a youth monstrously well treated by nature, she took off the counterpane and threw herself on the bed.
"Do what I tell you," said she, "and obey all my instructions."
Lovisa was as hungry and excited as the Countess. "Have no fear," she cried, "if you tell me to tear you open I shall do so."
"Your mouth..."
Lovisa cast Diane's lover on the floor and began using her clever tongue to some purpose.
She felt this caress ought to vie with the rough caresses which were to come.
Sigrid replied with all the expressions of Lesbian tenderness. Lovisa was her friend, her angel, her heart, her life, her soul. The whole scale of sensual exclamations came one by one from her quivering lips, until, quite panting, she could only murmur, "Diane! Diane!"
Understanding her desire, Lovisa picked up the royal jewel, slipped it under her lips so there could be no interruption in the pleasure, and in effect contrived in such a clever manner that the scale was unbroken, but went on with a new degree of intensity. Lovisa kept her eyes fixed on the jewel. She saw it enter, glide out, the Countess now did not speak, but only gave utterances and little cries. Suddenly she shrieked: "The milk!... the milk!"
Lovisa pressed the spring and a deep sigh showed that the Countess was experiencing the pleasure which is only given by coition, because that alone can satiate and calm. But the Countess knew that after this sensation, another one was to come, which only awaited the signal, and Lovisa, in the midst of the plaintive ejaculations coming from her victim, made out the words "The giant!... the giant!"
It was with mad impatience that Lovisa was awaiting this request. The moment had come for her to play the real part; she threw Diane's jewel on the floor, and began to play the part of a man with the greatest vigor and ardor. The Countess shrieked but strung herself up for the pain.
"Go -- go on; oh, you are splitting me open. Go on! Ah! it is in."
It was indeed in, and the paroxysm of enjoyment was come. Quite maddened, she uttered cries of passion, shrieks of rage, among which might be heard almost inarticulate requests: "Your mouth... your tongue... take my breasts; kiss the nipples. Oh! heavens! how nice it is. Now the spring... Ah! My handsome giant!... again. Again."
At last she begged for mercy. Lovisa unclasped the belt and let it fall to the floor with its appendage.
The Countess lay stretched out full length and motionless on the bed.
Lovisa was half mad with excitement. She filled the ivory jewel anew with milk, leant back in the easy chair, and inserted the end of the dildo until it touched her maidenhead. But soon she perceived that in this posture she lost part of her strength, so she sought another. She placed two pillows side by side on the easy chair, on which she rested her elbow, and she began to use the jewel in a manner which gave evidence of her skill and long habit; she harmonized the motion of her loins with the progress of pleasure, and imparting to the royal jewel the necessary movement, she fell back almost fainting away with the exquisite sensation.
The Countess sat up on the bed and looked with astonishment. The proud young woman had kept her word. She had sacrificed her virginity to herself and herself alone.
It was three days and three nights before we saw the Countess, and on the fourth day she came to say that Gerda might begin her lessons with Lovisa. After a scene of jealousy very well acted by the Countess, Lovisa gave her word that she would never interfere with Gerda, limiting her attention to the development of her natural talent.
The union of these two disciples of Lesbos was consecrated, and the Countess acquired a marked liking for her new relationship without, however, in any way neglecting Gerda, who for a long time continued in her studies with Lovisa and then made a very successful debut.
This delightful life of love went on thus for a few years; then, then... Ah! it is sad to say what happened. I wish to conclude here one of the most charming episodes of my life. But since I have begun, I must go on to the end.
One evening, the Countess, who was always ready to take Gerda from me, found means to keep her in her box after a reception.
The poor child caught cold and began to cough. This was, alas, neglected, and she became seriously ill. Her illness seemed to make her even more passionate, and as we loved one another too well, in spite of the remonstrances of the doctor, it had the natural consequences.
She was very ill during the winter, lingered on through the summer, and when the autumn leaves began to strew the ground, we accompanied poor little Gerda to her last resting place.
She had died in my arms, murmuring, "My own Paul, I love you."
We had a large glass bell placed over her grave and underneath the Countess and myself planted some of the flowers which had given her such pleasure when she was alive. For a long time we mourned her loss, and then Lovisa's love on the one side, and the incidents of everyday life, on the other, effaced little by little the bitter recollection of the supreme parting.
I even forgot on the anniversary of her death to go and gather the tiny flowers, the roots of which fed on the substance of my beloved little mistress.
The Countess was more faithful to the memory of poor Gerda, and sometimes sent me with the flowers but two words, "Ungrateful man!"
And now that the tale of short and happy love has come to its close, there is not much to do but hope that the telling of it has given some young Gerda and Paul some pleasure and a few ideas.
