ARABELLA by Anonymous Page B

pussies must come to pricks,” Pearl replied, thus unwittingly echoing the selfsame sentiments that my cousin had uttered to me when she felt safe enough out of sight of a rearing penis. I indeed nudged Elaine at this and she had the grace to blush. Being more open in our talk with Pearl, more could be said and our tongues became ever bolder as we spoke of what had occurred and what might be yet to follow. It had been a signal adventure, both elegant and yet bizarre—the two elements meeting so pleasurably as to make the whole affair more piquant. To be taken by surprise, I found, was somewhat to my taste, as it was to be to Elaine's. Putting up every appearance of fretting, as she often did to disguise her desires, made it the more engaging to see her put to a cock. Such moods added salt to the flavour of our adventures.
    Upon returning to our hotel we were pleased to find that other male company had now joined us in the form of two well-attired gentlemen. The one, being a few years younger than my uncle, was introduced as the Comte d'Orcy. The other, a most handsome man, appeared to be his nephew, Roald, though I was never certain of this and such things little mattered. We were to dine it was said, Elaine and I having been much admired and complimented upon our fetching new gowns beneath which our corsets hugged us alluringly. Being of an extremely decollete nature, the gentlemen were able to peer well down between our titties which they did with much pleasure and as little embarrassment as I myself felt.
    So far from entering into an orgy, as might have been thought, we enjoyed a most civilised conversation, which I was to learn as part of the art of good manners before settling down to amourous combats. I listened and learned much, all of our discourses being in English as a politeness to Elaine and myself. There were many cocottes, or really naughty girls, we learned to be seen parading in the Bois de Boulogne and at the races at Longchamps and elsewhere, but these were to be distinguished from ladies, by careful observation, through the slightly more gaudy nature of their attire.
    It was not ever so, however, the Comte advised us carefully, for there were a small number of mondaines — the wealthiest and most attractive of the whores—who would spend small fortunes on their attire and jewellery and so only could be distinguished by name or reputation.
    “How then shall we be taken?” I asked with some daring, though at a stage when I felt we had come to know each other well enough.
    “As you may wish to be,” the Comte replied. “By your delightful attire you will be taken as no other than you are—as true born ladies. By your deportment in the boudoir, however, you may well—I suspect—outdo such as are of more common blood.”
    “Then we are complimented, are we not, Elaine?” I laughed though she, being more cautious still in the presence of her Papa, but ventured a smile.
    Two hours and much champagne having passed in this pleasant discourse, our guests took leave of us upon a promise to meet at eight for dinner. The lull that then ensued did not last long. I was loathe to stir, as was perhaps Elaine, being seated as we all were in my uncle's suite. It was put then upon Pearl to break the pleasantly somnolent spell, for—seeing the doors to my uncle's bedroom open—she rose and beckoned us.
    “Come, my dears, you must show your corsets,” she said.

CHAPTER seven
    There could be only one spectator of our charms apart from Pearl, and he—being my uncle—rose to view them.
    “Oh, no, for I wish to bathe!” declared Elaine, all of a dither at the prospect. The hour was but five-thirty of the afternoon. The sunlight glowed pleasurably through the windows which, being French, were large and imposing. In a society which normally takes tea at four and dinner much later, it is a pleasant hour, whether in summer or by the early light of a coal fire in a dusk-laden bedroom in winter. I have frequently