I waited three days then telegraphed an assignation, but she never came. A second time the same result. I had been too hasty, too impetuous. Then I thought she'd perhaps a sweetheart who was enjoying her, then of the insinuation of the hair dresser, and felt sure that some-one fucked that sweet sylphlike beauty. — Yet she'd been so nice and soft in manner with me at first, — and her eyes had that downcast, half knowing, half modest look which women have when they incline to a man — that I was bewildered. If she has been fucked why couldn't she let me have a pleasure? Perhaps she has got a situation I thought. One evening, randy to my bumhole and risking all, I went to the house and asked if she had left. She had not. “Tell her the gentleman is here about the situation she's been after.” The girl appeared, she'd been unwell thro taking cold, couldn't get a situation, thought she'd go home again, and at length agreed to dine with me the next night, on my solemn promise that I'd “have none of those games again.” Did she believe my promise?
At the restaurant where we had dined the sofa was more like a seat. With a willing woman we might have fucked on it, but if she were restive I knew that I couldn't succeed. I might also have one of those temporary fits of nervous impotence, which I've had at intervals all my life, and ever shall recollect the words of our maid in my youth, she willing on a sofa in the dark, and I couldn't tail her tho I tried. Then she contemptuously. — “Oh — you're not man enough,” — forty long years perhaps have elapsed since that was said, but even now the recollection of it annoys me. So I sought an Italian hotel, and was shown a room with a big sofa, on which the Great Eastern might have laid her bulky arse. I took it, ordered dinner and fine wine, then seeing a door which the waiter locked, “What is that?” — “A bedroom.” — “I can't have this room then, I don't want to be listened to.” — “All the others are engaged.” — He went to his master and returning asked if I should stay late. — “No, but I'll pay for that room,” and that was so arranged. I thought it a lucky omen.
The dinner tho the hotel was a poor one was really excellent. The girl whose name was Phoebe — I never had a woman with it before — eat enormously. She'd been half starved, had spent all her money and pawned some underlinen. She cried a little about that. She belched. — “Oh I beg your pardon, sir, I was so empty.” — “Never mind we all do that at times, don't blush” — for she did. Sitting together afterwards upon the sofa she was less reserved, and said if she didn't get a situation soon perhaps she'd better go home. She'd barely enough money left to keep her an- other week. “I'll pay if you'll let me feel it again.” — She gave me a push in a half sulky manner. — “Your sweetheart has felt it.” — “I haven't one.” — She looked me full in the face, and again her eyes drooped in what seemed to me a sham modest manner. Then I thought her a cunning devil.
We were both jolly as far as good food and wine could make us. I talked in veiled lewedness accompanied by kisses and cuddling. — How time flies in these absorbing amusements. “Let me feel it again and there is a sovereign for another week's living, I'd give you five if you'd sleep with me.” — “I won't.” — “Well take the sovereign.” She took it, thanked me and got thoughtful. After a glass more wine I held her tight to me, her head on my shoulder. “Let me feel it — only just above your knees then,” — “I won't.” — “I've given you a sovereign to let me.” — “I'm so poor or I would not have taken it.” — “Let me.” — With a little struggle my hand was on her cunt, my fingers in the curls of her motte. “Oh don't, you shan't.” — Her resistance was slight, and I twiddled all about the soft region, but couldn't get to the split, her thighs were so tightly closed.
Withdrawing my hand and pulling out my prick in magnificent condition, I stood up for a moment showing it to her, then sitting down closed on her again, and cuddling, holding her tightly to me, got at last my fin-gers on to her clitoris.
She writhed to get away. “Let me feel it darling, I'll give you such pleasure.” — Her movements only gave me better chance, I got my middle finger well on to that soft convexity, that gentle protuberance, placed there by nature to let the male rouse the female's lust, and let the woman assuage her lust solitarily by frigging, if she cannot be fucked. — Murmuring now the lewed words of love, intoxicating her with kisses, entreating, promising anything, everything. Her “No — no” grew faint, and her thighs opened with incipient pleasure. — “Aher, — doo — on't — leave off.” — Her lips clung to mine as she murmured thus, in the enervation of sexual want — want of fucking.
Instinct told me the psychological moment had come. Pressing one of her hands for a minute on my ballocks and kissing all the time, for a second I frigged her rapidly.
