It was simply a question of money and only a promise at that; which he probably would never have fulfilled if I had not kept him to it-she had her new dress.
I suppose I ought not to have blamed him, the girl was too beautiful to have been left alone near any man.
In the morning she made an opportunity to speak to me alone and confessed (of course she guessed that I knew) begging me not to tell. She kissed my hands when I promised not to, and somehow or other I felt sorry for her. She was so very pretty.
I was glad to leave Ireland, the week had been a trying one. We slipped into a regular routine of touring life, a little monotonous but always enjoyable to me. I loved my work at the theatre and of course I loved my intercourse with Jean. We got on smoothly enough, save when he got drunk, and he had not a very strong head. But I forgave him a lot because he was so true to me, and I was always true to him.
'Always, Nemmy?' interrupts the irrepressible typewriter.
Well-all but once. This is a very serious confession, but it has to come out, and my readers must take it and say no more about it, for it concerns people who must not be chatted frivolously about.
We were playing at Liverpool and in the audience was a very august personage, who of course, must be nameless. The party came to the theatre late. As luck would have it, I was playing a principal part that night and I was rattling through in particularly good form. The theatre was crammed, everything merry and bright, and everyone complimented me on my appearance.
I noticed that I came in for a lot of attention from the box whose occupants were supposed to be incognito-it was quite a fusillade of opera glasses, and when the curtain fell for the last time I saw two of the said occupants standing in the wings. Restall touched my shoulder as I was leaving the stage. 'I want you to come out to supper with me tonight, child,' he said, 'with…' and he whispered, 'but of course you must forget it afterwards.'
I was a little doubtful and told Jean. 'Go! I should think you ought to go,' was his decision, 'you don't get a chance of hobnobbing with folk like that every day. Put on your nicest things, I'll wait up.' 12
Restall fetched me from my room. 'You haven't told any of the girls?' he queried.
'Not one.'
'That's a good little girl. Now this is a great compliment. He thinks a lot of you, and has sent some very complimentary messages.'
The august party occupied a suite of rooms in a big hotel, entrance to which was gained through a private door in a side street. Restall and I were met in an anteroom by two young-old men, who were more or less 'hail fellow well met' with Restall, and very polite to me.
We had sherry and in a moment or two a door opened and the august personage appeared, and made himself promptly very pleasant. He spoke English with a great deal of difficulty and seemed very pleased that I spoke French. I was very nervous and frankly glad when a lady joined us.
Who she was, I did not know, but she was English and pleasant and pretty, though obviously verging on middle age. Her complexion was still fresh and the extreme decolletage of her dress showed to their fullest advantage a pair of breasts, firm, round, and upstanding…The nipples were barely concealed, and she wore no shoulder straps. It was one of those dresses which kept up with 'tact and luck', and necessitated shaving under the armpits. She soon made me feel at home.
Supper was bright and decorous; Restall was amusing and I was content to look nice. I suppose I succeeded for the Hereditary Grand Duke of… (you see readers, it was quite whom you expected) never took his eyes off me, and if I know anything about glances, those eyes were in telegraphic communication with a stiffly standing prick underneath to the table cloth.
Supper over, Madame took me into an adjoining room, a cosy sort of room with subdued lights and delicate perfumes. She sank with a swish of her skirts into a corner of a luxurious divan, and lay there, showing her stockings to the garters, while she lazily lit a cigarette. I tumbled to the game in a minute when she began to pump me about my morals.
From 'I suppose actresses have a great many admirers?' came a delicately graded series of questions, and more than one hint that there was expensive jewellery in the air of this particular room, for any pretty, if improper little girl, who chose to go the right way about earning it. At last I surprised her by my bluntness.
'I quite understand,' I said. 'His Highness wants me, and your job is to find out whether I'll let him…well…I will.'
'You are a little angel to save me so much trouble,' she cooed, delightedly rising to her feet and crossing to me. 'His Highness is mad for you and my life has been a burden I can tell you. Thank Heaven, this party is arranged at last. No one will ever know, and His Highness you may be sure, will not be mean.'
'It isn't that…' I began.
'No, no, I dare say not, my dear; but valuable presents of jewellery are always acceptable to the most moral of us, and especially when they come from Royal Dukes…'
'But I mustn't say…' I interrupted.
'Oh, yes, you may…If I know Serge, you will find some little inscription about your art, etc., that will make the display of your present quite all right. Serge is no novice…but seriously, he is a great deal in love with you… and…stop me if I anger you…if I were you, I would let him get me with child. If the result is anything like its royal father, you may find yourself mother of a Duke…things like that still happen in South-eastern Europe.'
I laughed and blushed but the idea commended itself to me.
'Well, dear, don't think of me only as procuress,' whispered Madame, kissing me lovingly, 'you won't regret this, and Serge is no mean performer either…I can vouch for that'…and with a laugh, 'You'll find the bedroom through these curtains;' she slipped from the room.
In the bedroom I found everything the most fastidious woman might want. I came into the sitting room. Whether I was expected to undress and wait in bed, I do not know, but at any rate I did not, Royal Highness or not, he must make some kind of a bluff at love-making before he got me.
A huge mirror confronted the corner of the divan that Madame had just vacated and there I arranged myself. Not too suggestively but with an air of comfortable naughtiness which should tell a man that his evening was not going to be wasted.
The divan was covered with an immense bear skin and my flesh showed very white against the dead black of the fur. I drank two glasses of creme de menthe and lit a perfumed cigarette. When in the bedroom I had withdrawn most of the pins from my head, so that very little disarrangement would allow my hair to fall in all its glory. Thus I waited.
He was a long time and my cunt moistened with anticipation. That I did not wish and I had only finished wiping it dry again, when the door opened to admit His Highness.
'At last I may tell you, adorable little English girl, how I have admired your acting at the theatre,' he murmured, his lips almost touching my ear and his hot breath causing a delicious excitement to my naked throat.
'Your praise is-'
I was interrupted again. His Highness put his arm around my waist while his other hand began to toy with my breasts. I made no resistance and his lips pursued mine, which were instantly joined in a long, luscious biting kiss. I slipped further and further on my back and was almost in a horizontal position when the kiss came to an end.
My legs were opened wide and I was ready to be fucked, but he pulled me back in a sitting posture, knelt by my side and for the first time I had a sight of the royal prick, and a very decent sized one it was. He had guided my hands to it, throwing back his head with a far away look in his eyes, and as my fingers played with it, his whole body quivered. Then, with a touch of his hand, he bent my head down, I took the hint, and my lips and tongue were soon busy with the throbbing gland.
He seemed to go mad with pleasure; his fingers feverishly toyed with my hair; his body twisted in every direction. He moaned, ejaculated, and almost screamed. His prick stiffened till it seemed like cast iron.
'Bite it!' he cried.
I did.
'Harder! Harder!'
I bit as hard as I dared, never for a moment relaxing the lightning movements of my tongue. His fingers left my hair and played with my ears, my cheeks, the comers of my lips, even as they quivered round his burning penis… At last they caught my breasts and each little hard standing nipple was caressed by his fingers, his prick stiffened to
