“'Yes, he's far away, he'll be away for much longer too,' she added.
“She was sitting half undressed on my knees. My hands caressed her breasts and sides very lingeringly and gently, not forcing her in the least. She covered my neck with kisses, which seemed as voluptuous and tender as could be wished, interrupting them only to speak, rather breathlessly and in a sad tone of voice, of a genuine distress of which I could not doubt.
“'Really, I can't-I've promised.' I had a feeling that here was where action meant more than words-and my hand slipped to her belly, and then thighs-up her petticoat. She wore a bra and petticoat now, besides her panties of a very sheer fine silk. I felt her growing amorously restive on my lap. We did exchange more long and sweet kisses on the lips, and she kept on saying in a tone almost like a mother's gentle reproach, 'Besides all, this sort of thing is bad, the diabolic side of life and love.' She struck me as being a woman, perfectly sophisticated, yet torn between desire to yield fervently to my embraces and terror inspired by a complex scruple.
“For as she agreed, Marcia, almost without my having to ask her twice, and as something quite natural in the circumstances, to remove the obstacle of which I was complaining-her panties- I left her petticoat to preserve this sweet pathos of hers. She said she was really terribly sorry, it was a pity we men attached such importance to the things. Love was from heaven, but this other thing was the mouth of Hell. I had felt I was conversing with a pure heroine, trembling on the brink of her first adultery. Yet gradually, by dint of kisses and strokings, I led her to the bed, drew up her petticoat and mounted her. Everything went as it should, save that now and then, Madeline-who did not allow me to remove her bra, singularly enough-could not hold back a slight moan, as eloquent as before, of maternal reproach.
“'Oh, darling, this is being terribly vicious. It's awful, really it is.'
“After we finished our first essay, we had port and cakes. I lent her a dressing gown so she wouldn't have to resume her clothes too soon. I tried once more to lead her toward the bed, but she resisted and said, 'I can't- really-it is impossible-please.'
“Her tone was so sincere of regret, I realized how easy it would have been for me to overcome any physical resistance she might have proposed. But I felt it would be an extreme spiritual shock were I to attempt it, and so we parted amicably.
5. my fifth affair
“Now, Marcia, my magic carpet hastens to Budapest. The day after my arrival, I saw several reporters in the lobby of the hotel. The manager had given my name as an American business traveler and they wished to interview me. One, a young woman, wanted to interview me on behalf of an illustrated magazine. I gave out the usual nonsense and asked her if I might see the text before it was printed. She spoke French as did I. She asked me if I knew Hungarian and I had to say no, perhaps she would be kind enough to translate it. Honestly, I trusted. She smiled, sighed, and said she would bring me a rough draft at five. I bade her come to my room and I added, smiling, 'I trust being alone with a strange man won't make you nervous.' She gave me a full-throated laugh.
“She arrived very punctually the next day. I sat her down at the little table I used as desk for my correspondence. She translated the text for me, laughing a lot at her mistakes in French and said it did not sound as silly in Hungarian. I was standing next to her as she made notes of my numerous corrections. Sometimes I leaned over her shoulder to watch her work. I did kiss her on the neck. She twitched as if I had tickled her, then laughed and threw me a sidelong glance. She uttered a friendly little sibilant noise which I took to mean, 'Let's get through with the work first.' When we finished, she folded her notes, put them in her bag, and without moving from her chair turned to me with a little questioning laugh. It was a shade nervous, but I assumed this to be part of the game.”
“What a connoisseur you had become! Oh, and I didn't even know you then.”
“Yes, I regret it too, dearest. She was rather pretty, brown haired, very fresh looking, extremely gay. She was about twenty-five with a fine robust, though not unfeminine figure, beautiful hard round breasts, and lush hips and thighs.
“I swung her in my arms, lifted her to her feet, pressed her against me, and I kissed her sensuously several times. She responded with a ripple of mirth.
“Seeing a bottle of tokay and some cake on the sideboard, which of course I had prepared, Gertrude-that was her Christian name-said, 'Let's have a drink to clear my head,' which was not exactly what she meant, as you can imagine, my darling. She gulped down the two glasses. I fondled her a little and made my intentions perfectly clear. Just as we were approaching a wide divan in the corner of the room, she indicated by a sign that she wanted me to free her arms for a moment. Then, slipping a hand under her skirt, she very dexterously removed a little pair of champagne colored silk panties. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she glanced down at her skirt and said, 'I'd better take the skirt off too, it'll be all crumpled.' 'And how about your other things?' I asked softly, 'Why not take them off as well?' 'We shall do very well as I am,' she said. I felt it better not to insist, though I didn't understand her reluctance. Was she in a hurry or did she wish to avoid the trouble of having to dress again? Perhaps she found a certain thrilling reaction in making love like that; a pornographic novel she had read might have suggested itself to her imagination at this point.
“A few years past, I had the opportunity to view a private collection of erotica, known as the RCA collection, which consisted of hundreds of rare items and I recalled a theme in one of those books of a similar nature. This detail might have been responsible for giving my conduct a character of haste, totally out of keeping with my usual habits, and I thought it might be lacking in interest to my lovely Gertrude. It was not long, Marcia, before I began to think this might be so although almost from the first moment the young woman gave indications of pleasure and multiplied this evidence so convincingly, it was difficult for me to keep a cool head. Her apparent enjoyment might, of course, have been all a part of her code of good manners, which she was applying with the greatest care because I was, so to speak, a mere casual memory, possibly a one-night stand or, shall we say, a body guest? On the other hand, her seeming excitement might have been sincere though mainly cerebral and nourished by an idea that the roguish young beauty had formed of the situation. When we broke off for some twenty minutes in order to finish the excellent tokay, during which time we exchanged several quiet but exciting caresses, I tried to put into words my gratitude but, to my confusion, my charming visitor hinted that most of the pleasure had really been hers.” “The last spicy adventure, dearest?” “Very nearly, my adorable wanton-” “Then please hurry-” she whispered, “for I think I'm very much in love!”
“I will-I will-my sweet wanton virgin-my virginal wanton-darling!”
“I like that name, dearest, I want to be wanton with you-give you all-hold back nothing- so do hurry, dearest!” “Yes, yes, yes, of course.”
6. my sixth affair
“The last was in Vienna, six months or so later. I had taken a summer trip to Italy and through the Swiss Alps, but no amorous interlude presented itself and I was really in the mood for some love, or rather, the physical love which passes as infatuation and esthetic desire for the beautiful feminine body. I went to the Hotel Imperial where I always stay in Vienna, and was taken by a porter to my room. Another porter was in the lobby with a young woman and I found we were headed for the same floor. The woman had fair good looks, was very appetizing, about thirty or thirty-one, I'd judge, and had good manners.
She was elegantly dressed, wearing some fine jewelry. She was not too slim but strikingly voluptuous. She spoke to her porter in French with a slight accent, and I took from it she was a Czech or a Yugoslav, or even a Pole. I saw her taken to her room down one corridor while we went down another.
“Half an hour later, I phoned the porter and said in a confidential tone that I had come up with a young woman who was very pretty and I'd like her room number. He showed a certain hearty complicity so I phoned the woman and told her I'd come up in the elevator with her but that I felt shy and hoped that she wouldn't mind my saying I found her to be ravishing and also, if she wouldn't be angry, I suggested her coming round for a little talk as soon as she was settled. I gave her my room number and then said perhaps she'd prefer me to come to
