Maxim was tempted but, despite his extreme excitement, he managed to control himself, and he did not rape his paramour. He thought, “She obviously prefers minette over any other way of having sex, and I can't imagine that she will be so cold-blooded as not to repay me in at least a similar way.”
And, he was right. When Florentine had recuperated enough from her ecstasy she sat up in bed, threw her arms around Maxim's neck, and kissed him long and passionately.
“Oh, my lover, I love you so much. You have made me happier than I have ever been.” Her mouth drank his hot breath and her nimble fingers began to unbutton his clothes. When he, too, was completely naked, she rubbed her little nose against his rough skin and mixed in those caresses which brought new life to the hopes of the Count de Berny. She quickly slid down from the bed and pressed him backwards, returning all the delights she had received from him. Her lips trailed the hair on his chest, her tongue tipped down toward his navel, went lower, and she slowly kissed the tip of his prick. Her tongue flicked and sipped at his balls, and her sharp little teeth nibbled sweetly at the shaft of his throbbing tool. Though the young man was inexperienced in these things-he had always taken the lead immediately-and therefore a little bit shy, her ministrations brought him to the point of utmost excitement, but still he could not let himself go.
Florentine became a little impatient and she called out, “Come on, my darling… I am longing for you! I want to taste your love juices… don't withhold them from me. Quickly, give me your tool!”
The girl slipped her panting lips over the spongy head of his throbbing rod and clung tightly to it. The wealth of her scented blonde hair spilled across Maxim's belly. She also clung to his balls with her fingers, and she took the entire length of his tool so far into her, so far past lips, teeth and tongue, deep into the velvety reaches of her throat, that Maxim feared she would strangle herself on so much meat. But Florentine knew what she was doing. She stroked the head softly into her palate, tenderly into her throat, creating a marvel of suction. The wet and drawing power seemed to pull all of Maxim into her mouth. He began to writhe and twist, and almost cried out loud for freedom. The explosive force was building up in his loins, aching in his belly, but every time he was about to come, Florentine switched the speed of her caresses, the tempo of her ministration and the rhythm of her sucking. Maxim's heaving tool responded to tongue and teeth as it throbbed manfully against the in-sides of her cheeks and the satiny depths of her throat. Florentine pulled upon his ramrod as if she wanted to pull his very backbone down through it.
Maxim grabbed her head and began to buck in a wild frenzy. Florentine followed all his movements in perfect counter-rhythm and she drew upon him with many gulpings and smackings. She drove him once again into the marvelous softness of her throat. It was too much.
Maxim let his semen fly in tremendous spurts, for the first time in his life not in a clinging quim but into the charming throat of his Lady Evergreen, who ate so adoringly of his prick and who caressed his balls so sensually.
He fell back in near stupor, lying supine for quite some time. He was sweaty and had slick places between his legs and in the hair of his chest. While he recuperated, Florentine washed him with lukewarm, scented water and dried him with warmed towels.
Finally they were able to get up, and sat down in the other room at a table which was laden with the choicest food. They both did great honor to their late supper.
“Do you know, my beauty, that you belong to those quiet waters that are so deep and dangerous?”
“Why?” the young woman asked innocently.
“Why? Because you, my dear masked lady, have taught me in one evening more than I could ever dream of, and I am afraid that from now on a simple coupling and the enjoyment of caressing beautiful legs is no longer enough for me. And that almost makes me feel sad!”
“Really? I don't understand…”
“Yes, you do! But… if you don't regret anything, then I can only be happy. Is there, however, any chance that we will ever do it… ah… the other way?”
“I do not want to give you a flat 'no' to that question, because that depends entirely upon the future. I do not want to sound egotistical, but the chances are slim. You see, this way there are very few consequences… for me.”
“I see,” Maxium said smilingly. “This way we will never have a chance to get a little heir, But tell me, my darling, if you want to continue seeing me, is there ever a chance that I will see you without your mask?”
“That is the one and only thing, Maxim, that you should not ask of me. I am afraid that we would never meet again.”
“I don't insist upon it, darling Evergreen, though I must admit that it is slightly embarrassing.”
“Only a little bit!”
“Oh, you little dictator. Your will be done.” And he bowed mockingly in her direction. “But tell me darling, who painted those voluptuous pictures in your little waiting room? And who was the sculptor? And who made those perfect etchings?”
“I have no idea. I told Felicitas what I wanted, and she saw to it that the room was decorated.”
“Felicitas, the Negro woman?”
“Yes.”
“I would love to own a similar collection.”
“Maybe she is willing to help you.” The answer was properly evasive.
“Oh, you suspicious creature. Are you afraid that I weald try and uncover your identity through the painter and sculptors? Be sure that one of these days it may happen. The Topinambours club is terribly upset that two of their members have had a secret rendezvous, and they have made up their minds that they are going to find out who the lady in question really is.”
“Two rendezvous? I assure you, Maxim, that I have never…”
“I know, darling, because the other one is as dark as you are blonde. And this daughter of the land of Spain calls herself Pomegranate Flower. That nickname would never do for you, darling. But you cannot deny that you don't know about whom I am talking. Poor Count de Paliseul is terribly unhappy. He has heard not a single word from his sphinx for days; he has almost stopped eating and drinking.”
“He does look a little bit depressed lately.”
“Do you know him?”
“I have seen him riding in the Bois de Boulogne now and then,” she evaded the question.
“The poor man. Can't you do anything for him? I am sure that his love must be a good friend of yours. Can't you put in a good word for him? Tell Lady Pomegranate Flower to have pity on him.”
“I am sorry, I cannot do that. But if I were him, I would forget about the entire episode.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I happen to know that the affair is over, and that he did not live up to Pomegranate's expectations.”
“Does she have a waiting room like yours?”
“Not as far as I know. Moreover, it is not up to me to tell about her. I know that she would never talk about me. I am only doing your friend de Paliseul a favor, because neither you, nor he, nor your entire club will ever find out about our identities.”
“My dearest Evergreen, how about going to bed together for a good night's rest?”
“Oh, no, my friend. It is too late, and I would miss the last train.”
“What? You are leaving in the middle of the night?”
“Yes.”
“Do you live far away from Paris?”
“I live in Paris, in Rome, in Chicago, in Timbuktu. Darling, don't try to find out.”
“You are right, my love. I don't like it, but I am afraid that I have to live with it. When shall I see you again?”
“In about a week.”
“Oh, please, darling, can't you be more specific. I hate to share the fate of my poor friend de Paliseul.”
“You don't have to worry, and to prove it to you, expect a message for Thursday.”
“It's a date!” Thursday then!” Maxim kissed his lovely lady, Florentine pulled the bell cord and Felicitas promptly appeared. De Berny was now more than ever intent upon finding out his love's identity.
“Dear Miss Felicitas,” he said, pressing five gold pieces in her hand, “would you do me the favor of telling me
