The thought of the jutting buttocks, the round stomach and curved thighs that hid modestly under the silken skirt brought a rush of feeling to Robert's loins. As he continued to look at her, he could feel his cock fill and stiffen.
Noticing the bulge that had grown in Robert's tight pants, Monsieur Paroux laughed.
“I thought you would approve of her,” he said, dryly. “She is not virgin, having warmed my own bed, but I must ask that you do not take her by force. “He sighed, looking fondly at the slim, black figure. “I am too old to do her justice. Though shy, she has deep wells of passion into which I may only peer with longing, wishing that I were younger- more able. At any rate,” he said more briskly, “I promised her brother that if he were sold, she would go with him.”
Robert could see that it bothered Paroux to picture the blackamoor in the embrace of another and hastened to assure him that he had no intentions along that line. His true thoughts, however, stood out in bas relief against his pant leg, and Monsieur Paroux laughed again.
“One part of you, at least, has great intentions along that line. Ah well, it is something you can work out between you.” He looked up at the girl. Her eyes were demurely on the rug at their feet but as Paroux watched, she stole a soft glance at Robert; a glance filled with confusion and, most certainly, something else. “I should say,” he chuckled, “that my Lala will not prove too unwilling.”
He spoke for some minutes to Lala, a quick stream of French most of which Robert could not understand. She asked some question, and Paroux replayed at length. During their exchange, Robert grew determined to have the wench, and as soon as possible. He had never tupped a black ewe, and the chiaroscuro intrigued him almost as much as the exotic sensuality of the girl herself.
When Paroux had finished speaking, Lala came and knelt before him, head bowed.
“Masser.”
Robert lifted her up, feeling his desire increase at the velvet smoothness of her bare arm under his hand, and for a moment she looked him over as frankly as he had inspected her. She dropped her head again quickly, but not before Robert had seen his own desire reflected in those enormous, black eyes.
The blackamoors were sent from the room to prepare for their departure. Since they were being sold complete with wardrobe, this preparation would take a little time. While waiting, Monsieur Paroux and Robert completed the financial side of their transaction, then partook of more brandy and talked of the colonies that both countries were establishing in the new world. Although this was a subject that generally fascinated Robert, he found it difficult, on this occasion, to give his full attention to the conversation. His mind was much too occupied with Lala. Since they would be staying in Paris until the following noon, he had every intention of possessing the girl that very night.
At least he was able to take his leave, and the new acquisitions were ensconced in his hired carriage, Jacques seated in silent dignity beside the driver and Lala inside the closed coach with her master. In London it would have been unheard of for a black slave girl to ride inside a coach with a white of any station, but this was Paris and how a man chose to seat his servants was strictly his own business.
He had, nonetheless, no intention of making an exhibition of himself by pawing the blackamoor in public, so during the ride back to his inn he contented himself with looking-and thinking. His thoughts soon had his clothes disarranged again, and fire burned up his thighs and into his crotch as his gaze went from the smooth, sweeping line of arched neck and shoulder to the high, jet globes of her breast. Her nipples would be dark, of course; deep purple instead of the pinks and browns he was used to. He wondered if her sex would be the same colour, sweet and dripping and shiny purple like a fat bunch of Spanish grapes. Soon he would know.
He would spread-eagle her on his cool white sheets and inspect every part of her; her breasts, her sex, even the inside of her rich, pouting mouth. He would inspect her first with his eyes. Then he would touch her, smell her, taste her.
The heat that was scalding his guts caused him to shift with discomfort. His cock pressed painfully against his leg, and looking up at Lala's face he saw that she was staring at the thick bulge, whether in fear or fascination, he could not tell. Since the coach in which they rode was closed, only their upper bodies could be seen through the window, the lower half of their torsos being completely obscured. In spite of his resolve to leave the girl strictly alone until they were much more secluded, Robert reached out and took her hand, placing it over his distended penis. For a moment he held it there, then, feeling the stiff little fingers relax and take hold he moved his arm back. Her hand remained where he had put it, gently kneading the swollen flesh. His fingers itched to investigate the dark V between her thighs and see if she, too, were aroused, but since they were almost at their destination he had to be content with less certain indications. She was breathing quickly, her breast rising and falling like the flutter of a bird, but this could possibly be fear. Mad as he was to have her, he remembered his promise to Paroux to use no force.
“Your bedchamber will be beside mine. Come to me after the other guests are sleeping,” he paused and added, much against his will, “if you want to.”
She looked up at him quickly, no more than a flashing glance Robert had been sure he read a need.
He called to the coachman to take the next turning to the right and halt at the corner inn, and Lala sat up, taking her hand from his body. Before she moved away she gave his aching rod a hard, lingering squeeze, and Robert knew that it was just as well they had arrived. Much more of such titillation and he would have been unable to contain himself.
Robert retired early. The landlord showed no surprise at his request that the blacks be given accommodation in rooms adjoining his own. It was quite understood that a gentleman would want his servants nearby to take care of his personal needs. Robert was given a large, airy chamber with two smaller rooms adjoining. Since, in France, it was assumed that one of a gentleman's personal needs, was a warm body to share his bed at night, Lala was given the middle room and her brother the cubicle beside her, farthest from Robert, yet still close enough for him to hear, should his master call.
Robert undressed and got into bed. He intended to read for awhile but found it impossible to concentrate. What was keeping the girl? Had she not understood what he said in the coach? He knew her English was almost nonexistent and certainly his French was far from perfect, but he had spoken slowly and carefully, and surely she had understood. Had he been wrong in his interpretation of the message her eyes had flashed him?
Damn the wench! Did he not own her, soul and body? Was she not bought and paid for? What caprice of honour had made him tell Monsieur Paroux that he would not take her without her consent? He had never been attracted by the idea of rape, but his body's need for this girl was such that it gave him no peace.
After much tossing and turning and pounding of feather pillows, he threw his book aside and fell into a restless sleep. Some time later he felt someone slip into bed beside him. He opened his eyes and looked up into the little, black face that was peering down at him. The candle had burned down quite a way, but there was still light enough to drown a man.
Lala was partly under the sheet, leaning up on one elbow so that she could watch him. She had seen that he was sleeping, and when he opened his eyes, she looked at him inquiringly.
“Masser?” she asked in her deep, soft voice. “I stay? You wan'?”
He reached up and stroked her slim neck. He was glad now that she had been late. The sleep had calmed him and he could now take his time with her. He smiled, pulling her face down to him.
“You stay. I want, Lala.”
He kissed the full lips lightly, feeling them part under his own. He ran his lips up her cheek, kissing the girl's eyelids, her tiny ears, winding one finger in the furry wool that clung to her head.
She murmured and squirmed against him, her body as lithe and pliant as a cat. Her skin felt like warm silk against his chest and thighs, and hot blood started flowing through him again.
He stopped caressing her, so abruptly that she looked up in confusion. He kissed her again, gently, smiling to reassure her, and got out of bed. There was something he wanted to do before he actually took her.
Pulling the night table closer to the bed, he placed another candle beside the one already there, so that that the light was strong. He contemplated adding yet another, but the steady flame shone on her body, making it glow like clean, dark water and he decided that there was illumination enough for his purpose.
He turned the girl on her back, spreading her legs and she began to look confused again. His head was bent so she could not find the answer in his eyes, but looking lower she saw that he was hard and erect, so at least he was still interested in her.
