her an enormous, hairy gnarled, tool, the mere thought of it made her faint with apprehension. Even after her aunt's lesson she had never imagined such coarseness, such ugliness, she loathed it. She hadn't imagined love that way. She imagined it all sweetness and caresses, not as that frantic stab that wound her. She thought it a communion of bodies, not this quartering, under a panting male, not a defilement by that hideous, fat, twitching, lump of flesh she had seen brandished above her; her aunt had said how some women could please a man easily by getting it in their mouth and caressing it; to Myriam this passed all conceivable horrors as far as she connected the caress with what she knew of Kozincko…
Besides the mere thought of feeling him pounding again pushing and plugging her with those jolts that made her gasp, was unbearable.
Yet she owned she had felt, a strange, unaccountable for satiety in this pain forced upon her to which was somehow allied an unknown pleasure springing from her wounded flesh. Was that volupty? It seemed there might be immense pleasure in the act when freely consented to with a man you loved, but not when you had to bear the pawing and fucking of that Kozincko.
She tried to fancy what she would have done if Jerome had been there instead of Kozincko. She would surely have said Yes… he was so handsome, so tender… Now she was at a complete loss.
What could she do? This couldn't go on. Either she'd become Kozincko's mistress or she wouldn't stay.
She understood and she admitted Ghislaine's father could demand something from her in exchange of all what he had given her up till now. She had agreed on this point the first time. She couldn't refuse now. Myriam thought she would have let him do in spite of her aunt's advice, but Jerome had come. She was haunted by his face, his smile. If she loved him, she couldn't have Kozincko too…
It was the moment Ghislaine choose to tiptoe into her room. She was just out from her bath, naked under a Japanese kimono, which she had left open on pointed breasts. She sat down on Myriam's bed.
«Well Myriam, What's the matter with you? You've been looking so strange these last days? Is anything wrong with you? Are you unhappy? Are you in love by any chance?»
Myriam awoke from her dream and smiled slowly.
«No Ghislaine, I'm just sad and dreamy and I don't know why…
«I think I know…»
Myriam started.
«You know..?
«Listen Myriam. I'm your friend, am I not? You can tell me everything. Aren't you in love?»
Myriam had feared for a few seconds Ghislaine might have discovered something about her father's pastimes, but she soon understood Ghislaine knew nothing as yet. She decided to tell part of the truth.
«No, she answered, I'm not in love, but somebody's in love with me.» Ghislaine clapped her hands admiringly.
«And you don't love him?
«I don't know.
«How do you know he's in love with you? Did he tell you?
«In love is not the exact word, he wants me.»
Ghislaine looked surprised but nonetheless interested.
«How can you tell that? Did he kiss you. Did he do anything… else? In that «anything else» Ghislaine conveniently included everything she didn't know.
«Yes, said Myriam, he kissed me, and did something more.
«And do I know… him?»
Myriam hesitated before launching into a deliberate lie, for she didn't want to hurt her friend.
«No… you don't know him. I met him by chance this morning, that was why I was late.
«What does he look like?
«Very handsome. As handsome as a god.
«And he kissed you as soon as you met? and you didn't protest or..?
«Oh please tell me everything, I do so want to know!»
Myriam told the adventure of that morning, but to Jerome's acts she substituted Kozincko's, without giving any too realistic detail…
Ghislaine lying on the bed by her side was drinking in her words.
She wanted to hear every detail, and when Myriam came to some scenes she had lived with Ghislaine's father on that very afternoon, the girl asked with the gravest innocence:
«Please will you show me… please…»
She had thrown off her kimono, and lay naked on the bed. With just the slightest inkling she might be doing something wrong Myriam acted the scene again. She began with stroking the other girl's silky breasts, striving to do it tenderly, passionately, then she ran her hands along the body, caressing the hips, the thighs, the legs, sliding back to the flat palpitating little belly…
Myriam liked the game. Ghislaine's skin was so fine, so smooth! and she received the caress with such pleasure… she drew quick breaths, gasping with pleasure sometimes and when Myriam tentatively touched her little bushy puss, she opened up her legs to let her in all the better. Soon what had been but a reconstitution became an original, fascinating, game.
«Take your clothes off, whispered Ghislaine in a dying voice.»
Myriam obeyed and was very much astonished to feel Ghislaine pressing against her, returning her caress for caress. After much fondling and wriggling, Ghislaine burning lips found Myriam's and they kissed long thirstily sliding sucking fresh taut tongues. Myriam remembered the thrilling caress Kozincko had forced on her. Parting Ghislaine's scented thighs, she found with renewed kisses the way of Ghislaine's eager cunt, she slid her tongue along its small lips, wedged it in between, nibbled and pulled gently at the hair, thrust her warm tongue in again, further, deeper, eagerly, Ghislaine grew delightfully moist and suddenly as Myriam had done for the first time at the Chateau Vert Ghislaine arched, relaxed suddenly, knowing that elation when the soul seems free from the body.
«My love… It was wonderful… come… it's my turn…»
And Ghislaine showed her gifts in glueing her tongue into Myriam's wet little crotch. Myriam soon squirmed under her nimble, avid lapping.
They loved long thus, discovering the elementary laws of Lesbian paradise. When, happy and weary, they fell asleep in each other's arms, they looked like two angels asleep by mistake in love's tumbled bed.
CHAPTER IX
For a few days, Myriam lived as in a dream. With Ghislaine's help she managed to see Jerome every day. She knew delightful instants with him. Receiving his caresses she refused herself yet, her desire, her love for Jerome and her fears to lose him growing stronger every day. She had promised him she would soon be his, and hoped to get free from Kozincko, and, why not? to marry Jerome… That was the reason why she hadn't yielded yet. Jerome of course was too impatient to wait, even her vows she would belong to nobody but him, sounded too futile to satisfy him long. He had appointed himself a day before which he should get that girl, and had it not been for a diabolical scheme that hatching in his mind, he would have made an end of it earlier… Yet he had often heard of Ghislaine. And through Myriam he hoped to get at her… Jerome loved dearly that sort of intrigue. It was his sole raison d'etre. And he would have given much to tackle both girls at once.
At night Myriam would tell her friend what had happened and the games begun on that theme would last until the small hours of the morning. Ghislaine was a passionate lover. Shy and rather awkward at first, she had grown exceedingly skilful, and Myriam wondered what her father would think if he knew… Kozincko hadn't breathed a word but he had been busy. He had gone back to the Chateau Vert and had a chat with Mrs. Cornavin. Both agreed the present situation couldn't last and planned out a few things accordingly. When Kozincko came back in Paris, he was satisfied Myriam would soon be his, and not in halves this time.
— One morning, as she had just left Jerome, Myriam got a wire from her cousins, bidding her come to the Chateau Vert, her aunt being very ill Myriam never thought this sudden illness might be a fraud, a snare. Ghislaine's father had said on the previous day he was going to England that week-end. Myriam didn't like her aunt much, yet
