Cosmo. It doesn't matter. I won't have her thinking me unhappy. She must understand perfectly the way things are. I shall avoid any embarrassing situations. I detest embarrassing situations. Edward can be so boastful at times. My life seems to Consist of maneuvering between one sticky moment and another. All the secrets. What a misfortune it is to know all the secrets.
Now I push at Dobbin's head. She looks up at me, her face flushed, her mouth wet. “Madam?”
“Tell me about her. Tell me about my sister.”
“Your sister, Madam?”
“Yes, my sister, you ninny. What do you do with her?”
The girl's eyes are worried. She makes a sound in her throat. “Please, madam…”
I insist. I insist she tell me everything. Do you suck her breasts?”
The maid wipes her mouth with her skirt. Her eyes are glazed. She nods. “Sometimes she wants that.”
“And what else?”
“Mostly it's down there.” Her eyes upon my sex. My belly is still uncovered, my nether-lips unfurled.
“Does she like it? Do you make her spend?”
The girl blushes. Her full lips show the merest beginning of a smile. “She always does.”
Edward favors Perkin. We sit in the drawing room, Edward and I, and when the maid is called she seems uneasy.
“Edward, have you been unkind to her?”
“Certainly not.”
“I won't have you unkind to them. We can't keep them if you don't use some common sense.”
“Claire, darling, it's a maid.”
“Yes, I know it's a maid. I can see she's a maid. Anyone can see that, for heaven's sake.”
“I mean it's only maid.”
“I don't want the bother of replacing them each year.”
“Quite so.”
He folds his hands upon his knee. Julie is out. The maid's eyes are uncertain. She thinks: What this time? Oh, I do understand them. Their girlish brains filled with nothing but silly fancies.
Edward beckons to the girl with his hands. His hands waving at her to come forward. She moves with hesitation. A glance at my chair. Yes, I shall remain in audience.
“Perkin?”
“Yes, madam?”
“I don't want you to look at me.”
“Yes, madam.”
She has a generous bottom, this one. I suppose that's why he finds her appealing. She stands before him. He says nothing. He motions with his fingers and she begins lifting her skirt. Her legs appear, her black cotton stockings, the white skin of her thighs. She has pretty legs. She blushes as she reveals her cotton drawers. Her eyes are lowered. Are there tears in her eyes? Edward fumbles with her drawers, his hand in the folds, his cheeks pink. The drawers come down, sliding down to the girl's ankles. She shows a full nest, dark, a thick bush at the joining of her thighs. Holding her skirt at her waist, she steps out of her drawers and remains still again. I see her in profile. Her full bottom thrusting out in its roundness. Edward makes her turn. Now she has her back to him. He touches her bottom. Just his fingertips. He uses both hands to feather the undersides of the two globes. Her rounds. His fingers move away to stroke her hips, then return again to the creasing between her globes and thighs. Now he pulls. He parts the two hemispheres. His eyes hot. I do know the look. His eyes hot as he examines her rear portal. His focus. He always takes them there. The maids are worth nothing to him but for that. And of course by now the girls know it. There is never any doubt that when Edward call it means a rose-hole corked. Do they giggle when they talk of it? He drops his hands now. He murmurs. He tells her to strip. Her fingers fumble with the strings. In a few moments she stands before him wearing nothing but her stockings and a white maid's cap that barely covers her chignon. Her charms revealed. She's a mere servant, after all. One sees it in the strong legs, the broad hips, the nipples like thick udders waiting for the infant. A country girl. What a stupid thing she is. She ought to have stayed in the north country. What a stupid girl to come to the city for this.
Edward unbuttons his trousers. He brings his tool out. His pink cock. The head blushing. The girl drops to her knees and takes his root in her hand. I've seen it all before. Every detail, all he gestures. The movements following one another in a slow procession. First her fingers, her fingertips dancing along his length. Then her lips at the tip. Her mouth opens. She engulfs his knob. His eyes upon her face. His face flushed as he watches her. She sucks with abandon. She makes no attempt to hide her gluttony. Her broad rump sways as she sucks him. When I was young I thought the maids were beaten into submission. They are not beaten. They are cajoled. Then after they are cajoled, they are willing. One can see the willingness in the way she fills her mouth with his flesh. How fascinating it is. The girl's mouth stretched by my husband's tool. I've had it in my body. I've had it probing in all the expected places. Now he fills the girl's mouth, stretches her lips, her mouth moving as she stuffs herself. She sucks and licks. Her tongue works. How practical the tongue is. Her young mouth. I do like to watch it. I like the simplicity of it. The swollen flesh stretching her lips. Of course Julie takes him this way. She has such a rapacious mouth. My sister. She bites him with her teeth. I suppose Edward adores Julie's mouth. She has a pretty mouth. Curling lips. A mouth to promote expectations of pleasure. Look how Edward perspires now. His forehead gleaming. Is it that warm in the room? Or has he lost his equanimity to a servant girl? What an annoyance. In the girl's mouth. Her eyes are closed. Sometimes one sees hatred in the eyes. A glint. Ephemeral. It quickly passes to be replaced by a placid look. I don't like to abuse the servants. We haven't come to that. It's not at all necessary, is it? What does it matter if there's an occasional rebellion in the kitchen? What a marvelous rump she has. Big in the bottom. She's anxious for it now. She hopes it's not too late. I shall sip my tea and watch it. I shall drink my tea and watch my husband and a servant girl.
Now Edward pushes her away. The girl's mouth is wet. Her face is flushed. He tells her to stand at the armchair and show her bottom. Her plump flesh jiggling as she moves. The clock chimes the hour. Tranquility in the drawing room. Edward and I in our drawing room. Perkin is the center of attention. The maid wearing only her black cotton stockings. Edward tells her to bend. She bends. Her arms forward to hold the armchair. She moves her legs apart as she bends further. Her pouch is visible, the hairy nest, the fat lips of her young sex.
Edward rises and goes to her. His root protrudes out of his trousers. He puts his hands on her bottom. He fondles her. He glances at me and smiles. His contented smile. Then he looks at the girl's rump again. He looks at her rose-hole. He has such a passion for it. He strokes it with a finger. He pushes his finger inside and the girl moans as he pulls the finger out again. A moan of expectation, isn't it? A tube of ointment appears from one of Edward's pockets. There is no sound except the ticking of the clock as he anoints the girl's aperture. When the task is finished, Edward replaces the tube in his pocket and removes his coat. He stands in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves. He unbuttons the lower buttons of his waistcoat and unhooks his braces. His trousers fall, then his drawers. His apparatus dangles. Cock and balls in a thicket of hair. He handles his balls as if to test their fullness. Then his hand returns to the girl's bottom. His finger pushes in again. He stretches the ring. Perkin groans as he works the finger inside. The girl shudders.
“Edward, don't hurt her.”
He turns his eyes to me. I hear the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. The curtains move. A smell of spring coming in through the open window. Edward smiles at me. “She's perfect. Not small. I don't like it when they're too small.”
His finger is withdrawn. He turns his hand to use his thumb. First the ball of his thumb on the girl's rose-hole. Then his thumb pushing inside. Perkin moans again. Now Edward's other fingers are free to touch her sex. To push inside. He fills her two apertures with his fingers. A wailing sound comes out of the girl's throat. He likes them spending. She sways her hips, her white globes moving from side to side. Her thighs are plump above the tops of her stockings. Edward's fingers continue moving. He lingers. How he lingers.
At last his fingers come out and he points his tool at the ring. He pushes in. Perkin moans. He pushes further. Steady in the pushing. His eyes upon it. His root sliding inside her fundament. The girl groans continually. Her legs tremble. Edward lifts his eyes. He waits. Except for the movement of his hands on her rump, one would say he had
