look too enticing to Grushenka. It was red, half-stiff and of a flabby fullness. “Kiss me,” said the gentleman to the other girl, “and put your tongue nicely into my mouth.” He then kissed her mouth, sucking it and glueing his mouth so hard to hers that she became breathless and red in the face.
“Oh!” he interrupted his kissing, “play better with your tongue, you little imp.” And Grushenka could see how the blonde girl made every effort to satisfy him. But she didn't succeed entirely. He let her go and started the same procedure with the brunette, who obediently was holding his machine in her fingers. “Let's see whether you're any better than she is.” She was. She had a broader tongue and rubbed it slowly and more firmly against his teeth and his tongue.
He grunted with pleasure. His sex feeling was swelling, but not his love instrument, which remained in its flabby state. It should be taken care of now, he decided. He arose and crossed to the huge standing mirror, which covered one side of the booth for the try-ons of the female customers. He threw one pillow in front of him, another behind him. Standing sideways before the looking glass, he told the girls to kneel down on these pillows. Of course, Madame had told them what to do, and, after they were on their knees, they pulled his trousers down to his ankles, rolled his gray silken shirt up underneath his vest and got busy. The little blond had Master Priapus before her. She took it in her right hand, put the left hand underneath the instrument and began to run her tongue over his belly, up and down the inside of his thighs, over the machine and its two (in his case, undernourished) companions, which hung limply between his legs. Finally she slipped the point of the shaft into her mouth and started, with easy movements, to slide her lips up and down the stalk-a stalk o which, by the way, was still not stiff. Meanwhile the brunette had opened the cleft of his buttocks with her fingers and, pressing her face firmly towards the cheeks, began to tickle the rim with her able tongue. Grushenka admired her work in that respect.
She even rubbed her own little love nest a bit, imagining that this good little worker was doing the same service to her. The gentleman stood straddle-legged, his hands on the heads of the girls, admiring the picture of this group in the looking glass. Soon, however, he again became dissatisfied with the blonde. “Not that way, you little bitch,” said he. “Take just the end of the shaft between your lips and tickle it with your tongue!” Which was duly executed.
Many minutes passed, both girls breathing heavily from their work, while the man did not seem to be much affected. The brunette had already taken several intermissions in order to give her tongue a rest when suddenly he turned around, now giving her his instrument to kiss.
The blonde stared for a moment at the gaping brown cavity which was presented to her. Apparently she had never done this sort of thing before. But then a certain determination came to her face, as if she was saying to herself: “What's the use? We've got to dip in.” She first rubbed the rim with her fingers to wipe off the moisture which her brunette co-worker had left there. Then she stretched her tongue wide out, as if to loosen it, which tickled Grushenka so much that she almost laughed. The girl then buried her face, and Grushenka could see by the side of her neck that she was licking. Immediately the gentleman demanded more vigor. She leaned back for a moment, glanced in the mirror and seemed to have an idea. She took hold of him again, but seemingly with such passion that he was turned out of his position, almost facing away from the mirror. Of course he grumbled and said that she needed plenty of love education and that he would mention her to Madame. But she pressed her face to one of his cheeks, opened his cleft with the finger of her left hand and began to tickle the passageway with the little finger of her right hand, which she had quickly wet beforehand. The result was excellent. The gentleman started groaning in praise of her ability, congratulated her on her expert tongue and worked himself up to a heat. “Lick it, lick it, you little bitch! Oh, that's good! That's excellent! Why didn't you do it before, you little vixen?…” And so on, while the blonde girl, with a mixture of pride that she was cheating him and fear that he might find her out, played with her little finger on the threshold of his rear entrance, even entering the passageway a bit here and there.
Meanwhile the brunette had worked and worked and she felt now that he was about to reach his goal. Not that he got stiff. But the nerves and muscles of his love-machine twisted and jerked and-there it was- his love juices flooded out. Not in a hot thick spray, but just barely trickling out. o It was not the first shaft which the brunette had manipulated in this manner. In fact this particular type of love-making was the specialty of Madame Laura's establishment, and all her girls were experts. Therefore the brunette did not mind drinking his juice, at the same time squeezing his shaft and embracing him tightly between his legs in order to clean him out thoroughly.
“Very good,” he murmured, pushing the girls away. “Very good.”
“Just stay where you are for a moment,” said the brunette. She got a bowl of water and a towel and did an expert job of cleaning, front and back, quite a lesson for Grushenka, who never had done this before herself. The girls now arranged his trousers properly, even brushed him up-although there was not the faintest dust on his clothes-helped him into his long coat and gave him, like good servant girls, his three-cornered hat with the feathers on it. He spoke good-heartedly with them, scolding the blonde for having teased him at first, saying that he should tell Madame. But it was all done jokingly and Grushenka could see that a very proper and well pleased gentleman left the booth with important steps such as were becoming to an elderly man of standing. Before he left he gave each girl some money.
He had hardly gone, the girls were just adjusting themselves before the mirror, when Madame Laura rushed in. “Turn over the money!” she shouted and extended her hand. “Turn it over and back to your work or I'll speed you up.” To Grushenka's surprise, both girls gave up the money without protest. Madame Laura counted it carefully and was satisfied for this visitor paid well. She pinched the cheeks of the girls and added smilingly: “A funny bird, isn't he? Can't possibly get stiff, and yet he loves his machine. You got rid of him quickly, though. The last time the girls had an awful job until the old fool was able to reach his goal.” And she shuffled her chickens out of the room. This whole scene had been a revelation to Grushenka. Madame Laura apparently had a sideline to her dress business which attracted many customers and which she handled quite openly. The idea shot through Grushenka's head that her girl friend Marta might be used for such purposes also. But then, in spite of her own predicament, she had to laugh at the thought that fat little Marta with her freshly upturned nose could be a love-maker to refined people. Of course Marta was only a sewing girl. When she stopped on the street before she brought Grushenka to Madame Laura, it must have been because she was afraid that Grushenka would be used as a “model.” Now Grushenka was fully aware of the danger she was in. Would Madame Laura send for the police? Would she be turned over to Sophia's house? But just then she heard bustling in the other compartment and went back to her lookout. She discovered a couple shopping for a dress, a long green and fluffy evening gown which they just had bought. The woman, who held the dress in her hand and was giving orders about how to change it to her liking, was about forty years of age, petite, but with an inclination to be fat. Her arms and legs, which seemed always agile, were short, round and unattractive; her swelling bosom, the upper part of which looked out of a rich afternoon gown, showed a red-brown skin. Her deep black eyes were sharp and unkind, while her lips, always pursed in an affected smile, tried to hide her true nature. She was accompanied by her husband, a husky fellow-of her own age, broad-shouldered, dumb and hen-pecked. He repeated everything she said with a silly horse laugh of his own invention and seemed without a will of his own, which he probably did not need, being tied to such a mate. A heated discussion was under way. Madame Laura excitedly praised the value of the gown, while the woman demanded a bargain in consideration of the fact that it was her first purchase in Madame's famous dress house. When a moderate sum was finally agreed upon, the woman looked around towards the models and declared herself satisfied if a certain model would bring the dress to her house that evening. The girl she pointed out was a tall, full-built brunette. Her unusually white skin attracted Grushenka's admiration. Madame Laura looked at this girl for a moment and hesitated. But then, with a bow, she declared that the girl would be at her Ladyship's house and at her service that evening. The husband paid, with a silly laugh and a remark of his own. “A woman must always have it her own way.”
The tall girl's eyes followed the departing customers with a sheepish look. “Are you all right, or are you still unwell?” demanded Madame Laura. The girl lifted up her dress, murmuring an indignant “Oh!” and, opening the slit of her drawers, put her finger into her love nest from which she took a piece of cotton. It seemed clean. Madame took a small piece of white cloth, wrapped it around her finger and inserted the finger deep into the orifice. Upon taking it out again, no blood could be seen. “You fake!” shouted Madame Laura. “Half of the time you tell me you have your menstruation and the other half of the time that you're just getting it. Backing out all the time, eh? And you're stronger than any other girl here.
You little liar! How long ago was it anyway, since you got your last whipping?” “The week after Easter,” answered the girl meekly.
“Well,” retorted her mistress, “you should get a good whipping for lying to me now. But instead you'll go over to those people tonight and you'll do whatever they want-I don't know them yet-and if that Madame is satisfied
