although we'll be able to dry ourselves off in the sun very quickly.” 'Gita stood up and unravelled her robe until she stood naked in front of me.
She was a pretty girl of only seventeen with very full breasts and a delightful slender figure with a perfectly proportioned little bottom that was well developed for a girl of her age. She paddled her way into the river and slid down into the cool water and called out: “Come on in, Alfred Sahib, this is great fun.” 'I wavered for a few moments because I was now amused with desire for the girl and although the Rajah and myself were on good terms, I knew that he did not take kindly to anyone helping themselves unasked to the fruits of his orchard, so to speak.' 'That's putting it mildly, Mr.
Toddington,' commented Sir Richard Hawton. 'I was always given to understand that anyone caught with a harem girl would at best be singing falsetto the next day!' Alfred expelled a deep breath and said: 'Quite so, although as the Rajah is an Old Etonian, I don't think he would have exacted such a draconian revenge upon me. Indeed it was with that thought in mind that I muttered to myself some words from the Kama Sutra which I had recently been reading, namely that in our wild and dangerous world, we must drink deeply from the cup of sensual joy lest it be suddenly dashed from our lips. So I heaved myself up and also undressed. Gita giggled when she caught a glimpse of the physical evidence of my unslaked passion before I waded into the river to join her. 'I must say that her observations about swimming in the nude were quite true and I revelled in the sense of total freedom. I lay on my back, wallowing in this sensuous joy when Gita came up to me and slipped her hand around um, a certain protuberance-' 'A certain protuberance?' repeated Sir Richard Hawton, whose flushed face made me wonder if the colour was not only down to the considerable amount of Chablis he had drunk but also whether Elena's toes were playing around in the vicinity of his groin in the same fashion as they had done around mine during dinner on the previous night. 'Don't be mealy-mouthed, sir, you mean she clutched your stiffstander, h'm?' “That would be another way of putting it, as Lily Langtry said to Oscar Wilde,' chortled Charles, receiving a sharp nudge in the ribs from Cassie for his pains as Alfred continued: 'After a while we swam back to the shore and dabbed ourselves dry with the makeshift towel though as Gita had said, it was hardly necessary to do so as the warm sun quickly evaporated all the moisture from our bodies. 'We lay naked on the sheet and somehow it seemed the most natural thing in the world was to lean over and kiss Gita. She immediately responded by sliding her tongue between my teeth in a long, probing kiss. My hands descended to her thrilling young breasts and her lingers slid down to grasp my pulsing erection – but just as she lay back and parted her thighs we were interrupted by a cry of: “Hey there, you dirty rascals, what do you think you are up to?” 'I would have thought that was pretty obvious even to a celibate,' commented Fanny. Alfred gave a throaty c buckle and said: 'Alas, such a witty reply never occurred to me, perhaps because the owner of the voice was none Other than Father Oakhurst a devout Catholic who was travelling with his aunt and wished he'd never set foot in this “heathen” land. 'Of course, Father Oakhurst disapproved of the sins of the flesh and especially of carnal relationships between an Englishman and the native population.
'My God, what did you do?' asked Jenny curiously. 'Did you try to bribe him to keep silent about what he had seen?' Alfred shook his head and sighed: 'No, that would have been offensive.' 'So did he scurry off and tell the Rajah?' I enquired. Alfred chuckled and said: 'He would have done, but luckily I noticed that he was carrying his sketch book – sketching was an obsession of his. I guessed rightly that he would not have been able to resist sketching us in the water, and when I grabbed the book from him, I discovered that he had drawn several pictures of Gita's bare backside. 'Her bare backside!' spluttered Charles into his champagne. 'So was he one of those chaps who prefer to use the tradesmen's entrance?'
Alfred answered with a smile: 'Oh no, nothing like that. As I said, the good father is a celibate. But he was forced to explain his obsessive pursuit of the rather strange pastime of gluteusology, a hobby with which you will probably not be familiar. In brief, it is a somewhat esoteric branch of phrenology, the science of observing and measuring the sizes and shapes of people's heads which then enables a judgement to be made on their mental characteristics. Well, gluteusologists believe that human beings can also be classified by the shape of their bottoms and to help develop this theory, Father Oakhurst had been assiduously sketching derrieres for more than five years. 'I had made him promise to keep our secret but cheeky Gita bent down and allowed him to study her shapely brown buttocks. No doubt he has the sketches displayed in his bedroom at home to this day. Cassie winked at me and giggled: 'Was Father Oakhurst interested in all sorts of bums? Men's and women's of all ages?'
'Apparently not, Miss Morley,' he replied with a straight face.
'I have not seen his collection of sketches myself but I gather that he specialises in young female backsides and that the piece de resistance of his collection is of six girls displaying their supple little bottoms and bending down to peer through their parted legs.'
We all roared with laughter although I noticed that Cassie gave Alfred a quizzical look although she said nothing more. Frankly, I have some doubts about the absolute veracity of this tale, but as Dr Muttley always drummed into us back at the Albion Academy, it is the height of bad manners to question the accuracy of another person's anecdote, especially if he is entertaining the listeners. Be that as it may, this stirring story had affected Elena who rose from the table with a gleam in her eye and suggested that it was time for the ladies to retire to the drawing-room. But Cassie turned to her mother and said: 'Mama, I don't see why I should have to leave the table to enable the gentlemen to smoke (which I happen to think is a habit which is bad for your health and should not be encouraged indoors) or to enjoy a glass of port and tell each other risque stories.' It was no surprise to me that a staunch fighter for women's rights like Jenny Nairman agreed with Cassie. 'Quite so, Cassandra,' she said hotly. 'There is no-reason at all why we should be cast aside like second class citizens at the conclusion of a dinner party.' 'There may be something in what you say, my dear, but the custom allows us to leave the table gracefully so that we may visit the powder room,' ventured Elena but her argument was swiftly rebutted by Jenny who said: 'True, Mrs. Morley, but then why should we not be allowed to do the same as the gentlemen and excuse ourselves from the table after the main courses? I wonder what the gentlemen here have to say on the matter. What are your views, Mr. Dashwood?' 'Well, I think it might be better if there were no hard and fast rules about the matter,' I said diplomatically. 'This would allow the ladies who wish to retire to leave the company and those who do not to stay and enjoy a glass of port.' This brought Lester Toddington, who had remained very quiet whilst his brother had regaled us with nil story, into the conversation. 'Oh come now, Mr. Dashwood, this would be an insufferable encroachment upon the male preserve – and I doubt if you could find any young ladies who would appreciate port, it's very much a gentleman's liqueur.' Jenny bristled at this remark. 'I must contradict you,' she said icily as she signalled Polgrave to pour some port from the crystal decanter into her glass. 'In public houses patronised by the wage-earning classes, a port-and-soda is considered a real treat by ladies. However, what is more important is the simple fact that a feminine palate can be just as sensitive as a man's.
Without wishing to boast, I would back my judgement on port against any man at this table.' She lifted her glass and held it up to the light before taking a sip. Then she looked at Elena and said: 'This is an excellent wine, Mrs. Morley. A full, rich Old Muscatel, which could well be a '92 vintage or even an '87. And as it is so rich, we had better finish the decanter for the port will deteriorate overnight,' she concluded as she swung round to the other end of the table and said 'Wouldn't you agree, Sir Richard?' “Top marks, Miss Nairman,' laughed the good natured baronet who turned to Lester Toddington and added, 'You'll have to eat your words, my dear sir.'
Lester raised his hands in surrender but Jenny would not be deflected and went on: 'May I also say that if you would like to drink port in an unorthodox fashion, you could do far worse than follow the example of the Portuguese who drink light white port with soda and ice. It makes a delicious aperitif and dear friends of mine, of both sexes, who have partaken of the drink thoroughly recommend it.'
No doubt in order to keep the conversation on a light-hearted level, Charles rapped his knuckles on the table, 'On that note, ladies and gentlemen, let's finish this delicious port. For the benefit of ladies present who might not be familiar with the custom, the convention is that the decanter is passed around the table in a clockwise direction. Polgrave had to place a second decanter on the table whilst he refilled the first. When that too had been emptied Elena stood up again and Sir Richard Hawton escorted her out as she tottered towards the door. However, in her hurry to leave, Elena had not closed the door and we distinctly heard Sir Richard (who being slightly deaf in one ear tended to speak loudly) say: 'Well, that was a splendid dinner, Elena but there is something you must do for me right away.' 'What's that?' she asked and the reply came back: 'Undo my flies and take out my cock. I've had a tremendous boner for the last five minutes.' I must admit that I let out a noisy guffaw when Elena answered: 'There you are, my dear, is that more comfortable. Goodness, what a big prick you have!' 'There's over nine inches of meat in your hand,' we heard Sir Richard say proudly before Charles leaped up and ran across the room to shut the door.
There was no doubt that the copious amount of alcoholic refreshment we had imbibed led to some highly
