well. I had taken her virginal hymen, made her girl-love her own portly, mature mother, and then subjected the pair of them to the depredations of Connie, Fanny and my own beloved Alice.
“This is my friend Julia Denton,” Molly Bashe replied. “May we come in, Mr. Jack? We were passing by your apartment after having finished some shopping at Horseley’s, and I told Julia that she would find you a most interesting person and your apartment even more so.”
More and more mystifying! But at least I must not remain ungracious, till I had discovered what had prompted Molly Bashe to seek me out and to ignore all the highly embarrassing memories which our second meeting must surely have cost her.
“By all means, do come in, you and your friend,” I replied, “but you will pardon me my summary attire, as I was not expecting company.”
“That is quite all right,” Molly Bashe said, and she suddenly gave me a quick little smile which further stupefied me. I was mentally undressing her and remembering our last encounter. My three exquisite aides had among themselves stripped her naked, and I could still recall how delicious, how exquisitely shaped and perfectly made, how lithe and charmingly rounded and plump for all of them, so juicy and fresh she was. I could remember, too, her large, firm, upstanding breasts with their saucy little dark-coral-tinted nipples, as well as the thick quantity of dark moss-like hair that clustered so prettily over her adorable virgin slit which, like her mother’s, was particularly plump and prominent. Of course, Molly was eighteen and a real tidbit, for all her annoying mannerisms derived, I was certain, from her mother’s influence over her. I should say that she was about five feet four inches in height, and now that she had actually crossed my threshold again, I confess also that I quite forgot about Alice’s imminent return to London on the morrow. It has often been said that a prick has no conscience, and no truer words had ever been spoken. Already I found myself anticipating how I could get delightful Molly Bashe to yield her toothsome person to me once again.
But the presence of Julia Denton, who seemed to be perhaps a year older and was infinitely more haughty and supercilious than even Molly-which is saying a great deal! — dampened my intentions to an extent. I could hardly imprison the luscious brunette and wreak my will upon her in her friend’s presence. But at the moment, what most concerned me was to find a reason for Molly’s visit.
It was not long in coming, for as Julia Denton began to look around the walls and to observe my framed lithographs, Molly Bashe approached me and whispered suddenly, “I must talk with you privately, Mr. Jack! It’s most important. Can you manage to get me alone for just a moment and give Julia something to do while we talk?”
I could and did. Clearing my throat, I announced to Molly’s companion that Molly’s mother had a few weeks ago paid a visit to me to request some information concerning a school for her daughter, and that I had collected some literature on the subject which she had forgotten to take along with her. I was now going to procure it and to give it to Molly, who could then in turn bring it to her mother.
Julia Denton gravely nodded and then dismissed me with a shrug of her winsome shoulders as she turned back to contemplate the decor of my salon. I quickly took Molly Bashe by the elbow and escorted her down the hallway and into my study room, closed the door and said, “I am even more anxious to talk to you, Miss Molly, because I will tell you frankly that I had never expected to see you again in all my life.”
At this, the charming young brunette had the good grace to blush violently and to lower her eyes, whilst entwining her slim fingers and twisting them nervously as she sought to formulate her remarks to me. And then finally, with a deep breath, she lifted her dark blue eyes to mine and stammered, “I–I don’t hold any grudge against you, Mr. Jack, for-for what happened that other afternoon. That is one reason I came here.”
“This is heartening news indeed, my dear. But may I know also the other reasons which prompted your visit?”
Once again Molly Bashe blushed furiously. She had a soft white skin whose finely grained quality I had already tasted to my great delectation, and she had the very decided ardent temperament that such a sign always presupposes. At last she managed to express herself in a tone that was far from her usual affectatious one and which was rather more stammered than clearly enunciated: “I–I know what you must be thinking, but I want you to believe-truly I do, Mr. Jack-that-that I’m not angry with you for what you did. I know that Mummy was trying ever so hard to get me married off to you.”
“That is correct, and I felt that she had gone much too far. But I will say in all gallantry at this moment, my dear, that from the physical point of view marriage to you would not exactly be an abomination. It was only that I could not tolerate your mother’s unscrupulous maneuvering to foist you off on me, and also that you yourself behaved like a younger edition.”
“I–I know. But you see, Mr. Jack, M-Mummy has nothing to live for except me and that is because my father died about ten years ago. She is eager to marry me off, and she has just announced my engagement to a gentleman who is about forty-five. He has a minor diplomatic post at the Embassy, and he is a very good match, at least from Mummy’s point of view.”
“My heartiest congratulations, then, Miss Molly,” I said cheerfully. “And I am happy that you bear me no rancor. When are the happy nuptials to be celebrated?”
“Next-next week, Mr. Jack,” Molly Bashe replied in a low and unsteady voice, again lowering her eyes and averting her face from my gaze. Arthur-that is the name of my fiance-has been transferred to Bwaniphur in India, and we shall go there after we have had our honeymoon in Italy.”
“I am sorry to hear that you will have to reside with your husband in India, for you will find it trying. But then, that is your own affair, and all I can do is to wish you well, and your husband too.”
“This is very difficult for me, Mr. Jack,” Molly Bashe faltered, and again her large dark blue eyes fixed on my face with an almost poignant appeal. “I don’t wonder that you are cynical and contemptuous of me, but I did think that perhaps-that perhaps because you did what you did, you did not hate me too much.”
Now this was really astonishing! Here was this eighteen-year-old affectatious little minx, whom I had had stripped naked, forced to suck her mother and be sucked off by the latter, thoroughly thrashed and feathered and tickled, and then fucked and utterly demeaned in a way which certainly no well-bred young lady would expect from a gentleman. Yet she was making me her confidant to tell me about her imminent marriage, and in a voice which suggested that she was not thoroughly happy with the prospect, in spite of her mother’s efforts to marry her off to anyone who might be eligible, myself included.
“We had best go back quickly, or your friend may be suspicious and think that there is some love affair between us,” I said casually.
At this she blushed even more violently, and then she suddenly blurted, “Oh, Mr. Jack, the fact is-well-I–I don’t like Arthur at all, but Mummy insists that is a brilliant match. He is an old fussbudget, more womanly than manly, and I am afraid that I will simply be just a daughter to him instead of a wife. Remembering how you seemed to enjoy me when you had me at your mercy, I–I came here half in the hope that you would teach me what it was like to make love in an ardent and passionate way. I know that I shall never look for that from Arthur.”
Now I was, really floored! Would wonders never cease? Far from being discomfited and hugely embarrassed by my violation of her, this delectable brunette was actually begging me to repeat the episode-unless my ears had played me a bad trick.
“Am I to understand, Miss Molly,” I demanded somewhat incredulously, “that you are offering yourself to me this afternoon? But what about your friend, Miss Denton? How do you expect us to manage a clandestine amour when she is here in my apartment? Will she not tell your mother and blemish your reputation, perhaps even destroy your hopes for a profitable union with this estimable diplomat?”
“I–I want you to do the same thing to her,” came the amazing and unexpected answer. “I want you to capture us both and-and-and to f-force us just as you did Mummy and me that other afternoon. Will you, Mr. Jack?”
“But, my dear girl,” I exclaimed, taken as you may well suspect most emphatically aback by this astonishing declaration, “what motive could I possibly have to proceed against Miss Denton, whom I have only just met and who has certainly never affronted me?”
Again Molly Bashe blushed to the roots of her dark hair and lowered her eyes. Her magnificent young bosom rose and fell with a turbulence I could only ascribe to the singularity of her proposal and to the emotional enervation it must have caused her. “Well, you see, Mr. Jack,” she stammeringly explained, “Julia is my cousin, and she has just been most terribly jilted. She was betrothed to a young officer in the Grenadiers, and she expected to be married next month, but the dreadful rascal was sent along with his regiment to Gibraltar and only yesterday she
