A man who sat on one side would have Maggie's blond head protruding on his left-hand side, from under the table end, and the pale spread of Noreen's strapping young hips on his right. Those who sat opposite would have Noreen's face and Maggie's rump either side of their chairs!
The lighting was more ingenious still. Our good inspector had had cause to arrest three loudmouthed street girls, some fourteen years old, for their noisy conduct. He had carefully ensured that they should be among our cargo in order that he might have some stock to drive to market.
Mandy, Tracy, and Sal (as Sally preferred to be known) stood naked upon the central platform of the table and provided our candelabra. Their wrists were joined in the leather cuffs above. It was Sal who provided the light for me and to whom I gave the most attention. What a pint-sized little strumpet she was at thirteen or fourteen! Imagine a broad, high boned face with rouge on the cheeks. Picture the snub little nose and the dark, defiant eyes. Add to it a collar-length crop of fair, tousled, wavy hair. In her figure, she was not tall, even for her age. Unlike the elegance of Tracy's skirts, Sal's costume for roaming the streets included the tight denim of her working trousers. Picture the two as they must have been-almost like boy and girl!-the firm tomboy thighs and the fat little cheeks of Sal's bottom rolling as she walked, filling the tight jeans cloth so heavily!
Now, like her two young friends, she posed naked on the pedestal. Like them, too, she had an ingenious dildo threaded in her cunt, curving out in the front to become a triple candle holder with its three tall flames twelve inches or so from her belly. At the rear, an identical candelabrum had been firmly inserted between the fat little cheeks of her arse!
Vanessa and the other girls attended as our charming naked waitresses. As we awaited the first course, the inspector told us humorously of his arrest of the three street girls. How they had gone through the quiet middle- class thoroughfares, Sal bawling her war song: 'I go out on Saturday night, and I look for a fucking fight!' How she had insolently begged for a cigarette-'Got any fags?'-and how she had surrendered to the riff-raff melting pot of society. Having apprehended the three young strumpets, he was struck at once by the thought of being a partner in Uncle Brandon's business rather than a mere assistant.
Six waitresses entered, almost staggering under the weight of the huge salver, whose cover still hid from us our banquet. The splendid piece was loaded onto the table and the cover removed. Can you guess, my sweet?
It was twenty-five-year-old Jackie, the promiscuous young slut with her bell of blond hair, impudent blue eyes, sullen jaw, and fattish hips. Have no fear, she was not the meal itself, merely the delectable platter. Upon her breasts were arranged the hors d'oeuvres, so that her nipples appeared as the cherries atop them, for she was entirely naked. Jackie's sluttish young body was to provide all the plate and glass we required. We took wine by pouring it into her mouth and she turned her blond head obediently to the imbiber and gave him the draught from her mouth into his, nicely mulled.
Our fingers worked eagerly on the salad of the hors d'oeuvres, the slightly acid tingling of the salad dressing causing Jackie's nipples to stiffen remarkably. Finger bowls were not needed: glancing down at the firm, pale insolence of Noreen's face, I had only to hold my fingers to her mouth and command her tongue to do the work. There were some very firm bananas in the fruit bowl and you will believe I could resist taking one in my other hand. Maggie's blond hair, as well as her crude, pale features, were reflected for me in a mirror. As I coaxed the banana into Mag's young cunt, she was as eager as I. Then her tongue washed the Captain's fingers lovingly.
Was Noreen more or less fortunate? In her case, the inspector took a different aim. The banana entered between the pale, strapping cheeks of Noreen's nineteen-year-old bottom. That left only one receptacle for the olive stones of the salad. In my own case-for I enjoy a meal of olives-I judged it uncouth to litter floor and table. To recompense my young blonde, with her firmly broadened buttocks and thighs, I first gave her a frig-jig with the banana. Then, one by one, I popped the olive stones up her arse-hole. We now went on to the salmon mayonnaise and asparagus.
The main dish was served upon the proud curve of Jackie's young belly, though the asparagus stalks were tucked deeply into her love-pouch, protruding between her thighs, which gave them a most novel savour. We ate heartily, but did not forget the hunger of those who supported us. In my case, it was possible only to feed Noreen from my hand. She hesitated at first but the folly of refusing such delicious morsels was soon shown her. In the end, she ate with relish some of the asparagus impregnated with Jackie's own girl taste.
I will not weary you with every course and wine we enjoyed. The dessert was of pancakes, and for this we required a clean platter. It required only Jackie to turn over on her mayonnaised belly in order for the pancakes to be served upon her seat-cheeks. They were hot enough to make her stir a little but not excessively so. The advantage of the pale, fattish cheeks of Jackie's arse was that they provided a convenient central cleavage for the droplets of lemon and sugar. To dunk each bit of pancake between Jackie's sluttish bum-cheeks was most lewdly enjoyable.
Our banquet ended with fruit of the season: grapes accompanied by peaches and plums. Jackie would take the grapes in her mouth, pop them open, remove the pips with her tongue, then feed the fruit into the mouth of the man whose open lips covered hers. Plums she treated similarly but, turning her head, Jackie was of course obliged to spit the stone lightly into the man's hand. Maggie shook her blond fringe indifferently, but there was some apprehension in her blue-green eyes.
A plum stone, after all, is a size larger than that of an olive. Alas for Maggie! How easy it is to eat those sweet, syrupy plums voraciously. I thought of those men who had pressed at the Greystones stable window to goggle at the young blond saddle-dresser as she worked with her nonchalant sluttishness in tight riding jeans. Imagine their delight now, had they been able to see the intruding banana, the waste bowl presented to Maggie's bottom, and the slow, measured clatter of falling plum and olive stones.
I thought how inexpressibly randy and delicious it was to have one's dinner impregnated by the skin flavours of a girl's most intimate body surfaces. We pushed back our chairs a little and lit our cheroots. This was charmingly done: it was young Sal who was my human candelabrum. Once I had the weed between my teeth, she backed a little towards me and bent over so that the rear triple candle was presented. She had to tuck her knees forward a little, for Sal, of course, stood above me. You may be sure I detained her a moment in this posture.
When the meal was over, the inspector begged our indulgence. He would take his three young street girls to another saloon, for an Arab harem buyer was coming out in his barge this evening, with a view to purchasing all three for his collection. You may be sure that the Captain and I took up positions outside the door, listening and endeavouring to catch keyhole glimpses.
With an eye to a good profit, the inspector once again dressed Sally as a young slut of the streets, in her black, waist-length jerkin and the tight, pale-blue denim of her working trousers. The harem owner murmured approvingly. He said he liked young hoydens of fourteen or so who challenged him by disobedience. Such ill-bred defiance was plain in Sal's broad and high-boned face, dark eyes, and shock of fair hair. He spoke eagerly of sturdy little hips and firm thighs. Had she been trained by sport and exercise?
Perhaps she struggled a little as the two valets held her by either arm and his hand ran under the gusset of jeans cloth. Was Sal a virgin? The inspector could not claim that, but he hastily assured the harem master that it had only been boys of Sal's own age. In the passageways of the town, Sal would also suck the penis of older men in exchange for cigarettes.
The harem buyer did not seem unduly displeased to learn of her experience in such a craft. Seduced by the swagger of Sal's fat little bottom as she walked, he required the valets next to turn and bend the young strumpet. He inquired if the virginity of Sal's young arse had been taken. The inspector vouched it had not. The harem buyer thus became master of all three girls and was left alone with them, assisted by the two valets.
'Away with your skirts and pants, my three houris! Excellent! Mandy-on the bed and make love to yourself! Tracy-join her! Sally, bottom upwards over the pillows, if you please. Why, the top of your head scarcely reaches a man's shoulder, and yet how many you have made to lust after you, Sal, as you walked through the streets, rolling your fat little bottom-cheeks in working jeans!'
At his command the valets tightened the wrist straps on his young mistress. 'How often have you made respectable husbands follow you, Sally? How often have cameras clicked upon your face and your rear view to add gems to their private collections? Why, you even intrude into the marriage bed, I dare-say! As they do their duty to their wives, their minds are elsewhere. They dream of taking you down to the county wine vaults or the monks' rendezvous in the old churchyard. They dream of such fucking, even of buggering Sal's fat little bottom at thirteen or fourteen years old!'
There was a pause and then he continued more breathlessly. 'Absurd to refuse me your rear virginity, Sally! Your attempt merely earns you a reprimand afterwards! Were you so haughty with the yokel boys who kept your
