I raised my dress to examine the wound. It was less serious than I had first imagined, being quite superficial in character. He had bitten into a tiny fold of flesh, just deep enough to draw blood, which fact was attested to by several ruby drops which were slowly trickling down the inside of my thigh. When I saw that I was not wounded as badly as I had first supposed, anger dissipated fright, and I turned on him wrathfully.
'What kind of a crazy fool are you, biting me like that?'
He looked at me stupidly for a moment and then his gaze travelled downward to where the little red drops were visible between my legs.
A look of contrition passed over his face. He flung himself at my feet, and clasping my knees to his breast, begged me piteously to forgive him. To my amazement his eyes were filled with tears.
'But why did you do that to me?' I insisted reproachfully.
'Sweet Princess,' he moaned, 'I did it unconsciously. Strike me, beat me, kick me, do what you will with me in punishment, but do not be angry with your slave!'
What could one do with such a lunatic?
'Well,' I said, finally, 'I'll forgive you, but don't ever do that again!'
When he had departed I gazed wide-eyed at the material evidence of Madame Lafronde's sage philosophy, for without bothering to count them, he had flung upon my dresser a little sheaf of bank notes which totalled an amount in excess of anything I had previously received.
After I had counted the money, I examined again the tiny laceration in the white flesh of my thigh. It had stopped bleeding and no longer pained. Money can indeed cure many ails and ills. It was an obsession the man was prey to, but lured on by the irresistible magic of gold, I risked further mistreatment and got it, and today, on the inner surfaces of my thighs just below my cunny, are several tiny white scars, each punctuating a moment of insanity during which the teeth of a sadist bit into my flesh while with his own hand he lashed his sexual fury into its final torment of expression.
During the later period of my incarceration in the reformatory, and for over five months of the time I was on Madame Lafronde's staff, I had no word of my foster brother Rene. Letters sent to the last address he had given me in Canada came back unclaimed. His silence worried me greatly. I did not know but what some grave misfortune had overtaken him, but I suspected that, unable to send me any money, he was ashamed to write.
While thinking about him one day I recalled that in our old neighbourhood dwelt a boyfriend to whom Rene was greatly attached, and it occurred to me to write this boy, or young man as he now was, if still alive, on the chance that he might have had some news of Rene.
I acted on this impulse, but the response, which came by return post was negative. He had not received any letters from Rene since the period which embraced that in which I had been in communication with him, and he likewise commented on the fact that a letter he had sent to the address last supplied him by Rene had come back to him unclaimed. Thus, my contentment and material success were marred by the preoccupation that something had happened to Rene, whose image was deeply impressed in my heart.
Accustomed to sleep until around midday or later, I was surprised one morning to be aroused from my slumbers by Madame Lafronde at the unusual hour of nine. When I was sufficiently awake to sit up in bed and ask what was wanted, she rather grumpily informed me that there was a visitor waiting for me in the parlour.
This was an unprecedented variation of the house regime, and I stared at her in surprise.
'Who is it?' I asked wonderingly.
'Don't sit there asking questions. Get up; comb your hair, put on a dressing gown and go downstairs.'
Plainly, Madame was not in the best of humour at having been obliged to get out of bed at this hour. There was something ominously mysterious about this matter. In my mind I endeavoured to find an explanation. With chilling apprehension there came across my thoughts the suspicion that it was in some way connected with the reformatory. Maybe they had discovered how I was living and had come to get me! My face paled and I glanced toward Madame Lafronde. Her expression told me nothing.
'Is there anything wrong?' I whispered.
'You'll think there's something wrong if you ever have anyone call here again at this hour!'
'But…' I protested, 'I have never made any morning appointments with anyone!'
'Oh, it's nothing serious. Here, slip this on,' she answered, holding my dressing gown for me. 'Tidy yourself a bit and hurry up so I can get back to sleep.'
Nervously, I tied my short curls with a ribbon, dabbed a little powder on my face and followed her downstairs where, after motioning toward the parlour, she left me and retired in the direction of her own sleeping quarters.
Still wondering who in the world could have had the temerity to upset the house traditions by calling at this hour, I pushed aside the curtains and entered the room.
Standing with his back toward me, looking out of the window, was the figure of a man I did not at first recognize. I approached hesitatingly, and as he heard my footsteps, he turned and faced me.
For a moment I stood paralysed, unable to move or utter a word.
It was Rene.
The letter I had written to his friend with seemingly fruitless results had in the end been the instrument of our reunion, for through the address I had given in the letter Rene had been able to locate me without loss of time or difficulty.
He had come directly to the house, and Madame, on being informed that I was his sister, had consented to call me without delay.
In a flash we were in each other's arms, both talking at once. For an hour I sat on his lap, listening to the story of his adventures and misadventures. Shamefacedly, he confessed that, as I had divined, a long period of hardship, during which he had suffered many vicissitudes and disappointments, had been the cause of his silence.
'But, darling!' I interposed reproachfully, 'I could have helped you so easily. I have lots of money saved, if I had only known how to reach you I could have sent you some!'
Our conversation was interrupted by the maid, who had come in to clean the parlour.
'Come on up to my room, darling, we can talk there, and I'll have the girl send us up some coffee and cakes!'
With his arm about my waist we ascended the carpeted and padded stairs. Within my room I hastily gathered up such pieces of clothing as were lying carelessly about and straightened out my disordered bed while Rene gazed about in evident wonderment.
'Gee, this is a regular palace you're in, Sis,' he mused. 'Just what kind of a place is it? That old dame wasn't going to let me see you until I told her you were my sister.'
'Oh, Rene, don't you know what kind of a place it is?' I asked, in surprise.
'Well… I've got an idea. If s a kind of sporting house, isn't it?'
'Yes, it is, Rene.'
'Gee, Sis, I'm sorry. I'll find some kind of work and get you out of it.'
'But I don't want to get out! I'm getting along fine; its easy, and I don't mind it at all! Really, I don't! Madame Lafronde is awfully good to me, Rene, and you'll be surprised when you see how much money I've got!'
'It's supposed to be a tough life for a girl, but gee, Sis, you look absolutely topping. Word of honour,' he added, standing in front of me and holding my arms, 'you don't look a day older than you did when I went away. In fact…' he continued, eyeing me in a puzzled way, 'you actually look younger!'
I laughed contentedly as he continued to look at me, perplexed.
'It's your hair, for one thing. Why did you cut it short? It's cute that way, but it makes you look like a kid!'
'That's what it's supposed to do,' I replied, giggling. 'Some of our most valued patrons are freaks that can't get a hard-on unless they think they're fucking an infant. Look…' I added, raising the short crepe-de- chine slip I had on under my dressing gown so that he could see my hairless cunny, 'more of my disguise!'
'Gosh!' exclaimed Rene, breathing harder, 'it gives me a funny feeling to see it like that, Sis! Reminds me of when it really was that way. But how did you get the hair off so smooth?' he continued, touching me gingerly with his fingers.
'It's some paste I put on it. It makes the hair come out clear down to the roots. Do you like it that way?' I
