CHAPTER 10
The days slipped into weeks, the weeks imperceptibly, into months, and almost before I realized it, a year had gone by. Barring the few disagreeable incidents of a minor nature such as those I have described, the time had been passed on the whole both pleasantly and profitably.
Miraculously, I had escaped all three of the afflictions whose menacing shadows are ever close at the heels of those who traffic with their sexual favours: syphilis, gonorrhoea and pregnancy, the Three Horsemen of the Prostitute's Apocalypse.
My health was good, and I had gained in weight, having added several pounds of flesh which improved my figure even though at the cost of some of the juvenile slimness which in the beginning had been such a valuable asset. Nevertheless, I had for some time been observing a gradual change in my physical orgasm which was becoming more and more pronounced, and the condition was one which is not common in the walk of life I frequented.
I will speak plainly. Sexual sensibility, which is that capacity to respond easily and actively to erotic excitation, diminish rapidly in the majority of professional prostitutes who are obliged to exercise their sexual functions with a frequency far in excess of the provisions of Nature. The sexual act becomes a mere routine in which pleasure or orgasm is only simulated to satisfy the customer's ego.
They moan and sigh and murmur passionate endearments, but if their minds could be read, the hollow mockery would be apparent, for one thought only occupies them: a wish to be finished and rid of the man as quickly as possible.
This is the rule which should have applied to me, but didn't.
Desires which should have been appeased by all too frequent gratification were quieted but for a moment, and almost at once flamed anew with increased insistence. And the tendency was growing. Strange as it may seem, sometimes after having had orgasm effected as many as half a dozen times in a single afternoon and evening, I was obliged to masturbate before being able to sleep.
Pathologically and physically, I was oversexed, designed, seemingly, by Mother Nature herself to be a whore.
Now in this propitious moment there entered into the horizon of my life, for the first time, a really sinister influence. And though in that influence I myself sensed a spirit of perversity I was drawn toward it like a moth to the candle. Knowing that the destiny it signified was evil, I had no wish to resist it.
Montague Austin-what memories that name evokes. Memories of passion, cruelty, horror, blended with the cloying and intoxicating poison of a transcendental lust which knew no law other than that of gratifying its own frenzy.
I was supposed to have been infatuated with the man, but I never loved him, nor thought I did. No, I did not love him, but I did love the mad transports, the exquisite torment of lust which he, as no other man before or since, had the power to awaken in me. As an addict to the scented dreams of opium, so did I become an addict to Montague Austin. He was to me a fatal drug which held me a willing victim in its embrace.
For the first time, in broaching the subject of a new patron to me, Madame Lafronde manifested a doubt as to the expediency of putting my youth and inexperience to the test which she clearly thought an alliance with Montague Austin would signify.
I had seen the man but once; he was not a regular habituate of Madame Lafronde's house, but her facilities for gathering information were such that within less than twenty-four hours his social position, resources, and such portions of his history as were available on such inquiry were known to her. All the information, excepting that which related to his economic situation, was unfavourable. She summed up her opinion in the one expressive word- rotter. But he had money, and money covers an otherwise inexcusable number of objectionable qualities. Possibly by the exercise of tact and vigilance I could handle him.
As for myself, I was the last person in the world to doubt my own capabilities, so Madame Lafronde finally and with patent misgivings, yielded to my complacent and optimistic self-assurance.
Now let us glance briefly at the man himself.
He was, at the time our paths crossed, thirty-four years of age. The younger son of a titled British aristocrat, he had inherited both money and social position. The social position had been forfeited by dissolute escapades, the money dissipated in part, but enough remained to qualify him still as a rich man. He was married, but according to rumour his profligate ways had brought about an irreconcilable estrangement with his consort.
At first glance one would have marked Montague Austin as an extremely good-looking man. But a less cursory observation would not have failed to disclose signs of a cynical and somewhat cruel character in his darkly handsome face and narrow mouth. A little above average height and signally favoured with regard to other physical characteristics, he was in truth a figure to intrigue feminine imagination.
In my brocade jacket, high-heeled slippers, and with my grenadier's cap tilted at a jaunty angle I was going through my customary antics one night when I suddenly felt myself clasped from behind, and turning, looked into the cynically smiling face of a man I had not previously seen among our parlour guests. I paused, waiting for him to release me, but instead, he swung me around, dropped an arm under my hips, and hoisted me, cigarette tray and all, into the air.
'There is a tide in the affairs of men,' he quoted, 'which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Baby, you're my tidal wave, the one I've been waiting for all my life!'
He got off this declaration with such well-simulated solemnity and impressiveness that all within hearing laughed, nor could I myself restrain a smile.
'I think you're the tidal wave,' I retorted, 'since I find myself quite swept off my feet. If you'll be so kind as to set me down, maybe I'll let you buy a packet of fags from me!'
'Lord love me!' he exclaimed tragically, 'she peddles fags while Rome is burning! I perish for a kiss, and she offers nicotine!'
'Oh, all right!' I giggled, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Now be a nice man and let me down!'
He set me down on the floor, but still held me a prisoner with an arm under mine.
Yielding to his solicitation I unhooked the cigarette tray, placed it on a table, accompanied him to a secluded corner of the room, and let him take me upon his knee.
Dropping his bantering attitude he immediately became serious and asked for a room appointment. A shiver passed over me as his fingers boldly played with the nipples of my breasts. I glanced into his eyes but hastily lowered my gaze as something of the lustful obsession which was later to dominate me came into being. Sensing the absurdity of telling this man any fairy stories, I explained frankly that I was not permitted to make any appointments except through the intervention of Madame Lafronde.
'Ah, I see,' he answered, taking in the situation instantly, 'you're a special attraction. So much the better, I'll see her immediately, and I suppose there's no use of taking up any of your time until I do.'
'Any of the other girls can make, room appointments.' I preferred.
'Thanks for the information,' he answered dryly, 'but you've wrecked their chances. I couldn't even get a hard-on with any of them now.'
'I've got a friend here,' I murmured, looking around for Hester. 'That's her over there by the door, the girl with the dark hair. She can give any man a hard-on. Shall I introduce you to her?'
'No thanks,' he answered with but a brief glance in the direction I had indicated. 'It's you or nobody now. When can I talk to your madam?'
'I'll tell her you want to speak to her, but I'm afraid it won't do any good.'
'Possibly she can be persuaded. What's your name, baby?'
'Jessie.' I replied.
'That's a nice name. Mine is Austin, Montague Austin, Monty to you.
Skip along and tell the old lady I want to speak to her privately.'
The result of his interview with Madame Lafronde I have already made known. Inasmuch as I had now become quite a parlour attraction, having in addition to my earlier accomplishments learned a number of naughty songs and suggestive dances, she was loathe to concede any of the earlier hours of the night, but an understanding was reached where Montague Austin, or Monty as I shall henceforth refer to him, was to enjoy exclusive prerogatives over my person one night each week after the hour of twelve.
