No word was spoken, but a concealed band was heard playing soft, dreamy music.
Tubby came forward with his little tray of razors, and bowed, first to the audience, then to Charlie, and then to the boy. Charlie removed the cloth, and it was seen at once that Tubby had a fine subject to work on.
The boy's tool, semi-erect, was surrounded by a forest of luxuriantly curling bush. It seemed a shame to cleave the 'love-mane' from the young Narcissus-but is not the human form, male or female, more perfect in entire nudity of hirsute growth? I think so, my readers, and so did the 'clean-shave' devotees of Rosedale house.
There was a chair, similar to that in the London studio, and gently Charlie placed the boy, who was half laughing, half shyly blushing, in position.
Tubby, looking ridiculously modern in his lounge suit, faultlessly cut, beside this young naked god, stepped up and laid his hand on the quivering penis.
Instantly it shot into life-the poet bit his thumb, lustful longing filled the eyes of the women.
Quickly Tubby lathered the rolling curls with some soap, which drifted a delicious aroma into the nostrils of all. As he followed the action of the brush by a rub of his fingers, the boy's eyes became dreamy, his phallus was stiffly erect, a mighty one for a youth, and his arms hung listlessly over the edges of the chair.
One of the girls, dressed in a black skin-tight maillot, with red sleeves, a female Mephisto en effete, handed Tubby a razor. Deftly the fat young man played round that staff of eager love. One curiously shaped instrument after another he called for, till the last curl had fallen.
He bowed in reply to the plaudits of the audience.
A girl, one of the smallest, not quite naked, but very suggestively half-dressed, came forth with a tray of unguents and powders. A boy, fully dressed in Lord Fauntleroy style, held a basin, a third girl, quite naked, brought a cut-glass bottle of scent.
Tubby, his work completed, stepped back, and Maudie, pouring the scent into the silver bowl of water till a dense, but delicate, aroma filled the room, softly sponged the remaining lather from the boy.
That done, she rubbed the virgin skin with an unguent, and followed with powder.
It was a pretty sight, a contrast again of the old world and the new-for Maudie was still in her light summer frock, just the 'river girl' in excelsis, and this young Narcissus made a beautiful foil. And all the time his ramrod was stiffly rigid.
During these proceedings the poet had behaved in a very odd manner. Being conveniently distant from the general, he had ventured to hum one or two 'little unconsidered trifles', such as: 'See how the ruthless scythesman reaps His cruel harvest with relentless sweeps Of Sheffield steel.
Oh! lovely youth, oh! sweetly formed Apollo, Thy forest falls to Roger's best ground hollow.'
He paused. And, when the final act of desecration had been performed, and Charlie had raised the lad, still soulful-eyed, still prick erect, to his' sandaled feet, the poet displayed his true nature.
Bounding to his feet, he rushed upon the boy and flung his arms round him, raining kisses on his lips.
Charlie was at first disposed to interfere, but Maudie restrained him.
'This is delightfully unexpected,' she said.
The poet awoke to lights, faces, subdued music, a general tobu bobu of clatter, laughter and applause.
The naked youth turned over to him and kissed him. The poet got up, and, with as much bravado as he could muster, swaggered back among the spectators.
He passed the general, humming, 'A wandering minstrel I-a thing of-'
'Wandering minstrel, my arse, sir,' thundered the general.
'You're a bugger, sir, a goddamned bugger, and you ought to have an umbrella stuck up your arse, and opened inside, sir. Isn't a cunt good enough for you?'
Very brilliant limes focused a large patch of the stage, and on to that were hurried the four latest virgins, 'Jeannie's little lot', as Charlie announced; prominent amongst them was the red-haired flapper whose bush had been spared because of its flamboyant beauty. 'The burning bush,' as the poet had termed it.
After that little interlude, done because Charlie wanted Jeannie's turn over so that she could help him, the boys were proceeded with.
None was so beautiful as the first Sicilian, but they were all very pretty lads. No English, but a brace of young Highlanders whose parents had sold them for the Sassenach's gold, and a red-headed Irish youngster, rather on the plump side, who thoroughly enjoyed the proceedings.
Each of the youths in his turn was quickly operated on, but the poet made no spring. It was an enthralling rather than an 'erotic' exhibition-that is from the lust-compelling point of view of the word. Minds, however sensual, when compelled more to a rapt admiration of the beauty of the naked human form, than a passionate longing to do anything to it.
Charlie's choice had been very admirable. North, south east and west he had gone; and were there to be no question whatever of immorality-per se-there was opportunity enough, and more than enough, for the most eclectic photographic panoramas of the nude.
With the girls, Maudie-now no more the Maudie of the demure 'summer girl' costume, but Maudie radiant in her glorious, flaunting nakedness-took up the razors.
She was quick, almost brutally quick, with them all, and as each nymph was clean cunted, brushed her aside, till, as she rose from the task with a pant, she had a flock of little naked loves giggling and blushing around her.
'Now,' said Maudie, as she stood up, triumphant, 'we have, decided not to have the sports till tomorrow; there is so much to arrange. In the meantime, remember, all of you that this is absolutely Liberty Hall. You can do anything you like.'
The poet began to think.
A maid brought Maudie a peignoir elaborately designed with flowers. She left the great room with her graceful, lissom walk, followed by hungrily lustful eyes.
Tubby announced that he was going for a motor drive, and Charlie said he would go too. They collected Madame Rade and her niece and went.
The old general, when he heard the hum of the departing car, began to think. Even at his age, he was very lustful, and he did want Maudie. He was safe now, with both her young men out of the way, and he knew her room.
He risked it, found the door unlocked, and walked straight in. He found Maudie lying quite naked on the bed, the sunrays glorifying the ivory whiteness of her flesh. He made a cheap excuse about 'Wrong room, my mistake,' etc., and paused.
'Oh, don't go, general,' said Maudie, pleasantly. 'Stop and chat; I'm all alone.'
He sat on the edge of the bed, and caressed her naked knee. She stroked his cheek softly.
The general was a fine-looking old man. Many years of active service had given him a figure upright as a dart. His eyes were clear and bright, and in his trousers there thrilled a lusty cock..
'You must think this place a bit thick, general,' said Maudie.
'Madame,' answered the old soldier, 'I have fought and fucked all over the world, and I have seen most things, though nothing to equal your beauty.'
Maudie was pleased. The general was old, but still he was a distinguished man and a VC. She had had pretty well every variety of young and middle-aged man, but this old hero, who had listened with the stricken prisoners of Cawnpore to the distant skid of the approaching pipes, was a novelty. She thought she'd like it, but she left it to him to ask.
He tarried. He sat closer to her, toyed with her shapely legs and beautifully moulded breasts, kissed her ears, her eyes, her lips, but still was a little nervous to ask so much loveliness to give all of herself to him.
She made him tell her of his fucks and fights. He related how when he was in Constantinople on leave from the Crimea, he had found a Turkish officer whose life he had saved in the trenches, and how he and an invalided French Zouave had been invited by the grateful Turk to see his harem, and do what they damned pleased.
It appears they 'damned pleased a lot', and the old warrior described it all vivaciously.
'I was only a boy then, my dear girl,' he began, 'and by God I loved the girls, bless' em. I believe I was the only English officer in the war invited to get into a really swagger harem-and this chap, Ramuz Pasha, was so grateful that he wouldn't take no for an answer.
'We went into a luxuriously-got-up set of rooms, with about thirty women, some mere children, lying about
