For with a soft slurred giggle, as they went down the stairs, she remarked, “I will save this candle, mon Pere, and after you have left us, I will retain it as a remembrance of your presence. Mayhap, many a night from now when I toss and turn in my lonely bed, I will take it and pretend that it is you visiting me where I wish best to entertain you.”
Was there ever so bold and candid a hussy as Georgette? Comparing her with gentle Laurette and sweet Marisia, I could but pronounce that, as has often been held by theologians, there is more bawdy virtuosity in the cities than in the village hamlets. And doubtless this is true because simply there are more wanton females in the former than in the latter by dint of population. However, knowing the alert capacity for wisdom which sweet Marisia had already shown, even in Languecuisse, I should not be surprised if by the time she had sojourned in wicked and sprawling London for a while, she could put even Georgette to shame when it came for sweet shamelessness!
Father Lawrence did not remark to this naughty observation till they had reached the wine cellar and Georgette had set the candle down in a little cup. But then he murmured, “It grieves me, my daughter, that you would let an inanimate object simulate that noblest of human structures given to man for his joy to make up for the loss he suffered he was driven out of Eden. So, before we tap this wine, my daughter, let me show you how wrong you are in seeking such a substitution.”
Whereupon once again I was rudely flung from side to side and up and down till I was most indignant. He had doffed his cassock with an unimpaired vigor, as if he had not already lost a good deal of spunk from the fingerings of the two sisters and of his own tender young ward Marisia. I could only conclude that he had a truly inexhaustible supply.
A moment later, when I heard a gasp from Georgette, I was certain that he was exhibiting to her the difference between a pole and a candle, and I was indisputably right. With a swelling ardor to his mellow and resonant voice, he bade her consider the difference: “Behold, my daughter, here is your candle, placed beside my pole. Is there aught by which you could actually consider the two the same save perhaps in the length? But even admitting the equal length of this candle which has lighted our way to this dark cellar, do you not see that my own pole is greater in breadth? Also observe the head of the two objects side by side. That of my pole is shaped like a plum and set off from the stick which bears it forward, whereas this candle is all of the same contour. The candle has a wick which must be lighted. You will need to strike tinder or take it near a fire to illumine it so that in turn it may guide the way. But my pole has an eternal wick, so long as I am alive and lusty, my daughter, and this I will demonstrate with perspicacity to you upon this instant. Do you but truss up your kirtle and lower your drawers.”
“Oh, oui, oui, mon Pere!” Georgette gasped with a feverish excitement. Once again I heard the rustling of garments. And when I heard Father Lawrence's gasp, I knew mat she had just exhibited her silky-downed wine- tapper.
“There, do you see, my daughter? My wick is already lit at the sight of your soft pussy. It fairly burns to guide itself forward between those soft seductive lips shrouded by the silky hairs which modestly shield your tenderest of niches. I need no tinder nor flame to ignite my wick, Georgette; and see how huge and thick my wickbearer is when it beholds your sweet candle-snuffer. Yet here again the analogy fails, for even though once you may snuff me out by receiving the outpouring of my spunk, nature strengthens me so that soon again my wick is lit and ready for more guidance. Let me illustrate this, my daughter.”
“Oh, oui, oui, oui… ooohhh – aaahhh, mon Pere, mon Pere!! C'est merveilleux!” Georgette squealed.
“And finally, to deny this analogy altogether,” he continued a great deal more forcefully, “when this candle by which you would simulate my pole should approach so soft and silky-furred a candle-snuffer as is yours, it would burn it piteously. Whereas my pole does not burn at the wick, yet it burns indefatigably all down its length when it is nestled entirely within your sweet candle-snuffer – thus!”
I heard him grunt as he doubtless shoved his pole forward into Georgette's candle-snuffer, for the baggage moaned and groaned and hugged him and then showered him with a thousand little sucking kisses to express her ecstasy.
“How your bottom squirms and jiggles, my daughter,” he gasped, still more hoarsely than before, “my hands can scarcely steady it; it is like the rudder of a ship tossed hither and yon upon angry waters, hurling itself this way and that! But I will bring it balance and equilibrium, my daughter! Do you hold tight onto me while my pole guides you through these turbulent seas to find at last the appeasement for which you burn and for which equally I burn to bestow upon you!”
And then, dear reader, there followed a chorus of groans and gasps, and huggings and kissings, of sighs and murmurs, until finally I heard Georgette wail out, “Oh, yes, it is so much better than any candle! It is bigger and thicker and hotter by far than any candle! Oh, hurry, hurry, make me burn all inside of my little con!”
“I will, I will! Have patience, my daughter!” he gasped. “My pole a candle? There, take this, and this again!” At each 'this' he must have given a lunge of his formidable pole, for Georgette squealed as if she were being drawn and quartered. But it was not a squeal of pain but rather one of indescribable carnal bliss.
And then there came his long-drawn groan as his wick was dampened by that rapacious and insatiable candle-snuffer which Georgette housed between her plump straining thighs.
They sighed together like a pair of turtle doves as at last he must have drawn himself out, well tapped for the nonce. And then after a lengthy pause, he said, in a wan voice which suggested that he had bestowed perhaps more spunk upon her pussy than he had intended to, “If you must keep that candle as memento, Georgette, do you at least take a pairing knife and whittle it in some reasonable semblance of my pole. Yet you would do well to begin with a thicker candle, my daughter, for even though at this moment my own pole is vastly diminished down to the leanness of the taper which brought us to this lair of Bacchus, remember that unlike the candle, it can swell and aggrandize itself to mighty measurements. And now, a last kiss, my daughter, and then let us drink this good Anjou together to each other's health and fortune and to a safe voyage across the Channel for my pole.”
A languid sigh and a murmured, “Oui, oui, mon Pere!” from Georgette told me in conclusion that she had at last grasped Father Lawrence's little play on words. For she had assuredly been thoroughly poled, and by now she needs must know the pole was by far superior to any candle.
CHAPTER NINE
When at last Father Lawrence and that forward hussy Georgette had emerged from the wine cellar, the worthy landlord was already coming down the stairs from his own room to ascertain his daughter's whereabouts so that she might aid him in preparing the evening meal for all their guests. With some little experience in the matter, the good English ecclesiastic had first ascended from the wine cellar and engaged his host in chitchat, while the sly minx slipped off towards the kitchen. But the landlord was in a most irritable mood and because his eyes were wandering about even while Father Lawrence was engaging him in conversation, he chanced to espy Georgette. Whereupon he angrily bellowed for her to give account of herself and to explain why, although he had called out her name no fewer than three times, she had now come to answer that summons.
“I feel that I must take the blame for that, my worthy host,” the ever gallant Father Lawrence responded. “Since my three wards are young, mere babes scarcely weaned away from their mothers' milk, and since they asked me whether they might be permitted this one indulgence of good wine to drink a farewell toast to la belle France, I did engage Georgette to accompany me to the cellar there to seek the beatific and moderate vintage which would not have intoxicating effect upon these virginal damsels. Your daughter, my good man, displayed such good knowledge of the wines of this country that I was rapt in listening to her and in considering one over the other, and therefore I fear I kept her longer than I should.”
With this, he drew out his purse and laid down a piece of gold. “I wish to settle my score, and you will of course include the supper which your daughter will bring presently to my wards. To my reckoning, also, whatever nourishment you have for a humble priest this evening to give him strength before he sets foot upon the deck of the vessel that takes us to England.”
Seeing that his host hesitated, he took out yet another gold piece, and with a lordly gesture clinked it down upon the first, saying, “Whatever there is left from those two coins, let it be as a pourboire for you and Georgette to drink my health and to wish me well when I am embarked upon the rolling sea of the Channel.”
