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Chapter 70 - 70

"The bonnet will be home," said I, "let us go." "Allons, allons," so

off we went. It was dusk when we got in the cab. "I am to put on the

stockings if I give you a pair, and to feel," I said. "No man has, c'est

trop fort, you ask too much; you may put on garters below the knee."

"Why not above?" "Oh! quite different," said she, "in the fields no girl

minds putting her garter on before all the world below knee; but

above, sh! that is disgrace." Such is fashion, I have seen an Italian

market-woman stoop forward and piss whilst talking to a man (a

neighbouring stall-keeper): she saw no harm. An English woman would

burst first; yet if the Italian had put his hand rudely up her legs,

that man might have been stabbed by the woman. Louise saw no indecency

up to the knees, but above was a disgrace. "Put your boots up," I said,

up they went. "I may put garter to there?" said I feeling outside.

"Yes." I shoved my hand up her petticoats on to her thighs, they closed,

and down went the legs: a squeal, a struggle, but on her thighs I kept

it until I got to the house.

 

We let ourselves in, the bonnet had not come, Louise opened the window

to look out for it, although it was dark. A ring came, it was the

bonnet; down she rushed for it. "Bring lights, bring lights," said she

taking one in her hand herself, the bonnet in the other; and rushing

into Camille's room where there were large glasses; she put on the

bonnet, clapped her hands for joy, and kissed me saying, I was so good.

She put on her gloves, and collar, turning round to me each time, and

asking how she looked. "Let me sleep with you, and I will buy you a

dress to-morrow morning," said I. "Impossible, impossible, was I not

going now," said she thoughtfully on a sudden. "No," I meant to sleep

there; and as I had fetched a valise, I pulled out my things, took off

my boots, put on a dressing-gown. "There," said I, "I shall sleep here

till Camille comes home." "There will be a row then, and what will I

do? Madame Boileau (the old woman upstairs) must know, and will tell

Madame," and she looked hard at me.

 

Then she was attracted by my dressing-gown which was showy, but soon

began looking at herself again, and took off all her finery with a sigh.

"I am so hot and thirsty," said she. It was not wonderful, for she had

fed twice heavily, and been champagning off and on for hours, her hands

were burning, heat was throughout her frame. "Let's have some more

champagne," said I, and opened a bottle; I pulled my trows-ers off,--it

was so hot,--being then in dressing-gown, drawers, and slippers, I made

up my mind to force her, if I could do it no other way. Then my eye

caught sight of a white muslin wrapper which Camille wore, it was tied

down the front with blue bows.

 

"Put on Madame's wrapper, if you are hot, you will look handsomer than

she does." She went into Camille's room, bolted herself in, and came

out looking splendid, and had only on beneath the wrapper, her coarse

chemise, which I could see (as indeed I knew before) just reached below

her knees. My heart palpitated, I was in my dressing-gown, she with but

the thinnest garments on.

 

The champagne was before us, we were on the sofa, my arm was round her

waist; through the thin folds of her light dress I could feel her firm

haunches and well-moulded body; I talked baudy, squeezed her to me,

pressed her thighs with one hand, and put the other down her bosom.

Every now and then there was a scuffle, a cry, and forgiveness; then

resistance grew fainter, another glass of champagne, and her head

dropped on my shoulder, subdued by amourousness, and when I asked her

to let me sleep with her, she only said, "Oh! I dare not. I must not."

I slipped my hand up to her thighs, she put her hand down stopping its

progress. "If I could only get her into the bed-room, and on to the

bed," I thought and went to Camille's room, the candles were still

burning. "Would you like silk stockings? here they are." "Is it so?"

said she bounding up. I held them up before her. "Let me put them on."

"The garters above knee, mind." "Yes, yes," said she impatiently, "Give

them me".

 

She sat down on the side of the bed, and let me put them on, putting one

leg up after the other, pulled off her new boots and old stockings, I

saw her thighs, but she never heeded, so anxious was she to get the silk

stockings on. I had thrown off my dressing-gown, and knelt in front

of her as a boot-maker does in fitting on boots. I was so slow, that

impatiently she said, "Give it me, give it me," pulled it on herself,

and then put on the boot. I sat down on the floor, lowering my head and

looking. Her silks and boots engrossed her. My prick came out from under

my shirt, stiff, standing, and pointing up to her; she never saw it,

but got up directly one garter was on, contemplated one leg in the

cheval-glass, laughed with delight, turned round, kissed me; then on

went the other. As I put that garter on, I kissed the thigh just above

it, up she got, lifted her robe to see her legs, strutted up and down

in front of the glass until tired of looking. Her fine limbs looked

exquisite in the silks and boots.

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