Tuesday, 6 September 2016

Chapter 7: “I see that you have brought your drawing things!”


The Great Northern Hotel, King's Cross, London


Journalist for the Daily Courier, Edmund Molloy, goaded by his former sweetheart and wishing to impress the older Edith Challenor, wife of a famous professor of natural history, volunteers his newspaper to support an expedition to a plateau in South America which is reputedly the home of living prehistoric creatures. After Professor Challenor's revalatory lecture at the Natural History Museum, Mrs Challenor arranges an assignation the following day at the Great Northern Hotel. His friend, William Britten wants to find out the truth about Molloy's relationship with Mrs Challenor so takes him to the Babylon Exploration Society, an expensive brothel.


Britten quizzed me incessantly in the Arabian Room at the Babylon Exploration Society. Initially, about my volunteering for the Challenor expedition and how it would change my life, as I would, he maintained, become well known. The Italian girl, Claudia, poured us some Claret, as we sat. cross-legged, on some of the ornate cushions in the room; although Britten had struggled to settle himself elegantly amongst them. “Only heathens sit on cushions!” he observed, wriggling uncomfortably. I observed that, perhaps, his discomfort was because his clothes appeared to have shrunk over the last six months, which saw me receive a somewhat painful thump on my shoulder.

Claudia, was dressed in diaphanous baggy trousers so sheer that her dark, intimate hair was almost completely revealed. She wore a short, gold-embroidered bolero top which barely covered her large breasts and had no fastening whatsoever at the front. She wore bells on her ankles and wrists which jingled merrily as she saw to our culinary needs.  Neither Anna, nor, disappointingly, Hoshimi, were ‘available’ that night but Britten had been lucky and had his favourite blonde German girl, Bettina, attending on us as well. She was even less modest than the Italian, as she had left her blue silk robe completely undone, giving us regular flashes of her blonde moss and well-formed bust. She and Britten were obviously very comfortable together and both regularly caressed each other as she bustled about. He was still paying for it, though, I thought, an image of a naked Edith, her legs spread on her white linen sheets, slipping into my mind. I smiled, smugly.

Eventually, at our request, the girls left us alone and Britten, as I had expected, started to ask me about Edith Challenor. I dissembled. “Look here, Molloy,” he said after I had tried to change the subject several times, “you do not go from a situation where you have just met a lady, to having her nip your ear with her teeth in greeting and engaging in private liaisons in the darkened recesses of the Natural History Museum, within a period of thirty-six hours, without something else having occurred in the interim. There is a palpable sense of a connection between the two of you!”

“We have just become close friends quickly,” I said. “It happens sometimes!”

“Love at first sight!” said Britten, grinning.

“Not love!” I said.

“Lust then!” he answered. I blushed. “I thought so. You are a terrible liar! Look here, I cannot understand how you were quite happy to tell me the most intimate details about Agnes yet about this woman I am getting nothing from you at all!” said Britten. "It is jolly unfair!"

“She is married. It complicates things,” I said, fiddling with the stem of my glass. “And now of course I will be travelling with her husband...  All rather difficult.”

"So you will not be seeing her again in any, improper, circumstances, then?"  said Britten, I blushed.  "Excellent!  What a bounder you are!  Although the lovely Mrs Challenor is quite worth breaking a commandment for!"

"Oh dear!  I am behaving rather like a bounder aren't I?  My only defence is that this is something Edith is seeking, as her relationship with her husband is not as it should be nor as she deserves!" I said.

“I am sure the Professor will be perfectly understanding as he breaks all your limbs!" he said. "Have you kissed?” he asked, peremptorily.  I nodded. “Excellent!” He smiled and took another sip of his drink. “Have you touched her, intimately?” I thought about this and realised that I had actually kept my hands off her, as she had asked me to. I shook my head. “Has she touched you intimately?” I blushed again. “Really? Was there any nakedness involved?” I nodded again.“Come on, Molloy, I want the whole story!”  I sighed and started from the point I had heard Edith and the Professor in the throes of passion at their house. I concluded with the details of our assignation tomorrow, although, to be on the safe side, I did not reveal the hotel.“Good Lord, Molloy, when you jump, you jump with both feet don’t you?”

I turned down the charms of the lovely Claudia and left Britten happily with both ladies, one on each knee, when I bid them goodnight. As I closed the door on them I heard giggling and the tinkling of bells.  I almost went back into the room at that point but I was tired, emotionally drained and, I admit, thinking that I should be saving myself for Mrs Challenor, who seemed to need my companionship. I returned to my flat in Shepherd’s Bush and undressed. I did not, however, put my pyjamas on. I thought about Edith Challenor and, as I stood there naked in my bedroom, positively enjoyed my blossoming erection. I caressed my ballocks and took my manhood in hand, thinking about her ripe and rounded  body. I climbed into bed and enjoyed a long slow one, unusually, ceasing my strokes if I felt myself close. My mind was full of images of pink nipples, round buttocks and that livid pink gash between her legs, glistening with its own juices. “Edith!” I cried, spurting into my hand.




“Edith!” I cried, as I spotted her in the foyer of the Great Northern Hotel the next morning. The weather was foul and it was pouring with rain.

“Edmund, you look like a drowned rat! What a beastly day!” she said, smiling. I wanted to take her in my arms but instead shook her hand. “Just the day, in fact, for cuddling up naked somewhere warm and cozy!” she whispered, conspiratorially.  “I see that you have brought your drawing things!  I am ready to display myself for you!”

“Indeed, although whether any of my paper remains dry is to be seen!” I said, shaking my cap and stuffing it into my jacket pocket.

“The room will be ready at midday. You can buy me some tea!” she said. She was dressed in shades of blue-grey and wore a sensible felt hat which was still spotted with raindrops. We were just about to go and get some tea when a young woman approached me from across the other side of the foyer. 

“Mr Molloy?” I nodded, wondering who she was. She was a very pretty, even beautiful, brunette with striking green eyes, wearing a brown coat over a dark green ensemble and a rather rakish hat.

"Indeed, miss," I replied, quite taken with her. She nodded at Edith.

“I just wanted to say how very brave you are taking on such an expedition. I am looking forward to reading your accounts in the months to come!” She had a slight south London accent, I thought, although my perception of English accents was by no means perfect. She did not have quite the refined tones of Edith Challenor or Agnes but she wasn’t a cockney either.

“Oh!” I was surprised. I had just delivered my account of last night’s events to the Courier’s offices that morning. I had woken early, toyed with myself while thinking of Edith for a while but decided to save my essence for later. I had made some toast and sat down and typed up my story for the newspaper, as last night McCandless had said it would not make this morning’s edition and he wanted an in depth piece for the following day. “Were you at the lecture last night?” I asked her. “How did you recognise me?”

“No, Mr Molloy but I have just seen your photograph on the inside page of the Courier!”

“What?” I said, my first uncharitable thought being that McCandless had stolen my story.

“Yes, there is a copy over there on that table!” she said. I hadn’t picked up the Courier that morning. I didn’t even register the newspaper in the office, even though they were lying around there as usual. I had just deposited my story and left. Yes, some of the other staff had briefly mentioned the night before’s events but I thought that was just general office talk, not because it was in the newspaper itself. Frankly, my mind was more taken up with Edith Challenor’s ripe body than dinosaurs. The young lady had gone over to the table, which held a selection of the day’s newspapers and brought a copy of the Courier back to show me. There, taking up nearly a quarter of the third page, was the photograph of Challenor, Somersby, Hoxton, Miss Blanc and I at the museum. ‘Courier to fund dinosaur expedition!’ it said. There were just a few lines of text with the promise of ‘much more tomorrow’. Obviously they couldn’t put it on the front page at such short notice and I wondered what story had been moved to make way.

“You are national news, Mr Molloy!” said Edith, smiling.

“Do you have a pen or pencil, Mr Molloy?” asked the young lady, ignoring Edith completely, I noticed.

“A newspaperman always has a copious supply of writing instruments, miss!” I replied showing her the inside pocket of my jacket, which was, as usual, stuffed with pens and pencils.

“Would you mind signing an inscription to me, please!” she asked, indicating the white space at the top of the page, just above the photograph..

“Oh! Of course! What is your name?” I pulled out a soft black pencil as I knew that my fountain pen ink would blur on the cheap paper the Courier used.

“Daisy,” she smiled. “Daisy Thompson. Here is my card,” she said handing me a card with an address in Pimlico upon it. “I am a single lady living on my own and I intend to follow your adventures closely!”

‘Dearest Daisy’ I wrote. ‘For my first avid follower. With kind regards, Edward Molloy. Challenor Expedition.'

“That is perfect, Mr Molloy,” she said. “I feel quite honoured! Thank you and good luck! I am sorry but I need to catch my train!” She darted forward, stood on tiptoe and kissed me on the cheek. She nodded at a porter who picked up her small suitcase and they left the main entrance of the hotel. She gave me a shy wave as she went through the doorway.

“Dear Mr Molloy, I am a single lady living on my own. Please come to my home and ravish me! Honestly!” said Edith. “Edmund you will obviously be attracting a coterie of excited young ladies with damp parts waiting on your every word. Her palpable excitement almost excuses her lack of manners.  I could almost smell her arousal”

“Edith, you are a shocking woman!” I said.

“The best sort, surely?” she agreed. “Now, let us have tea!”

We sat and discussed last night’s events. “I have mentioned you in my story!” I said.

“Really?” she said, blowing imaginary steam from her cup.

“Yes. ‘The slides for the lecture were presented by Professor Challenor’s striking wife, Edith, who handled the process with quiet and elegant efficiency.’”

“Hah! You might as well have written, your correspondent has completely fallen in love with his expedition leader’s wife!” she said.

“No one would assume that,” I frowned. “Anyway, fallen in lust, not love; as you love the Professor!”

“Fallen in lust! Yes! A perfect description!” she said, looking around the cafe. “No unnecessary and tiresome emotional entanglements.  Just animal passion!"

"Animal passion?"  I asked.

"Indeed.  I am without drawers again today, Edmund. I am finding that it keeps me in something of a state of simmering excitement, knowing that if you were to reach under this table, pull up the hem of my skirt and slide your fingers up the inside of my stocking you would be able to access my private parts quite easily.  My moist parts, I should add!”

“Edith, you are making me quite engorged!” I laughed.

“Excellent! Now I will get even more moist than before! Last night, at the museum, I do think a drop of my intimate juice ran down the inside of my thigh. I was quite literally dripping for you! All I could think about, to be crude, was your great big, throbbing, curved cock!”  Although I was getting used to her directness, it still gave me a little frisson of excitement to hear her speak so in such a public place.

 “Does the Professor not have...?” I began the sentence and tailed off, as I realised it was a question I should not be asking.

“In fact, George, is well endowed, although, admittedly he no longer has your youthful upwards thrust. He is rather less than horizontal these days, although it still does the job perfectly well. If you want flattery, however, to boost your fragile male sense of worth, you do have a significantly larger knob and general diameter! There is, however, no competition between you and George as George has already won it by marrying me!”

“I cannot disagree with that!” I said. I really did need to learn to say less. The last thing I wanted to happen was for Edith to disappear in an offended huff.

“Well, now I really cannot wait until we go upstairs!” She stroked my thigh, under the table and I felt her fingers brush across the, now quite stretched, crotch of my trousers. “I am looking forward to wrapping my fingers around you once again! Lots of intimate contact is in prospect!”

 “But of course I would not touch you. Just as I did not yesterday!” I said. “No contact on my part!”

“Yesterday was an aperitif; a little test by me upon you, if you will. Are you a man who can control his passions when appropriate? Who won’t get sentimental or emotional and declare undying love and all that sort of nonsense? Frankly, I was assessing you to see if we might continue our intimate arrangement. You passed with flying colours, of course. And, indeed, flying semen!” she laughed and several people in the cafe looked at her. She grinned at me and winked. “Although I am, of course, wedded to George in every way, well nearly every way, I was intending some rather more mutually tactile elements to our interaction today!  Full bodily contact!”

“Now I really am stiff!” I said. “By the way, if I may ask, what was the Professor’s attitude towards your person last night!”

“Ah, I do so enjoy discussing such matters, Mr Molloy! Carnal matters. Sexual matters. I would have loved to tell you that he stripped me naked, threw me on my belly and took me violently from behind. Sadly, he did not. George was excited, of course, but his mind was more on his Iguanodons than my person. I changed into my peignoir and unbuttoned myself all the way down the front. I sat provocatively on the chair in his study, I ‘inadvertently’ rubbed myself against him at every opportunity but he did not respond. Later, I stripped off completely and went into his bedroom only to find him fast asleep and snoring, as usual. I went back to my own room and climbed into bed naked!”

 “I slept naked too, last night!” I said.

“I frigged myself and the thought of your pumping manhood spraying me with your sperm brought me over the edge once more!” she said. “Three times yesterday!” I felt her leg rub against my calf under the table.

“I spent too, thinking about your lovely body!” I admitted.

“What fun! Perhaps we were frigging ourselves at the same time; each thinking of the other! An amusing thought!”

"A distracting thought!" I said, an image of her coming into my mind. legs apart, frantically rubbing away.  She smiled at me and raised an eyebrow, obviously knowing what I was thinking.  I felt her boot rub up my calf.

We talked for another half hour and then Edith stood up. I stood too. She showed me a large brass key fob from her bag. “We are in room 204. Why don’t you settle the bill and come up in around ten minutes?”

I watched her leave the cafe, then ordered another tea and sat impatiently, constantly looking at my pocket watch. By the time I ascended the stairs and approached the door of room 204 my heart was pounding, presumably to pump as much blood as possible into my already completely engorged member. What did she mean by full body contact?  What exactly would that involve?  I rapped on the door. “Edmund?”

“Indeed,” I replied.

“Do come in!” I turned the knob and entered the room. She was standing, fully clothed, but without her hat, gloves and jacket, six feet from the door. She stepped past me and turned the key to lock the door, before turning back towards me. She held out her arms and I stepped into her embrace. She stood on tiptoe and I bent down to kiss her. This was a very different kiss from before. Long, slow and wet. I felt her hands on my behind as she pulled me close. “You are already ready for me, it seems!” she said, smiling and running the backs of her fingers across the protruding groin of my trousers. “I will undress you!” She did so quickly and efficiently, removing my garments and placing them on a chair, tidily. Professor Challenor’s untidiness must drive her to distraction, I thought, incongruously. She knelt down to attend to my socks and shoes and I stroked the back of her bare neck, below her loose chignon. Finally, she pulled down my drawers and stood up as I stepped out of them. “Your manhood has such a delightful curve, Edmund, and it is so rampant!” She reached for it and clasped it gently. “I have often wondered what it would be like to have a penis, throbbing in front of one’s person. Standing in front of some beautiful young girl, her legs spread, her parts moist and pink, while anticipating thrusting into her wetness! Being enveloped and sucked into her wet chamber. I would quite like to have a beautiful young girl like that and perhaps in other ways too! If not a penis, then a tail!” She laughed, pumping me gently. “A tail would be most entertaining. You could rub it against things, people and even yourself. I wonder whether it would be anatomically possible to have one of sufficient flexibility to penetrate oneself?”

“You would have to ask your husband about the anatomical possibilities. I have no idea how flexible a monkey tail, for example, would be!” I said. She embraced me again and I was conscious of my naked, tumescent state as she pressed against my skin with her wool skirt and white cotton blouse. I felt her fob watch, cold against my flesh.  The fact that I was naked and she was not increased my arousal, for some reason. Bravely, I reached behind her skirt and undid the buttons at her waist. She took a step back and let her skirt drop to the floor. I undid the mother of pearl buttons on her blouse. Underneath, she was, as I had discovered when I embraced her, not wearing a corset, just a petticoat and a camisole. I undid the bow at the back of her petticoat and it fell to the floor as well, leaving her dressed in just the camisole, boots and black stockings held up by pale blue garters. I pulled the camisole over her head to reveal her magnificent bosom. I stepped back to admire her. “That student was right at the lecture last night. You are a fabulous creature, Edith!”

“Thank you Edmund! Now come closer again! Remove my boots and stockings!” I knelt down in front of her and I could smell her arousal as I gently removed her boots, garters and stockings. She lifted each delicate foot in turn, supporting herself by placing her hand upon my shoulder, as I carefully rolled her stockings down and pulled them off her feet. I moved slowly and cautiously, as if not wishing to startle a bird that that landed nearby. I still rather thought that she might change her mind, tell me it had all been a terrible mistake and order me to leave. Sensing no uncertainty on her part, however, I clasped the twin globes of her buttocks and breathed in deeply, inhaling her pungent odour. “Kiss it!” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss it! I know you want to! Push your face into my sex and kiss it!” I placed my lips on her silky hair and moved them downwards until I encountered her bud and its rigid pink hood. I kissed it slowly but firmly, tickling it with just the very tip of my tongue. She gave out a little moan. “Get into bed!” she ordered, huskily. “This is not the time for delicate and tentative activity!”

I pulled down the sheet and blankets and lay on my back. She lay on top of me, my manhood pressed against one of her soft thighs. We kissed again and I boldly caressed her back and behind. Her skin was beautifully soft, like warm silk. Her own hands stroked my arms, flanks and the side of my legs. I felt her lasciviously open her thighs so that she straddled my hips and I felt her intimate hair against my shaft. Although I knew that I was being very forward I took a risk and slipped my hand over her bottom and cupped her hot sex. She did not object but just wriggled sensuously, so I ran a finger between her wet folds. “Oh that is very nice!” she sighed. “I have an idea! Sit up!” she said climbing off me and sitting on the white sheet, her legs apart, her sex boldly displayed.

“Are we going to frig ourselves again?” I asked. “No, we are going to frig each other!” she said, reaching across and beginning to caress my manhood once more. “Oh!” I said. Her touch was marvellous.

“Now, you stroke my parts!” she said. I slid my hand over her belly and my fingertips, slipped through her curls and found her wet parts. She smiled at me as I caressed her folds and she pumped my erection. “Slip them inside!” she said and I slid two fingers up inside her, gently moving them in and out. She leant forward and kissed me once again. She was being much more forward in touching and kissing than she had been the previous day. I touched the side of one breast as I slid my left hand down her soft arm, thrillingly catching her erect nipple with the underside of my forearm as I did so. I looked at her face at this point. She smiled, encouragingly. “Do you want to caress them? Lick them?” At this answer I thought I might well give forth there and then. The anticipation of feeling those lovely ripe bubbies was almost too much.

“That would be lovely, Edith! Really lovely!” She smiled again and shifted so she was kneeling between my thighs, although she did not stop her gentle pumping of my member at any point. I extracted my fingers from her entrance. Kneeling up, astride my hips, she pushed her bosom forward until those big succulent fruits were just six inches from my face. Given what she had said earlier, I thought that the time to be tentative had passed so I slipped my hands up to cup them from the underside, lifting and squeezing gently as I did so. “Damn!” I exclaimed under my breath. “Sorry!” I apologised immediately, hoping I hadn’t soured the moment. She grinned. I stroked her thimble like nipples with my thumbs and then took one into my mouth, licking and sucking it as I squeezed the breast from below.

“Christ!” she muttered. My confidence rising, I gently pushed her over onto her back positioning myself next to her. I began to lick her breasts once more. “No! Head to tail!” she said. I frowned, not quite understanding her meaning. “Like this!” She pressed me back onto the sheet and then knelt astride my shoulders her head over my groin. “And now we will perform what the French call soixante-neuf!”

 “Really?” I said, as she resumed pumping my member and then I felt her tongue upon it. My vision was filled with the sight of her pink sex and puckered anus, surrounded by stray brown hairs.

 “Lick it!” she ordered. I gingerly slid the tip of my tongue between her swollen lips and tasted her hot, musky, salty sex. I felt her mouth envelop me. I reached down and placed my hand gently on the back of her head as she bobbed up and down. My nose now pressed into her arsehole, I started to lick her in earnest as her juices dribbled all over my lips and tongue. It was like jamming my mouth into a plump Galway Bay oyster. “Mmm!” she murmured as I moved my tongue lower to tickle her bud. She flinched when I went for the tip itself and seemed to prefer me flicking my tongue across the shaft. “Every woman likes different things,” Madame Nathalie had said to me. ‘Finding out what those are, early in your physical relationship, will put you in good stead.’ I put my hands under her dangling breasts so that her hard nipples rubbed against the palms of my hand as she continued to gamahuche me. “Oh God!” she sighed, popping off me. “I am coming, Edmund! I am coming!” I felt a hot wet flood over my tongue and dribbling down my chin, as her parts poured forth copiously. After a few moments of stillness she took my knob into her soft mouth once more, whereupon I spent almost immediately. I felt her mouth sucking on me as she took in my emissions. At last she pulled off me and swivelled around so that she was kneeling next to me. “Good Lord, Edmund, I did not mean to go quite so far, so quickly. I was quite overcome!”

“Come and lie with me!” I said. She lay atop my body, both of us perspiring slightly. There was a fire burning in the hotel room. She kissed me again. And again. “It is just lust, not love!” she said, uncertainly.

“And very nice it was, although to have a completely successful physical experience like that then at least some affection is called for,” I ventured.

“Affection. Indeed! George refuses to gamahuche me!” she said and stroked my face.

“I enjoyed it!” I said, feeling superior to the Professor. “You taste lovely! Like oysters!” She then licked her juices off my chin. “I do rather, don’t I! I do keep telling George to lose that horrific beard! It is becoming unfashionable these days. It does not enhance his looks!”  She kissed my cheek and stood up. “I need to attend to something!” She crossed the floor and went behind the screen where the nightstand was. There was no avoiding the sound of her micturating as she squirted noisily into the pot. I heard her rinse her hands using the jug and ewer. She emerged from behind the screen. “Do you need to go? George always needs to go after he spends.”

“Er, yes! Also, I had quite a lot of tea earlier!” I said, getting out of bed. I stepped behind the screen and looked down at the pot which she had left in front of the nightstand, the bottom covered with her pale yellow offering.  I picked it up and held it by the handle below my prick. I was very conscious, however, of Edith’s presence just the other side of the screen and was unable to pass water. I remember being similarly frozen when I found myself stood at a urinal next to Mr Winston Churchill, the Home Secretary, during a visit to the Houses of Parliament earlier that year. I took a deep breath and consciously relaxed.  After a few seconds I was able to emit a short squirt before proceeding as normal.  I was in full flow when she appeared from behind the screen.  There was nothing I could do but continue. I started to try and gently turn away from her but she matched my movement.

 “Don’t be shy, Edmund!” she said, "I want to watch!"  Eventually, I finished and delicately shook myself.  “That was very special! I have never seen a man do that before! Not even my husband! What fun! Another reason to have a penis!” She carefully took the pot from me and replaced it in the cupboard at the bottom of the nightstand. “Our waters are combined! Such are the shared intimacies of lovers,” she said. “Not so much the nakedness, the stroking and the kissing. Not so much the penetration, the thrusting, the grinding of one’s hips, the wetness and the ejaculation. It is the simple intimacy of being comfortable in being together when one pees! Next time, perhaps, you can watch me!” She gave another girlish laugh. She crossed the floor and sat down in front of the fire, after stretching luxuriously, her delicate fingers pointing towards the ceiling, the soft pale hair under her arms displayed. “How lovely to be able to sit naked in front of a fire with an equally naked man in attendance!” she mused to the dancing flames. She turned and looked over her shoulder at me. “Come and sit by me!”

“I have a better idea! Stay there Edith! I will draw you!” I got up and opened my portfolio which, fortunately, had not become wet inside, after all. I took out a piece of cream paper and sitting cross -legged, with the portfolio on my lap, started to draw her with a soft pencil. Although I had not drawn a figure for some years the technique soon came back to me. “You are an excellent model, Edith. Most find it difficult to keep perfectly still, as you are doing!” When I finished I showed her the drawing.

“But that is remarkable, Edmund! You have real talent! May I keep it?” She looked genuinely delighted,

“Yes, of course but you must ensure the professor does not see it!” I said. I was concerned that Edith was so unconventional that she might just show it to him and I was very attached to my teeth. “I will. Although I suspect I could frame it and put it on the wall of his bedroom and he would only notice it if you added a drawing of an Allosaurus to the background! Now, shall I pose for a drawing which you can keep?” I had her kneeling down and drew her in profile, which highlighted her fine nose, round behind and her jutting breasts. I did several more sketches, one of which, daringly, included a hint of her sex protruding from her pale brown moss. “I have a final pose for you!” she said and sat on the wooden chair, her feet on the seat her sex boldly displayed, her face peering over her knees. I took particular care over this one and drew the folds of her sex in detail. “Perfect! One to show your friend, William, I think! Now let us get dressed and go down to lunch. I am quite famished!” She kissed me on the lips.“You can leave first and I will follow.”

 I got dressed and left her in the room, as she dressed herself. As I went down to the dining room I nodded at various people in greeting who all ignored me. I have always been a friendly chap and find Londoners very cold and reserved. If only they knew that a beautiful, married woman had just posed naked for me, exposing her sex quite brazenly.  I wondered what secrets they all had.  


Notes on this chapter can be found here.

8 comments:

  1. Very nice! Partly inspired by your drawing experiences with A, perhaps?

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    1. Her and the many other ladies I have drawn over the last forty years. I have found that ladies will happily strip off for a drawing in a way that they won't for a photograph and that was even before digital cameras and the internet!

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  2. Well done, as usual. An odd anachronism, though -- why the heck would the Great Northern Hotel have a chamberpot in the room in 1912?

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    1. The first hotel en suite bathrooms only appeared in the Goring Hotel two years earlier. Shared toilets were on each corridor but chamber pots remained in hotel rooms, for those who needed them in the night, until after World War 1 when the armies of chambermaids needed to service them were no longer employed.

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    2. My apologies -- I hadn't read the notes yet. Very interesting! A historical detail I never would have anticipated.

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    3. It's amazing what we take for granted and what is comparatively recent. I wanted to use the word 'curvaceous' in this chapter but on checking I discovered the word only originated in the nineteen thirties.

      I stayed in a hotel in Southern France in the sixties and they still used chamber pots in the rooms!

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    4. I didn't know that about "curvaceous". But having read a lot of Victorian-era erotica, I can guarantee "voluptuous" was freely used. (And, points for "gamahuche". Great word; don't know why they ever stopped using it.)

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    5. Voluptuous is a splendid word! Late Middle English that one.

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