"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.