I was as quick as she, caught her, put my back against the door, and would not let her go, but could not get her to look me in the face, I had so upset her. There we stood, I begging her to sit down, and promising not to talk so again, she saying, “Now let me go, — let me out.” “No, — sit down.” “No.” But in about a quarter of an hour she did, and then again I told her of my trouble, avoided all straighforward allusion to my wanting other women, but hinted it enough. She got interested, and asked me no end of questions. “Lord why don't you separate, if I quarrel with my husband so, I'm sure I will, — I tell my young man so.” “Oh ! you have a sweetheart.” Yes she had, —a grocer's shopman, — he lived at Brighton, came up third class to see her every fortnight, starting early, and going back late. She was flattered by my enquiries, told me all about him and herself, their intention to get married in a year; and I sat and listened with one hand outside her clothes on her thigh, and thinking how I could best manage to get into her.

“He goes with women”, said I to make her jealous. “He don't I'm sure, — if he did, and I found it out, I'd tear his eyes out, and break off with him, though he says Brighton is a dreadful place for them hussies.” She got quite excited at the idea. “When he comes up, you and he enjoy yourselves, — his hands have been where mine have to-night.” “No he hasn't, — if he dared I'd — now I don't like this talk, — you said you wouldn't, — leave me alone, — you keep breaking your word.” Another little scuffle, a kiss, and a promise. “Why should you not enjoy yourselves? — who would know anything about it but yourselves, — it's so delicious to feel yourselves naked in each other's arms, your bellies close together.” “Get away now”, — and she tried to get up. I got my hand up her clothes, pulled her on to the sofa, and holding her down with one hand, pressed myself sideways on her, and kissed her, pulling out my prick with the other.

Then she cried out so loudly that I was alarmed, for the window at the back was open. “Hush, — be quiet, — there, — I've touched your cunt.” I pulled one of her hands on to my prick. “Oh! for shame Jenny you touched my prick.” Again she got up, and made for the door; so did I, and stood there with my back to it, and my poker out in front of me. “Come and open the door my dear, and you will run against this.” She turned her head away, and would not look. “Why don't you come on? — if you run up against it, it won't hurt you, — it's soft though it's stiff.” “I'll write to my Mistress to-night”, said she, and turned away. “Do my pet, — tell her how stiff it was, and the old lady will want to see it when she comes back.” “It's disgraceful.” “No my dear, it's to be proud of, — why you're looking at it I can see.”

Then she turned quite away. “That's right dear, — now I can see where I pinched your bum, — it was not far from your little quim, — oh ! if that could talk, it would ask to be introduced to this, it's hot, isn't it Jenny?” I said, this and a lot more. She had walked to the back-window, and stood looking into the gar-den whilst I rattled on. “You're laughing Jenny.” “It's a story”, said she, “I'm insulted”,-and turned round with a stern face. I shook my tooleywagger. “How ill-tempered you look, — come and feel this, and you'll be sweet-tempered at once.” She turned round to the window again.

“I will write my Missus, — that I will.” “Do dear.” “My sister will be here directly.” “You said she comes at dusk, — it won't be dark for three hours.” “I wish you would go, — what will people say if they know you're here?” “Don't be uneasy, — they will know no more than they know of your doings with your young man.” “There is nothing to know about, but what is quite proper.”

So we stood. She looking out of the window, and turning round from time to time. I standing by the door with my prick out; then I approached her quietly. “Feel it Jenny, — take pity on it.” “Oh ! for God's sake sir, what are you doing?” She turned and pushed me back, then retreated herself, keeping her face to the window as she stepped backwards. “Oh! there is Miss and Mrs. Brown walking in the next garden.” Sure enough there were two ladies there; they could have seen everything close to the window over the low wall which separated the gardens; and had they been looking, must have seen Jenny, me, and my prick. “Oh! if they have seen, they will tell my Missus, and she'll tell my young man, and I shall be ruined, — oh! —oh !—oh !” said she sinking back into an arm-chair with a flood of tears, — half funk and shock, and perhaps randiness, causing it.

I was alarmed. “Oh!” she sobbed, if they saw you, —hoh !—ho !—and it was no fault of mine, — you're a bad man, — oho ! oho !” She sat with her hands to her face, her elbows on her knees. I dropped on my knees imploring her to be quiet, was sure no one had seen me, and tried to kiss her. The position was inviting, I slid my hands up her clothes between her thighs, she took no notice, was evidently in distress, not even conscious of the invasion. A bold push, and my fingers touched her cunt. I forgot all in the intensity of my enjoyment, at feeling my fingers on the edge of the soft, warm nick. No repulse' I looked up, she sank back in the chair, seemingly unconscious and deadly white.

I withdrew my hand, then came a mental struggle; my first impulse was to get cold water, the next to look at her cunt. I went towards the door, turned round to look at her. Her calves were visible, I ran back, and lifted her clothes, so that I could just see her cunt-hair, gave her thighs a kiss, and then rushed downstairs, got water, and as I entered the room she was recovering. She knew nothing or next to nothing of what had occured, nor that my fingers had touched her clitoris, though she had not actually fainted.

“I wish I had some brandy”, she said, “I feel so weak.” “Is there any in the side-board?” “No.” “I'll go and get a little.” A few hundred feet from the house down a side-door, was a public-house. As I was going, “You will let me in again?” I said. “If you promise not to touch me.” She looked so pale that I fetched brandy, but put the street-door key in my pocket as I went. “If she don't let me in”, I thought, “she shan't have the key, — and what will she tell her sister about that?” It was a key almost as big as a shovel; she never noticed that I had taken it away. She thought by her dodge that she had got rid of me, and told me so afterwards.

I brought back the brandy and knocked. “Let me in.” “I won't.” “Then you shan't have the street-door key.” This was spoken to each other through the closed door. A pause, then the door opened. “You are coming Jenny.” We went downstairs into the kitchen, she had brandy and water, and so had I. It was a hot day, the pump-water was deliciously cool, I made hers as strong as she would take it, — it was an instinct of mine. She got her colour back, and became talkative, we talked about her fainting, but she tried to avoid talking about it, and did not want me to refer to what had led to it. I did, and was delighted to think that it was owing to what is called “exposing my person.”

“I don't think the ladies saw it, so you need not have been so frightened Jenny, — but you saw it, did you not?” No reply. “I saw you looking at it.” “It's a story.” “Why did you faint?” “I always feel faint if I am startled.” “What startled you?” “Nothing.” “You saw it, and you put your hand over it to hide it, and you touched it.” “It's a story, — I wish you'd go.” “You ungrateful little devil, when I've just fetched you brandy.” “It's through you that I felt ill.” “Why?” No reply. “Don't be foolish, — it was for fear that the ladies should have seen my prick so near you, — now look at it”, — and I pulled it out, it was not stiff. “It was twice the size when you saw it, — feel it, and it will soon be bigger.”

The girl rose saying she would go and remain in the forecourt till her sister came, if I did not leave, but I prevented her going out of the kitchen. She began to cry again, and had a little more brandy and water. My talk took its old channel.