If her friend had not returned she would meet me a third time. — If she did not, I was to understand that she could not, and that she had said good bye to me. She did meet me, and we had three hours of the hardest fucking I ever have had yet. — “Oh,” said she, kissing me, “to think it's the last time I ever shall see you perhaps, there may be a chance, but I fear not.” — We arranged where to write to each other. “But what's good,” said she, “I shall love you perhaps.” She never did write, I did, but got no reply. — I made her take some money which she had refused before. — She cried and kissed me, passionately when we separated for ever, for I never saw her afterwards.
She was so nice that I had at once the idea of asking her to be my mistress — I had the same idea about Lucy a year ago — but resisted it. — I was so unhappy that I longed for a home with a female in it, but had found that a mistress did not do much to diminish my unhappiness, so altho I longed for Hetty, gave up all idea of keeping her.
About a week after I saw Hetty for the last time, I was loitering about Cockspur Street, at about half past twelve, on a lovely sunshiny, tho coldest day in May, when I met three women walking abreast. Two were middle aged, and comfortably clad like small trades-women, the third was a strapping, healthy woman of about one and twenty, with dark bright eyes, dark hair, and clear skin, and clad like a well to do, quiet, servant. I wanted a woman that morning. Her face pleased me, and as she looked at me as I approached, I put out my lips as if kissing, and winked at her, just as I passed her. The others did not see this.
I turned round looking after her, and saw that she had small feet — (her petticoats were short), and showed a thickish ankle in white stockings. She had a steady movement of her haunches, and had in brief every indication of the form of woman I liked, and I followed them at a distance. Soon she half turned to look back, but seeing me, turned again quickly. In a minute afterwards they went into a public house. She's a servant out for a holiday and if game at all, wants a man, here is a chance — thought I. I like a young servant, and have had dozens of them. — So I walked into the public house after them.
They were standing in a compartment shut off from the rest of the bar. The two middle aged had ale — the young one nothing. I ordered a glass of wine and re-marked that it was a fine day. — “Yes it was,” said she seemingly a little confused. Would she have a glass of wine. — She looked round at the women, one of whom nudged her. Then she said she would. Talking on, I asked if she was going to the Royal Academy to see the pictures. — She didn't know anything about the place but said she liked pictures. I offered to take her. “It's only across the road almost — if your friends can spare you, let us go.”
This seemed to upset the other women, one of whom said, “If we don't go at once, we shall be late.” The young woman said, “Wait a minute,” — and went on talking with me, and I repeated my offer. Impatiently another said, “If you come out with us Miss ****, you come, if you don't, you don't, — you know the ad-dress, he'll be home at one o'clock mind, and won't wait for nobody.” Then out the two went. Said she, “I must go or they will be angry.” “Never mind, come and have luncheon with me, and we will go to the pictures afterwards.” “Perhaps they are waiting for me.” I went out, could not see them, and then asked if they were relations. — No — one was her landlady, the other woman lodged there, and they were going to her sister's to dine at one o'clock.
Never mind. “You are a dressmaker aren't you?” She answered quite straight. “No, I'm a servant, and left my situation four days ago, but I shall soon get another for I have a good character. I've been after one this morning, and as I'd nothing to do, and Mrs. * * * asked me to come with them, I did, — Oh! but I've forgot the address, — isn't there a place called * * * *” — I could not help her — and didn't mean to if I could. — “What ever will she think if I don't go?” “Say you forgot the address and went home, but come and have luncheon.”
She hesitated uneasily. — We went out, could not see the two women, and I took her quickly to the Cafe de l'E*r**e (one of the best eating and drinking places in London, and supported mainly by kept women and their protectors) . Soon an ample luncheon with champagne was before us. — We sat side by side, she tucked in the food, ate heartily, and got well warmed up with champagne before she had half finished her meat. Good food soon heats a cunt, I know as well as any man now, and heats a prick as well.
All she had told was probable, but where did she lodge — and where had she been in service. I asked this right off. — She told me both places, and they happened to be in the very quarter of London where I first lived after I had run thro my first fortune. — “Do you know * * * Terrace?” “Yes.” “Well I have just left No. 3 — Mrs. S***n**s, I was housemaid there.” — I knew the house perfectly — and where she had got a lodging was close to where my sweet maid Mary had lodged, when she left my service years ago, so I felt convinced she was telling me the truth. Her name was Mary S****s. How many more Marys am I to have?
I began warm talk very soon after she had got her belly full. Did she sleep alone in the lodgings or with her sweetheart. “Alone, of course.” It was her first place in London. — Her parents lived at * * * *. — “I know why you came to London.” “Do you? why,” said she laughing. “You got into a scrape at home with a man. She coloured scarlet, and seemed confused. — “That it wasn't.” — But feeling sure that by chance I had hit the right nail, I chaffed her and added, “My dear what if you did — a woman's a fool if she doesn't have a man if she liked one. — We are made for each other. Miss S****s — may I call you Mary?” “Yes, if you like.” “And no woman knows what the pleasure of life is, till a man's naked thighs have lain between her naked thighs.”
“Oh — I don't like that talk.” “You like the thing tho, don't you? — but tell me all about your country lover, did his thighs go there?” and I laid my hand broadly on hers underneath the table. — She did not much object to that hand — but “no” — there was no country lover she could declare. — “Have some tarts, don't you like them?” “Oh yes, but I'm nearly busting now, the food's so nice.” Tarts were ordered and eaten, and another glass of champagne drunk, and by then she was frisky and a little loud. — I put my hand on her thigh at every opportunity, and closer and closer to her belly, — then gave a pinch, whispering that I felt the hair. — “Oh you story, don't do that. — How that gentleman opposite keeps staring at us,” and she pushed my hand away.
A man was staring at us — so we changed sides and then the wooden enclosure hid us (scarcely anyone was there). We subdued our voices — but that she was quite lewed thro food, and wine, my talk, and her constitution, I now felt sure. — She laughed at every thing I said, I got from delicate smut, to plain words, then put her hand outside my trowsers on my cock — “Isn't it hard there,” said I and gradually exciting her, dared at last to ask her to come with me somewhere, and have a cup of tea and I would give her a new dress if she would only let me see her lovely legs to just above her knees.
She got up then. — No she wouldn't, she was surprised, — but there was lust in her eyes. She must go, and wished she could recollect the address. — What would Mrs * * * think of her now, and so on — “I declare I think I've had too much to drink.” “You want to piddle I expect.” “I want something badly,” said she, laughing. — “There is no place here but I will show you where.” — Then I paid the bill. — “What a lot of money it cost,” she remarked. “I'll give you twice as much to see you undressed.” — She shook me by the arm, “Now I won't have this.” — We left — I led her to J***s St: You can piddle in here, and have a cup of tea — it will refresh you.” “No.” “Come.” “I won't — I pushed open the door and pulled her in gently, saying as I entered, “Send us up some tea.” Next minute we were in a bedroom. — “Oh,” said she, “this isn't a public house is it?” “No,” said I boldly, “this is where people come to fuck.” “Oho — no — is it really a bad house? — you'd no business to bring me here. I won't stop” — but I pushed her into a chair! and there she sat.