Then in town I again got hold of a woman who said she was a servant — but who went with me to a coffee shop where they wrote up “beds” — and she I had. — I don't know whether she was gay or not, I think she was a half and half, but that she really was in service. She wanted a good bit of shagging, for she laid so quiet for a couple of hours with me, and said — “Oh fie” — at my baudy talk, but handled my prick all the time, and never thought of getting up to leave it, excepting to wash once, till it was near ten o'clock, when she said she should catch it and made off rapidly. I put her in- to a cab, and paid for it, and gave her a little bit of gold. — It was a very pleasant evening — and she a very pleasant fuckstress. — It is a great pleasure to have women whose cunts seem to be craving for their natural food, as hers was, but I never saw her again.

Then mercenary beauties in silks, satins, and hand-some garters, had me. For some reason or another I avoided Camille seemingly, for I can find no reference to her. — The rest of this part of the manuscript, I commit to the flames, for there is nothing much worthy to keep record of, till I had a meeting with a most charming lady, who fell to my arms thro a quarrel.

One fine day in June, before luncheon, I met a young lady in Bond St. She was venal, and in half an hour or so she had been fucked, paid, and departed.

That night I went to the theatre, and afterwards to the Cafe de l'furope to sup. — It was a favourite place of mine, such fresh, handsome, well dressed women being usually there. I took the only vacant compartment, which held four usually, and six at a squeeze — and had scarcely begun supper, when a gentleman and lady came in, and after asking if the vacant seats were engaged by me, sat down; the man by my side, the lady opposite him.

She was a well grown, splendidly beautiful creature, hazel eyed, and chestnut haired, fresh as a rose, and seemingly about three and twenty years old. I detected in a minute that they had been quarrelling. — “Order what you like, I don't want any.” — “There is nothing at home for you.” — “I'm not going home.” — “Where are you going?” — “To ****” — “Well, order me something.” All was said in an undertone.

The lady kept looking at me to see if I noticed, and I at her. — He looked right across the room sulkily. — A waiter came, but he wouldn't order anything. — She ordered lobster and champagne, and ate heartily. — He refused all but kept on talking. She lost her temper and in an undertone: “What we have to say, we'd bet-ter say outside hadn't we, or not talk at all?” — “Shut up then” — he replied, turning and looking at me. I went on with my supper seemingly not noticing, but furtively looking at her — she often doing the same to me, as if to see if I noticed — and vexed she looked.

A finely dressed, handsome woman, then came in, and coolly took a seat opposite to me, and next to the lady. She expected some one, she told the waiter, and I immediately entered into conversation with her. Then the other lady going on eating and drinking, looked at me more openly, and I fancied pleasurably. Just then, “There is * * *,” said he, and he rose. — “Don't go to him,” said she. “What the devil do you mean by interfering with me?” and he walked across the room to a man, and stood conversing with him.

The lady seemed annoyed and hurt, tears rose in her eyes but she checked them, and looked at me. I smiled, so did she. — Then she looked well at the other woman, and again at me, and afterwards she scarcely took her eyes off of me. I began thinking what a lovely creature she must be undressed, and my prick tingled. Then staring her in the face, I thought of her thighs and cunt, whilst my prick began to swell, and I left off talking. She returned my passionate gaze, as I expect it was, and coloured up, dropped her eyes, and looked after him, but soon looked at me again. I love when I feel lewed upon a woman, to keep my eyes on her face, meet her eyes with mine if I can — and think of, and wonder about every part of her hidden charms from armpits to ankles. — How many times have I been delighted to hear virtuous ladies say,, — “Oh what are you staring at me for?” What would they have said had I told them straight?

He came back surlier than ever. — “Haven't you finished?” — “No.” — “Well I'm going then” — an-other short wrangle in an undertone and he rose. — “Well, pay for the supper. Shall I wait here till you come back?” — “No, there is some money if you have not any, expect me when you see me,” and throwing a lot of gold on the table he left. She left immediately after him leaving the gold there, but in two or three minutes came back and resumed her seat and eating. Then I began talking to her. The dashing harlot seeing that, got up and left. I was glad, for I had begun to think that that free and easy damzel had seated her-self there hoping to hook me in for a supper, or for the night.

I ventured a remark about her being left alone so. She took it up at once. She didn't understand being treated so in a public room, but then dropped the subject, paid the waiter and rose to go. — “I wish I could see you home,” said I. — She stared hard at me for a minute, shook her head, resumed her seat, and talked for a minute or two looking into my eyes. Then she again rose after looking at her watch — “Let me see you home” — she shook her head and went away slowly, saying “Good night.” The waiter didn't know the lady he said when I paid him, and in two or three minutes after she had gone, I left, and found her standing in the lobby near the entrance door of the cafй.

“You're not gone.” — “No I can't make up my mind what to do,” said she angrily. — “You are so exquisitely lovely I shall dream of you, come with me.” —She hesitated a moment. — “Is it far?” — “No close by.” — “Be quick then.” Thinking of my recent experience, — “Hadn't you better follow me, it's close by.” — “Yes, perhaps so, but be quick.” Then it occurred to me that I had scarcely any money, and hesitated and looked in my purse. — “I'm sorry,” said I, “but I've very little money with me.” “Pough,” said she contemptuously. I scarcely knew whether she despised me, or the money, but she placed her hand on mine. “Follow me then.” — Out I went, looking back to keep her in view, and see that she was not fooling me. In three minutes were in my favourite house.

“Every room's engaged sir,” said the woman, “Will you wait in here?” — opening the door of the parlour where I had so often sat. “I won't stop,” said my lady, but the door was closed, and we were alone, with the sofa and the bed in the alcove, on which I had years before often seen Hannah sleeping.

Again one of those ridiculous, unaccountable fits of timidity suddenly came over me. I had had a woman there on that very day, could I fuck now — will my prick be thought small? These ridiculous ideas came into my head, and to my horror I found my prick was shrinking. Alone with this splendid creature, I neither kissed her, not attempted any of those delicious familiarities, which I had been dying to take a quarter of an hour before. I neither sought to see her limbs, nor talked voluptuously, but I sat thinking my prick was small, in a sort of terror, tho to hide it, talked about the temper her husband had shewn. “Never mind him,” said she impatiently, just as the maid told us a room was disengaged. The next moment we were in it.

I kissed her and put my hand up her clothes. “Wait a minute,” said she, “I want to pee so.” — “Take off your things.” — “I can only take off my dress for I can't be here long.” Bonnet, and dress went off, and she sat down and piddled. As she sat in beautiful linen, I saw little feet in exquisite shiny brown kid boots, covering white silk stockings, and my prick began to stiffen. “I want it badly,” said she rising and drying her cunt with a towel.

Leaning against the bed I felt her cunt, still timid, and conscious that my prick about which I did nothing but think, was not ready for work, and in fact was inclined to shirk it. — As she surrendered her charms to my hand, and put her lips to mine her hand went down to my sex and she whispered, “Let me feel it.” I trembled with nervousness, pulled it out, and in a miserable way. — “It's not very big” — feeling awfully agitated as I said it — She handled it with avidity. Al-tho bigger, it was by no means stiff, and she gave a little quiet laugh, which finished my discomfiture. — I stammered out that I had been stiff and longing for her all the time she had been supping. — “When did you do it last?” — “Today.” — She at once let go of my tool and it shrunk up. — “I'd better go,” — said she.