Tho Captain Blank was at the ball, and of course I must have seen him, yet I did not know him from others, and tho he had been in the same room with me, and I'd felt his prick, I could not the next minute have picked him out from other men. Liz M***d*n was as said a fine, fattish made woman, with a handsome fat and full lipped cunt. I think she'd had a child, and her nymphae were perhaps too large. She was up to every lascivious trick when she got lewed, and until then assumed dignity and modesty. — When she'd had a drop, she talked baudiness like a book. I don't think she liked women, tho I'd been told she did by other women.

Nellie **** [in her interest I don't give her initials, for I hear she is alive and a respectable married woman] was shortish, plump, and with small but beautiful breasts. She was rather knock-kneed — her cunt was pretty and had but little hair on it.

On the second night, I amused myself with putting my stiff prick first into one and then into the other woman, to see which cunt was the tightest. — I didn't thrust, but inserted it and let it feel its way about when up them. Nellie was certainly the tightest, and I told Liz so whilst my prick was in her. I was beginning to feel much pleasure just at that moment, and going to withdraw, so as to give my libation to Nellie's cunt, when Liz grasped me tightly to her, twisted her legs round mine, and squeezing her cunt up to me, gripped my prick tightly with it and fetched me. “Now you may fuck Nellie,” said she, and turned her bum towards me. — Women who give themselves up to sexual pleasure have infinitely more enjoyment of life for a time than virtuous women have.

Again I went to my stock brokers, and called on Bertha, who was at first much pleased to see me, then of a sudden was cool. Had I been out of town. “Yes, to Paris.” — “Nice games you have been up to there, I expect.” (All women think Paris a sink of debauchery.) — “Not many, but I've had my hand up a shop woman's petticoats.” — “I don't believe you — where?” said Bertha anxiously. “At a glovers, in a little room at the back of the shop. She fitted on my gloves, I was sitting down, she standing up, and I put my hands up them, both back and front.” — “I don't believe you.” — “It's true.” — “She's a beast,” — said Bertha angrily, and turned her back to me.

Now this happened to be a fact, and I gave the young woman three francs, and the next day bought another pair to get the same amusement. — If she got as much from each man whose goves she fitted on in the course of the day, she made a good income. — Taken with a letch for her, at night I fucked the damsel at an accommodations house, but finding her a common place, so-so in shape, large, and ugly cunted and a somewhat faded and fucked out sort of bitch, tho she had a pleasing face, I never had her again. But I couldn't make Bertha believe what I told her. She thought that my tale about the feeling (I didn't tell her about my entry up the woman) was a narrative in-vented to induce her to let me do the same with her. I heard that afterwards.

As I was going, “When are you coming to dine with me?” — I said jokingly, not meaning it as an invitation, for I had given up all idea of getting her. — “Whenever you ask me if I can get away,” she replied. Amazed, I named day after day till one suited. Off I went rejoicing, and wondering who she'd dined with before; feeling now sure that she'd had the male persuader in her vitals, and that she had some sweetheart whom she met at times. The day came. I went to the city to see if there was any obstacle. She would be there. — “And mind, — I've told you what you ask me for, and it's no use” — were her last words as I went off. I took a bed and sitting rooms for the night, at * * * * * hotel, where I've had many a dinner with women before, and at seven o'clock we were at table.

I had kept myself chaste since the dinner had been arranged, and my prick was in very stalwart state, yet I felt uncertain about Bertha's compliance. Her manner was so unusual, her freedom of talk, the way she let men kiss and chaff her, had told me she knew quite well what I wanted, but mightn't let me have it. — Indeed she did and said all with an air of freedom, and yet modesty, unlike any other woman I have met in such condition. She eat well, but with an air as if thinking of something else all the while. When I began talking suggestively she remarked, — “Ah! I expected you to go on like that” — for a time this quite disconcerted me.

Dinner over, we sat on the sofa. I began warm talk, she told me to be quiet, and wouldn't hear it, and got up to go whenever I attempted a liberty. She listened to and questioned me on my stories about women when not told in free language, but got angry at plain words. Then all at once she asked me to take her to the Argyle rooms, she'd never been there, wanted much to see what it was like, and how the gay women behaved. — I told her she might meet there men who knew her, and what would they think of her. She produced a thick veil, and said she had both bonnet and mantle that no one had seen. I refused. — “You say you love me, and won't do that simple thing.” — “Let me feel your legs just to your knees then.” — She wouldn't. — At length I took her to the Argyle. She had evidently come to dine with me with no other object.

She sat for nearly an hour closely veiled, and scarcely uttering a word — Women looked at her as did men, but I think no one recognized her. A couple of lovely harlots whom I knew talked to me. — When was I going to sleep with her again? one asked. — The other wondered where I'd been. — “I'm engaged to night.”

— “Oh I didn't see,” — said she, moving off, and looking at my companion, who then said she must go home

— I would see her home. — Well she didn't object, she wasn't ashamed of her home, and in a four wheeled cab we went off.

In the cab, she got talkative about gay women. What money did they get? was it agreed, before men went home with them? and so on. “You know two, it seems, and how many more.” — “Twenty perhaps.” — “Story.” — “I do, and have slept with every one of them.” — In the dark, and as she couldn't escape me, I let go the bridle of my tongue, said I'd fucked them, described their cunts and other charms. To which she remarked. “You don't get me in a cab with you again.

— No, I don't dine with you again,” but said not a word more. Then my lust roused me fiercely, I tried to feel her, and got my hand half way up her thigh, but no further. — There, stout resistance and tears stopped me. We dismissed the cab at the end of the street. I saw her nearly to her house, but at her request, as her brother might come out or be going home, I left her there. I took the number of her house and watched her enter it.

That district of London was but little known to me, but I knew that five or ten shillings there, would go as far with women as a sovereign or two further west: and that all the fine handsome women of London are not within a mile of Charing Cross, and also knew that the West End whores mostly come from the east, when London born. Lewed to my marrow, and disappointed, I found my way to the main road, saw plenty of convenient creatures in simple attire, and offered a shilling to one to feel her cunt in a bye street, which she amazed me by refusing. “No, not for two shillings.” She wouldn't be felt in the streets at all, give her five shillings and I might have her. Yet hundreds of women's cunts I have felt for a shilling and in the best parts of London. Further on I found one or two who were more complacent. A third woman I took into a public house to look at her, giving her a glass of liquor. It was to see her face. She was ugly and worn out, and I left her there. All was done in twenty minutes from the time I left Bertha at her house.

Then, perhaps because the woman had refused my fingerings in the street, I took a fancy to have her, went back, and there she was, standing at exactly the same spot. — “Yes” — she'd her own room, there was a house close by with a good room for two shillings if I preferred it, it was best to go there. I went to her room, and found it neat, clean, and comfortable. She undressed when I asked her without speaking, whilst I sat looking at her. Her linen was clean and neat and she was a well formed young woman of three or four and twenty, dark haired, and with but slight hair on her cunt. — In five minutes her cunt was a pond of sperm, which I had hoped to put into Bertha. She washed it, and I began talking. She didn't like being felt in the streets she said, she hadn't cheek, she should have it in time, the women said. — “Then you haven't been gay long.” — “A month ago I was in service.” — She didn't like gay life, she didn't seem to get on at all, and should try to get into service again.