“Don't come with me, I'm expecting my lad.” Then she hesitated, then went on. “If he doesn't come by this, he can't come for two hours — tell me the time.” — I did. “An he come, we'll be off together at once, if not and ye'll give me two sovereigns, ye may, but I ain't got no lodgings, I've given them up, for I'm off tonight and for good.”
Then she said she must wait full ten minutes to make sure, she'd walk up and down, I was to wait at the corner of a street she pointed out, then if her lad hadn't arrived she be with me. — She spoke in broad Lancashire dialect, which I do not attempt to imitate, and which at times I could scarcely understand.
Never did ten minutes seem so long to me. — I counted every minute in a fever of impatience, pictured her secret charms to myself, wondering at split, motte, thighs, whether she'd fuck well, and if she wanted fucking. At times I furtively felt my pego which kept rising and falling with lust, and feared I should not have her, for full ten minutes had passed when she appeared. “Where shall we go?” said I. — “I've no lodgings now and only know a poor place about here.” — I would have gone to a pig sty with her, and in five minutes the poor place held us. It was a little obscure house in a court, almost a cottage, with two rooms for hire, but the bed room was comfortable with a good fire.
“My lad can't be here for two hours and a half now, there be'ant another train yet, and ye'll gie me two?” said she the instant the door was closed. — My reply was to produce the coins and put them into her hand. — “It will do us a power of good just now, and ye'll be the last.” — “Why?” — “I'm going away to night to be married.” — I scarcely heeded what she said being so impatient for my pleasure, and put my hand up her petticoats. She repulsed them, and I thought for the instant she was going to bilk me.
Not the first time that idea has come over me when with a gay woman. “Let's feel it.” — “Wait a bit, you shall, don't fear.” Composed in manner and as unlike a harlot as possible, she took off bonnet and jacket most carefully and then sat down. “Let's feel your cunt.” — “I will.” Stooping I pushed my hand up her petticoats, and felt the silky fringed notch. — “Ye're in a hurry” — laughing. “Take your things off and let me see your cunt.” — “You shall. — you shall, — never fear — wait a bit.” Slowly she took them off — I di-vested myself of clothing and showed my prick. — “Ohooo,” she whispered, and stopped undressing. “Take them off.” — “What, all? — There” — and she stood naked.
A more beautifully made woman I never saw, and for a minute was speechless with admiration, then folded her in my arms, kissing, extolling her loveliness, pressing my stiff prick against her belly with mine. — Then, — still both standing — my fingers were titillating her love seat, when quietly her hand stole down and clasped my pego, and so we stood silent, I'd roused her passion. “Let me see it.” Without reply, on to the bed she got and laid with thighs apart. A hurried look at the pretty groove, a sniff a kiss on the motte, a finger thrust rapidly up and down the moist avenue. — “Let's fuck” — next minute we were embracing with voluptuous gentle sighs, my prick enclosed in her lubricious cunt and gliding up and down, our bodies one; and ah too soon, came tightening of her cunt around my prick, which throbbed and spent, and we lay quietly in each other's arms in soft repose. Then soon after. “You en- joyed it?” a foolish question but I always put it. — She made no reply, but patted my arse cheeks in an affectionate, coaxing manner.
I uncunted at last and she “It's cold. — Let me put on my chemise.” She did, we rose, pissed, washed — the usual routine — then sat by the fire — tho it wasn't very cold weather. — She asked me to give her “a glass.” — “What?” “Whiskey.” — That was brought. I'd been wearing a cape which now I put over her, and put on my own frock coat over my shirt, then drinking we sat and talked side by side. The ecstatic sexual em-brace cools desire, and for a time erotic curiosity is al-most dead, but it soon revived in me, and I began twiddling her quim. “I ain't in a hurry,” said she then, told me her history, partly before, partly after our second embrace, but its told here continuously.
“Yes, a millhand, at a cotton mill.” — At seventeen the young master “did me.” Her father was an engineer at the mill, found it out soon after, kicked up a row, and a hundred pounds was given him as dam-ages, for the damage done to her virginity. — The money unsettled him, he drank a bit, she left the mill, worked then steadily at home for a while, and no one entered her preserve, and then, somehow she “longed for a bit,” she supposed — and got fucked again. — “Yes, for love only,” and then turned harlot. A young man in the mill also a mechanician, knew her history, knew her father, found her out, fucked her harlot wise, fell in love with her, then fucked for love and she also with him. She saved money, and he saved a bit, her father approved and gave up what he'd not spent in liquor, her seducer had promised twenty pounds when they were married, and they were going to marry and open a little shop at * * * * where he'd found work. — He was coming there now to meet her when I had, if he could get away in time, but certainly he would get away in time, but certainly he would come by the next train. Her box was at the station, she'd given up the key of her lodging — that baudy house was the only place she could wait in “till I meet my lad.”
“I didn't mean to let you — I've not done it for a week and told him I wouldn't, but money will be so useful to us at a start.” — “Oh don't — you'll make me queer.” — “Oh, don't talk of him — come on and do it then.” Lewed she was with talk, with titillation, and her feel of my shaft, and on the bed again we fucked. She wanted it more than before, as I guessed by her clasp, the way her tongue met mine, her squeeze of my buttocks, her heaves, quievrs and love sighs.
She was only eighteen and a half, yet her form was full and perfect as three and twenty. She'd the loveliest thighs, the sweetest little silky fringed notch, scarcely nymphae or clitoris — quite a young girl's cunt. — She was proud of her shape and willingly let me see all, de-lighted with my praise. Her manners were utterly un-like those of a whore. The hair on head and tail was light chestnut, no dark stain was on her bum furrow which was nearly as white as her buttocks, and they were ivory. It grew dark soon after I was there and we had candles — for which they charged extra — and I held one to the furrow to inspect her whilst she knelt on the bed. Then after a time unable to tail her a third time, I gave her pleasure with my tongue, and never licked a more delicate clitoris. She'd a face handsome in her bonnet, but it was far more beautiful without it. Her eyes were dark blue. — She hadn't the slightest look or allure of a strumpet.
The whiskey made her talk freely, and we had lots of time. Five shillings was her usual fee. — “For I don't dress like swell ones.” — “No, not often ten — I don't like speaking to gents. — I've only been three months at the business and don't like it — nor the gals.” “Why did I go to millwork? Father made me so as to look after me, he said, mother didn't want me to go. You may wait and see me with him but don't come near me, I'm quite sure he'll come for me. — I shan't tell him what I've done tonight, I wouldnt' ha' done it but we want money so.” I waited in the distance, saw her meet and go towards the station with a decent young man, her lad evidently. — I've met from time to time some interesting harlots and this was one of them, so retain the narrative about her.
Late on a dull, moist, dark night in November, I was passing along a quiet street in a poor neighbourhood, when two women approached me singing and loudly laughing. They held a short rope between them, and as they came near, thinking them a common frolicksome and half screwed couple, I moved to the edge of the footway to let them pass. They larking, lengthened the rope, and caught and entwined me with it just below my hips, laughing heartily at their trick. — “We've caught you young man, what will you stand?” — It was close to a gaslamp, and seeing it was a handsome, bold faced woman who spoke. — “Stand my dear? — It won't stand any more, you've pulled it off with the rope, look for it.” — I happened to have a hottish ballocks that night, and baudy replies came naturally — tho far from being young.