Those baby fingers are driving me nuts… And that tight, doll’s mouth … Jean Jeudi wants to show his stuff again, and I don’t keep him waiting. It’s the damnedest feeling, letting your jism come into that cunt’s little lips and watching her swallow it… . .
I’ve just finished with her, and Arthur is giving her a feeling up, when there’s suddenly the most startling racket I’ve ever heard. Then that damn police dog comes scrambling in from the other room, trailing a leash and acting as though he intended to finish up a job he should have done earlier. He’s as big as a house, and he makes straight for the couch. Arthur and I both tumble off in opposite directions, but it’s not us he’s after. He lands squarely on Charlotte and pins her down.
Arthur grabs the first thing that’s handy … the bottle of Scotch … but the dog isn’t eating Charlotte after all … . he’s only raping her. She can’t do a thing … he knows how to handle her, and he’s really being as gentle as he can under the circumstances. And Charlotte’s not being afraid of him … she’s only dreadfully embarrassed.
“Go on and drag him off,” I suggest to Arthur. “He won’t hurt you much.”
Arthur politely asks me to go to hell … he’s not going near that son-of-a-bitch.
And in the meantime, the dog has managed to get the end of a very red and juicy looking dong between Charlotte’s legs.
“It looks like he’s going to go in,” Arthur says. “Hey, Alf, do you suppose we ought to ask him to have a drink with us after it’s all over? I’ll bet that bastard has some experiences that would be worth hearing.”
“Please … . go … . away… .” Charlotte gasps. “Jacques, oh, Jacques, don’t do that! Go away, you wicked, wicked dog.”
“Are you going to sit there and let that animal take the meat away from you?” I ask Arthur. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”
“I’m going to sit here and take this thing in,” Arthur tells me. “Did you ever see anything like this before? Well … . in a whorehouse show, maybe. But you never saw a dog actually rape anybody… By Jesus, if you think I’m going to get that horse mad at me, you’re crazy … . he’s bigger than me.”
Charlotte keeps asking us, whenever she has a breath to spare, to get the hell out. The dog has a good grip on her now, his cock’s in, and he’s fucking her a mile a minute… At last she can’t do anything but spread her legs for him and let him have it… . .
“Look dope,” I tell Arthur after we have watched for a few minutes, “that thing is going to be through in a couple of minutes, then what’s going to happen? I’m telling you he has a mean look in his eye… . After he’s through fucking her he’s going to be hungry as hell. I don’t give a fuck in hell what you do, but I’m getting away from him, beginning as of two minutes ago.”
I sneak over to the couch to get my clothes. Arthur thinks it over for a few, seconds and then he dresses too. We manage to grab off another shot of the scotch, and we try to say good-bye to Charlotte… But she doesn’t hear us … she has her arms around that pooch of hers and she’s loving him back. I think women are such charming people when you get to know them… . .
Arthur and I don’t have much to say about our visit when we get on the street.
We walk about half a block and then Arthur grabs my arm.
“My God, Alf, look at the size of that bitch, will you? How’d you like to try laying her? Boy, you’d get lost under that ass … that’s the kind I want in my old age, to keep me warm nights… .”
She looks like a big cunt. But when I close one eye and look at her again I see that she’s just about five foot three …
Anna is depressed. The old geezer who keeps her is getting to be a pain in the ass, she tells me, and she doesn’t know exactly what to do about it. He gives her plenty of dough, and all that, but he’s still a pain in the ass. We’re out having lunch and she reads me the record.
First of all he wants to meet her girl friends. He thinks he’s a very gay old buck, and first thing, as soon as Anna’s introduced him to some cunt she knows, he puts on the stuff and wants to get the girl in bed. Which would be all right, I suppose, except for the fact that they all want to get some of his cash, of course, and that makes him sore. He thinks that Anna tips them off and that he’s being played for a sucker … he gets peeved when he finds that he’s not getting any free cunt… .
Then there are a couple of other little matters… . He expects a new and better Arabian Nights for his money. Anna has to tell him stories about her sex life, and she’s going nuts trying to think up new adventures. The other night, for instance, when the boys dumped her out at his place… He was absolutely delighted about that… Anna says he almost hopped out of his nightie as soon as he saw her, because there wasn’t much question about what had been happening to her. So he fucked her, of course … it must make him feel that it’s really that last one he gives her that finishes her off … and not only then, but afterward, he had to know all about what went on… He kept her awake for hours trying to find out just how this was done and that was done, and Anna was so full of liquor and so much fucked out that all she wanted was to go to sleep. And when she simply couldn’t stay awake any longer he was sore… . . if she could stay awake while all those things happened, why couldn’t she stay awake long enough to have some fun with him?
Then when he has some business acquaintance in, Anna’s supposed to put on another act. He likes to show her off, to let people see what a swell cunt he’s got, and that’s all right, but Anna’s supposed to show everybody that she’s got a continental case of itchy tail … . and all for him. So she has to slink around and show her shape and act like a bitch in the spring, rubbing up against him, and letting him feel her ass and maybe giving him a feel around his balls now and then. Then, when this has gone on for awhile, she calls him from another room and he excuses himself and struts out to play with her for a half an hour … .
sometimes he even manages to get it up and screw her, but usually all he accomplishes is to take half her clothes off and rumple her up. Then … back they trot, together, and maybe he’s even buttoning his pants when they go into the room, and Anna looks … and is supposed to act … it’s though she’s just been through the washing machine… .
Now he has another marvellous plan. He’d like Anna to bring some big-cocked young bozo in and take it from him, let him give her the whole works, complete, while her daddy dumplings hides in a closet and peeks out at them. Anna refuses absolutely. What he’d actually do, Anna says, is hide in the closet and play with himself until he’d seen it all and then hop out playing the outraged lover.
Because he’d be in his own house, Anna says, he’d probably have enough courage to slap the other fellow in the face, and he might even take a shot at him
… even if he hit him, a French court would back him up on the defense of honor gag. It sounds fantastic, but Anna says that I wouldn’t think so if I knew this bastard.
While we’re having our coffee I flash the pictures that Ernest bought someplace. Anna almost pisses her pants when she sees them … she might have known those friends of hers would do something like that. They wanted to take them just for fun … . . well, just for fun she’ll cut their balls off if she meets them again. There are people who should never see those, she says … . but by now every half-wit in Paris is diddling himself silly over them … . . Anna sees the whole city passing them from hand to hand and pointing her out on the street.
However, this ought to make her meal ticket happy for awhile … . this is just the sort of thing he likes… .
Raoul runs into us just as we’re about to leave. Since he has something to say to me, we stay for a liqueur. Raoul is a bit shy about getting it off his chest while Anna’s there, so she takes a skip to the can to
