I’m hungry and I suggest going out for something to eat, but Lotus puts me right. When a man buys a Chinese woman, she says, he’s bought a woman, not something to fuck like a goat. She brings all her talents to him … and Lotus can cook. I like the idea, so we dress and go out to buy some food.
As soon as we’re in the place again we take off our clothes and Lotus makes a meal with a towel pinned at her waist, covering her front but leaving her ass bare. I lie on the couch and she pauses to kiss my cock each time she passes me
… she’s an agreeable cunt and she doesn’t mind if a pot burns while I’m feeling her up …
After we’ve eaten we try the bed. Lotus thinks it would be nice if we did the tete-beche again, but I want to fuck her … I jump onto the bed after her and immediately ram my dong up her tail. She stops talking about the so wonderful tete-beche when she feels what John Thursday is like under her ass.
It doesn’t make any difference to Johnny what color she is. She’s warm and wet and hairy around the edges, and that’s all he requires. He really spreads himself. He fills all the cracks and crevices, and when he’s in I tuck his whiskers around to cover the corners. A few swabs with him and the girl begins to glow …
she wiggles her round, yellow ass and begs me to take the itch out of it … it doesn’t matter that she jabbers most of the time in Chinese, we understand each other perfectly. Her small feet cross between my knees in back … her soft, naked thighs are stronger than I thought …
She’s a positive relief! I think of Tania, remember that bookkeeper with his half grown daughter, and laugh. The white world is upside down … a man has to find a Chink for so simple a thing as a quiet, normal fuck. Lotus laughs with me, without knowing why we’re laughing … perhaps if she knew she’d be laughing at me. She’s a good cunt. I start to fuck the hell out of her. It’s a great thing to have a bitch who can laugh while you fuck her.
And she’s no whore! A concubine, rather. Lotus brings her passion as well as her talent for cooking … it’s accidental that money’s involved. The money simply buys a jade trinket … If she pants in your ear, it’s real, if she moans softly you may be sure it’s because she feels. She has life in her body, juice to oil the works, and she gives them ungrudgingly …
I play with her bubs and she wants me to suck them again. The nipples, I discover, have a lemon ring about them like a Chinese moon … Ah, Lotus, you’ll soon find that you have a Chinese firecracker in your cunt … I’ll singe your ovaries with Roman candles and sky rockets will flash through your womb … The spark is catching …
Lotus may fuck in Chinese, but she comes in Parisian French.
Later in the night we become very gay over our wine and Lotus teaches me a few filthy Chinese phrases, each of which I forget in turn as I learn a new one. I fuck her again and again and in the morning I find she’s gone, leaving a cheap jade trinket tied with a silk cord to my tired prick.
Visitors! Two of them. Sid, whom I have not seen since the night when we gave Marion such a hell of a going over at his place, and a cunt. Or a female. They perch politely on the edges of their chairs and we talk delicately of the weather or literature or something equally safe. She’s a Miss Cavendish. A Miss Cavendish, with no first name. You need only hear her hoity-toity “How do you do?” to know that she is something that will be forever England.
Miss Cavendish, Sid explains, is a friend of his sister who lives in London. The explanation seems purely conversational and it seems that the visit has no purpose save a politely social one. But Sid goes on to say that Miss Cavendish is going to teach in Lyons and, since the job does not begin for almost two months, she plans to spend some time in getting acquainted with Paris.
One has to be civil, even with a female who wears tweeds and cotton stockings. I ask cheerful questions, just as I will cheerfully forget all about her tomorrow. And where is she staying?
Her glasses gleam as she turns toward me. “That’s one of my problems,” she says. “Sid has suggested that I might be able to get an apartment here.” She takes a look at the place as though she were just seeing it. “It appears very nice
… and inexpensive?”
“Oh sure,” Sid assures her. “Alf, you’ll fix things, do all the arranging, won’t you?”
I’ll arrange to wring his fucking neck! But there’s nothing to do … she’s moving in somewhere in the house. Anyway, she has nice legs, and there’s an outside chance that she may be good for a fuck. But what a fine fucking friend Sid is! I wish that I could see her without her glasses …
When she is settled, says Miss Cavendish, we must not forget her, for Paris can be very lonely for a single girl alone …
Evening visitors … Anna, back from the grave, and ten minutes later Alexandra. Anna is sheepish about our little party of a few evenings ago. She laughs about it, with embarrassment spilling over the edges of her laughter.
About what happened to her after she ran out of here without her clothes she is very vague. I don’t press the subject. As soon as Alexandra arrives Anna remembers that she has another appointment. This time I remember to get her address.
Alexandra pours her troubles over my head like a libation. She is certain now that she is going for a trip to get away from Tania and Peter. Readjustment, she calls it. She sits on the couch and shows me her thighs while she calls the roll of the great sinners of history who have ended in the arms of Jesus. Perhaps … who knows? … she may even turn to the church herself, she confides.
“But would it be necessary to confess the details?” she wants to know. “Would the church have to know everything?”
I really don’t know, but it’s simple enough to see what she wants to be told. I give it as my opinion that Jesus would probably like to know the whole works.
Alexandra shudders deliciously. If she could only escape the children, she says, everything would adjust itself. But they seem to have an evil grip on her. And Tania … she’s far worse than Peter now that she’s been to bed with her mother.
She comes parading her naked little body into the room and there’s no escaping her …
“I don’t know what the end of it is to be,” she says. She pauses, glances at me and quickly looks away. “Something really too depraved to mention occurred last night … I tell you only because I know that you understand. She tormented Peter into … into making his water right in my face while she had her mouth against my con… .” She wrings her fingers in distress. “The moment was … but you understand. In passion the mind is clouded … I believe I may have said something … perhaps I said that … I liked it. She called me a filthy name … and bit my thigh. The mark still remains.”
Never a word, of course, of the times when she’s pissed in Tania’s face. That little depravity is passed over and forgotten. She lifts her skirt along the thigh to show me the place where Tania bit her. The white flesh bulges over her garters.
And the mark, as she said, remains … a round, perfect imprint of Tania’s teeth high up and on the inside, a few inches from her cunt. She raises her knee and parts her legs while I examine it. I squeeze her leg and begin to feel her up.
She didn’t mean that this should happen! Not much! She’s made herself and me hot with her little slide-lecture … she knows what she’s after, this bitch. But if it’s a sample of John Thursday she’s after … his head is already up. I lay her skirt up to her belly and slip her pants down.
What an ass she has! She could harbor a nest of white mice in the bush between the cheeks and never know that they were there; they could live cosily with never a care in the world. I tickle the hair and she begins to warm up. Her fingers go into my fly and John Thursday leaps out.
While we lie there playing with each other she reveals more of her adventures with those fuck-nutty kids of hers. She talks more freely as she becomes excited.
Peter, it seems, now believes that sucking off a man makes him more potent… . it threatens to become a habit. I’m glad that I’m out of that asylum, but it’s nice to hear what goes on there …
Do I guess, she asks
