An Adult's Story
by Robert Desmond 


1. 

Treavor James's obituary said that he passed away at such-and-such an hour 
on a certain day. It lied, as do most obituaries; Trevor didn't pass away; 
he resisted death furiously and with great courage, spending his last breath 
on a spirited rejection of the advances made to him by eternal slumber. 

He did not fear death or what awaited him beyond; he had no more reason for 
believing that after death came horror, anguish and the flames of Hell than 
for supposing that death was the key to a paradise of music, honey and wine. 

His determination not to die was excited by his reluctance to leave behind 
him his responsibilities as the father of Arwel, four years of age, 
black-haired, dark-eyed and small of stature. He had no qualms about leaving 
Gwen widowed at the age of twenty-nine; she could look after herself; she'd 
managed and domineered him throughout the five years of their marriage, 
regarding him as a piece of her property, expendable, but only by 
destruction, not essential to her happiness or material well-being, but 
nevertheless not to be placed at the disposal of any other person. Trevor 
was bitterly aware of the fact that Gwen would not grieve at losing him to 
death, great as had ever been her precautions against his surrendering 
himself to any other individual or interest than herself. 

Arwel, however, would miss his father. Not only would there be the loss he 
would immediately feel, but there would be a greater privation which would 
greatly affect the little one's entire life, without his necessarily being 
aware of it; Trevor's last hours were tormented by his fear that, with his 
demise, Gwen would turn upon Arwel the full destroying force of her 
possessiveness. Living, Trevor absorbed more than his share of Gwen's 
pathological jealousy, thereby sparing his son whom he loved dearly, and 
whom Gwen loved too much, with a love which was the negation of love, 
regarding Arwel not as a human entity, but as a mere extension of herself, 
deriving all beauty, virtue, intelligence and intellect from her; with 
Trevor's moral support, Arwel might avoid the mesh of misguided love, 
jealousy and possessiveness which it was Gwen's nature to weave around the 
things, human and otherwise, which belonged to her; but Trevor knew he was 
living his last hours, and he was living them in the agony of his impotence 
to spare his child the suffering which Gwen would unwittingly, and with good 
intentions, inflict upon him, as she had upon Trevor himself. 

Trevor felt no bitterness towards Gwen; she sincerely believed that she'd 
loved him since their first meeting, whereas she'd really loved the ideal 
husband she'd been determined to compel him to become, at whatever cost to 
his self-respect, his ambitions and his contentment. 

In dying, Trevor did not fall short of the standard which Gwen had created 
for him and imposed upon him; by falling victim, and unwillingly, to Death 
he did not humiliate her as he would have done if she'd lost him to a human 
rival; and it was even with a sense of relief that she realized that his 
death had lifted from her shoulders the immense burden of her unremitting 
and self-imposed task of building a barrier between her husband and all 
persons or things-likely to alienate his affections from her. It was, 
however, several months before Gwen admitted even to herself that Trevor's 
death had released her from prison, and had "cleared the decks" for her 
entry into a new life, into the excitement of almost complete responsibility 
for her own happiness; as a wife she had imposed on herself the discipline 
necessary for her dominance over Trevor; she had been a model housewife and 
devoted mother, faithful to her home and husband, not because she was 
fundamentally virtuous, but from a sense of duty. Her duty had irked her. 

 2. 

Gwen scribbled a few hurried figures, made an addition of them, divided by 
fifty-two, frowned and made a decision; when Merivale arrived she would tell 
him that she accepted his offer of employment. He was a wholesale dealer in 
foodstuffs, who'd employed Gwen from the time of her leaving school at the 
age of fifteen to the time of her marriage with Trevor, who had also worked 
for him. At the end of his life, Trevor had been one of Merivale's principal 
buyers, and Merivale wished to help the young widow by re-instating her in 
his offices, not in her former capacity (she'd previously been a typist) but 
as a junior buyer for a period of training at the end of which she hoped to 
be given a position of authority. 

She greeted him with a radiant smile; if he was to be her employer, she 
might as well use her charms upon him from the beginning, as an 
encouragement to him to hasten her advancement to a position wherein she 
would enjoy the respect of which she considered herself worthy, a position 
whose salary would justify her working outside her own home and leaving 
Arwel in the company and under the influence of others. 

Merivale had never seen a lovelier widow;-her predominantly black dress was 
so smart as to make mourning undistinguishable from a sophisticated cocktail 
frock. He observed that the bodice was opaque only to just above the nipples 
of her breasts, the upper part being of fine lace through which her pale 
shoulders shone dimly. 

Leading him into the lounge, she asked: 

"What will you have to drink?" 

"Have you a dry sherry? Bitter as walnuts?" 

"There is at least one thing we have in common," she replied, a hint of 
provocation in her voice, "I too adore the palest of sherries." 

As they drank, they talked of her return to Merivale's, and agreed that it 
take place on the first of the following month. They parted after Merivale 
had expressed his delight at her decision to re-enter his employ ... 

Before the beginning of the month, Gwen had to put her own house in order; 
in the interests of economy she sought to engage a young maid who would 
agree to look after Arwel during the day, in addition to carrying out the 
light day-to-day tasks of the home; Gwen herself would cook the main meal of 
the day, the evening meal, and once per week she would have a char-lady to 
help with the rough work. 

The day after Gwen's telephone call to the Cygnet Domestic Agency, she 
received a visit from a fourteen-years-old girl who introduced herself as 
Jean Simpson; Gwen was immediately impressed by the refinement of the girl's 
speech and manner; she was slim, but there was about her a suggestion of 
physical strength rare in so young a girl. 

"I suppose you haven't worked previously, Jean?" Gwen asked. 

"No, Madam! I'm still at school, but I have permission to leave as soon as I 
find a job." 

"And what would you expect as a wage?" 

"My sister said I'd be lucky if I got more than my bed and board." 

Delighted by the girl's lack of guile, Gwen laughed without malice, and 
gently ruffled the child's short-cropped auburn hair. 

"Not so naive, please! You must set upon yourself a higher price than you're 
worth, and then magnanimously meet half-way the person with whom you're 
bargaining; how about board and lodging plus five shillings per week?" 

The girl's boyish, snub-nosed face lit up joyously as she accepted Gwen's 
terms; she was thrilled at the thought that she had ceased to be a burden 
upon the meagre financial resources of her loving sister Edith who, with her 
husband Peter, had cared for her since her parents' death; Peter and Edith 
had two children of their own, so that, although they would never admit it, 
they would be relieved to learn that Jean was no longer wholly dependent on 
them. 

The following Monday Jean took possession of a bedroom in the James's house, 
and she became, under Gwen's guidance, a sort of Jill-of-all-trades. She 
enjoyed the work, and was glad she'd resisted Edith's endeavors (and those 
of her school-mistresses) to persuade her to accept work in an office, 
where, they felt, her intelligence would be of greater value to her than in 
domestic service; Jean was convinced that a girl who approached the life 
domestic with a determination to exceed her duty, in order to satisfy her 
employer, could find therein a richness and fullness denied to the 
short-hand-typist and the shop-assistant; and she anticipated with 
particular joy the imminent addition of Arwel to her responsibilities, and 
she was impatient for Mrs. James to start going to her office. Jean had been 
allowed to devote much time and love to the care of Joyce and Tommie, 
Edith's and Peter's children, who had accepted her as being of an importance 
equal to that of their mother and father; but with Arwel she was dealing 
with a child in whose memories she had no share. He might resent her 
intrusion into his life, and she would have to approach him with infinite 
patience, volunteering to him only the necessities of life, but ever ready 
to grant any reasonable (or slightly un-reasonable) request he might do her 
the honor of making. She sensed his wretchedness, she divined his great love 
for his father, and she longed to take him in her arms and feel the pressure 
of his dark little head against her firm breasts. 

 3. 

Before retiring to bed on the eve of Gwen's return to duty at Merivale's, 
Jean asked her mistress at what hour she wished to be roused the following 
morning; Gwen put down her knitting, and gently drew the girl onto the 
settee beside her. 

"No, young lady! You may get up whenever you choose, and map out the day's 
work as best suits you; but there'll be no nonsense about getting up at 
day-break, lighting fires, and waiting hand-and-foot upon me." 

As she spoke, Gwen embarrassed her young house-keeper by fondling, with 
overt admiration, her youthful bust; when the child opened her mouth to 
protest her willingness to prepare breakfast and generally help the 
bread-winner on her morning way, Gwen kissed her fiercely upon the lips, and 
Jean went up to her room, happy in the knowledge that she was at home, and 
puzzled by the intensity of Mrs. James's embraces and kiss. 

On the morrow, Gwen came downstairs to a well-warmed dining-room whose table 
was set for the breakfast which her contented little slave was preparing for 
her. 

When Gwen entered Merivale's office, he rose eagerly, and approached her 
with hands outstretched in greeting. "My dear," he said, " the sight of you 
is just what I need to lift the clouds from my troubled mind." 

She raised a slim, gloved hand to his cheek: "Come now, tell Gwendoline 
who's been upsetting you so early in the day!" 

"A ministering angel....." 

He drew nearer to her, intending to plant a fatherly kiss of gratitude upon 
her cheek; but she, not expecting such a show of affection upon her first 
day back in the firm, moved her head slightly to the left, so that (as much 
to his surprise as to hers) their lips met; Gwen, thinking his kiss 
intentional, and reluctant to offend him by seeming unresponsive to his 
advances, raised one hand to the back of his head and the other to his 
shoulder, and volunteered a second kiss; encouraged beyond his hopes, he 
held her to him, stroking her back with his right hand, downwards, over the 
buttocks, until his hand was exerting pressure under her bottom, between her 
thighs. 

She thought for a brief moment of Trevor, only a few weeks dead, and she 
compared him (as a lover) with Merivale and then dismissed him from her 
thoughts; she was surprised at her own possession, and rejoiced in the fact 
that Merivale had done in a few minutes what Trevor had failed to do in more 
than half a decade ... rouse her to awareness of her sex. 

A knock on the door sent Merivale quickly back to his desk. Kenneth Goddard 
entered the office with the slow, polite lack of deference which was typical 
of him; he was in charge of the buying department, and he'd been instructed 
to report to the boss's office promptly at nine, to meet his new assistant. 
He'd deliberately waited until five minutes past nine, in order to avoid 
spoiling his reputation for unpunctuality. 

"Good morning, Mr. Merivale!" 

"Good morning, Mr. Goddard! You know Mrs. James?" 

Gwen and Goddard exchanged cold greetings; she knew him quite well, and she 
was familiar with his reticence, but she was aware of something more than 
mere reserve in his greeting; Goddard was a man undemonstrative, but kindly; 
he rarely allowed himself to be more cordial than strict politeness 
demanded, but his greetings were, as Gwen knew, always sincere, so that a 
sensitive person usually read into his curt salutation more good-will than 
was conveyed by the average effusive handshake. 

However, his "Good Morning, Mrs. James" was distinctly surly. Gwen didn't 
have long to wait for an explanation. 

"Mrs. James," he said, "I'd like to make it plain that, whilst I have no 
personal feelings about your joining my department, it's entirely Mr. 
Merivale's idea that you should come to us; I shall do everything possible 
to render your work agreeable to you, but you have a right to know that 
you've taken on an out-sized task; you'll be the only woman in the 
department, apart from the shorthand typists....." 

Merivale felt that he ought to intervene; but he was somewhat intimidated by 
Goddard, not merely on this occasion, but generally-speaking. "Mr. Goddard, 
don't you agree that we must eventually accept women into positions of 
authority in industry and commerce....." 

"That's not quite the point, Mr. Merivale; I'm all in favor of women being 
allowed to rise to such positions; but ... well, I've already explained my 
attitude to you; Mrs. James's being the first woman, in Merivale's, to wield 
authority seems unfair, in view of the fact that she's been out of the 
business during five or six years, whilst other girls, who've been steadily 
gaining experience for a dozen years, are to be expected to remain in the 
typing-room." 

Gwen realized that, whilst Merivale would not withdraw from his agreement 
regarding her advancement in the firm, it was absolutely necessary that 
Goddard should not be obliged to take her into his department, or rather 
that, in the event of her going into the buying department against Goddard's 
wishes, he should feel that she had not foisted herself upon him, but that 
she had been reasonably prepared to give way to his misgivings. 

"Mr. Goddard." she said. "I quite see your point of view if you'd rather I 
went to another department....." 

Merivale and Goddard both interrupted at once, but it was Merivale who gave 
way. 

"Mrs. James," Goddard said, with more than a hint of friendliness, "Please 
don't think I have any objection to Mr. Merivale's suggestion; I'm thinking 
merely of the young men and women of my department, who are quite naturally 
opposed to the introduction into the hierarchy of 'buying' of an outsider 
... " 

"Now, let's close the discussion, shall we!" said Merivale, authoritatively; 
"I think we ought to be able to agree on the following terms; Mrs. James 
will join your department, Mr. Goddard, as an apprentice, so to say; whether 
or not she'll remain there will depend upon the impression she makes upon 
you during a trial period of, say, three months: if she convinces you of her 
capacities, you'll be perfectly justified in expressing your confidence in 
her by installing her as a permanent member of your buying staff." 

Goddard wasn't satisfied with the arrangement, but he knew at what point 
Merivale had made up his mind definitely, and that the latter, having 
convinced himself that his new proposal was a compromise worthy of 
acceptance by all parties, would not budge an inch further; so, with 
complete sincerity. Goddard proffered a hand to Gwen, who, smiling 
charmingly, reciprocated with a delicate squeeze which Goddard found 
pleasant indeed. 

Feeling themselves dismissed from the presence of their diplomatic employer, 
Gwen and Goddard left the office, she taking his arm coquettishly, and he 
bestowing upon her a smile which conveyed more than readiness to be at peace 
with her. 

 4. 

Gwen was feeling pleased with herself as she closed her hand-bag with a 
snap, having just deposited therein sixteen pounds, her remuneration for her 
first month of agreeable labor in the interest of Merivale's. 

Every day of that month had increased her awareness of how much more there 
was to learn about the wholesale provisions trade than she had previously 
thought; young men, ten years her juniors, appeared to have the business at 
their finger-tips, whilst she, who hoped, within a couple of months, to be 
placed in charge of one of the half-dozen sub-departments, had to run to 
Goddard for advice and information every hour of the day. Much as she 
feigned knowledge of the work, these young men were quick to remark upon her 
dependence on Goddard; she was conscious of their resentment of the fact (of 
which they were by no means ignorant) that, in the matter of promotion, she 
was to be preferred over them. She realized that neither Merivale nor 
Goddard would relish antagonizing nearly every member of the buying 
department, and that she could not hope, by her competence alone, to win 
Goddard's support of her ambitions or to maintain Merivale's interest in 
her. 

Her meditations upon this subject were interrupted by Goddard's arrival in 
the office. 

"Hello, there! Have you no home to go to, Mrs. James?" 

She replied, "I have a home, yes, but today is my first pay-day since I, 
somewhat unwisely, exchanged the freedom of a respected employee for the 
soul-destroying drudgery of a house-wife; so, my dear Mr. Goddard, I'm going 
to celebrate; I'm going to have dinner in town, and then I'm going to a 
show....." 

"You can't do much celebrating on your own!" 

"Too true, too true! What do you advise," 

This latter remark was made, not as a question, but in a tone which was 
intended to convey to him the false impression that she regarded her plans 
for the evening as none of his bloody business. 

Was Goddard too obtuse to detect a snub? or did he recognize the veiled 
invitation in her words?" 

Mock-tragically he said, "Ah, if I were twenty years younger, I'd know what 
to suggest. I'd invite you to have dinner with me, to begin with....." 

"Abracadabra! You're twenty years younger. I thank you for your invitation, 
and I'm happy to accept. Give me five minutes to make my face ... " 

She had intended having dinner at the Elite, the type of restaurant for 
which the word 'smart' is coined; there everything shines, especially the 
conversation and the laughter, both of which combine loudness with the 
refined accent. Goddard, however, didn't consult Gwen on the subject of 
"where-to-eat"; and when she heard him instruct the taxi-driver to take them 
to the Moravia, she resisted the impulse to suggest that he ought to have 
asked for her opinion. 

Had Goddard asked her whether or not she approved of going to the Moravia, 
she'd have rewarded his enquiry with no mean negative. 

Gwen's only visits to the Moravia had been during her teens, when she had, 
on several occasions, accompanied some of her male and female colleagues at 
Merivale's on what they had all regarded as sightseeing visits to "that 
queer foreign place." At that time Gwen had been too inexperienced in 
gastronomical matters to appreciate the truly excellent cuisine of that 
eating-house; and she had been unfavorably impressed by the simplicity of 
that ill-lit semi-subterranean place. Goddard had learned to love the 
Moravia in the days when he went there because it suited his purse. In his 
palmier days he remained faithful to that favorite haunt of his youth, even 
though he didn't limit himself, as he'd been obliged to do then, to the 
least expensive items on the menu. At the Moravia you can eat as well and 
almost as expensively as at the more fashionable places, but the expensive 
diner gets no better service than the impecunious, broken-down client. 

Goddard hoped to share with Mrs. James a meal worthy of the celebration 
about which she'd spoken before they left the office, but Gwen was shocked 
by the lack of fuss when they entered. Quietly a waiter greeted Goddard by 
name, and left him to help Gwen out of her coat; he returned only when 
Goddard beckoned him. Gwen's escort surprised her somewhat by allowing her 
to choose her own food; she'd expected him to order without asking for her 
opinion, which in fact he did for the wines. 

After the fish and a bottle of Graves they were old friends, talking gaily 
and laughing freely. 

The ox-kidneys and mushrooms were an excellent foil to the bottle of 
Vosne-Romanee, after the first glass of which the room wore the rose-tinted, 
dancing smile which the sun of France bestows upon the grape. As Goddard put 
down the empty bottle, having filled their glasses for the third or fourth 
time, Gwen handed her glass to him, and grasped his glass with an unsteady 
hand. 

"To the Moravia!" she cried, raising his glass almost to her lips before he 
asked: 

"Jamesie, aren't you fastidious?" 

"Very!" 

"And you're going to drink from the glass of a filthy old man!" 

For answer, her tongue appeared saucily between her parted teeth, and licked 
from the rim of the glass the moist curve made by his lower lip; she placed 
the glass upon her own nether lip so that she felt the pressure of its edge 
against her gums. Drinking deeply, she turned it through three hundred and 
sixty degrees, wiping away all his hp-marks. Some of the wine gushed out of 
her mouth, down her chin; against the whiteness of her throat several tiny 
streams flowed downwards to disappear below the collar of her dress. 

After coffee and cognac they were both in a mood for acclaiming as brilliant 
the third-rate artists they would see at the Empire ... After an accordion 
band, a baggy-trousered clown, a couple of tap-dancing girls, a comedian 
with a white trilby and loud-check suit, and a troupe of performing dogs, 
Gwen and Goddard took advantage of the interval to repair the damage done to 
their intoxication by an hour of hilarity. Ignoring the bell for the second 
half, he ordered another double-whiskey for himself and a Gin and French for 
her. After another drink each they left the bar. In the deserted, 
damp-smelling corridor, Gwen swayed against her escort, draped herself 
around his neck, and stuck her tongue deep into his eager mouth. 

His arms tightened about her, and his teeth dug into her fleshy lips until 
her groans of ecstasy mingled with those of pain. Breathless, he released 
her, and she wriggled against him like a serpent. 

"Let's go on the stage!" she said hoarsely, "We'll strip in front of 
everybody; Relieve me, Goddard! I must have you ... Now!" 

Brutally he hissed: 

"When I take you, you'll be sober, and you'll know I'm using you." 

He almost dragged her back to their seats in the auditorium. 

After the show, as their taxi approached her house, she perceived that Jean 
had not yet retired for the night. 

"Tell him to drive on past the house," she requested. "I'd like to walk a 
bit, sober up before going in. Join me?" 

At the top of the street he dismissed the taxi, and they turned into a lane; 
it was a time of subdued noises, birds whispering in the trees, the rustling 
of rabbit-infested bracken, the distant hum of motor traffic. Gwen clung to 
her man as they walked. They talked about Trevor, Goddard taking 
satisfaction in saying how disgusting her conduct was in view of her 
husband's death being so recent, and she protesting. Quite soberly now, that 
her shocking suggestion outside the bar of the theatre should be attributed 
to the amount of wine she'd consumed and, in great measure, to the fact that 
one evening with him had made her the slave of a desire which her late 
husband had never succeeded in rousing in her. Goddard too had regained his 
sobriety in the freshness of the evening, and he smiled wryly at the thought 
of a handsome woman of thirty declaring herself the slave of a fat, 
whisky-sodden brute of twice her own age. 

He led her away from the lane, and into a field, where he lowered her, 
unresisting, onto the remnants of a hay-stack. Pulling his face to hers, she 
offered her parted lips to his kiss, and he spat in her mouth. She swallowed 
his saliva greedily, and shuddered at the coarse touch of his fingers on her 
clitoris; she bent her knees, opening her thighs to give him better access 
to her. In the bitter-cold night her skirts were in disarray around her 
middle, her thighs entirely exposed, and the lower part of her body proper 
protected only by brief flimsy panties, white, with large flowers delicately 
traced in black and mauve. But for Goddard she was excessively clad. 

"Get all this lot off!" he commanded. 

"Be reasonable, darling!" she protested, "You've already got the most 
interesting part of me between your fingers; leave the rest until we can 
arrange an indoor session, please!" 

Unheeding, he pulled her coat off, and it was with great difficulty that she 
suppressed the urge to protest at his throwing it into the hedge-bottom. 
After a moment of resistance to his undoing the buttons of the bodice of her 
dress, she submitted to his will, lest her struggle incite him to rip her 
clothing from her. Unmoved by her shivering at the touch of his icy fingers 
on her throat and shoulders, he opened her frock down to the waist. She 
seized his head, and kissed his mouth with all her passion; her saliva was 
sweet upon his tongue, and she hoped that her tickling of his gums behind 
his teeth would so stir him that he would forget her clothes in his 
impatience to plunge his penis into her loins. Her kiss put madness into 
him; he bit her lower hp so ferociously that she tasted her own blood and 
felt a trickle of it warm on her chin; in agony she rolled over and buried 
her face in the musty straw, indifferent to the fact that the brittle fodder 
scratched her cheeks and filled her mouth. Prostrate, she felt a new rush of 
breathtaking cold as Goddard snatched at the skirt of her dress and lifted 
it until her arms impeded his movement; she raised her arms to allow her 
frock and underskirt to pass undamaged over her head. Turning, she clung to 
him, as much in search of warmth as to express her desire of him. 

"Cruel!" she muttered; and his deft fingers manipulated the patent fastener 
of her girdle. 

She lay before him, her legs stretched out straight and tightly together, 
her head pillowed on her hands, the position of her arms forcing her 
shoulders backwards so that her brassiere-covered breasts pointed proudly 
and firmly at the night-sky. 

A tremor passed through him as he took off his over-coat. He regarded 
closely the delicate pattern of flowers on her panties, whose material was 
so fine that the blooms seemed to be sketched directly upon the pinkness of 
her belly, whilst the blackness of the hair around her sex-organ devoured 
those flowers which adorned that part of the garment. 

He placed a hand behind the upper reaches of her back, and she raised her 
shoulders slightly, affording to his hand the freedom of movement necessary 
for the unfastening of the button which released her breasts from captivity; 
her brassiere found its way into the dung contained in a nearby hand-barrow, 
and Goddard peeled off her panties. Naked, she waited and longed for his 
next move. 

His hands were everywhere, rough and cold on her soft epidermis. She 
thrilled to his lips on the soles of her feet, on her thighs, buttocks, arms 
and shoulders. Her nipples hardened as his lips and tongue fondled her 
breasts. He buried his nose and mouth in the hair of her loins, and his kiss 
upon the inner sides of her thighs rewarded him with the taste of sweat and 
urine; opening his mouth wide, he bit firmly into moist flesh, and she 
gritted her teeth to stiffle a scream; her hands, at the back of his head, 
pressed his face closer against her loins, until his tongue found the 
aperture of her vagina, plunged in and withdrew, in and out and again and 
again; Gwen's ecstasy sobbed, and the flow of her lubricating juices 
increased upon his lips. 

"Give it to me. Goddie!, " she moaned, "Oh, God! come!" 

In the madness of her desire she writhed and lashed with her feet; he was 
thrown from her, and her hands sought the fly of his trousers. Impatiently 
she tugged at the buttons, and soon her hand grasped his penis; her frenzy 
carrying them off the hay, they lay, he fully clad and she naked, in a patch 
of noisome mud created by the pissing of horses on soil. She pressed his sex 
against her thighs, eager to feel its thrust there where his tongue had 
already been. In the squelching mud her body settled deeper as he threw his 
whole weight on top of her. His first thrust inside her brought his 
testicles into sharp contact with the juncture of her thighs and buttocks; 
his brutality sent a spear of excruciating agony through her lower body, and 
she felt she had been torn. The scream which rose to her throat emerged as a 
gasp of dismay and horror. 

Suddenly Goddard jumped to his feet, hurriedly re-adjusting his clothing; 
Gwen reached frantically towards him. 

"Quick!" he whispered, "Put on your coat! Run along this hedge! I'll collect 
everything, and follow you!" 

Only then did Gwen hear the conspiratorial whispers of the couple who were 
crossing the grass verge in the direction of her and Goddard's couch of 
love. Cold, wet with mud, sweating with frustration, she considered walking 
up to the intruders, unclothed as she was, and telling them to go Hell; but, 
instead, she flung herself into her coat and fled, whilst Goddard snatched 
her dress and underskirt from the hedge-bottom; he found her panties in the 
mud, and her girdle, shoes and stockings in a tidy pile on the straw. In a 
corner of the field, he held Gwen's clothes, whilst she wiped some of the 
mud off her body with the already sodden panties. He even wiped off some mud 
for her, and was rewarded with a soft passionless kiss. Tears blinded her. 

He was willing to go back and search for her brassiere, but she insisted it 
was unimportant, that nothing was important any more. 

Throwing away her panties, she smiled bravely into his eyes, and said: 

"Hope you don't mind walking home with a bare-arsed girl!" 

Taking a short-cut across some fields, they approached Gwen's house from 
behind. Downstairs there was still light in one window; Jean's zeal 
irritated Gwen, who knew herself to be in such a bedraggled condition as 
would leave even so young and innocent a girl in no doubt as to how she had 
spent the last hour or so. True enough, Jean was unable to disguise her 
shock at the sight of Mrs. James, dirty and still bleeding at her lips, and 
in the company of this man of most displeasing appearance. 

Gwen introduced Jean and Goddard, and enquired anxiously about Arwel, 
suddenly guilty in her realization that, in the excitement of alcohol and 
the flesh, she hadn't given her child a thought. 

Having explained lamely that Goddard was an old friend of her late husband, 
and that he'd taken her to dinner and a theatre as a means of cheering her 
up in her loneliness, Gwen asked Jean: 

"Do you mind if I share your bed tonight, darling? Mr. Goddard is staying 
the night, and I doubt whether the guest-bed is sufficiently aired." 

This question surprised Jean, who had supposed that, after a rough evening 
in some ditch or other, Gwen and Mr. Goddard would sleep together; Goddard 
was also surprised, and pleasantly. He'd accepted Gwen's invitation to spend 
the night at her house only because it was late and he disliked the idea of 
walking a mile to the nearest telephone box, where he would have had to wait 
perhaps half an hour for a taxi to arrive; he was tired, and viewed a few 
hours of undisturbed sleep with more joy than a night devoted to riding Gwen 
up and down her bed; furthermore, he was firmly of the opinion that the 
longer Gwen had to wait for him, the tastier she would be when he eventually 
had her. 

Gwen, however, was congratulating herself on the apparent success of her 
subterfuge; as soon as Jean was asleep, she would slip along to Goddard's 
room ... 

 5. 

"I feel bloody ... It's almost day-light ... who's that?" 

A pale light combined with the confusion which is the no-man's-land between 
the certainty of sleep and the clarity of wakefulness to give the 
furnishings of the room an air of unreality; it was some time before Gwen 
recognized the room and its other occupant ... Jean, standing a few feet 
away from the bed, young and slim, wearing only a white vest and 
short-legged bloomers of the same color. As the girl wriggled her way into 
an underskirt, Gwen realized what was the missing thing which had troubled 
the first minute of her awakening; it was Goddard: he and she had fallen 
asleep in separate rooms, without his giving her what she'd intended having 
from him before either of them surrendered to slumber. Quickly she closed 
her eyes, feigning sleep until Jean should be out of the room; and as she 
heard the girl descending to the ground-floor, she rose from her unhappy 
couch and ran, bare-foot and clad only in her nightie, to Goddard's room, 
which she entered silently. In the darkness, she plucked at the 
shoulder-straps of her gown, and the silk sheath slid over her breasts and 
hips to form an irregular oval around her feet; her hands fluttered over her 
body in joyous anticipation of the caresses which Goddard would bestow upon 
her in a few minutes. 

In the bed, she stretched out her arms eagerly; her moment had arrived. 

She was alone. Her hand flew to the fight switch, and her eyes confirmed the 
disappointment which her fevered hands had announced. 

She hurried to the bathroom, and within five minutes she was downstairs 
where, in the sitting-room, she found her guest fully dressed, fresh and 
seemingly content with his world. She flung herself on him, drawing him 
close, pleading: 

"Upstairs! Quick! It hurts ... here ... agony!" 

She pressed his hand into her aching loins at the very moment when Jean 
entered; the child saw, and withdrew hastily to the kitchen, where Gwen 
followed her and found her in tears. 

"Darling, I'm sorry," said Gwen." Don't cry!" 

Jean placed her arms around Gwen's waist, pressing her head into the luxury 
of the older woman's breasts, sobbing bitterly until Gwen raised the young 
head and kissed the tears. Jean's hand strayed to the part of Gwen's body 
which ached. 

"You're good," said the girl, "It makes me sad to see you suffer." 

 6. 

Up in his room, Arwel heard the piano-music which rose from the 
sitting-room. His legs couldn't carry him downstairs quickly enough. 
Breathless he clung to the frame of the sitting-room door, and with a sob 
flung his head down onto his chest. Jean ran to him, rejoicing in his 
obvious need of her. 

"Thought it was Trevor," he whispered, "He played piano ... beautiful! You 
too! Play again, please!" 

It was his first non-essential demand upon her, and her heart sang. She held 
him tight, and kissed him fervently on the mouth. 

Turning away from her in momentary disgust, he begged: 

"Play Chopin!" He ran his fingers shyly along her bare arm from her wrist to 
the hem of the short sleeve of her blouse. She shuddered, and told herself 
that, if a man were to do that to her, he'd obtain complete power over her. 

She played a valse by Chopin, and was thrilled by the joy which creased his 
lips and eyes into a smile of happy recognition. 

"Fine, fine, fine ... ! " he exclaimed. 

"Arwel," she asked, "How soon would you like me to start giving you piano 
lessons?" 

"Ay, that's it! Piano lessons! If I learn when I'm young, I'll play really 
well when I'm a man: that's what Dad told me, you know." 

He was so excited that he forgot her actual question, and he ran from the 
room, talking to himself. 

"There's a lad who loved his Dad," she said to herself. 

 7. 

Goddard knocked on Merivale's door, and walked in without waiting for an 
answer. 

He handed a letter to his employer. 

"I expected this, Mr. Merivale. Simpsons informing us that the Railway 
Company accept only fifty per cent responsibility for the damage to that 
consignment of bottled fruits ... " 

"Yes, damned bad show! And Simpsons expect us to accept the remainder of the 
responsibility; was this stuff so badly packed, Mr. Goddard? Wait! This 
isn't your pigeon surely? What does Booth say about it?" 

Goddard disliked being asked what someone else thought about a thing like 
that. 

"He's had this letter, but, before paying Simpsons' claim, he wants to know 
whether we can't 'pass the buck' to the people from whom we bought the 
stuff." 

"Damn it, man! We can't do that. The goods arrived here in pretty good 
condition. There, I should think, Noguero's responsibility ends." 

"Technically, yes; but we purchased from Noguero at a price which entitles 
us to first-class packing." 

"Agreed! But, if the merchandise traveled from Noguero's warehouse in Lisbon 
to us here, with almost negligible loss due to breaking, the packing must 
have been adequate; so we shall write to the goods department of the Railway 
Company here, and ask them to certify that the goods were so packed as to 
relieve us of responsibility for damage." 

"It's a waste of time, Mr. Merivale. Booth tells me that Sales department 
were informed by the Railway people that the packing was below the accepted 
standard; and it was, too." 

"I tell you the packing was satisfactory; we've already discussed this 
subject, Mr. Goddard, and I don't want you adopting this attitude of 
superiority in these matters. I repeat that crates which prove equal to the 
sea-journey Lisbon to London are good enough for a fifty mile train 
journey!" 

Goddard didn't much care whose responsibility this sizeable loss was; but he 
was in the mood for an argument; in particular, he was in the "I told you 
so" frame of mind. He had come to Merivale's office with the intention of 
making his employer "eat his words" of a few weeks previously. 

On the previous occasion when Merivale and Goddard had discussed this 
consignment of bottled fruits from Noguero & Figlia, Lisboa, Goddard had 
advised the re-packing of the goods before their resale; Merivale had 
insisted that re-packing would be an unnecessary expense, and he had ordered 
Goddard to hand them over to Sales department in the condition in which they 
had been received, except that the contents of one crate should be used for 
replacing odd bottles which were broken in other crates. 

Circumstances appeared to be vindicating the attitude which Goddard had 
originally adopted. Merivale appreciated this fact, and he was nettled by 
it. He was too small a character to admit his mistake, to be thankful that 
the Railway Company had agreed to pay for half the breakage, and to meet 
promptly the other half of his client's claim. 

Goddard said, "Mr. Merivale, Simpsons are very good customers; they've made 
a claim upon us for half the loss on this particular consignment of fruit; 
they are entitled to an immediate settlement of their claim. We have always 
found the Railway Company most co-operative in all things, they've agreed to 
pay half Simpson's claim, although they'd have been fully justified in 
rejecting the claim outright ... " 

"How many times must ... " 

"Now, now! No temper!" 

"Look here, do you know ... " 

"Everything! I know everything. I know that we've no right whatsoever to 
repudiate the Railway's contention that these goods were flimsily packed, 
and that such a repudiation will avail us nothing. You gambled, and you 
lost. The fact that the goods reached us in good condition is a matter of 
chance ... almost a miracle, considering the low quality of the match-box 
crates in which they traveled. I said then, and I've been proved right, that 
we should have gone to the expense either of re-crating the stuff or of 
strengthening the cases." 

Even as he spoke, Goddard knew he was going too far, but he was unable to 
still his tongue in the face of his employer's obstinate refusal to admit 
openly his error. 

Merivale was furious. His anger was of the type which corrupts; it was 
un-righteous anger. 

"Mr. Goddard," he burst out, "I dislike your manner; I expect a man to 
recognize his faulty judgment as such, and not to persist in lecturing me 
merely because I refuse to give way to him when right is on my side." 

Mr. Merivale was a lay-preacher of the Methodist chapel, and he had a 
tendency to address individuals in ordinary conversation as though they were 
a whole congregation of sheep who had gone astray. 

He continued: "I have no room in my organization for a man who denies me the 
respect to which I am entitled as head of the firm. I'm waiting for your 
apology, Mr. Goddard." 

Goddard turned, and walked to the door, casting over his shoulder the 
remark: "You'll wait the hell of a long time." 

He stopped at the door, his hand on the handle, hearing Merivale splutter, 
"I will not tolerate foul language in my office. Mr. Goddard, I give you 
formal notice, one week, of your dismissal from my service." 

 8. 

Goddard viewed his dismissal from Merivale's with mixed feelings, in which 
regret was predominant. He liked his work, the wielding of a benevolent 
authority, the making of decisions involving large sums of money and 
tremendous quantities of goods; he found pleasure in working with his 
colleagues, whom he regarded as "good lads and lasses," in spite of their 
respective faults which he was as quick to observe as he was to admit his 
own shortcomings; he would miss these people, with whom he had almost no 
social contact. He liked them, generally speaking, but he hadn't the 
slightest desire to associate with them (except with Gwen) outside the 
office; and he knew that, when he left 

Merivale's, he would lose all contact with them, beyond a nod of the head 
and a word of greeting on the very rare occasion when he might encounter one 
of them on the street. 

From the financial point of view, Goddard's dismissal from Merivale's was 
not a heavy blow; his modest capital, his reliable investments and the 
little property he owned were his guarantee of a regular and adequate 
income. Nevertheless, he disliked the idea of being obliged to rely upon 
those sources of income for the necessities of life; his salary at 
Merivale's had always taken care of essentials, leaving his other income 
free for the satisfaction of his more extravagant whims. 

"Ah, Goddard," he said to himself, as he regained his office, "You're not an 
old man yet; elderly? Yes! but still capable of work, of work which is 
remunerative as well as pleasant on its own account." 

He was not the type of man to say, at sixty, "I'll retire, take things easy 
for the closing decade of my fife, travel a little ... " 

He had the physical and mental activity of a man half his age; He possessed 
a surfeit of energy, which he had to utilize at a certain rate. His work at 
Merivale's had kept his wheels turning at the required speed; he'd have to 
find another position equally demanding of his mental and physical 
resources; but it wouldn't be easy. He fully realized that. 

Goddard, sitting in his own private office, became increasingly conscious of 
the need to tell Gwen about the change in his situation; a couple of months 
had elapsed since the night he had spent under her roof. During that time, 
Gwen had frequently hinted that she was eager for another similar and more 
complete experience; but he had shown no enthusiasm for her idea. 

On two occasions she had openly requested him to take her somewhere for an 
evening, adding on each occasion that, whatever arrangements he chose to 
make, she was at his entire disposal, for the night as well as for the 
evening. Each time he had given her a plausible reason for his rejecting her 
suggestion. 

Whenever Gwen could find an excuse for going into his office when she knew 
him to be alone, she greeted him with the type of kiss designed to break 
down his reserves. Although he was unable to restrain himself from 
responding by pressing her to him, fondling her and almost biting the flesh 
off her face, she failed to drive him beyond that. 

He advised her not to enter his office so frequently, in case their 
colleagues should notice and gossip. Her tendency, when they were alone in 
the privacy of his office, to flaunt her body met with his severe stricture, 
but she laughed at his fears. 

She had the habit of sitting on his desk, hitching her skirts up, so that 
her legs were exposed in their entirety, and making mock of his fears that 
someone (his secretary or even Merivale) might enter without giving 
sufficient notice for her to adopt a proper pose. 

He went, one day, as far as to threaten to advise Merivale to dispense with 
her services, when his secretary did actually enter the office, after the 
lightest of taps on the door and the briefest of pauses outside, to see 
Gwen, her foot on a chair, her skirts bunched about her thighs, pretending 
to make some adjustment to her suspenders. 

"Gwen, Gwen, Gwen!" he said, "that girl has obtained just the impression 
that no one in the outer office ought to have. The typists and most of the 
buyers and clerks are already convinced that you're destined to promotion to 
which you're not entitled and for which they've been working for years, 
whilst you've spent five years completely divorced from commerce. Merivale 
admits, to you and to me, that he hopes to be able to promote you, even over 
the heads of men who know this business from A to X; and now my secretary is 
sure to think you're my mistress, and that any advancement you get in this 
firm will be my payment to you for the use of your body. I shan't advocate 
your promotion after this; in fact, if what that girl reports to her friends 
out there increases the present discontent in the department, I shall revert 
to my original stand on this question: I shall advise Merivale to dismiss 
you." 

Goddard's resistance to Gwen's efforts at his seduction was by no means due 
to any lack of desire of her; rather the reverse. It was merely that she 
placed herself too brazenly at his command, so that he was aware that she 
was fruit which he, the farmer, could pluck whenever he felt so inclined. He 
was tremendously sure of himself, feeling that the longer he made her wait 
for him, the more abjectly she would answer his most cruel and most 
humiliating demands upon her. He intended to keep her in a state of 
frustration until he was ready to submit her to every disgusting indignity 
which his vivid imagination was capable of conceiving. 

His impending departure from Merivale's interfered, to some extent, with his 
plans for her; his uncertainty about what he would do and where he would go, 
after leaving Merivale's, moved him to the decision to make the best 
possible use of Gwen during his last week there. 

He lifted the internal phone, and dialed "two-nine." 

"Mrs. James, will you come in, please, with the file on Dawson Brothers." 

When Gwen entered, dutifully carrying the aforementioned file, in which 
Goddard wasn't even vaguely interested, she asked, "Since when has Gwen 
reverted to Mrs. James?" 

"Well, you know, on the blower ... " 

"You're still angry with me, I know, about that ... " 

As she spoke, she handed him the dossier on Dawsons. 

"No, my dear, I'm not angry about your suspenders, Purely personally, I 
never was, only in my official capacity as head of the purchasing department 
of Merivale's. But, as my days are numbered ... I've got the sack." 

"Goddie, you're joking!" 

She knew he was serious; her exclamation had been automatic, words without 
thought. Her thoughts were concentrated on the possible reasons for his 
dismissal, and she had the feeling that she was involved. Goddard and 
Merivale had had a quarrel about her and her proposed promotion; or else 
Merivale had heard something about her and Goddard, had decided that one of 
them must go, and had decided that she could be of more agreeable use to him 
than Goddard. Or-was it possible?-perhaps she too was dismissed, and Goddard 
was breaking it to her lightly. 

She embraced him, tears on the verge of flooding her eyes. 

"Darling, is it my fault, I mean is it ... ? " 

"No, no! We, the boss and I, didn't see eye-to-eye about the Noguero-Simpson 
affair, each of us blamed the other, he got mad and I got madder and he 
topped things off by sacking me, because I refused to apologize to him and 
to admit that I was in the wrong, when it's quite obvious that I ain't." 

"What will you do?" she asked complacently, relieved to know that her 
position was still secure. 

"I was thinking you and I might go out this evening, and celebrate the 
termination of my long and faithful service ... " 

He was at the pinnacle of his power, observing her reaction to his 
suggestion. He felt her fingers digging savagely into his shoulders; he 
noticed the dilation of her nostrils, the trembling of her nether hp, her 
quivering tongue, the tension of her neck-muscles as her open mouth, in her 
upturned face, yearned for his kiss. 

Instead of kissing her, he seized her by the shoulders, and spun her round, 
exerting a downward pressure upon her shoulders, until she lost balance, and 
found herself sprawling across his desk, face downwards. Feeling his hands 
at the hem of her skirt behind her, she surmised that he intended to take 
her there and then, and it was her turn to fear that someone might come in 
and witness some strange goings-on. Her fears were increased by his lifting 
her skirt and flicking it over her buttocks; his hand stroked her thighs, 
and his fingers, between her thighs, began to explore inside vily as she 
wriggled towards the fingers which toyed with her clitoris. Suddenly she 
dismissed from her mind all thought of any one entering, and finding them in 
this compromising position. He was going to take her ... at last; he would 
be on her and in her within a minute; and when he'd had her once, he'd want 
her again, and whenever he wanted her, he'd have her. 

His hand left her loins, and she knew that the moment had arrived. He was 
satisfied that she was warm enough and moist enough, and he was using his 
two hands to liberate his penis, before ripping off her panties. 

A drop of blood fell onto the Dawson file, from her Up. She had bitten hard 
into her lip to stifle a scream of agony; she had felt his hands at her 
panties, and she had heard the music of tearing material, and her butt was 
bare. She'd waited for his weight upon her back; instead, she had received a 
blow to the buttocks which had wracked her whole body, stinging not only 
that part of her which had received the blow, but every inch of her. Unable 
to realize what had happened, unable to turn, she had remained 
stomach-downwards on the desk, feeling all the pain creep to one part of 
her, her naked bottom. 

Once again he had denied her that which he'd seemed to promise; she'd never 
felt lower in her life, and she wondered why he hated her so. 

Rough hands turned her and raised her to a standing position. 

Slightly dazed, she saw him, smiling wryly, holding lovingly in his hand a 
foot-rule, of the wooden type, about an inch and a half broad, and very thin 
and pliable. 

Painfully aware of her smarting butt, she took from him the instrument with 
which he'd inflicted the delightful agony upon her, kissed it, gave it back 
to him, and resumed her former lying position across his desk, re-presenting 
her posterior for flagellation. 

"You must go now," he said, coldly and distantly. "It's almost time for 
lunch. This evening, we'll have dinner together, and see a show ... " 

Whilst he was speaking, she raised herself from her undignified lying 
position, and quickly reintroduced some order into her clothing, before 
interrupting him with an eager, "And afterwards?" 

"Whatever you decide." 

"What I decide is that, after the theater, we shall go to my house, and, 
without the pretence of respectability, which robbed me of you the other 
time, I shall tell Jean that you've come home to share my bed with me, to 
ride me and then sleep with me; and if Jean doesn't like it, she may go to 
the devil!" 

Taking a firm grip on her shoulders, he began propelling her towards the 
door. 

"To make sure Jean raises no objections," he said, "We'll take her with us, 
into your room, and when I've reduced you to a quivering, satisfied her to 
the same treatment." 

Gwen's eye-brows knit with horror, and she opened her mouth to speak; her 
lips curled outwards revealing her teeth like those of an outraged bitch. 
Before she could articulate her protest at his proposition, he deftly opened 
the door, and pushed her out of the room. 

 9. 

Goddard's leaving the firm was a nuisance, of course; He was a good man for 
his job, and there was no one of his capability to replace him, so that 
Merivale disconsolately foresaw months during which he himself would be 
constantly obliged to stand at the back of Goddard's successor, advising and 
admonishing him. 

Absorbed in his angry thoughts, Leonard Merivale reached the front door of 
his house, determined not to enjoy his lunch and to have indigestion 
afterwards. 

The sight of a small suit-case in the hall reminded him of something which 
had been driven from his mind by the events and the thoughts of the morning, 
namely that Eileen would be catching the two o'clock train for Tadliham, 
where her sister Dulcie was approximately in the middle of the ninth months 
of her third pregnancy in four years. 

Dulcie had grown accustomed to having her older sister dancing attendance 
upon her during the fortnight preceding and the fortnight following the 
birth of her children. 

Eileen had not only got used to performing this well-nigh annual service for 
Dulcie. She also delighted in it, welcoming the opportunity to spend a month 
in the country, with her beloved sister and her charming 
village-school-teacher of a husband, and out of contact with her own 
husband, with whom life was a frightful bore. 

Everything Eileen was she was dutifully, She had every reason for believing 
that Leonard wouldn't object to her going off for an occasional week with 
Dulcie, with one of their many cousins or with one of her friends; but it 
was her wifely duty to stay with her husband, looking after him, giving him 
companionship, although she knew he didn't seek it of her-helping him with 
his personal and business problems. So she never spent a night under any 
roof other than his, unless some duty required it of her; that was why she 
hoped Charles and Dulcie would retain their convenient fertility for many 
more years. Since Dulcie was never ill, had never been ill since the usual 
measles of infancy, her babies were Eileen's only dutiful excuse for 
spending an occasional month away from Leonard. 

Leonard, for his part, had no material reason for deploring his wife's 
visits to Tadliham. The house was run in her absence with not one jot less 
of smoothness than when she was in nominal control thereof; indeed, when 
Eileen was away, the house was run with greater regard for his needs and 
wishes than when her excessively orderly hand held the reins. Leonard was 
the servant of Eileen's house, except when she was away; then the house 
fulfilled its correct function; it became an instrument for his comfort and 
physical well-being. 

Eileen, who had Leonard well and truly under the heel of her slippers, 
allowed no smoking in the dining-room or the salon, except when there were 
visitors: one must consider the comfort and habits of visitors even whilst 
ignoring those of the house's rightful owner-he who earns the wherewithal to 
maintain the house and entertain guests. 

This same Eileen ordered meals for a specific hour, and expressed her 
disgust at Leonard's rare lapses into unpunctuality by eating at the fixed 
time, scolding him when be eventually arrived, and leaving him to make the 
best of cold food, stewed tea, etc. 

She controlled his sittings-down and his risings-up, since he had (so she 
said) the ruffian habit of subjecting furniture to unnecessary wear-and-tear 
by dropping heavily onto the springs of upholstered pieces and by hacking 
lumps out of woodwork with the shoes which aggravated (so she said) the 
clumsiness of his otherwise loutish feet. 

What a relief, therefore, for poor Leonard, when his wife reluctantly 
deserted him for a few weeks, at the call of her sisterly duty! 

Leonard contended that Eileen's excessive house-pride, her domineering 
ways-and her exaggerated orderliness were the effects of her working-class 
upbringing, and that, had she had the advantage of the education peculiar to 
the upper middle-classes (of which he claimed to be a member), she might 
have been quite a reasonable and bearable woman. "But, of course, it's not 
entirely a question of education," he would add, "our superiority is also in 
the blood." 

The sight of Eileen's suitcase in the hall served to remind Leonard that one 
of his bachelor months was about to begin; the thought wiped sixty per cent 
of the frown from his brow, so that he entered the dining-room apparently no 
more morose than he usually was ... 

This particular absence of his spouse was important to Merivale, since he 
had a project in mind which could be carried out successfully only when his 
jealous and suspicious Eileen was too far from home to control his comings 
and goings. 

The first move in his plan took the form of a call to Mrs. James, on the 
internal telephone, just before half-past-five, the hour at which work 
ceased in the Merivale offices and warehouses. 

"Come to my office for a moment before you knock off, will you, Mrs. James? 
Shan't detain you long." 

Soto voce she cursed him; having agreed to spend the evening with Goddard, 
she was anxious to get away promptly at half-past-five, so that she could 
brighten herself up at home, see Arwel before he went to bed, and still join 
Goddard at the Moravia restaurant at seven o'clock. 

Nevertheless, eager to please Merivale, who held her fate in his hands, she 
combed her hair and patched up her make-up, and made her way to his office, 
where she arrived just as Merivale's secretary was hurrying away by another 
door. Merivale rose to greet her with: "Come in, my dear! We haven't seen 
much of each other lately." 

He took her hands in his, and she replied: "That's what's been worrying me 
for some time." 

"Well, we'll set about changing things. My liberty is normally very 
restricted; my wife keeps a very keen eye on me, but she's away now for a 
few weeks, so I'm a little freer." 

He drew her to him, and kissed her fervently. She sighed, and slipped out of 
his arms and into an armchair, pulling him gently on top of her; the 
wide-mouthed kiss she bestowed upon his mouth intoxicated the giver even 
more than the receiver, so that she wriggled and squirmed until he was 
forced onto the arm of the chair. She slithered downwards onto the rug, and, 
as he toppled heavily and awkwardly into the chair, she turned round, and 
raised one of her feet to each arm of the chair, causing her skirts to 
cascade about her hips; Merivale found himself sitting between her feet, 
looking downwards along the long columns of her legs which lost their 
silkiness and beigeness to the smoothness and rosy whiteness of flesh which, 
in its turn, lost itself in the black glossiness of her underwear. 

Raising his right foot, encased in its slender,, shiny shoe, he placed it 
high between her thighs, the leather sole exerting pressure in the region of 
her silk-covered copulative organ. Raising herself to a sitting position, 
she gripped his leg behind the knee, and pulled him out of the chair; the 
increased pressure of his shoe on her genitals excited her and pained her; 
she jerked her loins sideways, and threw him off balance; she uttered a cry 
of agony as the hard leather of the shoe's sole bit into her flesh, making a 
six-inch weal where dirt discolored blood. Merivale kneeled beside her, and 
smartly slapped the wound with the palm of his hand before excitedly taking 
off her panties. 

Merivale was but the second man to avail himself of the ultimate delight of 
Gwen's body. Goddard had amused himself and her by exposing to his hands and 
eyes the private parts of her, but he'd never achieved the sexual act with 
her. In that, Leonard Merivale had stolen a march on him. Whilst Goddard was 
bathing and dressing for his rendezvous with Gwen, she and Merivale were 
feasting upon one another's flesh. 

Afterwards they sprawled before the fire in the office, satisfied with the 
fusion of their passions which had reached a glorious climax a few minutes 
previously. They were both limp, in a state of body and mind bordering on 
coma. 

When she eventually collected her senses, she went into the lavatory, where 
she urinated, washed and titivated herself against her meeting with Goddard. 
She was pleased with herself. She had really thrilled to Merivale's handling 
of her, and she was flattered at his having obviously derived great pleasure 
from her. Quite apart from her carnal satisfaction, she had the joy of 
believing that her bright future in her lover's firm was now assured; and 
within a few hours, she'd be in bed with Goddard, giving and taking what she 
and Merivale had just shared. 

On her return to the office, Merivale greeted her with: 

"You look as good as new; but we'll have dinner before I start on you 
again." 

"But, Leonard, I'm not free this evening." 

"Up to now you've been very free," he replied nastily and added, jabbing his 
fist into the lower regions of her body, "I've had some tarts in my time, 
but never one quite so greedy for it. That's how I like 'em ... easy. Break 
your appointment for this evening! The next month belongs to me; I knew from 
the first I only had to raise my finger to get you, but I've waited until my 
wife was away, so that when I did have you, I'd really have you." 

She didn't want to break her appointment with Goddard; true, he was no 
longer of any professional value to her, but she'd developed a lust after 
him which not even Merivale's highly satisfactory loving could diminish; 
Merivale had, however, the advantage, in that both her reason and her 
passion drew her to him; and he turned a deaf ear to her story about 
school-day friends on a brief visit to town. His unreasonableness was not 
dictated wholly by his desire to have another session of carnal misconduct 
with her that same evening, but partly by his determination to demonstrate 
to her the abjectness of her subjection to him. 

Finally she kissed Merivale sensuously and whispered: 

"All right, darling! I'll ring my friends; but promise that after we've 
dined and danced, you'll take me home and be very brutal to me!" 

He drew deeply on his cigarette, and blew a cloud of smoke squarely in her 
face. 

She went to her own office to phone, having made the excuse that her 
childhood friend's telephone number was in her diary, which she'd left on 
her desk. 

Gwen had made the mistake with Merivale which she'd previously made with 
Goddard. She'd been simultaneously too anxious to please the man, for 
professional reasons, and too eager to gratify the lusts of her own flesh. 
In each case, she'd invited her man to humiliate and dominate her, to take 
her for granted; she had forfeited her bargaining powers before negotiations 
had begun. 

Waiting for Gwen, Merivale pondered the ease with which she'd fallen to him. 
From the moment of his first suggesting her return to his firm he'd 
entertained the idea of her serving his animal passions, and he'd suspected 
she would be amenable to his tacit and subtle proposals for the exchange of 
her body against certain privileges regarding her status and salary. What 
puzzled him was that, instead of letting herself be seduced and then 
demanding her reward, she had taken delight in seducing him in such a way as 
to deprive her of all rights of claim on him. Merivale was, however, decided 
that Gwen should have the reward she sought. It would be most convenient, 
when Eileen's being at home curtailed his freedom during out-of-office 
hours, to have on hand an attractive and passionate woman, indebted to him 
and obliged to put her body at his disposal in circumstances which a free 
mistress would regard as unsatisfactory; he could summon her frequently to 
his office just at half-past-five in the evening, without rousing anybody's 
suspicions, have his pleasure of her, and still be at home scarcely later 
than usual. Even during office hours, he could make her accompany him on 
inspections of the stock-rooms, where he could submit her to the humility of 
stripping and prostrating herself on a pile of filthy sacks or in the rancid 
grease which covered permanently the door of the fine-oils warehouse. 

When she returned to his office, having asked the waiter at the Moravia to 
inform Goddard, on his arrival, that her son was indisposed and required her 
presence at home, Merival said: 

"Your bare-arsed performance on the rug warrants some reward. From next 
Monday you'll be second-in-charge of cereals." 

"So he knows," she thought, "that it's not exclusively my own lust that gave 
me to him." And she replied: 

"Not a very polite way of putting it!" 

"Had your thighs parted with less ease, I might have respected you; as it 
is, you're a delicious ride, and if you like to go on as you've begun, I 
shall keep my side of the bargain. But you're entitled to no chivalry." 

In reply to her request to be allowed to go home and see her son before 
dinner, he said: 

"Makes it too late; we shall have to go out to Leechester for dinner ... a 
good hour in the car, and I'm hungry ... and you need a good dinner if 
you're going to give an exciting performance tonight." 

"Where will the performance be?" 

"Your place. Can't trust my servants. If you can't trust that girl of yours, 
get rid of her!" 

"Can't you get rid of your servants?" 

"I could more easily get rid of you." 

"I shan't be difficult to get chucked off, Leonard. Whatever my reasons for 
initially wanting to be your mistress, I'm now in this thing only for my 
pleasure and yours. When my meat's no longer to your taste, I'll move right 
out of your private life." 

"You'll be thrown out of my private and professional life when I've finished 
with you." 

An excellent dinner, at Maynor's restaurant, on the outskirts of Leechester, 
was spoiled by the fact that there was no hint of friendship between Gwen 
and the first lover of her life. The meal was a mere stoking of the fires 
preceding a night of scorching debauch; Gwen tried to converse about this 
and that, but Merivale's rudeness discouraged her. He drank copiously to 
relieve the boredom of spending a sexless hour with a woman he despised; and 
she followed his example in the hope of washing from the palate of her soul 
the unpleasant taste left by his humiliation of her. He made obscene remarks 
to her in the presence of the waiter, who, after a while, began to look at 
Gwen in such a way as to suggest that it would be his turn when her escort 
had finished with her; when they eventually left, the waiter bestowed a 
broad wink upon Gwen, behind Merivale's back, and she was unable to resist 
the temptation to smile her promise that she would return unescorted. 

 10. 

Jean went to bed immediately after her introduction to Mr. Merivale. 

On the morrow, she entered Gwen's room, and surmised that the bed had been 
occupied by two people who hadn't slept soundly throughout the night. The 
bed in the guest-room was exactly as it had been the previous evening, when 
on her way to bed, she'd entered the room to satisfy herself that everything 
was as it should be. Jean felt that Gwen's neglect to disturb the guest-bed 
symbolized the latter's intention to acquaint her with the true situation; 
Gwen was expressing confidence in her, treating her as an adult. Jean 
rejoiced in her new status and in the certainty that Gwen's new friend had 
done to Gwen what Goddard had cruelly failed to do. 

Jean wondered about this thing which Merivale had done to Gwen in the night; 
and she told herself that this kind of love must be very agreeable, 
otherwise people wouldn't be so eager to get their share of it. She knew it 
was a physical thing ... kissing, caressing, flesh exposed to hungry hands 
and eyes; and she wondered how old one had to be before this thing acquired 
the power to delight. She trembled deliciously as she recalled one or two 
newspaper reports she'd read concerning girls of her own age who had 
indulged in sexual intercourse; She was curious to know whether she would 
derive pleasure from lying down with a boy. 

Her reverie was disturbed by Arwel's coming into breakfast, brimful of 
embarrassing questions about the man who'd spent the night under their roof. 

 11. 

Goddard hadn't believed the story about Gwen's son being ill, even before he 
heard his young colleagues discussing her promotion the following day. He'd 
suspected Merivale all along of having carnal designs on the young widow, 
and the news, originating from Merivale's secretary, of Mrs. Merivale's 
absence from her home, added to the announcement of Gwen's promotion, seemed 
to suggest that Goddard had been let down the previous evening in favor of 
one whom Gwen viewed as more useful to her professionally. Physically, 
however, Goddard still believed himself to be more than the equal of 
Merivale; and he was determined that Gwen should have, as soon as possible, 
an opportunity of convincing herself of that fact. He was bitter at her 
betrayal of him, and thought that if he could but have the bitch once, the 
pain in his heart and in his testicles would be assuaged. 

He called her to his office, and, the moment she entered, he seized her and 
kissed her ardently. She responded with her usual fervour, writhing and 
trembling in his arms as though her desires of the flesh had long been 
frustrated. 

"This evening!" he said peremptorily. 

Reason told her to break with Goddard without delay, to concentrate on 
Merivale. But she wanted Goddard desperately; she wanted to have him often, 
dividing herself between the two. Failing that, she had to have him once; it 
was her right, it had been promised and withheld for so long. 

She kissed him savagely, and felt that she was setting him on fire. 

"Lock the door!" she begged, and he obeyed, hoping his secretary would put 
the truthful interpretation upon this unusual turning of keys, which, in 
fact she did; her entire frustrated body was pressed against the locked door 
during the most exciting fifteen minutes of her life. She heard enough in 
snatches of conversation, grunts, sighs and stifled squeals of agony and 
ecstasy to convince her that Mrs. James was a very lucky woman. She admired 
them both, and longed for the occasion to let them know that she'd her her 
part in their erotic orgy, and that it was as one participating in a holy 
ritual that she'd listened to their labored breathing and exclamations of 
joy. 

Gwen never had Goddard again, although even after he'd left Merivales she 
didn't give up hope, and called upon him several times at his home, where 
she offered to become his abject slave if he would have her again; he merely 
abused her, threatened to inform Merivale of her misconduct with him in the 
office, taunted her with the promise that, if he ever found himself in need 
of money, he'd satisfy her sexual urge for a few pounds. 

Her final visit, after eleven o'clock one evening, coincided with Goddard's 
return home; Gwen was astounded to recognize the girl who entered his 
apartment with him as Maureen Garside, who worked at Merivale's, and had 
been Goddard's secretary for some months immediately prior to his leaving. 

"So that," thought Gwen, "is why he doesn't need me any more." 

The following morning, at the office, Maureen volunteered an explanation of 
her late-night visit to Goddard's bachelor-rooms. 

"I just don't want you to think," she said, "that I stepped in between you 
and Kenneth; I had nothing to do with him until you and he had broken off 
... " 

"Broken off?" asked Gwen, feigning surprise. 

"I was in my office the day you went through to him; I heard everything, and 
I admired you both for taking what you wanted ... and to Hell with the 
consequences!" 

". .And how did you come to take my place?" 

"Well, when he left, I didn't know whether you and he were ... well, going 
together steady, so, when I found some things in his drawer ... papers and a 
cigarette-lighter ... I took them round to his house; I said I'd brought the 
things myself because I didn't know how often you and he met; I'd forgotten 
he didn't know I knew about you and him. And it was then he told me that it 
had been just that once, and that it was finished. Then he asked me if I 
hadn't been shocked at what I heard, and I said I hadn't; so he told me to 
take my clothes off; I don't suppose I'd been in the house five minutes when 
I let my brassiere fall to the floor, and he tore my panties off. He knotted 
my stockings together, and whipped me. It was wonderful; I stayed all night, 
and then he wouldn't see me again for a whole week; I was frantic, and went 
round every day to see him, but he used to come to the window and send me 
away. Then yesterday, he let me in, did all sorts of things with me; when 
you saw us, we'd been for a drink. This morning he said that, if I pestered 
him again before he sent for me, it would be all over between us." 

 12. 

Gwen's evenings with Merivale left Jean and Arwel much to their own devices. 
These hours were devoted in the main to the playing of the piano, Jean 
having undertaken to teach her young friend to play the instruments which 
had been Trevor's great joy. It quickly became evident to Jean that Arwel, a 
boy of six years only, had a remarkable ear; he could hum, inaccurately, but 
recognizably, snatches of Chopin, Bach, Beethoven, John Field and even 
Bartok, which he heard Trevor play many months previously. After a program 
of opera to which they had listened together, through the medium of the 
radio, Arwel would surprise Jean by singing, in his queer squeak of a voice, 
the most dramatic arias from Puccini's "Tosca," Mascagni's "Cavalleria 
Rusticana," Verdi's "Don Carlos" and Massenet's "Manon," with the fantastic 
words which spring into the head of a child who has conquered a melody whose 
text is too complicated for him. 

Jean realized that Arwel hands were too small and insufficiently developed 
to enable him to encompass the serious works which he was eager to perform, 
but he was patient, remembering that Trevor had said to him, "When you're a 
little older, I shall teach you to play the piano, but many years will 
elapse before you'll be able to play the pieces which I play for you now. In 
the beginning you'll concentrate upon scales and very simple little 
melodies." 

Gwen was astonished at the progress Arwel made in his pianistic studies, and 
her admiration enveloped as much the teacher as the pupil. "It is truly 
amazing," she told herself, "that a girl of fifteen years should be able, in 
so short a time, to make a pianist-however uncertain and inaccurate-of a 
child of five years." 

It was to Gwen a source of great joy to realize that her son had within him 
that which might give him greatness in the world of the arts. She had little 
talent for, and inclination towards, any of the arts, but she determined 
that her son should not lack the opportunity of achieving whatever eminence 
as an artist his natural talent merited; Jean would give him his elementary 
musical education, and later he would go to a professional professor of the 
pianoforte. 

"Jean is literally worth her weight in gold." 

Arwel had an insatiable appetite for the piano. When he was fatigued by a 
long period of instruction and practice, he listened to Jean's performance 
of parts of her steadily increasing repertoire, a repertoire whose increase 
was due to the masses of sheet-music collected by Trevor and placed at 
Jean's disposal by Gwen. Much of this music was not only unfamiliar to Jean, 
but even bizarre; she was on terms of some familiarity with the classical 
and romantic composers, but Schonberg, Poulenc and Milhaud caused her some 
puckering of her brows, and, playing their works, she had to rely upon Arwel 
to assure her that she was not playing the wrong notes, but that the great 
virtue of those composers was their daring use of unconventional harmonies. 

The only thing which rivaled the piano, in Arwel's sphere of interests, was 
sketching. He and she took turns to draw something which the other had to 
identify in the shortest possible time; Jean usually won the identifying 
game, not so much because her intelligence was sharper, but rather because 
her talent as a sketcher was vastly inferior to his; Jean's cows resembled 
four-eared dogs; if she aimed to represent a female child, the result bore a 
strong resemblance to a wind-blown scarecrow. Arwel, on the other hand, had 
an uncanny knack of suggesting what was in his mind by a few economical 
strokes of his pencil; whilst, when he felt inclined to dwell upon a 
subject, he could produce sketches which testified to an exceptionally 
observant mind. On one occasion he made a sketch of a young lady riding a 
bicycle, frantically endeavoring to hold down her skirts with which the wind 
was playing pranks; it seemed to Jean that he had captured with amazing 
fidelity the embarrassed facial expression and the anxious manual maneuvers 
of a modest girl who fears that she may be exposing to the passing males 
more of her nether limbs than propriety permits. It often happened that Jean 
cycled to and from the shops, when she did the shopping for the James 
household, and she'd often had trouble with her skirts and a playful breeze, 
frequently so much that it was impossible to maintain permanent control of 
the skirts, and she was obliged to give them their freedom, except when she 
observed a man approaching, when she'd at least give the impression that she 
was doing everything possible to control the ill-mannered garment. But how 
often she had ridden past groups of children of Arwel's age and older, her 
skirts flying wantonly in the breeze, she telling herself that it was hardly 
worth while risking an accident in order to prevent little boys and girls 
from seeing what meant nothing to them anyway. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed 
within herself, as she saw Arwel's drawing, "If all little boys are as 
mature as this one, what a lot of shocks and pleasure I must have 
distributed amongst the male infants of Brooksfield!" 

The thought of Arwel's precocity had set Jean wondering how long it was 
going to be before he grasped the meaning of the nocturnal visits paved to 
his mother. Already he had asked her questions, and she had managed to avoid 
giving him an answer, but she was reluctant to create between him and 
herself a barrier of lies and half-truths. One day he would know the truth, 
and then he would resent her having deceived him. He would also resent 
Gwen's deception of him, but that was Gwen's affair. 

After a few weeks Merivale ceased to come to the house, his wife having 
returned from her nursing visit to Tadliham; and for a time Gwen went out 
but little in the evenings. Gwen's spending her evenings with Arwel was a 
source of joy to Jean, who realized her little sweetheart's need of his 
mother, a need which she, loving him, but not being of his blood, could not 
fill. Her joy was, however, mingled with a certain regret, occasioned by the 
dilution of the intimacy of her evenings with Arwel, their hours of music 
and sketching, of listening to the radio, especially the thrilling operas, 
whose arias they were getting to know so well that, often having no idea of 
the real text, they could sing operatic duets with the most fantastic words 
imaginable. 

Gwen was strongly in favor of the piano lessons and Arwel's practice, but 
she saw no point in his listening to Jean's playing: "No one ever became 
famous by listening to music," she said, "The only way to do that is by 
learning, by practising as much as you can." She didn't take into account 
either the fact that Jean derived pleasure from playing, an activity for 
which she had little time during the day; nor did she consider that a great 
musician (which, of course, Arwel was to become, thanks to the exceptional 
gifts he had inherited from his mother-Gwen had a handsome opinion of 
herself) had to be a music-lover, hearing music, listening, becoming 
acquainted. For that reason, she resolutely opposed their operatic sessions. 
"That may be alright for little boys who want to be singers; but you're 
going to be a pianist. Singing's for people who can't play the piano." On 
another occasion she argued: "What's the point of all that stuff! I like a 
bit of nice singing myself, but who can understand all that foreign stuff? 
German and French and Italian and the Lord knows what!" 

Jean didn't know why Merivale ceased coming, and she knew nothing of the 
passionate orgies in which he and Gwen indulged in all the filthy holes and 
corners of the Merivale stock-rooms, mainly during working-hours. Nor did 
Jean know what had become of Goddard, other than that he had left 
Merivale's. She admitted (to herself only) to a great curiosity concerning 
Gwen's sex-life. She regretted that Gwen did not, of her own accord, tell 
her why Goddard had not come to the house a second time, why he did not come 
often; it was strange, to Jean, that so young and beautiful a woman should 
be neglected by such a repulsive old man. Usually it was the other way 
round, and yet Jean had seen enough of Gwen and Goddard to know that Gwen 
had brazenly asked for his favors and that he had rejected her advances. 

 13. 

Arwel was at school, and Jean had made an early start on the daily chores. 
Before going up to make the beds, she wanted to wash some linen. 

While Jean hung the washed garments on a clothes-line in the kitchen, the 
lid of the kettle was rattling steamily; the delicate aroma of scalded tea 
assailed her nostrils: she felt it was time for a cup of tea. She remembered 
that the milk-man hadn't been. How late he was! There remained a little of 
yesterday's milk, and it was alright. She poured out her first cup. 
"Milk-o!" 

It wasn't the usual milk-man. Before she could deposit the tea-pot on its 
cork-mat, the kitchen-door opened, a man entered quickly, closed the door, 
lowered his milk-can to the floor, and asked cheerfully, "How much missus? 
Oh! You ain't no missus ... " 

"Two, please!" 

"Am I just in time for a cup? Shan't say no to a lady! Never do." 

She was flabbergasted. The regular milk-man always knocked, waited outside, 
smiled shyly as she opened the door, stepped inside when it was raining, but 
only at her invitation, gave her two pints, and then withdrew with a polite, 
wordless nod of the head. 

She looked closely at this new version of a milkman; she estimated his age 
at seventeen, no more than nineteen. He was large, fleshy, milky; there was 
about him a soft, greasy pappishness; his moon-round face was of a pale 
milky-green hue, and his eyes seemed to be the same color. 

Leaving his can near the door, he advanced confidently into the kitchen. 

She supposed that, when it was raining, a milk-boy would want to shelter a 
few minutes and a cup of tea is a pleasant way of passing the time. 

Getting a cup from the cupboard, she said, "Milk? Sugar?" 

"Milk, yes! Sugar, two lumps, please!" 

She poured out his tea. 

"Yours?" he asked. 

She raised her head in an endeavor to discover about what he was questioning 
her. He was flicking, with outspread fingers, the undergarments hanging on 
the line; his face wore a sly, smutty grin. She considered his question;-it 
was an improper question. She wanted to appear not in the least embarrassed 
by it; he expected expostulations, blushes, coquettish giggles. She'd take 
the wind out of his sails with a simple, straightforward answer which would 
restore innocence to a situation which this bucolic Lothario was hoping to 
render risqu'. 

"Those you're touching at the moment are mine," she said, matter-of-fact. 
"Those four pairs; but those at the end ... yes, those ... they belong to 
Gwen ... " 

"Who's Gwen? Your sister?" 

"No, she's not a relative; this is her house; She's the mistress here ... " 

"And you? You scivvy 'ere?" 

"Ay! Sciwy!" 

"Hers are posh." 

She had to concentrate for a moment upon his words in order to follow his 
train of thought. Gazing upon his shifty eyes, she realized eventually that 
he had returned to the subject of the washing on the line. 

He repeated, "Hers are posh, but I bet you look all right in yours." 

Inexperienced as she was in the ways of men, she sensed that he was groping 
towards misconduct with her. She was not displeased; she had no positive 
intention of granting that which he sought or of accepting that which he 
deviously offered, nor did she close her mind to his inarticulate 
suggestion. She had no sexual urge, but she admitted to a great curiosity 
concerning the carnal relations between man and woman. She would let him 
advance a little, deciding at what point he was to be halted when that point 
was reached. In the meantime she would give, verbally, as good as she took. 

"You're a queer milk-man," she said, "The other always kept a civil tongue 
in his head. But you, you don't seem quite right in the knoddle, do you know 
that?" 

He was conscious of the levity of her manner as she insulted him, and he 
felt that he was making progress. She'd chosen, un-wittingly perhaps, to 
fight on his own battle-field; mud-slinging was his method of expressing 
affection for a person and of conveying to someone that he was interested in 
them, that he was attracted to them, in one way or another. Another person's 
descent to his plane implied to him that that person was attracted to him, 
and his confidence received thereby a fillip. 

"Anyway," he drawled, bubbling through the tea which he'd raised to his 
lips, "It wouldn't be much use you settin' your cap at 'arry, 'cos ... you 
know her up at't corner, sciwy for Missus Scully? ... well, he's 'arry's 
mistress ... " 

He enunciated the word "mistress" in such a way as to suggest that he knew 
its meaning, but that the knowledge was fresh within him; which was the 
case, for it was only the previous evening that he'd seen a film in which 
the word had been used frequently, and he was proud of this addition to his 
vocabulary. 

Jean was sure he used the word without a clear idea of its import. like a 
woman of years addressing a child, she admonished him, "You must be careful 
of that word; it has a more serious meaning than you think." 

"I know wot it means; I'm older than you, and boys always know about these 
things better than girls; 'arry told me all about it. He was bragging, I 
know, but he was telling the truth just the same; 'arry's like all daft 
people; he gets away wi' things another guy wouldn't dare do, and then he's 
so pleased with 'isself that he 'as to blurt it out to somebody; and I alius 
yewmour 'im, so he tells me everything. Only he didn't tell me about you ... 
" 

"Of course not! About me there's nothing to tell; and he didn't tell you 
about her either; you just made it up. Or, if you didn't, then he was 
telling lies, just to kid you, and you're soft enough to take it all in." 

The color rose to his face, and he hung his head. She wrongly assumed that 
his embarrassment was caused by his shame at the ease with which Harry had 
deceived him; in fact Harry had had no sexual contact with Mrs. Scully's 
maid, nor had he spoken of such a thing. The new milk-man's confusion was 
that of one who lies and finds his lies detected. Jean was angry with Harry, 
and she pitied his young successor; her pity was such that, at that moment, 
she was aware of her willingness to take the boy up to her bed-room, if he 
requested it. But his mind was set upon flight; quickly, with trembling 
hands, he served her two pints, and retreated, a whipped hound with his tail 
between his legs. 

He woke from sleep the following morning quite oblivious of that incident; 
the thought of humiliation returned only as he approached the garden-gate of 
Gwen's house, but it returned to him as did incidents in films he'd seen, as 
did occurrences he'd witnessed or about which he'd read in newspapers. It 
was something he knew had happened, but which was of impersonal interest. 

A perfunctory knock upon the kitchen door was all the notice he gave of his 
presence upon the door-step. Allowing no time for an invitation to come 
inside, he entered the kitchen to the accompaniment of the tinny rattle of 
his milk-can; Jean was awaiting impatiently his arrival. She'd delayed her 
tea-brewing in order that she should be able to offer him fresh tea. As she 
poured the boiling water in the teapot, she addressed him: "It'll be a few 
minutes brewing; you're not in a hurry, are you?" 

Danny (such was the name which Dawson, milk, had eighteen years previously, 
instructed the parish-priest to bestow upon his son) was not the brightest 
youth in Brooksfield, but he was smart enough to recognize Jean's manner and 
words as signs of her acceptance of himself as her regular companion at 
mid-morning tea. That was "nothing about which to sing a song." but it could 
be a beginning, the beginning of the sort of adventure which was never far 
from Danny Dawson's thoughts. Jean had, the previous day, allowed him to 
observe that she was not as easily shocked, as quickly moved to blushing 
giggles as the other girls he had known; perhaps, as they became friends, he 
would, by charm and guile, succeed in becoming to her what Harry was (in the 
tale he'd told Jean the previous day) to Mrs. Scully's maid. 

Drinking their tea, Jean and Danny talked innocently of this and that: "Have 
you any brother, any sister? Do you like the pictures? I've got a horse, of 
my own. I've never ridden a horse. Not even a pony? No, but I'd love to. 
Come out with me some Saturday afternoon or Sunday. Will you teach me to 
ride?" 

After ten minutes, he, well-pleased with himself, left her, equally pleased, 
and both looked forward pleasurably to their following meeting. 

 14. 

Throughout the day upon which Maureen Gar-side had told Gwen how she, 
Maureen, had become Goddard's mistress, Gwen waited for a sign from Merivale 
that he wanted her. She wanted Goddard, and knew that such a longing was 
pointless; so her desire turned itself upon Merivale. She knew, however, 
that Merivale would take her when he felt so inclined, and that her making 
advances to him would enrage him. So she waited, and in vain. The 
working-day came to a close; Gwen did not haste to leave the premises, as 
every one else did; she toyed with the possibility that Merivale would come 
along to her office, hoping against hope that she'd be there. After 
half-an-hour she went along to his office, having decided to risk his anger 
rather than leave the premises without giving herself the opportunity of a 
session of carnal intercourse with the only lover (the word brought a bitter 
smile to her lips) she had. Merivale had gone home. 

Leaving the office, she said to herself: "There must be, in a town as large 
as Brooksfield, many men in search of a woman for an evening's 
entertainment, men, perhaps, prevented from accosting the women they 
fancied, not by lack of desire, but by fear of getting themselves into 
trouble with the police, in the event of the accosted woman seeking official 
protection from her admirer. If only I could convey to some such man my 
desire to be accosted ... " 

Gwen knew that the chances of her being so accosted were slight. In such 
things, girls of humbler mien had more success than had Gwen's type; Gwen 
dressed tastefully, elegantly, and she had pride in the expression of her 
face, in the high tilt of her head, in the straight ease of her gait. She 
was the type of woman whom the street-corner Casanova regarded with awe, as 
something desirable but so far above him socially and economically as to be 
unworthy of his attentions. Nevertheless, she decided not to go home for 
supper, but to eat in town, and then explore the parks, pubs and dance-halls 
where a man might be found in search of a partner for bed or the bushes. 

Perhaps, even as she ate supper, she might catch the eye of a predatory 
male, and so begin her adventure early. 

Two things combined to persuade her to dine at a modest restaurant. Firstly, 
her idea that amongst the habitu's of such a restaurant there would 
more-likely be men capable of making advances to a strange woman than 
amongst the bourgeois clients of the more expensive restaurants. The second 
reason was closely allied to its partner: it was that she sought to seduce a 
man of social standing different from her own social standing; three men had 
made love to her: there had been Trevor and Goddard, both of whom Gwen (in 
whose nature there was a goodly measure of snobbishness) classed as 
middle-class, to which group ahe also belonged, not only by her marriage but 
also by her origin and up-bringing. Gwen ticketed every person with whom she 
came into contact, ticketed them according to class, social and economic; 
she even divided both the working-classes and the middle-classes into lower, 
middle and upper, so that whilst Trevor and Goddard were lower middle-class, 
her other lover, Leonard Merivale, hovered between the middle-and 
upper-reaches of the middle-classes. Her fourth lover, however, was to be 
(Diana willing) a working-man whom she would dominate, even as Goddard had 
dominated her and as Merivale ruled her; in addition to the purely fleshly 
satisfaction this next lover would give her, there would be the satisfaction 
of widening her experience of people and carnal love. 

Gwen paused in the doorway of May's cafe, debating with herself whether it 
wouldn't be better after all to have a decent meal first, with a bottle of 
good wine, in a restaurant somewhat more distinguished than May's place. 
After a bottle of wine she'd have more of the courage required of a woman 
setting out to explore strange territory, to study a strange race of people; 
she closed the debate, however, with a firm condemnation of the cowardly 
habit of finding excuses for doing late, and then later still, that which is 
dangerous, unpleasant or simply novel. If she was to find herself a male, no 
time was to be wasted in polite eating and drinking in exclusive 
restaurants. 

The proprietor of May's caf'' was, of course, not a woman called May; it 
wasn't even a woman. It was an Irishman, Harry Robinson by name; he'd been 
many things during his half-century of life, but mainly he'd been a sea-man 
with wide-open eyes and ears. In nearly every port in the world he'd visited 
eating-houses, drinking-houses and doss-houses whose nomenclature implied 
that they were owned by Lid, Joe, Mack, Ike, Pierre, Heinz, Kount Boronov, 
Princesse Stephanie, Luigi Gomez; Harry had, early in his travels, come to 
doubt the existence of the people whose names adorned grubby hanging signs 
outside restaurants, or shone brightly in neon on the roofs of palatial 
bars, or were to be seen upon the steamy windows of houses which offered 
food, drink, sleep or whores. Consequently, he devoted his spare time to 
seeking out such houses, and endeavoring to get into contact with the Lai, 
Joe, Mack, Prince Paul, Countess Sophie who claimed to be his host. In less 
than one case in four, Harry had discovered, does the personal name forming 
part of the name of the establishment coincide in any way with the name of 
the establishment's owner. So, when he retired from the sea, Harry decided 
to give to the cafe he opened the name May's Cafe, and he hoped to derive 
some pleasure from the consternation upon the faces of customers who asked 
to see the proprietress and found themselves confronted, not by a corpulent, 
blousy ex-waitress, but by a handsome retired sea-rover, bearded (as befits 
a seafaring man), bearded (as he'd never been during his sailor-days). 

Harry's staff was entirely female, for two reasons, of which the second in 
importance was that the wages expected by women and girls were lower than 
those he'd have had to pay to men. The waitresses were typical, amorous 
towards the young male customers, downright rude to the elderly and less 
attractive men and to any woman who didn't appear to be the type to report 
all short-comings to the boss. 

Although Gwen was a proud woman, particular and despotical, she didn't 
immediately impress her waitress as the trouble-making sort; so she was 
treated as an unwelcome client, entitled to the minimum of attention. 
Actually, Gwen was the very woman, under normal circumstances, to cause a 
negligent waitress a lot of trouble; but on that occasion she suffered in 
silence rather than draw attention to herself as a client accustomed to 
better things. She wanted to be, or to appear to be, of the milieu in which 
she found herself, at one with the people there, a simple typist or 
shop-girl giving herself the exceptional treat of the best dinner she could 
afford. 

Although the restaurant was almost full, Gwen had a table to herself; here 
and there were other tables at which sat only one diner, and she regretted 
that she hadn't the temerity to sit down at one of the tables whose only 
other occupant was a man. There were several such tables, and, whilst none 
of the men were, at first sight, particularly attractive, Gwen would have 
welcomed the opportunity of making the acquaintance of one or another of 
them. She asked the waitress for a sherry, and as she left the table to get 
it. Gwen plucked up courage to say to her. "Make that two sherries, please!" 
The recipient of the order looked at her as if she'd asked for a pipe of 
opium, and went away muttering to herself. 

In the hope of acquiring "Dutch courage," Gwen drank her two glasses of 
sherry quickly. She asked for a bottle of wine to be brought at the same 
time as her soup: this request brought another cloud to the waitress' 
countenance. Cranky customers, especially women, were anathema to her; 
nevertheless she brought the wine as ordered, and ploncked it hard down on 
the table, as much as to say to all the other diners, "Look this way, folks! 
Our tame dypsomaniac!" 

Before starting her soup. Gwen drank two glasses of the wine. By the time 
the waitress came, on reluctant feet, to remove her soup plate. Gwen was 
feeling fine. Throughout the remainder of her dinner, she made several 
attempts to attract one and another of the nearby males, but with little 
success. Ultimately she left May's Cafe in a state of complete sobriety, but 
feeling pleased with herself, in spite of her failure to enlist one of those 
men as her escort for the remainder of the evening. The truth of the matter 
was that not one of the May's Cafe habitu's who'd noticed her had failed to 
recognize her as a proud, better-to-do woman who was amusing herself by 
coming to look at them even as human beings go to Whipsnade to observe the 
queer antics of the non-human beasts; more than one of the men there would 
have given all they possessed for a night with her, for Gwen was a 
fine-looking woman whose body-proportions were such as left little margin 
for criticism. 

After dinner, Gwen wandered here and there, along the brightly-lit streets 
of the shopping-center, past cinemas and dance-halls, public-houses and 
billiard-halls. Men there were in abundance, many of them doing all in their 
power to strike up acquaintance with the many girls who were parading up and 
down with the same object (slightly modified, perhaps) as Gwen. But the only 
one of these many men to make any sort of advance to Gwen was so helplessly 
drunk that Gwen felt no good could come of her encouraging him. 

Walking with no great sense of direction, Gwen found herself in dimly-lit 
Elm Tree Road, and she remembered that near at hand was Abercrombie Park, 
notorious for its dark holes and corners into which loving-couples were wont 
to creep after sundown; Gwen knew that the park's main attraction was to 
couples, but she thought it at least possible that men would go there alone, 
in search of women. She turned into Archer Way, no more than a footpath, 
between high walls; at the end of the path she pushed open the iron gate 
which gave access to a dark corner of the park. 

The only noises were the twittering of birds, far-away foot-steps and a 
whispered conversation near-at-hand. 

As she wandered along the gravel paths of the park, she was aware of the 
presence of people hidden in the shadows; here and there were visible 
couples, walking or sitting, arms enlaced, on the wooden seats. In half an 
hour of searching, she found no unaccompanied man; she did see one other 
woman alone; and, thinking this woman might have just left her boyfriend, 
Gwen hurried along in the direction from which the other had come, in the 
hope of arresting the man before he left the park. But five minutes later 
Gwen reached the main entrance to the park, and still no lone male had 
crossed her path. 

She remained within the park, and set out to explore further; she stepped 
off the path, and walked across the lawns, into the bushes and the wooded 
areas, moving quietly, listening for the sounds of love-making, spying out 
the secluded lovers, trying to surprise them in their secret acts. 

She heard whispered entreaties, half-hearted protests, sighs and, once, the 
sobs of a little shorthand-typist, who, having enjoyed what she and her 
boy-friend had done together, was beginning to realize how momentous was the 
occasion. A flower, once plucked, can never again return to its natural 
liaison with its roots. 

One conversation particularly intrigued Gwen: 

"Sh-sh-sh! Bertie, listen! Stop it! Please! There's somebody coming." 

Gwen halted suddenly, pressing herself close against the broad trunk of a 
tree; the girl whose words had caused her to arrest her steps was lying a 
few feet away, in the arms of a man; she was frantically pulling her skirts 
down over her knees, whilst he, one hand under her skirts and caressing her 
thighs, was intent on raising her skirts. 

"There's nobody," he was saying, his voice strained by excitement and 
impatience; "The only people who come here are couples, like us, who're not 
interested in what we do." 

"But there was somebody; I heard breaking twigs." 

"Oh, Lilly! There's lots of people, all around us. But they're taking no 
notice of us, and we don't need to take any notice of them." 

"Let's get away from here, Bertie! Let's find another place, where there's 
nobody else!" 

Hardly daring to breathe, for fear of betraying her presence, Gwen noted the 
genuine fear in the girl's voice and the anxiety, bordering upon anger, in 
the boy's voice as he replied, "But, Lilly, there is no such place; the 
park's full of people, all here for the same purpose as I am; if you don't 
want me, you've only got to say so, and I'll go away; then it'll be over 
between us. But you don't have to get out of it by pretending you hear 
somebody coming, and all that." 

"But, Bertie, I'm not trying to get out of it at all; I'm as eager as you 
are. In fact, I had to put into your head the idea of coming here; I tell 
you that I heard somebody; but, whoever it was, if it was anybody, they've 
gone now, I think." 

Lilly didn't sound convinced that they were unobserved, and Gwen had the 
feeling that the girl had decided that, observed or not, she and Bertie 
should do that for which they'd come to the park. 

Ten minutes Gwen stayed there, behind the tree, watching the two young 
animals amusing themselves with one another's body; although there was no 
moon, the light of the stars was sufficient to enable Gwen clearly to 
witness all that happened. She even saw both faces distinctly enough to 
recognize the young people again, if ever she should meet the one or the 
other; she noticed that no precautions were taken against their game making 
mother and father of them. She noticed also that the boy was inept, whilst 
the girl had a flair for the thing upon which they were engaged, that she 
was a passionate little thing, giving more than she got. 

Gwen moved stealthily away, telling herself that, if the evening gave her no 
more than what she had just had, then she would still count this amongst the 
delightful evenings of her life. Watching this desire for a man, but it had 
also raised her to a height of ecstasy where to be obliged to abstain from 
fornication would be no great catastrophe. 

She walked again for half an hour. She heard the town-hall clock chiming ten 
o'clock, and her thoughts turned to half-past-ten, closing-time at the 
public-houses. A girl ought to experience little difficulty in picking up a 
beau in the bar of a public-house during the final fifteen minutes of the 
evening's libations. 

She was hurrying towards the main gates of the park, intent on entering the 
nearest bar, when she saw, seated alone on a wooden bench, under a pale 
gas-lamp, a man, nay a youth, as she quickly realized, slackening her pace 
and directing her steps towards the bench. The boy was smoking, apparently 
deep in thought; he turned his head upon hearing her foot-steps. She sat 
down, and began rumageing in her bag for her cigarette-case, eyeing him 
scrutinously the while; he was thin and small, with a pale, weak face. She 
wasn't sure whether he had a feeble, yellow moustache or whether it was a 
shadow upon his upper lip; in the dim light, the trilby he wore appeared to 
be white or a very insipid shade of gray or beige; its brim was curled 
upwards at the back, and downwards at front with a most extravagant 
flourish. Gwen told herself that here was a wicked caricature of "Flash," 
the well-dressed corner-boy, whose dress, speech, every gesture are inspired 
by Hollywood gangster-films. Even the large rings on his fingers were copied 
from the costly, tasteless jewelry favored by the Don Juans of the 
underworld. 

He held his cigarette between the tips of his thumb and fore-finger, only 
the unlighted end being visible, whilst the remainder of the cigarette was 
inside his loosely-clenched fist, from which smoke seeped in all directions. 
He raised and lowered his cigarette to and from his lips with short, 
affected movements, and he puffed the smoke out through his nostrils. 

His assumed manner was intended to convey an impression of mature years, 
opulence, devil-may-care; but Gwen estimated his age at seventeen and his 
financial resources at nearly nil. 

This boy had all the outward signs of what Gwen contemptuously called a 
"juvenile delinquent"; he was of the type of person who revolted Gwen; she 
moved nearer to him. 

"Give me a light, will you, please?" 

He fished in his pocket for his lighter, but she moved to within a foot of 
him, murmuring, "Don't bother about that!" She put her cigarette in her 
mouth: he'd previously put his cigarette between his lips, to leave his 
hands free in her service. She placed a hand on his shoulder, leaned across 
him, and brought her face within five inches of his; he raised a hand, to 
steady his cigarette, and she lit hers from his. Holding his cigarette so 
long in his mouth caused him to splutter; he took the burning weed from his 
lips, and she reached for his mouth with hers. He was surprised, but he 
quickly recovered, and he pulled her closer, responding to her kiss with 
hard lips which bruised her mouth. 

"That were a bit of a-rite," was all he could find to say, in his colorless 
whine of a voice; the ill-shaped words stumbled over each other as they fell 
from his lips. He was confused by the fact of a woman having made advances 
to him; and he was somewhat awed by the woman herself, for, uncouth as he 
was, and in spite of his low intelligence, he had recognized her, from the 
moment she sat down, as what he would call "a classy judy." 

She said. "For you it may have been a bit of alright, but for me it was 
delicious, thrilling; you're the sort of man a real woman needs." 

He didn't note the malice in her voice, and he was inflated by her high 
opinion of his prowess as an osculator. 

"I suppose it's the first time a woman has kissed you on her own 
initiative?" 

The word "initiative" worried him, but he got the sense of what she said. 

"Get away wi' yer!" he replied. "All the time I got smashing judies comin' 
up ter me, and doing just like you did." 

"Oh, I see. Tell me! As a rule, when these women come up to you and kiss 
you, what do you do with 'em?" 

He blushed in the darkness, and hardly knew what to say: the question 
puzzled him; he didn't know what she meant. 

"What d'yer mean? Do with 'em?" 

"Well, I mean, when they've kissed you, do they get up and walk away?" 

As she spoke, she rose to her feet, and moved away two paces. His pale eyes 
fixed her, and they were the eyes of a ferret begging the rabbit to come and 
be devoured. He sprang to his feet, trembling with anxiety, lest she should 
slip out of his grasp. His blunt wits told him that a woman who was queer 
enough to kiss a strange guy without the slightest encouragement was also 
queer enough to get up immediately afterwards and go on her way as if 
nothing had happened. 

"Oh, no!" he pleaded, "None of 'em ever did that; they all stayed, and went 
on kissing me. If they was orlrite, like you, I let 'em do it; but the 
others, I jus' told 'em, kind-like, but firm, that they'd 'ave to go away; 
o'ny mos'ly they was smashers." 

Gwen knew herself to be dealing with a child, an ill-bred child, as innocent 
as ... as innocent as ... why, as Jean, for instance. For a brief instant, 
she visualized this young "spiv" and her lovely Jean in the sexual act 
together; and immediately regretted the affront her thoughts had inflicted 
uppon Jean. At the same time, she considered the effect which this boy and 
Jean would have on one another in the event of his ever visiting the house, 
as it was her intention he should. She recalled that, on one occasion, 
Goddard had spoken of Jean in terms which suggested that he could conceive 
of her as a potential bed-mate; how much more, then, should this boy 
(little, if at all, older than Jean) think of Jean as a more appropriate 
sharer of his bed than Gwen, nearly as old as the two of 'em together! For 
the first time, Gwen thought of Jean as a woman, capable, perhaps, of 
competing with her for the attention of her men. 

She paused in her reverie, to ask the boy, "So the pretty ones stayed, and 
gave you more kisses, and the others went away?" 

He nodded his head affirmatively, and she sat down again before continuing, 
"There was only kissing? Nothing more?" 

Now he was really in a quandary. Should he go on lying and boasting, and 
thereby probably shock her and drive her away? Perhaps, if he assured her 
that nothing happened beyond kissing, she'd decide to stay, and they'd go on 
kissing. Kissing wasn't everything, but he thought that the longer she 
stayed the better would be his chances of getting her to go further than 
that; and even if they didn't get beyond kissing, it would be very pleasant. 
He'd had few enough kisses in his life, and certainly none from a grown-up 
woman nor from so lovely a woman as Gwen. 

She noticed his indecision; she repeated, "Just kissing?" and before he 
could answer, she drew him to her, and he felt upon his mouth the moist 
warmth of her parted lips; her tongue licked his lips, and he realized that 
she wished him to allow her tongue to enter his mouth. He parted his lips, 
and a warm, trembling lizard caressed his tongue and gums, lighting fires 
within him which coursed through his veins until they scorched his penis. 

"Just kissing," he replied. 

Locked in her tight embrace, he heard her say, "That's no good! none at all! 
The next time a woman kisses you without being invited, drag her into the 
bushes, strip her naked, and stuff yourself into her until she screams for 
joy!" 

He was hot with excitement;-this was truly his lucky day, he told himself. 
He must still move carefully, but he had no longer much doubt that this 
woman was offering him, without any effort on his part that for which he'd 
sought, intrigued, hoped and run risks, and all in vain;-until now. 

Words came with difficulty, and his body was bathed in prickly sweat. 

"They'd not let me do that," he stammered, "They'd have me locked up, If I 
tried that on." 

"Silly boy!" she exclaimed, oblivious of how painfully he was aware of being 
but a boy, whilst she was an adult woman, "If a woman comes up to a 
perfectly strange man in the park, sits beside him and kisses him, 
uninvited, she has no right to resent anything he does to her in response to 
her initial advances; and, quite apart from resenting or not resenting, 
surely you understand that a woman doesn't kiss a strange man merely for the 
sake of a kiss, but rather for the purpose of inciting him to more daring 
things than a kiss." 

"Is that what your kiss meant?" She laughed, and there was bitterness and 
contempt in her laughter. 

"You're the brave one, are you not!" she scoffed, "You're going to take no 
risks, are you? You're going to do nothing without my suggesting it, and 
giving you clear-cut permission for it; a gentleman doesn't expect a lady to 
tear off her clothes and force his penis into her loins; he takes the 
initiative himself, even when he's not quite sure what will be her reaction 
to it. He runs the risk of her anger, even of a public scandal, as a measure 
of his desire for her. If you're going to be a success with women, you'll 
have to appreciate that when a girl joins you on a park-bench, and asks for 
a light, she's done her share of ice-breaking; the rest is up to you. Oh, 
Hell! Come along!" 

She took his arm, and they walked a few yards away from the path until she 
found a grassy slope, hidden by short, thick bushes. Her anger at him had 
had the opposite effect from that which she had desired; he'd never imagined 
a woman being angry with him and, in the midst of the anger, lying down with 
him. Even when he was absolutely sure that she was intent upon breaking his 
virgin knot, his awe of her remained with him, restraining him from doing 
anything which she did not specifically indicate to him. This was a 
disappointment to her; what she really wanted was to be taken, brutally, by 
some uncouth, illiterate navy, who'd so enjoy her that, in order to have her 
again in the future, again and again, would submit to her domination, as 
she'd been obliged to submit to that of Goddard and Merivale. The boy she 
had was submissive enough, but he ought to have been full of fire until he'd 
had her; then she'd have had the immense satisfaction of forcing him down to 
her knees, beseeching for more. This boy had been abject from the start, in 
spite of his childish boasts; he couldn't be brought down lower than he was. 

However, she'd decided to make do with him for that night anyway; future 
evenings in town might unearth a more manly man. 

In the seclusion of the bushes, she undressed herself completely. The 
evening was chilly, but she was prepared to suffer anything in order that 
her baby should have the best available for his first taste of female flesh; 
she had to tell him to get his clothes off, and she smiled contemptuously as 
he took off his jacket and his shoulders disappeared. Stripped, he was a 
pathetic sight, shivering in the silver star-light; but, once she'd shown 
him what to do and how to do it, he proved to have more energy and passion 
in his feeble-looking body than seemed possible to Gwen. The ferocity with 
which he tore into her was a thrilling surprise to Gwen, and soon they were 
riding on the crest of the wave of ecstasy; when it was finished, he folded 
up, but she, much as he'd pleased her, regretted that there wasn't another 
like him, waiting to jump into her as he flopped out; feeling a great 
strength within her, she held him close in her arms for several minutes 
before dressing. 

As soon as he saw that she was dressing, he pulled himself together, and 
followed her example. 

Dressing, he thought to himself, "If that's it, God! It's wonderful!" 

Imperiously she addressed him, "You're coming home with me; you did very 
well." 

She softened, and touched his face, adding, "I'd like another helping of 
that, in bed; wouldn't you?" 

Before he had time to answer her question, she posed another, "Can you spend 
the night out? Without rousing a lot of curiosity? What about your parents?" 

For the first time he appeared to her as something other than a child. He 
replied curtly, "Leave that to me! I do what I like; nobody pushes me 
around." She appreciated that his words were intended as an indication of 
his determination to tell her as little as possible, and certainly no more 
than he thought she ought to know; she wondered whether he were an escapee 
from a borstal. If so, all the better! How many women had been ridden by a 
boy gaol-breaker? 

They walked home, to Gwen's house, and were received by Jean, who had not 
yet got out of the habit of waiting-up for Gwen, however late she returned 
home. 

Jean was not surprised that Gwen brought a male person home with her; in 
fact, Gwen had fore-warned of her intention so to do. What did astonish Jean 
was the fact of Gwen's not bringing home a man; for, whilst Jean observed 
that the person's clothing was in adult style, she saw him as a child, 
although a little older, perhaps, than herself. The thought passed through 
Jean's mind that Gwen had brought this boy home for some reason entirely 
different from her motives in bringing home Goddard and later Merivale; 
indeed that Gwen and this boy should have in each other an interest of a 
romantic or carnal nature was preposterous. He was a nephew perhaps, whom 
she'd met by chance; or one of Gwen's colleagues at the office. He lived out 
of town, had missed his last bus or train, and had been invited to spend the 
night conventionally and innocently as Gwen's guest. 

Whilst Gwen was introducing Eddie (as he'd told her he was called) and Jean, 
he was congratulating himself on being introduced to so lovely a young 
female; he made up his mind instantly that, if this girl was haveable, he'd 
have her, and with no more delay than was necessary; he'd had Gwen, and he'd 
enjoyed her. He hoped to have her again, frequently; but the young girl 
interested him more at that moment, because he hadn't had her, and didn't 
know whether he ever would succeed in getting her to lie down with him;-of 
Gwen he was sure already, and that took some of the charm away from her. He 
considered in what way Gwen's interest in him might help him to get Jean: 
"If the boss is sufficiently keen on me," he said to himself, "she might be 
prepared to go to great lengths to keep me; she might even make it easy for 
me to knock-off the maid." 

Gwen read his thoughts with some degree of accuracy, and for a moment there 
was jealousy within her: she reassured herself by thinking of Jean's youth 
and innocence; "This boy," she told herself, "has lost his virginity due to 
my insistence; left to his own devices, he would probably have remained 
vestal for several more years; and even now he lacks the know-how necessary 
for the seduction of so cool and pure a child as Jean, and she sees what he 
is clearly enough to give him no encouragement." 

Jean produced a pot of tea and some sandwiches; she asked Gwen if there was 
anything else she required; receiving a negative answer, she retired to her 
bed-room. In bed she lay awake a long time; she was trying to understand the 
sex business, trying especially to understand Gwen, trying to learn, without 
sexual experience, what role carnal love would play in her own life, in what 
way she could give the most to the flesh and derive the most satisfaction 
from it. She went over ground which she'd previously covered, telling 
herself that carnal love must be a wonderful thing, otherwise people 
wouldn't go to such lengths to indulge in it. Jean had made up her mind that 
she too was going to have her first taste of it, as soon as favorable 
circumstances created themselves; but the favorable circumstances were, to 
Jean, a matter of great importance. She belived that the first time would 
hold an excitement which all subsequent occasions would lack, the novelty 
adding a certain something, a thrill, an ecstasy, a delicious fear. She was, 
therefore, determined to postpone her first time until she regarded all the 
details as being satisfactory, the man in question, the time, the place; she 
was prepared to wait, but she hoped fervently that soon, very soon, the man 
would present himself, at a convenient time, in a suitable place. 

Jean heard Gwen and Eddie ascending the stairs and entering Gwen's room, and 
she wished that she were there with them, observing their every move and 
sound, sharing in their passion, even if only as a second-class partner. 
Within her mind she composed a dialogue and she drew clearly a succession of 
pictures: the characters in the dialogue and the figures in the pictures 
were Gwen and Eddie, but no! Eddie and Jean herself! Then it was Gwen again, 
with Eddie. No! Gwen with Danny, the milk-boy! Then there were four figures, 
two couples, one hardly distinguishable from the other; Gwen and Danny, Jean 
and Eddie, Gwen and Eddie, and suddenly Jean and Danny, naked, locked in an 
agitated, frenzied embrace, their bodies fused, glowing. 

The bed-clothes were in a disorderly heap on the carpet, and she was lying 
across the bed, awake now, bathed in perspiration which made her nightdress 
cling coldly to her. Shivering, she dragged the sheets clumsily over her, 
and sobbed herself to sleep. When she emerged from sleep, decision was firm 
within her. 

 15. 

In Gwen's room, more of the night had been devoted to sleep than either she 
or Eddie had intended: he had pleasantly surprised the initiative in their 
second session of intercourse: his hands shaking with nervous anticipation, 
he'd stripped her, dropping her clothing on the floor. Throwing her roughly 
on the bed, face downwards, he'd quickly slipped out of his clothes, which 
he'd carefully folded and draped over the back of a chair, Gwen had remained 
motionless on the bed, content to leave everything to him; he'd thrown his 
under her belly, to pull her into an all-fours position, and the fingers of 
his right hand had tickled her clitoris. He'd taken her as a dog takes a 
bitch, and she'd responded like a bitch on heat; savagely, he'd thrust into 
her with every ounce of his strength, digging his fingernails into the flesh 
of her belly ... 

Suddenly in a flash of exceptional passion, she'd collapsed from her bitchie 
stance and had flopped back onto her belly; the movement had broken the 
contact between their respective sex organs, and fury had seized him. He'd 
spun her over onto her back; frenziedly she'd reached out for his slimy 
penis, and he'd brought the back of his hand into sharp collision with her 
right cheek, dazing her momentarily. The new thrust of phallus within her 
had restored her to her senses, and they had kicked, writhed, sweated and 
grunted in the final delirious motions of the act. 

They'd sunk into slumber, too weak to crawl under the sheets. 

So Arwel saw them when he entered his mother's room at six o'clock in the 
morning. He didn't know what to make of those two naked bodies sprawled 
across the bed; he'd often seen Gwen and Trevor together in bed, but they'd 
never exposed themselves thus to his eyes, and they taught him the 
importance of modesty with respect to his body. Gwen and this man were 
committing a breach of good conduct. 

He'd come into the room to assure himself that Gwen was well, and that she 
still loved him. 

The mattress's movement as he clambered onto it half-roused Gwen, who 
instantly reached out and drew the man's nude body towards her; Arwel 
conceived a bitter hatred of him. Through sleepy eyes, Eddie saw Arwel, and 
his body stiffened in Gwen's embrace; without turning her head, she knew 
that Arwel was there. Furious with the child, she hurled herself into a 
dressing-gown, and, scolding him all the way, returned him to his own room. 
Sure of his own innocence, the child knew Gwen's anger to be an admission of 
some great guilt of her own; he clung to her, rubbing his cheek against 
hers, sadness in his heart. She repented of her anger, tucked him in bed 
with more care than usual, and, great as was her need to feel Eddie's weight 
upon her, remained with her son until he went to sleep. He was much older 
than an hour earlier, no one now representing for him absolute virtue and 
reliability. 

Eddie had crept into bed; tempted for a moment to throw him out of her house 
forever, she weakened in the heat of the joy he'd given her. Perhaps it was 
as well that Arwel started to grow up, to know what she was, to accustom 
himself to the conduct of which his home would henceforth be the scene. She 
felt freer to lead the life to which her tempestuous blood called her. 

"The next time he comes in ere," said Eddie, as she joined him, between the 
sheets, "I hope I'm right inside you, up to the hilt, fucking like a 
rattlesnake." 

"I didn't say there'd be a next time," she replied, smiling. 

"There'll be a lot of next times," he insisted, his normally lazy, 
indistinct speech tinged with an American twang, "I'm on a good thing; 
you're alright, and keen, keener than what I am. And this little set-up will 
suit me fine." 

He waved a proprietary hand around the room. 

Gwen hadn't bargained for this; he spoke as if he'd found a new home, 
whereas she intended he should serve her as an occasional change from 
maturer, more civilized men; but she didn't want to run the risk of driving 
him away before she'd found at least one substitute. His next words 
reassured her a little. 

"Wouldn't suit me regular, of course. I prefer my own quarter, up Charles' 
Hill way." 

"What time do you have to be at work, Eddie?" 

"I'm no muggins! Sign on three days a week; dole money no bloody good to a 
fella with my imagine tastes, but I got a few side-lines; most of my women 
are classy bints, so they never let me go short of a few quid." 

Eddie obviously thought Gwen was his goldmine; "But he's wide of the mark," 
she thought. To dissuade him from running away she was prepared to give him 
a few shillings now and then, to keep him supplied with beer and cigarettes 
whilst she was at the office; and she was sure that the occasional 
gratuitous half-crown would be most welcome to her silly little "Chicago 
Big-shot." 

He, however, had in mind a weekly payment of the few pounds which would 
enable him to dazzle the Charles Hill girls, who always laughed at his empty 
wallet and big ideas. 

Casually she promised: 

"You can rely upon me for the little help I can give." 

Gwen wondered what were Eddie's plans for the day. After a few moments of 
silence, she proposed: 

"After breakfast, you can take me almost to my office; will you do that?" 

"I shan't be getting up for quite a while," he replied indolently, "Your 
scivvy can bring me a good breakfast about half-past-nine; I like ham and 
eggs, and lots of it; can't make you jump for joy on less than two fried 
eggs and a couple of dirty-big rashers." 

His manner told her she'd be ill-advised to under-estimate his cunning, his 
ruthlessness, his ability to make her dance to the tune he called. He seemed 
to sense his power over her, and she wondered whether a conventionally 
educated middle-class woman was a match for a young gutter-snipe, devoid of 
principles, accustomed from the cradle to living by his wits. 

"Let me bring your breakfast," she pleaded, "Jean isn't a sciwy, and I don't 
like to give her extra work." 

"I said half-past nine," he replied, and she knew he'd receive from Jean 
exactly the breakfast he'd commanded, at precisely the desired hour. She 
was, however, afraid he might make other demands upon Jean; and the thought 
presented itself to her that, if she gave him every ounce of passion within 
her, consuming him to his last shudder, every molecule of his spunk, his 
final grunt of satisfaction, she would leave him in no fit state to pester 
the girl. 

She lowered her face to his, her tongue stretched out towards him, its pink 
tip quivering like a bright flame; her tongue found his and a shudder passed 
through his body, his stiff penis jabbing into the flesh of her thighs. She 
raised her knees, until they gripped his hips, and, taking his throbbing 
tool in her hot hands, she guided it into the oily softness of her vagina; 
she screamed her joy as, tensing his body for an instant, he thrust himself 
hard into her, as deep as he could go. The bed creaked and rattled under the 
mad rampaging of their bodies, fighting savagely to and fro, in and in, out, 
in and in, until there was inside her the sensation of a thrillingly bowed 
violin-string snapping on a piercing high note; a spear of flame shot from 
his testicles through the pipe of his penis, and his sperm volleyed into 
her; with the remnant of her force she kissed him, and he was limp in her 
arms. 

After her troubled night, Jean was quiet over the breakfast she shared with 
Gwen. She felt a certain resentment at Gwen's having had three men since her 
husband's death, whilst she had never had a man. (She forgot momentarily 
that Danny, the milk-boy, had made uncertain steps in the direction of her 
seduction, and that she'd rebuffed him; she also forgot to take into account 
that her turn would come.) Gwen thought Jean's frowns expressed a 
puritanical disapproval of her bringing Eddie to the house; and she felt 
genuine pity for an innocent child compelled to rub shoulders with vice. 

Later, as Arwel was breakfasting, after his mother's departure, Jean took up 
the cudgels in Gwen's defense, explaining that he should have knocked on her 
door before entering, to give Gwen and Eddie time to cover themselves. 

"When people are grown up," she explained, "they have certain special 
friends in whose company it isn't quite so shocking to take their clothes 
off." 

He asked eagerly: 

"Will we be special friends?" 

In a rush of tenderness, she took him in her arms, and felt his boyish 
firmness through her thin dress; she wished he were as old as Danny or 
Eddie; then, instead of going to school, he'd be her "special friend," and 
they'd he together naked, delighting in the beauty, the warmth and greedy 
passion, the passionate generosity of each other's body. 

She kissed him full on the lips, long and tenderly; and he rejoiced in her 
love. 

Later, preparing breakfast for Eddie, she medi-he'd ridden her, given her to 
Danny, he'd ridden Gwen, and returned for a second helping of her. She was 
thrilled at the thought of entering the bedroom of such a man, in an 
otherwise deserted house; and she hoped that, by some strange system of 
communication, he would be aware of the things he'd done to her during the 
night. 

Upstairs, Eddie lay naked on the bed; he'd washed, he'd combed his hair, and 
he'd penciled his too feeble, yellow moustache. He waited. 

"Come in!" he commanded, and his nakedness threw her into a state of 
confusion, as though it were a step in the direction of her taking off her 
own clothes. His brazen flaunting of his body convinced her that he did know 
they had slept together, her dreams and reality being blurred at the 
boundary between them; she wondered whether the obvious thing to do was to 
lift her skirts over her head, and cast herself upon his erect and quivering 
penis. 

His hand closed about her wrist, and she allowed herself to be drawn towards 
him until her knees came into contact with the mattress, and she was forced 
into a reclining position on the bed beside him; he dragged her close, and 
kissed her; his lips upon her mouth were felt in every part of her, in her 
every drop of blood, and she was weak in his strong embrace. She returned 
his kisses, her warmth exalting him. Through her scant clothing she felt the 
pulsing of his body; she clung to him, digging her finger-nails into his 
shoulders and buttocks. 

Under her skirt, his hands groped along her thighs, and his fingers clutched 
at the elastic in the legs of her bloomers. Soon his hands were in her 
panties, upon her flat, hard belly, his fingers combing the hair. His hands 
still inside her panties, he pulled at the elastic about her waist, and she 
offered no resistance as her panties slid down over her buttocks, around her 
thighs, past her knees, to her ankles. She raised one foot, and he slipped 
the garment over it; a jerk of her other foot sent it sailing into a corner 
of the room. He pulled her clothing upwards until it was all bunched up 
under her chin and arm-pits. His eyes devoured her slim, honey-hued body, 
and his hands touched here and there in wonderment. 

Waiting in eager anticipation of his next move, she heard the rattle of 
milk-cans; she leapt to her feet, smoothed down her clothes, and looked 
around, nervously and in vain, for her bloomers ... 

"You're early, Dannie," she said gaily. "Tea's not ready, but soon will be." 

She ruffled his hair, and laughed for no reason obvious to him. 

"Pleased with yourself this morning!" he exclaimed; and she confirmed his 
statement by kissing him full on the mouth, warmly, with humid tenderness; 
he clutched at her, but she retreated with a happy pirouette. 

"Tell you why?" she asked. 

"If you like." 

"It's a good job you came so early today," she began, the color rising to 
her cheeks at the thought of the information she was about to volunteer, 
"because I was upstairs with Mrs. James's guest, and he'd got my panties 
off; when I took him his breakfast, he was naked, on top of the bed. He 
started on me, and I found I didn't want to stop him; our hands were all 
over each other; if you hadn't come, we wouldn't have stopped until he'd 
shot his load into me. You've spoiled everything." 

"Well then, bloody-well let him fuck you, if that's what you want! I'm not 
good enough for you." 

He sprang to his feet, and headed blindly for the door; she threw herself in 
his path, crying exultantly: 

"You are, though! For that sort of thing! Rather you than him!" 

"When then?" he asked, "You and me?" 

"Some day? Perhaps" was her reply. 

Disappointment clouded his eyes from their depth to the surface. 

"Things like that happen, Danny; they can't be planned; it's much better, if 
one day I say all unexpectedly: 'I'm hot and itchy, Danny; stab me with 
everything!'" 

His penis throbbed and swelled against his pants. She let him fondle her 
breasts, his hands inside the bodice of her frock, and she whispered a 
promise that, however long he had to wait for her, the man upstairs would 
wait longer. Danny took leave of her, unsatisfied, but consoled by the 
knowledge that he'd robbed the man upstairs of Jean. 

Upon her return to the guest-room, with a pot of freshly brewed tea, Eddie's 
hands returned at once to the caressing of her clitoris; but she deposited 
the pot on the table, picked up the tray, and walked on towards the door. He 
flung himself in pursuit of her, dropped to his knees at her retreating 
heels, and thrust his hands inside her skirts, gripping her thighs with his 
arms so that she fell to her knees amidst a clatter of broken crockery. 
After a brief struggle, he had her pinioned to the floor by his knees; 
sitting astride her midriff, he clawed at her loins until his frantic 
fingers punished her sex; he slid backwards, down her body, halting when his 
phallus was at her door. His muscles tensed for the spilling of her virgin 
blood, and she cried: 

"No! Eddie!" 

Fear overcame him: she really meant 'No!' and he'd thought her struggle a 
trick to excite him. Nothing could stop him going into her now ... nothing! 
Except a word ... Rape! 

Rape had sent his father to prison for five years, during which his mother 
and sister had turned the home into a brothel, and he had known hunger, cold 
and loneliness. Crimes there were which he would commit, for gain, and with 
the probability of escaping detection; but the rape of a girl who knew him? 
Prison? Never! 

She sensed his weakness, and jerked her slender body powerfully sideways. 
Easing herself from under his sprawling frame, she kneeled to collect the 
debris of crockery. To propitiate her, he stayed near at hand, helping her. 
After a few minutes, his hand stroked her butt, under her skirts. 

"What came over you?" he asked. 

She turned to him, and they sat side-by-side, leaning against the wall. 

"Over me!" she exclaimed. "What came over you? A bit of fun is one thing, 
but rape!" 

That word! 

"It's not rape," he explained lamely, "if the girl wanted it for a start! If 
that fucking milk-man hadn't come, you'd have had it and liked it ... " 

" ... But he did come, and when I came back here, I didn't want it any more, 
so if you'd forced me, I'd have had you locked up for rape." 

"So he's that sort of milk-man, is he! Wait 'til Gwen hears about this." 

To amuse herself and to hurt him, she made up a tale. 

"No, he isn't," she said. "He served me, and left straight away; I took the 
milk down to the cellar, and, when I came back there was a canvasser for 
'The Daily News' at the door; I asked him if he'd like a cup of tea, and he 
said he preferred milk, so I took him down to the cellar; I gave him his 
milk, and asked him if it wasn't rather strange taking him to the cellar for 
milk, instead of taking the milk up to the kitchen; he said it was, but if I 
liked dark, cool places, he didn't mind; "Like them for what?' I asked; 'For 
this,' he said, and he kissed me; I got down on some potato-sacks, and he 
gave me a good doing." 

She placed her arms about Eddie's naked body, and her hand toyed with his 
penis, feeling it swell and throb under the intoxicating influence of her 
touch. 

"It was wonderful, Eddie; but I couldn't take any more now; I suppose Gwen's 
different ... " 

She responded passionately to his kiss, forcing back his head until she was 
in a dominating position. Her soft, warm lips parted in complete abandon, 
she pushed a globule of her saliva into his mouth. She eased him down to the 
carpet, and her tongue tickled his phallus; she resisted his efforts to 
place himself in a controlling position; soon his breath became labored, and 
all his muscles twitched. He was large in her mouth; his body stiffened, and 
she took him out of her mouth, but continued to masturbate him with her hand 
until the relaxing of his muscles announced the climax of his ecstasy. The 
warm cream was on her hands, and his eyes issued a command; she licked every 
drop of sperm from her hand; then she gently squeezed his penis until a drop 
of muck became a trickle, and he was small, pathetic and clean in her mouth. 

He left the house without saying whether he'd ever return, but Jean knew 
he'd come again ... for her, even if not for Gwen.. 

There wasn't an unoccupied table in the restaurant; but Gwen had the choice 
of several tables at which one person was already sitting. Blind to the 
tables whose occupant was a woman, she was undecided between a prosperous, 
over-dressed bookmaker type of man and a tall thin chap who seemed more 
interested in his book than in his food; she decided that the studious 
individual would be easier to conquer than the confident, successful one, 
and she joined his table with a polite: "You don't mind?" 

He rose to his feet, smiled a welcome, and resumed his seat when she'd sat 
down. 

"Do you come here often?" she asked with nearly desperate eagerness. 

He stared at her for fully half a minute before the import of her words 
conveyed themselves to his consciousness. But what Gwen had asked required 
for its answer no great intellectual effort; she had merely inquired of him 
whether he came often to that restaurant. Before replying, he asked himself 
a question, or rather two questions: What's it got to do with her? and: In 
what way will she benefit from knowing that I do Or don't come here 
frequently? What he was too naive to appreciate was that the questioner was 
almost certainly not interested in his answer to her question, but merely in 
the fact that his answering would set in motion a conversation, about 
nothing or about anything, from which she would derive some pleasure. 

He replied, trying hard to smile as he did so, "Yes ... .. I come ... fairly 
often . ... twice a week or three times. It depends....." 

"Oh," she interrupted, "It's the first time I've been here since ... Oh, I 
don't know how long! I usually go home for lunch, don't you?" 

She paused, to give him an opportunity of giving her the adequate answer. 

Although he hadn't heard what she'd been saying, he became aware, after 
thirty seconds of silence, that her voice was still; and he turned his eyes 
upon her face, which he immediately observed to be wearing the vacuously 
expectant expression of someone who has asked a worthless question, and is 
gradually realizing how irrelevant the question was; hoping the question was 
one of those which require a simple 'Yes' or 'No,' and that she wouldn't be 
able to verify his answer, he said, "Yes, ah yes ... yes." 

His reply seemed to Gwen somewhat enthusiastic for sd commonplace a 
question; and she mistook that enthusiasm for a compliment to herself, for 
an indication of his pleasure at carrying on a conversation with her. 

"I work at Merivale," she said, and he thought, What, in God's name, has 
that to do with me? 

"I'm head of Cereals Imports," she continued bravely, in spite of her 
growing fear that he didn't care. 

Her remark meant nothing whatsoever to him, because he wasn't listening, and 
consequently only half-heard ... 

"What do you do?" she asked. 

"All sorts of things," he replied automatically. 

"Such as?" 

"Eh?" 

Having asked 'EH?' he was quite content to turn his attention to plum pie 
with steaming custard. Gwen looked closely at him; in spite of the shadow 
which hung over his visage, he was a handsome person: handsome of face, at 
least. Handsome of body? No! Seated, he was able to conceal his physical 
limitations. Not that he wished to do any such thing:-his thinness, his 
longness, to be quite frank, his skinny lankiness, didn't worry him in the 
least; he was totally unaware of his physical shortcomings, so enveloped was 
he in his artistic longings: Taylor Beecroft was a pianist, not only a 
talented pianist, but even a brilliant one. What is more, in spite of his 
general vagueness, he had the gift (a rare gift) of passing on his knowledge 
to others; in other words, he was an exceptionally efficient teacher of the 
pinaforte. No, he was more than efficient: he was possessed of the genius of 
pianistic tutoring ... He lacked that certain something which makes a 
virtuoso of the man who has achieved complete mastery of his medium of 
artistic expression, and who has, in addition, a deep appreciation of the 
particular art which interests him; some people call it "the artistic 
temperament." Nevertheless, Taylor Beecroft had within him that which could 
guide to greatness any piano-player who had within him the making of a 
pianist. 

Let's be quiet honest, and admit that Gwen didn't choose Taylor as Arwel's 
piano teacher because she recognized him for what he was. Rather, she chose 
him because she liked his face, and because he had all the marks of a 
sitting bird. (If you're not a true-blue English huntin', shootin' an' 
fishin' wallah, permit me to explain that "a sittin' bird" is a pigeon, 
pheasant or partridge which, being in a sitting-not airborne-pose, is easier 
to shoot down than a bird on the wing.) Indeed, as Taylor Beecroft attacked 
his plum pie and custard, Gwen did not yet know that he was a pianoforte 
tutor. 

She was, however, doing her best to find out what he was and what he did. 
She'd asked him what his profession was, and he'd avoided answering her; the 
cause of his failure to reply to her enquiry was that his mind wasn't on the 
conversation she was endeavoring to set in motion. But she imagined that he 
withheld from her the information she desired for the reason that he was 
involved in some frightfully exciting work which demanded the greatest 
secrecy. Was it crime? espionage? or scientific research? "That's it!" she 
told herself, happy to have found for his taciturnity a reason which was 
uncomplimentary neither to herself nor to him. 

Gwen decided to go further in that direction; it was all very well to sit 
there admiring this brilliant young savant, but it would do no harm to 
ascertain that he was the considerable figure in the world of science she 
immediately imagined him to be. She'd ask again, wording her question more 
precisely, so that he couldn't escape with his blank stare and his 
meaningless "Eh?" 

"What is your profession?" she asked baldly, and smiled at the shudder of 
surprise which passed through his shoulders and arms. 

"I haven't really a profession," he replied, "I give piano lessons, when I 
can find pupils." 

She brightened perceptibly, and said, "Why, what an amazing coincidence! 
I've been searching frantically for a teacher for my little boy. He already 
plays very well, for his age; he's eight, nearly nine years old." 

In fact, Gwen had neither been searching frantically nor been searching; she 
had decided, some time previously, that Arwel would, before long, start to 
study music seriously, his studies with Jean failing to comply with Gwen's 
idea of serious; but, had she cared to, she could have quite easily 
contacted any one of a dozen reliable teachers of the pianoforte within a 
mile of her residence. She hadn't availed herself of the ample supply of 
piano-teachers because her plans for Arwel's serious piano-studies had been 
plans for the not very near future; they had been "one of these days" ideas. 

They became plans for immediate execution the moment this strange young man 
informed her that he gave piano lessons. 

The moment Taylor heard those words, his "if I can find pupils" manner 
deserted him; he had so few pupils that the addition of one was a thing 
greatly to be desired. Suddenly he became aware of the woman sharing his 
table; he was painfully aware of the fact that he had been making no effort 
to be agreeable to her; he was even conscious of his having been almost rude 
to her, of his having failed to answer her impertinent questions, of his 
having answered in an off-hand manner her enquiries and remarks. He was 
agreeably cognizant of her perseverance in the face of his coldness, and he 
began to entertain the hope that he attracted her, and that she had been 
making a deliberate, immodest attempt to strike up acquaintance with him. If 
she were interested in him, romantically, he might be able to persuade her 
to allow her child more than the one-hour-per-week for which the majority of 
mothers were prepared to pay; she looked like a woman of comfortable means, 
well groomed, expensively dressed. He'd convince her that nothing less than 
an hour per week would suffice, if her son were to become a pianist, rather 
than a piano-player. 

He said eagerly, "Well, that's delightful! I do so like to get pupils when 
they're young. You say he already plays the piano?...." 

"Yes, he's been taking lessons, informally you know, from the girl who keeps 
house for me; I'm grateful to her for giving him a sort of grounding, but I 
think it's time he started disciplined study." 

"Oh, definitely! A lot of harm can be done, you see, by allowing a child to 
go too far without expert guidance. You'd want lessons to begin 
immediately?" 

"Well, as soon as possible, but I'd like to discuss the whole matter with 
you, hear you play and hear about your instructional methods; and discuss 
terms." 

Gwen had decided upon this man without hearing about his methods of teaching 
and without discussing terms; she knew his terms would not be steep. She'd 
noted his "if I can find pupils," and she'd recognized it as a cry from the 
heart of one who was finding it difficult to "make ends meet"; she would 
engage him as Arwel's tutor, at a rate favorable to herself. If he proved to 
be inadequate to the talk she entrusted to him, she could replace him later 
on; but before that she would have opportunities (she would make them) of 
spending some time with this young man, who would learn to take more notice 
of her than he'd taken during their she'd spend an evening with him, 
ostensibly for the meal. Before informing him of his engagement, purpose of 
discussing Arwel and his music; if that could take place at his home, she'd 
like that. She hoped he wasn't married and that he didn't live with his 
family. 

Before she left him, to return to her office, she obtained from him his 
visiting-card, and it was arranged that she should visit him the same 
evening. 

 17. 

During the afternoon Gwen experienced some difficulty in keeping her mind 
upon the job in hand; she was thinking, with thrilling anticipation, of the 
evening and Taylor Beecroft. She was creating the evening within her 
imagination, composing the dialogue which would occupy the first moments. 
She saw in vivid detail her own actions, his actions, and their actions 
together; finally she saw herself lying naked before him, gazing admiringly 
and lustfully at his unclothed form. Her thoughts troubled her physically; 
her flesh felt his hands, and she experienced a series of searing spasms ... 

She heard a sound, and she reacted by digging her upper front teeth into her 
nether hp. The sound came to her again, and she realized that it was the 
ringing of her telephone. She seized the instrument eagerly, glad of 
whatever diversion from her disturbing thoughts. 

The voice which came to her was that of Merivale. She grimaced as one whose 
palate has been assailed by sour rhubarb; the wry expression quickly gave 
way to a nervous fluttering of the lips and a wild flashing of the eyes; her 
voice a most unattractive squeak of desperate eagerness, she gasped, "Yes, 
sir! Yes, sir! Straight away!" The line died on her ear, and she made an 
ill-aimed move to rehook the instrument; it fell to the floor with a 
clatter, and she couldn't spare the time to pick it up. Hurriedly she 
touched her lips with a lipstick and whisked a comb through her hair; then 
she dashed out of her office into the main office of the Cereals Department; 
as she passed through she was oblivious of the surprised stares engendered 
by her running and by her agitated expression of visage. 

The truth wore no resemblance to the surmise of the clerks and typists of 
the Cereals Department. Gwen had received, for the first time in six months, 
an order from Merivale to the effect that she was to report to him 
immediately in the condemned merchandise warehouse; it was possible that he 
needed to discuss with her the disposal of a quantity of grain which failed 
to qualify for certification as fit for human consumption ... It was 
possible; but Gwen wanted to believe (and, therefore, believed) that his 
reason for summoning her was that which had previously prompted him to meet 
her frequently in one or another of the little-frequented storerooms; during 
a period of more than two years he had used her body half-a-dozen times per 
month, whenever he had felt so inclined. He had ridden her in the filthy, 
dark, reeking holes and corners of his business premises, and he'd subjected 
her to the deepest humiliation, degrading her soul as well as her body by 
his exploitation of his two-fold power over her, the power a man has over a 
passionate, man-crazy woman, and the power of man of substance and authority 
has over a woman who needs him for the realization of her ambitions. 
Merivale had derived satisfaction from the certainty that he'd got the best 
of the bargain: what he'd given her, authority and the salary appropriate to 
it, had to go to someone; if not to Mrs. James, then to another. Inasmuch as 
he'd given it to her, in exchange for her body, he'd merely robbed someone 
else, namely the person who would otherwise have enjoyed the promotion 
accorded to Mrs. James: she had cost him nothing ... 

What Merivale failed to take into account was that, in her relations with 
him, Gwen had been winning on both pans of the weighing machine; she'd given 
her body, her pride, her soul in exchange for her appointment as head of 
Cereals Imports and for the promotion still to come. But she'd have given 
all that for nothing, because, giving with both hands, she received all that 
her body and soul needed so frantically. When she gave herself to Merivale, 
her delight in it was boundless. 

The more ruthlessly he thrashed her, rubbed her in the muck, urinated upon 
her and forced her to eat his excreta, the wilder was her joy in him: 
everything he devised to hurt her thrilled her. In her knowledge that she 
satisfied his desires her lost pride was restored to her, and she regained 
possession of her soul which he had torn out of her. Gwen had never been in 
any doubt that she it was who had the best of the bargain. 

She was on her way to him again; after six months of neglecting her, he 
wanted her back; and it had been ordained that Merivale's call to her should 
coincide with the most desperate need of man she had ever known: just at the 
moment when she'd been on the brink of ruining her precious career by 
seducing one of her male subordinates in full view of twenty other 
subordinates, Merivale's phone-call had come to offer her what she needed 
without the disastrous consequences she'd been on the point of risking. 

Gwen's joy in returning to Merivale was in no way diminished by her 
knowledge that, during the past six months, he'd been treating Helen 
Westcott (one of the dungareed girls who, for two pounds per week, worked 
like men in the warehouses, loading and un-loading railway wagons which 
brought in and took away consignments of merchandise) in more or less the 
same manner in which he'd previously handled her. Gwen had begun to suspect, 
during the first two or three weeks of Merivale's neglect of her that he had 
found someone to replace her as the means for the gratifying of his sadistic 
whims. So, whenever she could spare the time from her duties, she'd wander 
around the warehouses ostensibly making a tour of inspection or looking for 
someone hoping to observe Merivale creeping into our out of one of his 
secluded holes and corners with a woman. After a month of fruitless 
observation, she caught sight of him leaving the wines-store. Five minutes 
later a girl appeared in the doorway of the same store; the furtive, anxious 
way in which she darted her glance to right and left before stepping out of 
the shadows, convinced Gwen that the girl had been giving Merivale some 
pleasure, and that she'd very probably enjoyed doing it. The following day 
Gwen had seen Merivale leaving the storerooms devoted to edible oils; 
remembering, with a painful stab of excitement, the debauches in which she 
and Merivale had indulged there, in the Edible Oils store, Gwen had allowed 
him thirty seconds in which to pass out of sight of the door of the store. 
Then, turning the door-handle with great caution, she'd opened the door 
noiselessly, just enough to admit her to the store. A slight scraping sound 
in the far corner announced the presence of someone; on tip-toe she hurried 
along the alley formed by two rows of vast wooden barrels until she found 
herself within a couple of yards of a young girl frantically trying to rub 
herself clean of the black mixture of oil, dust and saw-dust which covered 
her whole body, back and front. It was obvious that, apart from the muck 
which she'd gathered by being thrown down upon the filthy floor, she'd been 
deliberately smeared with it. 

Gwen recognized the girl as the one she'd seen making her exit from the 
wines store the previous day: Helen Westcott. She was somewhat less than 
fifteen years of age, and had been with Merivale no more than a month, 
having entered the service of the firm immediately upon leaving school. 
Lurking behind the row of barrels, the older woman feasted her eyes upon the 
lovely young body before her; filthy as it was, it was a body of a beauty to 
thrill any connoisseur of the erotic. Gwen wanted to appear to the girl, 
help her to cleanse herself, caress her, pinch her butt, and dig her teeth 
into the proud, retrousses breasts ... Eventually the child, despairing of 
ridding herself of the oily muck, pulled on her clothes, and left the store. 

Without bitterness, Gwen had accepted her replacement by this Helen 
Westcott: she didn't blame Merivale for casting her off in favor of this 
luscious, more nearly innocent female; she regretted it, but she appreciated 
that she and Merivale had run the whole gamut of debauch, and that it was 
natural that her acceptance of his sadism should have palled upon him, so 
that he welcomed the opportunity of inflicting suffering upon one to whom it 
was strange and consequently more painful, more degrading. 

Now, after six months with Helen, he wanted Gwen; he'd tired more quickly of 
Helen than he had of Gwen, who reigned for more than two years. 

In her impatience, Gwen bounded up the primitive wooden stairs, four steps 
at a time, and she burst, breathless, into the condemned grain store, to be 
confronted not by a Merivale, angered at being kept waiting, but by Helen 
Westcott, whose face registered fear and embarrassment at the entrance of 
Mrs. James. 

Gwen had the advantage over Helen, who'd never been told that Gwen had 
previously been Merivale's meat; Gwen, after a moment of surprise, grasped 
the significance of her and Helen both being there; Merivale, having tired 
of Gwen, and now of Helen, was going to amuse himself by playing them off 
one against the other, adding to all the other shames the shame he expected 
them each to suffer at knowing that the other knew her for what she was, 
Merivale's whore. "How naive he is!" said Gwen to herself, "in spite of his 
evilness! This situation is as pleasant a diversion as I could desire; and 
I'm sure this girl has not suffered him for six months without being herself 
cut from the same sadistic cloth as Merivale and myself." 

Gwen was more qualified than was Helen to play the role of "Mistress of the 
situation," not only because she knew about Merivale and the girl, whereas 
the girl knew not that there was anything to know about Merivale and Gwen, 
but also because Gwen was older and more experienced, and because she'd been 
brought up as a member of a class more closely allied to the social, 
economic and political higher hierarchy than the class to which Helen 
belonged. Helen's parents were decent honest, hard-working people, modestly 
proud of being working people, proudly aware of their little worth and of 
the worthlessness of most of the more "worthy" people; Helen was a true 
"chip off the old block," and she'd remained decent below the surface, 
despite her being the kicked-around fornicating instrument of Merivale. 

Gwen was the first to speak; "Ah, Miss Westcott! I suppose you've come up 
about this condemned barley?" 

The child was confused, and yet pleased that Mrs. James seemed not to 
suspect her of being there for some immoral purpose. 

"I don't really know, Mrs. James; I was just told to come up here, that Mr. 
Merivale wanted a warehouse hand; only ... he's ... not here ... yet." 

"Oh, well, we'll have to wait for him; he sent for me as well; I suppose 
he's found a buyer for some of this stuff; it's quite alright, you know, for 
animal feeding-stuff." 

There was a silence of about a minute, broken eventually by Gwen's saying, 
with a malicious smile in her voice. "When I saw you here, I thought perhaps 
you'd come up here to meet your boyfriend." 

Helen's blushes were such as would have betrayed her even if Gwen had had no 
knowledge of the girl's relations with at least one man. 

"Oh, Mrs. James!" she whispered lamely, "I wouldn't do that." 

"Really?" said Gwen, "I'm told that some of these little-frequented 
stockrooms are quite popular with the men and girls of the warehouses." 

Her confusion notwithstanding, Helen's mind was capable, at that moment, of 
forming the thought, "The men and girls of the warehouses! Go to the devil! 
There's a damn' sight more dirty-doings amongst you white-collar people and 
amongst the boss-class than there is amongst us!" 

Her train of thought was ruptured by Gwen's resumption of her malicious 
taunting of the girl; "Why, on three different occasions I've seen three 
different girls, all from the stockrooms and the loading quays, up in the 
Edible Oils store, stark naked, covered with oil, and trying to wipe it off 
with rags so dirty that they smeared on more than they rubbed off." 

Gwen smiled, with real amusement, at the girl's abjectness; and Helen 
wavered miserably between, on the one hand, the fear that Mrs. James had 
seen her that day, several months ago, when Merivale had beaten her, till 
she wept, with a thin ribbon of three-ply wood which he'd picked up from the 
floor, and then covered her weals and the rest of her body with oily mud; 
and, that she'd made up a story about seeing three different girls in that 
very condition merely as a means of tricking her into betraying 
herself;-and, on the other hand the jealous horror at the thought that Mrs. 
James had indeed seen three girls, naked and oil-smeared, in the Edible Oils 
store; that the three girls in question had not included her, but that they 
had been smeared by the man who'd smeared her; and consequently that she, 
far from being the chosen woman of fascinating, well-bred, refined Mr. 
Merivale, was merely one of the many doxies who groveled at Mr. Merivale's 
feet. 

Footsteps on the stairs leading up to the room in which they were, announced 
to Gwen and Helen the arrival of Mr. Merivale, who entered the room, wearing 
the most evil of smiles. 

"Well, you two had time to get acquainted?" he asked, his tone pregnant with 
arrogant certainty of the absoluteness of his power over both the women. 

Gwen's answer had about it a ring of confidence which deflated him somewhat; 
"Yes," she said, "Miss Westcott and I have been getting along together quite 
well-haven't we, dear? We've been agreeing wholeheartedly upon the complete 
moral turpitude of the warehouse type of girl. It would seem that Miss 
Westcott, being too young to attract the lascivious attention of even the 
most depraved sexual maniac, remains virtuous, as a shining exception to the 
rule." 

Sullenly, and eager for action to hide his vulnerability to the sharpness of 
Gwen's perception, he snapped, "Strip! Both of you! Be quick about it!" 

Neither woman made a move to obey, although by now even Helen realized that 
Mrs. James was as much Merivale's ride as she was, and both women knew 
exactly what he wanted, and that he'd get it. In fact, neither of them 
minded his making a humiliating exhibition of her before the other, provided 
that the other should be equally humiliated: neither was prepared to be the 
first to undo a button. 

He regarded them for a moment, hating them both, and yet wanting them both, 
wanting them together; alone neither of these women held any attraction for 
him; he'd sucked them dry as individual women, but he hoped that between 
them they could give him at least one more half-hour of ecstasy. The moment 
he lost interest in them as a fornicating team, he'd cast them aside, but 
with a feeling of loss, for they wouldn't be easy to replace. He thought 
there were probably several girls in his offices and several more in his 
various warehouses who'd become to him what Gwen and then Helen had 
been;-but to know which ones were approachable in that way and which weren't 
was exceedingly difficult; you'd probably walk right past one who was 
yearning for it, and make a proposition to the very girl who'd walk out at 
once and return with her parents and a police officer. 

Merivale was not in a sweet temper. 

"What the hell are you waiting for! You both stand there as if you'd never 
before stripped at my word of command." 

He struck Helen fiercely across the mouth, hissing, "Don't bother about her! 
She'll get as much as you get, and she's had a damned lot more than you 
have, from me too; for two years she went through all you've been through 
these last months; she's fallen even deeper than you have, so don't be shy 
of her! Look at her!" 

As he said this, he seized the skirt of Gwen's frock, and raised it roughly, 
exposing stockinged legs, naked thighs and bright red, diaphanous panties. 
Letting the skirts fall, he took Gwen in his arms, and she surrendered 
eagerly to his kiss as he lowered her unceremoniously onto a heap of 
in-bagged barley; his hands clutched insanely at the buttons of her bodice, 
and she hastened to help him, in order to deter him from tearing her 
clothing. Leaving her to un-button the bodice, he grabbed Helen's knee: she 
fell on top of them, and Merivale deftly slipped the bracers of her 
dungarees over her shoulders; he tugged at the blue linen of her trousers, 
which split at the sides as a protest against his ruthlessness; Helen 
started to take off her shirt, for the same reason as Gwen had undone the 
buttons of her bodice. Both women paused when they'd stripped down to 
brassiere and panties, and Merivale admitted that they were a fine-looking 
couple of tarts; he'd been lucky so far. 

He waited; so did Gwen and Helen. 

"Nearly five minutes ago, I told you two whores to strip; and I'm still 
waiting." 

He paused, and then continued heavily, "The first time I had you ... you ... 
and you ... you were much more eager for what I had to give you." 

Since neither woman made a move, he reached across, and grabbed with his 
left hand the front of Helen's brassiere, whilst his right hand took hold of 
Gwen's; Gwen quickly slipped her hands behind her shoulders, and loosened 
the button which enabled her brassiere to come away in Merivale's hand; 
Helen was not adroit enough, and he tugged sharply at the ribbon which ran 
across her back and under her arms. The ribbon, however, did not break 
easily, and bit its way into the girl's flesh, so that a sob of excruciating 
pain escaped from her throat. With the liberated garment he lashed at her 
naked breasts which immediately showed a red irregular weal above the 
nipples. 

"In future," he said, slowly and coldly, "when I order you to expose your 
body to my admiring gaze, or to the scrutiny of any other person to whom I 
choose to accord that pleasure, you'll strip with more alacrity." 

As he spoke, he picked up Gwen's stockings and he tied two knots in the two 
stockings together, one at the ankles and feet, the other about half-way 
along. Handing the bundle of nylon to Gwen, he said, "Take this! Teach this 
girl to do as I tell her!" 

Without a moment's hesitation, Gwen began to smite the young girl's body and 
thighs with the knots of the stockings; the girl resisted, trying to dodge 
out of the way and to seize the whip as it swooped down upon her. Her 
resistance encouraged Gwen, who paused a moment to wrap the tops of the 
garments around her fist, so that the whip was shorter and more easy to 
handle; then she resumed the attack with a ferocity which thrilled Merivale 
and turned Helen into a whimpering mass of bruises. 

The only thought in Gwen's mind was that she was so pleasing Merivale that, 
once she'd beaten her rival into unconsciousness, he would kick the 
prostrate one out of the way and give Gwen the most exciting ride she'd ever 
had; she wanted that; she needed it badly;-she'd needed it when she went up 
there to the grain store, but this thrashing of this luscious child had 
increased her need to a frenzied craving, to a madness. Gwen was as one 
possessed by demons. The child had fallen to the floor; Gwen kneeled over 
her, pummeling her now with her fists, the stockings trailing ineffectually 
behind; she pounded the stomach and breasts of her victim, and occasionally 
she relaxed a fist and with it smote Helen's face, deriving a savage 
pleasure from seeing the blood which trickled down her chin. Gwen ceased to 
see, to be aware of anything except defenseless flesh and pounding fists; 
Helen had no fight left in her, and Merivale saw, in a flash, that only 
immediate action would prevent his having a murder to his count. He grabbed 
Gwen, and she turned to him, holding him in an ecstasy of desire. She 
wrapped her naked legs around his thighs, and agitated her butt, going 
through the motions of fornication; she twined her arms about his neck and 
placed her wide open, trembling mouth over his, her tongue breaking down the 
barrier of his teeth and filling his mouth with flesh. 

Helen stirred, and he turned his head to her; her arms were extended towards 
him in a passionate plea, her mouth was open and quivering, her tongue 
pulsating like a little snake; her eyes were wild, and the skin of her 
cheeks so tightly drawn that her face seemed transparent and her cheek-bones 
gave the impression of wanting to break out from their covering. Her whole 
body, battered as it was, was in movement; she writhed sensuously and her 
arms and legs jerked nervously, desperately calling to him, as she crawled 
towards where he lay with Gwen. 

Merivale disengaged himself from Gwen with a brutal gesture, and she was 
obliged to remain where he had cast her, knowing herself beaten and afraid 
to protest. He bounded over to Helen, and as he halted before her, his penis 
appeared between his hands, and both women, who knew it well, gasped 
admiringly as they observed its proud, inflamed throbbing. He fell to his 
knees, and with one motion thrust himself into her to the full depth; a 
violent tremor passed through her, there was an explosion within her body 
and she was at the very summit of joy. For half a minute she was limp under 
him, as he worked himself out of her and back into her with a slow, strong 
rhythm; then she came to life again. She ached from head to foot, such had 
been the ferocity of Gwen's thrashing of her; but there was a greater ache 
within her;-she ached for Merivale, and he was there to assuage her need of 
him. Gwen was wide-eyed, as she witnessed Helen's response to his thrusts 
and withdrawals: as he thrust, she shivered savagely into him, and as he 
withdrew, she drove him backwards. Obsessed, she thumped his stomach with 
her knees; her teeth sought his throat and met the collar of his shirt; her 
lips were withdrawn from her teeth, which tore his collar and sunk 
themselves into the flesh where his neck met his shoulder. Within a few 
minutes their thrashing bodies had moved five yards along the floor of the 
store. Then their movement was limited by their collision with the stout 
legs of a heavy table. She was between him and the table; his every thrust 
bashed her back against its crude legs, and she was powerless to save 
herself. Helen emitted a dry, nasal, almost noiseless scream; her movements 
increased in their frenzy and then died down until she wobbled beneath him 
as though she were a straw-filled dummy. His spunk flew into her, and he 
joined her in inertia. Lying, writhing a couple of yards away, Gwen felt a 
sudden spasm within her, followed by a shaking of her body; she felt 
moisture upon her thighs, and she picked up a handful of rice with which she 
rubbed the cream from her thighs. Exhausted, she looked across at the 
others, a great bitterness inside her; there was no life in them. They were 
in the stupor peculiar to the human animal whose passion of the flesh has 
been gratified. 

Gwen pulled on Helen's panties, leaving her own, for no reason, for Helen. 
Then she put on the remainder of her own clothes, except her stockings which 
were in ribbons. She stood for a moment looking down at Merivale and Helen 
Westcott; lowering her face towards them, she spat venomously in their 
faces, which were touching. Merivale didn't stir, but Helen turned a smiling 
visage up to Gwen and then slithered back into contented slumber. 

Gwen returned to her office. 

 18. 

Jean and Arwel were far from enthusiastic over Gwen's plans to hand over the 
boy's piano tuition to a professional teacher; it smacked of specialisation, 
whereas they liked to divide their leisure hours between playing the piano, 
listening to the radio, sketching and painting; but Gwen had decided that 
she was worthy of a famous son, and that her deserts would best be served by 
his becoming a great pianist. Her determination was fortified by her meeting 
with Taylor Beecroft, and she was quite prepared to engage an incompetent 
teacher for her son if by so doing she brought herself into frequent contact 
with a man after whom she lusted. 

Having bathed, she put on her most becoming dress, and devoted more time 
than usual to her make-up and coiffure; and, before leaving the house, she 
warned Jean that she would probably return home late or not at all. 

During the evening, after hearing on the wireless a record of Giacomo 
Lauri-Volpi singing a tenor aria from Giordano's Andrea Chenier, Arwel 
informed Jean that he was going to be an operatic tenor, when he grew up; 
and he asked her to give him singing lessons. He seemed so downcast at her 
explaining that she knew nothing about singing, and could not teach him, 
that she drew him to her and kissed his mouth tenderly. He turned his head 
away, embarrassed by her warmth, but she took his chin gently between her 
fingers and raised his face towards hers; his eyes held hers for a second 
before he lowered them shyly. She held him close, and touched his lips with 
her tongue; his lips parted instinctively, and he clung to her, thrilling 
her by the pressure of his young body against hers. 

Until bedtime they sketched, and she was shocked by the accuracy with which 
he drew a man and woman lying naked on a disheveled bed; she was moved to 
wonder by his brilliant reproduction of a well-developed woman in a pose of 
abandon. 

Meanwhile, at Beecroft's house, Gwen was cruelly disappointed to find that 
her prey lived with his sister Naomi, so there seemed little hope of the 
intimate hour for which she'd hoped. There was, in relation to Arwel's 
studies, nothing to be discussed which could not have been settled in five 
minutes at lunch-time, and Gwen feared that Naomi might, therefore, guess 
her real motive for coming. In fact, both Taylor and Naomi regarded her 
visit as quite normal. 

They joined forces to persuade Gwen to accept half-past-four to 
half-past-five as the hour of his daily visit to her house; Gwen insisted 
that Arwel's lesson must take place later, ostensibly so that she could 
observe her son's progress, but actually because she intended that Taylor 
should not have left her house every day before she returned from her 
office. Her idea was that, immediately after the lesson, whilst Jean was 
putting Arwel to bed, she should have Taylor to herself for half an hour; 
ultimately, Taylor bowed to his welcome client's determination, while Naomi 
excused herself to prepare a cup of tea. 

The moment Naomi left, Gwen sat down on the arm of Taylor's chair, saying: 

"I'm glad we're alone at last; I came to spend an evening with you alone." 

He drew her gently down onto his knees and bestowed on her lips a long, 
sensual kiss. His hands touched her face, and stroked the length of her 
body, lingering around her breasts, her buttocks, her belly and thighs. He 
kissed her again. 

"Quick!" she hissed, "Take me! Take me somewhere!" 

In his astonishment he could neither move nor speak. 

"Your bedroom!" she suggested, and he shook his head negatively and 
miserably. 

She pulled him to his feet. 

"Outside! Take me out ... for a walk ... for ... " 

She completed the sentence with a facial expression full of passionate 
promise and persuasive pleading. She grasped him tightly about the neck, 
kissed him savagely, madly, biting his lip ferociously. 

Fearing that Naomi would return, Taylor endeavored to disengage himself; 
Gwen lost her mental balance; she slid her feet between Taylor's, and 
relaxed completely, with the unconscious intention of bringing him off his 
physical balance. He stumbled, and was able to regain equilibrium only after 
Gwen's full weight had fallen onto a small table, converting it into a pile 
of sticks. 

Hearing the crash, Naomi dashed into the room; the fall had returned Gwen to 
some control of herself, and she had risen to her feet before Naomi's 
entrance. The moment Miss Beecroft saw the splinters of the table and the 
abashed expression on the faces of her brother and Mrs. James, she knew 
exactly what had happened, and she called herself a blind fool for failing 
to weigh-up Mrs. James earlier. 

The table which had ceased to exist had been an exceptionally beautiful 
example of Chinese workmanship, very delicately constructed in 
highly-polished black wood, but strong; it had been in the Beecroft family 
considerably more than a century, and during that time it had demanded no 
repairing, no maintenance whatsoever. Paradoxically, it was fragile and as 
firm as a rock. 

Naomi was so horrified and bewildered that she could not find words to 
express her indignation, at first. After her hatred had relented, she felt 
in her heart an immense compassion for the two miserable-looking vandals. 

She moved quickly to where Gwen was standing in her wretchedness, and she 
embraced the ashamed one fervently. After a moment, Naomi turned to her 
brother, bathed him in a smile through whose sadness he discerned complete 
forgiveness, and said: 

"Let yourself go, darling; Debauch her! Here! Now! Forgive me!" 

As she spoke, Naomi gently pushed Gwen towards Taylor. The absence of 
response on the part of both Gwen and Taylor roused her ire; God! She pitied 
them! Yes! Gwen especially was a pathetic patiently until the end of time, 
whilst they stared blankly over each other's shoulder? Or did they expect 
her to withdraw discreetly to the kitchen and her preparation of tea? No! 
Naomi was in her own sitting-room; it was as much hers as Taylor's; she'd 
remain there until she chose to leave. 

A full minute of stillness passed, as Taylor and Gwen faced each other, one 
pace apart, with Naomi standing behind Gwen, willing her to cut down that 
pace to nothingness, the nothingness of taking and giving, the nothingness 
and the everything of nakedness and of passionate man-and-woman 
togetherness, oblivious of everything and everybody, and more than ever 
aware of all things and all people. 

The petrified trio remained under a spell. Then, gradually, Naomi reduced 
the distance between her belly and Gwen's bottom to nothing. From behind 

Gwen, she flung her right arm round Gwen's neck the two women were 
cheek-to-cheek. 

Naomi's left hand began to undo the buttons down the front of Gwen's frock; 
Taylor's hands, which had hung limply at his sides, were brought and, with 
her forearm, she forced back the other's head so that Gwen's head was on her 
shoulder, and suddenly in front of his face: he turned and fled from the 
room and the house. Gwen's move to pursue him was hindered by the tightening 
of Naomi's grip upon her; they heard the slamming of the front door, and 
Gwen surrendered herself to Naomi, who, with excited, nervous, hungry 
motions, continued the stripping of her; as one of Gwen's garments after 
another fell to the floor, Naomi remained behind her. Gwen's stockings slid 
half down to her ankles, and she kicked off first one shoe and then the 
other; then, wearing nothing but her stockings, she permitted herself to be 
lowered tenderly onto the frothy, white sheepskin rug before the fire; 
Naomi's caresses set her blood on fire, and she writhed shudderingly when 
Naomi's mouth met hers and their tongues exchanged kisses. Gwen closed her 
eyes, rolled over onto her stomach, and, her whole body a quiver of desire, 
she beat the rug with her clenched fists; quickly Naomi undressed, and, 
naked, she turned Gwen over onto her back, and threw herself upon her. 

Gwen received her with passionate embraces and deep kisses; belly-to-belly, 
in a welter of to-and-fro, nearly blind with gratified lust, they passed a 
few minutes, first one on top and then the other, not by design, but simply 
in the thrilling abandon of love. 

Naomi groaned several times, every fibre of her body singing the highest 
note in the scale of ecstasy, and then she swooned. Happily, Gwen buried her 
nose and mouth in her lover's steaming loins. 

 19. 

Merivale used Helen twice after Gwen left them in the grain-store, and 
arrived home so much later than usual that he and Eileen quarrelled 
violently. When his face turned purple, and he collapsed on the floor, she 
left him, and went up to her room to shed tears over his infidelity, of 
which she was convinced. Several hours later, she found him crumpled up 
exactly where she'd left him, and she hastened to summon a doctor. The 
creature which emerged from Merivale's sixteen-hour stupor was a paralyzed 
idiot, for whose survival little hope was entertainable. 

Godfrey Irving took charge of the firm for the duration of Merivale's 
illness. He was a gentleman in his late fifties, a relative of Merivale's 
wife, and of considerable social standing; proud and politely arrogant, he 
had, during his many years in Merivale's employ, meticulously avoided all 
but the most indispensable contacts with his colleagues. An expert in 
statistics, finance and commercial law, he had been answerable only to 
Merivale himself, and had taken care to know nothing about the practical 
aspect of the business. However, he found that the various departments 
operated efficiently with little interference from him, and he rejoiced in 
the withdrawal from the firm's activities of an employer whom he considered 
inferior to himself in intelligence and social standing. 

Merivale's death, after an illness of six months, left Eileen in complete 
possession of the firm, and Irving in control. Irving had ever been to her a 
sort of God, and she was grateful to her husband for dying and thereby 
allowing him to occupy a position worthy of his talents. Merivale and Irving 
had always disliked one another, and the latter had rarely been Eileen's 
guest whilst her husband lived; but, as a widow, after six months with a 
totally helpless man, she invited Irving to dinner frequently, for the 
declared purpose of talking business and the real purpose of seducing him. 
He accepted her invitations, hoping to use their tte-...-tte dinners as a 
prelude to sleeping with her. Neither, however, succeeded in conveying 
willingness to the other, so that after a few weeks their intimate dinners 
ceased. 

 20. 

Knowing nothing of what happened between Gwen and Naomi after his flight 
from his house, Taylor was surprised by Gwen's attitude to him whenever they 
met at her house; she was friendly, never failed to enquire about Naomi and 
to insist on his conveying her love to her, and seemed to take a genuine 
interest in Arwel's studies. In fact she spoke about all sorts of things, 
but never about her visit to his house. And she made no attempt to seduce 
him or to convey the impression that she herself was seducible; in fact she 
was loveable, in the pure, unerotic sense of the word, and he found himself 
attracted to her in a way which left their bodies out of account;-something 
akin to platonic love, and yet it was quite definitely a man's love of a 
woman. 

Puzzled, he tried to explain the situation to Naomi one evening, on his 
return from giving Arwel his lesson. Seeking for the right words, his manner 
was nervous, his hands trembled, he stammered. 

Finally he said: 

" ... and yet, I wonder if she does feel as I do ... this cool, unfevered 
devotion. Or is her desire as urgent as ever? Is she perhaps feigning 
coldness, because she knows my feelings have changed towards her, and she 
doesn't want to embarrass me by making demands I don't want to meet? But, no 
... a woman as brazenly hot as she was that night has no such scruples ... 
she wants a man, she takes him, whether he wants her or not; No! She's 
changed, as I have! We've found that rare thing ... poetic love ... the pure 
substance of cool, undemanding love ... " 

"If only I'd left you in peace!" she groaned, "You'd have enjoyed her, and 
she you; clean healthy sweat, sperm and ecstasy! Oh, forgive me, Tay!" 

Sobbing, she threw herself into his arms, and recounted, in the finest 
detail, all that had happened after his running out of the house. She lived 
again that first evening, stripping Gwen and herself, combing with her 
fingers the hair of Gwen's loins, until her fingers found Gwen's soft, 
moist, oily warmth, and her fingers were inside. 

Writhing in frenzied, joyous agony she found Taylor's mouth with her lips, 
and his tongue flamed in her mouth, so that her panties scorched her. She 
seized his hand, and thrust it imperiously upwards under her skirts; his 
hand tugged at the garment which burned her, and the heat of her loins 
concentrated itself in one spot. 

"Gwen," she groaned, hugging him to her as he became soft. 

 21. 

"But, Mr. Baker, why has Dent waited so long? Mrs. James has been in charge 
of his department nearly three years." 

"I know she has, Mr. Irving; but Percy ... Mr. Dent ... and I too ... 
complained to Mr. Merivale at the time, but without any effect. When you 
took over, we didn't like to bother you until you'd ... sort of got used to 
your new responsibilities; and Mr. Dent seemed quite sure that you'd put 
things right without any ... prompting from us." 

"Why should I reverse a decision made by Mr. Merivale ... I mean, this 
particular decision?" 

George Baker, who had succeeded Goddard in charge of all buying of 
merchandise, was between two fires. On the one side was Percy Dent, whose 
case it was his duty to plead with conviction, and on the other side was 
Godfrey Irving, who wasn't going to like some of the things Percy had told 
him to say. 

"Well, Mr. Dent insists Mr. Merivale had a personal interest in Mrs. James, 
and that he promoted her out of friendship. He thought that, as soon as Mr. 
Merivale handed over to you, changes would be made. I'm stating Mr. Dent's 
case in particular, because he's talking of asking the Union to look into 
it, and he's been the most direct victim; you see, he'd been 
second-in-charge of Cereals before Mrs. James came back; he helped to teach 
her the work, and then she became his superior. So he's more directly 
involved than anybody else; but there's ... general dissatisfaction." 

"It's generally supposed then that I have neglected to rectify an injustice? 
No, don't answer that! I'll look into this matter, hear what Mrs. James 
thinks about it, and keep you informed. But you'd better warm Mr. Dent that 
I doubt very much whether I shall actually demote Mrs. James; all I can 
promise is that, if his charges appear to be founded, I shall try to promote 
him to the position he'd normally have had ... perhaps create something for 
him, but I don't see how for the time being. Tell him to be patient!" 

As soon as Baker had left him, Irving sent for Gwen, for whose benefit he 
summarized his earlier conversation with Baker. 

"When I took charge." he added, "I did nothing about it ... I thought the 
whole thing had been forgotten; but ... " 

"But why should I be penalized for their stupidity, their cupidity and the 
infantine jealousy! I've worked and studied to become what I am; I've 
worried about the job. Whilst others left the office in the evenings without 
further thought for the work in hand; and now I'm used to authority and to 
the salary it implies. It wouldn't be fair to reduce my salary to that of a 
simple clerk!" 

"Believe me, Mrs. James, I see this thing in more or less the same light; 
but can I afford to have a whole department, and ultimately perhaps the 
whole establishment, poisoned by the suspicions to which your colleagues 
have been giving tongues? I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'd like 
you to have the complete picture, so that you can judge for yourself the 
difficulty of my position. The men and women of your department believe that 
you owe your position to favors which you granted to Mr. Merivale ... " 

"Mr. Irving!" Gwen feigned outraged innocence. 

She had long suspected that some of her colleagues had divined the nature of 
her relationship with Merivale, but never previously had any one given voice 
to such a conjecture in her presence. 

"Please don't be offended, Mrs. James! I'm not expressing my own opinions; 
what makes the situation more difficult still is that, underlying what Mr. 
Taylor told me was the inference (not his, you know, but that of his 
subordinates) that I have taken over not only Mr. Merivale's commercial 
responsibilities, but also his alleged liaison with you ... " 

This time, Gwen's "Mr. Irving!" had in it nothing of pretence; it was really 
a tremendous surprise to her that such an idea should be current. 

"Mrs. James," he continued, "I don't mind the truth, even though it be 
defamatory of my own reputation, but I'm determined that this lie shall be 
killed. It is, if I may say so without offending your susceptibilities, an 
honor they do me, a compliment they pay me, to suggest that an old man like 
me should be the lover of the love nest and most seductive of women ... " 

"Really, Mr. Irving," she said, "You are most gallant ... You are also very 
modest." 

They both laughed, and he spluttered, "Now who's being gallant?" 

Their laughter ceased, and he said, with great intensity, "Seriously, Mrs. 
James, I do draw the line at my being maligned in my innocence; and, as I 
see it, the rumor will continue to spread and to be enlarged upon as long as 
you remain with us, in a position of authority and esteem exceeding that 
occupied by persons who are your seniors in age and service ... " 

"So the lie must be killed! Then you'll either have to kill it by demoting 
me, which would be cruel and unjust, or you can kill it by letting the rumor 
continue to circulate and by living up to the claims which the rumor makes 
upon your behalf." 

Aghast, Irving rose to his feet, and moved round his table towards her. 

She posed a hand on his forearm, and he gripped her arms avowing that she 
was as ripe a fruit as man ever plucked. 

"Pluck me then! And forget about Percy Dent!" 

Knowing now how she'd ensnared Merivale, he was willing to enter the trap 
himself. His arms encircled her waist and shoulders, and his fastidious lips 
saw no indignity in kissing the mouth of the late Leonard Merivale's 
strumpet. 

Fearful lest his secretary should enter his office, be ushered Gwen into the 
adjoining water-closet, a tiny cabinet in which two people constituted a 
crowd. Closing the door behind them, he pressed her to the wall, his mouth 
locked in her lips, his hands squeezing her buttocks and breasts through the 
stuff of her vestments. She'd entered into the new relationship with Irving 
to safeguard her position in the firm, but his kiss drove all such 
considerations from her mind; she was all woman, all flesh and boiling 
blood, pathetically in need of the arms which held her, the hands and lips 
which explored her, and the rebellious prisoner whose stirring she felt 
through the tweed of his trousers. She set the captive free, and turned 
faint at the sight of its short, thick, rocky determination; living's hands 
made her flesh tingle, as they groped for the waist-band of her panties; so 
excitedly did he tremble in his impatience that she finally removed the 
garment herself. Lowering his posterior to the lavatory seat, he pulled her 
to him, making her stand astride his thighs, one foot on each side of the 
pot. The crown of his phallus touched the lips of her sex, which shed a tear 
of joy upon it as she sat down on his thighs, forcing his baton into her 
until the hair of his testicle-bag tickled her butt; he stretched her wider 
than she'd ever been forced before, and it was such sweet suffering! After 
rising and falling upon him a few times, she was so loose upon his pole 
that, to intensify her possession of him, she swung her legs together, 
inside his thighs, and grasped the water-pipe at his back in order to pull 
herself deeper onto him. Pushing with her feet, and bending her arms, she 
rode him to the edge of the supreme pleasure, falling with him into the sea 
of satisfaction, whose foam spattered the inside of her; Irving had 
undressed neither her nor himself, since he wished to return quickly to his 
office, ever fearful that his secretary would notice his absence; but it was 
so pleasant lying there, his pacified penis soaking in the oils of the 
magnificent nymph whose butt filled his resting hands, that he dozed until 
the re-awakening of his mascuhnity within her loins caused her to stir. She 
raised herself, and strands of shining mucus stretched from his sex to hers; 
he got up at the invitation of her arms, and, after a kiss which re-kindled 
their fires, she turned her back to him, lowered her head into the pot, and 
presented to him a well-fleshed posterior, covered by a skirt; he lifted 
this veil, and went into her again. Her disarranged hair cascaded into the 
water, as he forced her shoulders down and pulled her rear in to his belly; 
her sighs and groans came to him from the depths of the pot trumpet, and he 
heard the hsp of her copious vaginal oils as his penis dived deep into her 
and re-emerged prior to deeper probing. Her buttocks trembled into him, 
whilst her legs bent and straightened at the knees, eager to drive her 
tenderest parts into ever more delirious contact with the rock of him. He 
was not aware of his ejection of cream until it was actually happening; with 
a sigh of contentment she received of him and gave of herself, her entire 
being transformed into sweet jelly; her head rose, and slowly moved 
backwards until it rested on his tired shoulder. From her heart and blood 
she whispered: "Thank you!" 

Re-adjusting his dress, he regained his office, and she put on her clothes 
in haste, sensing his anxiety she should leave without undue delay. 

 22. 

The white lambs' wool carpet in Godfrey living's bedroom was adorned with a 
large diamond of shimmering sunlight in whose brilliance stood Gwen, her 
naked body aquiver with the sun's warmth. 

His appetite appeased, he beckoned her to the bed, and raised anew the 
subject of Dent's complaint of some weeks previously. During the ensuing 
conversation he informed her that his plans for creating some new post to 
which he could promote Dent had met with the disapproval of Mrs. Merivale, 
and he asked: 

"Couldn't you take a few weeks off work, and then come back with a request, 
on medical grounds, for some less strenuous, less responsible position? Dent 
could take your place in charge of the department, and you could take it 
easy in some clerical job." 

"And keep my present salary?" she asked incredulously. 

"No, of course not," he replied, stroking her thighs under her flimsy wrap, 
" ... but, strictly between ourselves, I personally would see to it that you 
were no worse off." 

Aghast, she asked: "You'd give me money? ... out of your own pocket?" 

"Why ... yes!" he stammered. 

In a fury she hurled herself upon him, her claws striking at his face. A 
quick movement of the head spared him the gashes she sought to inflict. He 
seized her hands, laughing, and forced her back onto the bed; writhing 
helplessly under him, she spat in his face. Spinning her over onto her 
belly, he hauled her across his knees and spanked her soundly. 

Outside the room, Delys, living's maid-servant, stuffed her handkerchief 
into her mouth to stifle her laughter. Delys had never understood why her 
employer brought other women into his house when he had a young, personable 
maid who would have been happy to share his bed; and she rejoiced in Gwen's 
suffering. 

 23. 

Gwen was worried about Percy Dent's threat to involve his Trades Union in 
his dispute with Merivales, since she couldn't be absolutely certain that 
there wasn't someone who knew of the favors she'd granted Merivale in 
exchange for her promotion; but Percy himself was as unsure of his case for 
the prosecution as she was of her defense; Irving had informed George Baker 
of Mrs. Merivale's refusal to tolerate the creation of a hitherto 
nonexistent position for Percy Dent, and of his own determination that Mrs. 
James should not suffer demotion on mere vague suspicions of favoritism. 
Percy realized that, whilst most of his colleagues shared his conviction 
that Gwen had bought advancement of Leonard Merivale with her body, no one 
had ever admitted having seen them together other than in the normal course 
of duty. Outside the office they'd never been seen together, as far as Percy 
was aware; so the arguments he could present to the Union officials were 
backed by suspicions of the flimisiest substance. 

"Look at it this way!" George Baker argued, "As far as any of us knows, Gwen 
is a first-class example of a well-behaved woman. Apart from our suspicions, 
no breath of scandal has ever touched her name, either during Trevor's 
life-time or the many years of her widowhood. It doesn't seem reasonable, 
somehow, that an otherwise highly moral woman, however ambitious, would sell 
herself for a bit of power and a few pounds per week ... " 

"So even you are beginning to believe that she was promoted over my head 
merely because she's more capable and because Merivale's heart bled for the 
widow with a child to keep and nothing but her widow's pension?" 

"No, lad! I'm just looking at this thing from the Union's point of view. If 
you were dealing now with a flighty tart, well ... it's not hard to believe 
that, being a trollop anyway, she'd make her vice pay dividends." 

Turning away from George Baker, Percy said, in the anger of one whose own 
conviction is weakening: 

"There are honest-to-God trollops and there are really smart ones, and I'm 
going to prove that she's one of the smart ones." 

With that, Percy went up to the condemned grain store, his face clouded by 
his helpless anger. Finding Gwen in the store, alone, his face darkened 
still further. 

"You do look upset, Percy," she said with genuine compassion. 

"I was thinking about you," he growled, and she sought to ease the situation 
with a coquettish: 

"That's a charming compliment." 

Knowing what manner of thoughts about her brought ire to his eyes, she 
sought to soften his attitude towards her, hoping that she might at least 
postpone his discussing his discontent with the officials of his Union. 

"They weren't very complimentary thoughts," he replied coldly. 

"Frequently," she said, her voice low and caressing, "the thoughts which a 
man thinks will offend a woman are just the ones she takes as compliments." 

"For example?" 

"When a girl turns to look back at a man who's given her the wolf-whistle, 
he usually thinks she's going to call a policeman, whereas she's really 
acknowledging his flattery." 

"I see what you mean; but I've given you no wolf-whistle." 

"Of course not," she replied, invitingly, "but I don't have that effect on 
you, or do I?" 

Oh, we may be rivals, even enemies, but I won't deny I find you damned 
attractive." 

Without a word, she put her arms about his neck and bestowed upon his now 
victoriously smiling lips a long, tender kiss which developed into one 
devoid of tenderness, a kiss endowed with a ferocity which created frenzy in 
his blood. She guided his hand to her breasts, and made him knead them with 
all the combined strength of his hand and hers; his other hand fondled her 
thighs beneath her skirts. 

"Not waste a minute!" she gasped, her eyes closed, her head swaying 
backwards, her loins assaulting his. 

Percy knew she was his for the having, and his need for her was imperative. 
But no! Someone might come in, and all he'd worked for would be lost ... 
nearly twenty years of devoted service, and then dismissal for fornicating 
on the firm's premises! Besides, he'd proved to himself part of his 
suspicions ... she wasn't a paragon of virtue, in fact she was a woman so 
lustful as to be a danger to herself. Patience would allow him to exploit 
her sensuality; he must make her wait until he could have her in 
circumstances enabling him to persuade her to reminisce about her other 
lovers, about Merivale. 

"Calm, my honey," he cooed, "It's too risky here." 

"Please, Percy! I've got to ... Percy! Behind this bench! The pile of sacks! 
Quite safe! I know, I've often ... " 

Her hysteria changed to speechless fear, as he dug his thumbs into the flesh 
of her shoulders. 

"You've often ... ? What! With whom?" 

In his eyes she saw tenacity and danger, as he lowered his distorted face to 
hers, spitting out: 

"Your house ten o'clock this evening! Tell me what you started to say, and 
I'll take you to bed; otherwise, you can go to Hell." 

So that's why no one ever saw Merivale and Gwen together. During innocent 
tours of inspection, it was here in the condemned grain store and perhaps in 
other stores that she'd paid the price of her preferment over Percy, even 
having her pile of sacks, hidden behind the bench, invisible to the chance 
intruder. 

She rubbed her belly up and down against his, and her hands sought his 
penis. 

"Have me now, Percy! Tonight as well! Whenever you want!" 

His penis stiffened, and he feared he would be unable to avoid taking her 
immediately unless he escaped; as he fled from her, she grasped his arm, his 
presence of absolute necessity to her. He turned abruptly, slipped one foot 
behind her feet, and sharply tapped her shoulders; she fell heavily to the 
dusty floor with a flurry of skirts, and he made good his escape. 

 24. 

During ten years at school Arwel shone in languages, English literature, 
music and art; in the other academic subjects he was a pupil of average 
achievements, whilst at wood-work and in sports and athletics he was the 
outstanding duffer. At home he was almost permanently in the company of Jean 
who sought no friend or interest outside the boy with whom she devoted her 
leisure hours to listening to music and especially opera on the radio and 
gramophone, to playing the piano, singing, writing poetry and painting 
pictures. 

One of their rare quarrels resulted from her rebuking him for insisting that 
he was going to be an operatic tenor, when he grew up; he was a member of a 
church choir, but not for religious reasons, and his pleasing soprano voice 
had impressed the organist, who gave him private tuition free of charge; but 
Jean warned him one evening that he would probably develop a baritone voice 
within a few years, and that he ought to rid himself of his tenor complex. 

In his stubborn refusal to accept what his adolescent reason told him was at 
least a possibility, he said some very bitter things to her; and later, 
tears burning his eyes, he begged forgiveness of her. 

She gave his mouth a kiss of pardon, and chuckled deeply at his blushes, 
sticking out her tongue at him. When he followed suit, she kissed his 
tongue, her lips parted so that their tongues caressed one another; he 
shuddered and instinctively pressed his body tighter to hers. Her hands 
found his buttocks, which she pressed with both hands, holding him close for 
a minute. 

At that moment, Gwen entered the house. 

During the evening meal she informed them that she was expecting a visitor 
at ten o'clock, and that they would both have to be out of the way when he 
arrived; she also hinted that the guest would spend the night in the house. 

After the washing up, Gwen went to her room, to rest for an hour in 
preparation for the active night for which she was hoping; Jean worked on a 
series of poems which Arwel had asked her to write in order that he could 
set them to music; and he devoted himself to his painting of "The Devil's 
Triil" which represented a wild-eyed fidler whose violin had as its body the 
skull of a human being, and as its bow a white lily from whose petals fell 
drops of blood. 

Shortly before ten o'clock, Gwen came down again, and Arwel and Jean retired 
to their respective bedrooms. 

Sitting alone Gwen suddenly conceived the idea of stilling Percy's 
suspicions by citing as the lover she'd been wont to meet in the grains 
store a certain Charlie Groves, a laborer who'd left Merivales a few weeks 
previously to take on a job at 

Lornchester. Percy wouldn't see the man again, so there was little danger of 
her deception being discovered. 

She ran eagerly to the door in answer to Percy's knock, and he asked 
immediately: "Well? Who was it?" 

"Relax, Percy!" she coaxed, trying to flow into his arms, "We're going to 
enjoy ourselves." 

"Not unless you answer my question!" 

"But ... I can't betray the man who's given me so much pleasure." 

"Very well!" he said, turning as if to go, his blood crying out so hungrily 
for her that, had she not intercepted him, he would have turned in his 
tracks, groveled at her feet, and begged her to be his mistress on her own 
terms; but Gwen, too eager, as ever, threw herself in his path, beseeching 
him to stay. 

He raised her roughly to her feet, and demanded to know the name of the man 
she'd entertained in the grains store. 

"I can't tell you, Percy." 

"You mean you won't?" 

"Very well, I refuse." , Arwel and Jean heard the resounding smack as 
Percy's palm came into brutal contact with Gwen's cheek. 

Gwen recoiled, raising the back of her hand to her burning face; as if 
dazed, she wandered into the parlor, hoping he would follow. He did. 

He seized her arms and hauled her to her feet; in response to her muteness 
he spat in her eyes, and she lowered her head in shame. His fierce grip on 
her arms caused her to wince, and a smile of satisfaction spread across his 
visage; he forced her to her knees, jerked her head backwards by her hair 
and commanded: 

"Tell me who it was! Then stay on your knees, and beg me to do what you want 
me to do to you!" 

To provoke him to further violence, she made no answer. He flung her 
backwards, and she fell heavily, her agony announcing that he'd pulled the 
top of her head off. On his knees beside her, he flicked her skirts up, and 
delivered a stinging blow to her bare thigh, watching, hot-lipped and 
dry-throated, as the shape of his hand on her pink flesh deepened to an ugly 
violet. She raised herself slightly, and tried to turn to him, to draw him 
to her; desire for him wracked her body. He pushed her away, and his 
finger-nails swooped down to her thigh immediately above the bruise; her leg 
stiffened instinctively, and his savage nails plowed four bloody furrows 
across the inflamed skin. She pushed her hand into her mouth to stifle a 
scream. 

His hands went to the waist-band of her panties; peeling the garment off, he 
deliberately caused it to chafe her wound, and, when the heel of her mule 
caught the flimsy silk, he tugged impatiently and ripped the panties. He 
turned her over on her back, thrust both his hands up between her thighs, 
and tried to force all his fingers into her vaginal passage; failing this, 
he put in two fingers of each hand, and pulled in two directions so that the 
moist, stinking tunnel was stretched to the point of excruciating pain. She 
groaned, delighting in his cruelty, and he released his hold. 

"Who was it?" he asked; and the look of disappointment with which he greeted 
her "Charlie Groves" told her he'd wanted to hear the name of Leonard 
Merivale. 

Incredulous, he insisted: 

"You'd never let a big, ignorant navvy mess you about!" 

"The more uncouth they are, the better I like 'em." 

He pulled her to him; her trembling fingers found him, and pushed him into 
herself. 

The following morning, Jean found Gwen in the parlor wearing only tattered 
stockings; Percy Dent was naked, but his shirt lay on top of his chest; both 
were asleep. Jean gently squeezed a couple of drops of sperm out of the pipe 
of his penis, and he woke up and drew her to him, his phallus pulsing into 
life as his hands found her bare thighs beneath her skirts. She allowed 
herself to be dragged into a half lying posture, submitting to his kisses 
and to his pulling her panties down to her knees; his hands trembled about 
her belly and thighs, until one hand thrust itself up between her thighs, 
and two fingers were plunged into her, withdrawn slowly and then swiftly, 
powerfully dug into her again; she felt the moisture of her vagina, she 
heard the sound of his fingers chafing her sensitive, oiled flesh, and her 
nostrils were assailed by the sickly-sweet odor of herself. Her mouth 
swooped down upon his, and she kissed him greedily, her tongue quivering in 
his mouth; he held her to him, and she rolled over, so that he was astride 
her eagerly parted thighs; her shoulders propped against the stout leg of 
the table, she watched fascinated as the throbbing helmet of his copulative 
organ parted the lips of her. Half his column disappeared within her, and a 
shiver of delight passed through her; a cruel glint in his eyes, he pulled 
back and she saw the white, creamy film over that half of his penis which 
had explored her body. His testicles were between her knees, and she felt 
his moist penis against her thigh; demons distorted his face. With one 
strong, ruthless plunge he buried his hard spear of throbbing flesh deep 
into her agonized loins, and in her avidity she thrust herself towards him, 
into him, willing him to force more of himself into her, wordlessly 
imploring him to inflict greater suffering upon her; but, as he withdrew for 
a third assault she jerked her left haunch upwards, unseating him from his 
position astride her. He fell, as she'd intended, upon Gwen, who was 
startled out of the deep sleep of one who has been deliriously fatigued; 
Jean sprang to her feet, adjusting her panties in readiness for flight. Gwen 
smiled: either 

Percy had had Jean or he'd tried and hadn't been instantly 
rebuffed;-whichever was the case, Gwen was relieved that Jean seemed to be 
developing into a normal woman after all. 

Percy tried to escape from Gwen's clutches, convinced that, if he could lay 
hands on Jean before she left the room, he'd quickly have her back in a 
state of eagerness for him; but Gwen had two reasons for not letting him 
loose. She too believed Jean would offer him no resistance if he touched her 
again before the fire in her had subsided, but she believed the girl had 
some reason for wanting to dominate her passions for the time being, and she 
intended that Jean's wishes should be respected; furthermore, Percy's 
impatience to get at Jean indicated that he hadn't already had her, and so 
was in an advanced stage of frustration from which Gwen hoped to profit. 
With a friendly smile, devoid of coquetry, Jean left the room; Percy made a 
final effort to follow, but Gwen kept him for herself. 

Jean re-appeared in the doorway almost immediately. 

Gwen and Percy saw her leaning, relaxed, against the door-post, but their 
desire for each other was too intense to allow her presence to deter them 
from their sport. Percy's first few thrusts into Gwen, and her frenzied 
response delighted Jean, but delight became pain, hot, sweating agony, and 
regret that she'd given Gwen what could have been hers; her whole body 
quivered with longing for what Gwen was enjoying; she emitted a series of 
sobs, and gripped the door-post with her hands. She pressed her forehead so 
hard against the wood that, for a moment, all the pain concentrated itself 
above her eyes; then the pain flowed back into her loins. Holding the 
door-post, she bent and stretched her legs, rubbing her belly and thighs up 
and down the woodwork, as she observed the final mad antics of Gwen and 
Percy; Gwen's groans became a hoarse scream, and her ecstatic wriggling died 
down to a mere twitching of her legs; Percy's flame was extinguished almost 
simultaneously with Gwen's; and Jean clung motionless to the doorpost, 
feeling a trickling of moisture down her thighs. 

Afterwards Jean's strength returned to her, and there was within her a new 
upsurge of desire. The sound of heavy breathing told her that Gwen and Percy 
were dozing again; she looked down at them lying on their backs in attitudes 
of abandon. Several strands of hair hung damply across Gwen's face, and were 
lifted by every outward flow of breath from her distended nostrils. 

Kneeling down beside Percy, Jean regarded closely the little curl of flesh 
which was all that remained of the vast, aggressive column which had so 
recently cut its imperious way into her body, hurting and delighting her; 
she lowered her head, and took the sodden, little penis in her mouth. The 
man's body stiffened, and his hand moved in sleep towards his loins, where 
it collided with Jean's face; he drew back his hand as from a fire, and she 
left the room hurriedly, fearing to wake him. 

When Jean entered Arwel's room, to rouse him, he was doing an auto-portrait 
with the aid of a mirror. Whilst she looked critically at the unfinished 
work, her hands fondled his face; he put his hands on her forearm and raised 
one of her hands to his lips; she turned to him, and met a smile illuminated 
by affection. She flicked aside the bed clothes, kicked off her slippers, 
and dropped onto the bed beside him. 

"Will you have the bathroom first?" she asked, "Gwen and her friend have had 
a heavy night, and they need a little more sleep." 

He made a move to leave the bed, but she arrested him, and beckoned him to 
approach her. He moved back in her direction, and knelt on the bed beside 
her; she drew him to her, and he slid into a reclining position. Her eyes 
closed, she held him tight, rejoicing in his belly against hers, in the 
firmness of his thighs along hers. Her mouth sought his in a kiss through 
which flowed her love and her desire; with all the gaucherie of an 
affectionate, embarrassed boy in the fifteenth year of his life, he clung to 
her, sensing that she was troubled, and he was ready to do anything to give 
her peace. He kissed her with brotherly tenderness, and she groaned, her 
hands kneading the flesh of his shoulders and butt with the fierceness of 
her need. She kissed him again, her mouth soft and moist, her tongue trying 
to rouse him to a need of her. 

"Arwel!" she sighed, "Kiss me, my lovely! Hold me!" 

He held her tight in his arms, kissing her fiercely; his loins stirred 
impatiently, and he wanted Jean as he'd never wanted her before. Suddenly he 
understood Jean, realizing the nature of her trouble, what she wanted of him 
and needed. His mind was thrown back to the distant morn when he'd seen Gwen 
and Eddie lying together naked; nausea assailed him, and he loosened his 
grip on Jean, rebelling against her embrace. He saw a pained expression in 
her eyes, and tears bumed his; tenderly he stroked her hair, like a big 
brother comforting a child. 

Simultaneously they sprang from the bed, he on one side, she on the other; 
in the smiles they exchanged love was mixed with apologies, shame was 
accompanied by compassion. 

At the door of the bathroom, they kissed as do innocent children, coldly, 
freshly; and she went downstairs vowing that Arwel would have the most 
succulent rasher of ham. 

Gwen alone noticed that, throughout breakfast, Percy hardly took his eyes 
off Jean. She didn't resent the fact of Jean and Arwel having eyes only for 
each other; but she regretted that her young housekeeper paid so little 
attention to Percy. Reluctant as she was to lose her new lover, she would 
have suffered the loss gladly in order that Jean should have a taste of 
fornication, so that, in the event of her finding it to her liking, she 
could have all the lovers she wanted whilst she was young and enticing 
enough to get them without paying too high a price ... Sipping her coffee, 
Gwen wondered how she ought to set about engineering Percy's seduction of 
the girl. 

 25. 

Percy became a regular visitor to the house, devoting a lot of time to Jean 
and Arwel whose interests in the arts he shared; he encouraged them to 
accept small parts in the plays he produced for the Brooksfield Thesbians; 
and Gwen welcomed their going out together to rehearsals, since she was 
thereby set free to spend evenings with Irving or wander around town, in the 
parks, public-houses and dance-halls, where new male acquaintances were 
occasionally to be made. 

Being simultaneously the mistress of Percy and Godfrey demanded great 
prudence on Gwen's part; Irving would never have tolerated sharing a woman 
with one of his own employees, whilst Gwen feared that if Percy ever learned 
that Gwen's lovers included Irving, he would re-open his apparently 
forgotten campaign against her holding the post of head of Cereals Imports 
at Merivales. Percy knew that Gwen had lovers other than himself, but he was 
not of a jealous nature, and, in addition to being interested in Jean, he 
was beloved of the wife of the vicar of St. Michael's; so that, whilst what 
he had of Gwen pleased him, he never pried into her activities during the 
time they spent apart. 

Irving's demands on Gwen were infrequent, but she never dared to offer him 
an excuse for not responding to his needs, until one evening, which she'd 
promised to Percy, Irving called her to his office just before 
half-past-five, and informed her that she was his until the following 
morning. 

He seized her, kissing her, pummeling her breasts and buttocks, trembling 
with the urgency of his need of her. 

When she expressed her regret at having a prior appointment which she 
couldn't cancel, the substance and manner of his reply suggested briefly 
that the manager's office housed again its former occupant, instead of the 
gray-haired, distinguished gentleman who'd succeeded him. 

"Ring up your friends, whoever they are! Tell them you're sleeping with me 
tonight!" 

He picked up the telephone. 

"Number?" he asked, and she answered that he wouldn't need it, since, eager 
as she was to spend that and every other night with him, he couldn't have 
her, after so long an interval, at such short notice. 

He seized her throat, his handsome face purple with rage. She gasped for 
breath, and he forced her to her knees; she emitted a sigh of relief as he 
relaxed his grip on her throat, using his freed hand to pull her head so far 
back by the hair that, when he kissed her, she was unable to respond to his 
passion. Savagely, he bit her lips and cheeks; she jerked her head free 
involuntarily, but his grip on her hair increased the hurt; his lips and 
teeth descended to her neck, and his teeth tore the blouse from her 
shoulders; his hands joined in the work of destruction, and soon she was 
naked down to the waist, writhing in an agony of desire. Their combined 
weight reduced a wicker-work waste-paper basket to a heap of sticks, some of 
which he used as an instrument for thrashing her about the shoulders and 
breasts. 

When he'd ridden her, she washed her wounds, pinned the tatters of her 
blouse into some covering for her breasts, slipped on her coat, and walked 
towards the door. 

He dragged her back. 

"Listen!" he commanded, "You're spending the night with the man who's just 
fucked you. You're of no value to me unless you obey my orders even when 
they conflict with your other engagements and responsibilities; if I want to 
make love to a woman who has the right to be consulted about where, when and 
how, I have them in my own social circle, and I have the satisfaction of 
behaving towards them in company with the greatest deference, knowing that 
in their bedrooms they're lascivious whores; but you represent something 
different and yet necessary ... you don't belong, you've no rights ... and, 
unless you get that into your skull, you'll find yourself unemployed. Just 
you keep on throwing yourself at me, as you did the first time ... sweating 
and groaning! It's undignified, but one expects it of you, so it's really 
... " 

As if to prove her willingness to comply with his demands, she flung her 
arms about his neck, and kissed him messily. 

Arrived at Irving's home, Gwen tried to keep her coat on until Delys, his 
maid, was out of the way, but Irving insisted on taking it off her without 
delay. Her slap-dash repairs to her blouse had not survived the journey, so 
that Delys saw shreds of soiled silk hanging crazily about Gwen's waist; 
Irving beckoned the girl to approach, and he knocked aside the hands with 
which Gwen was trying to conceal her bared breasts; Delys, admiring the 
proud upward sweep of the nippled mounds of glowing flesh, felt for the 
first time in her life Irving's arm circling her waist, his hand gently 
squeezing her breast. She insinuated herself closer to him, moving her knees 
outward so that her thighs rubbed against his, and she extended a hand to 
tilt Gwen's head backwards, letting the full glare of the electric light 
fall upon the thrillingly beautiful torso; Gwen watched them; Delys' arms 
were raised above her head, and she was leaning forward, a fledgling trying 
to fly, prevented from falling by Irving who stood close behind her, a hand 
upon each of her breasts; the front of his thighs was pressed tight against 
the back of hers, the stuff of his trousers in the closest possible contact 
with her dress over her buttocks. Together they were making short, strong 
backward and forward movements with their arses, like a dog and a bitch on 
heat. His hands ran down her belly, along her thighs, to the hem of her 
skirt, then rose again, bringing the skirt and underskirt with them; the 
removal of her black panties and the swift placing of his fingers inside her 
told him she was more than ready for him. Whilst he took her from behind, 
she clung to Gwen to avoid falling, and, in her excitement she dug her nails 
into the flesh of the older woman's breasts and belly. When Irving and Delys 
had satisfied themselves, he allowed the girl to slide to the carpet of the 
hall; by the time Gwen and Irving had drunk their sherry, Delys had 
recovered sufficiently to serve dinner, after which she went home, delighted 
with the events of the evening and anticipating thrillingly the frequent 
future assaults her employer would make upon her; she hoped that the people 
who saw her recognized her as a girl whose virgin knot had just been untied. 

Having feasted upon Delys' young body, Irving had temporarily lost all 
appetite for Gwen's. After a few hours, his interest would revive, and he'd 
use her two or three times before they left the house in the morning; in the 
meantime, it seemed he was condemned to spend the evening with a woman he 
neither liked nor respected, and with whom he had no desire to converse. Had 
he dismissed her for a few hours, she would have been able to keep the 
appointment she'd previously mentioned; but he delighted in thwarting her, 
feeling that, when he eventually took her again, his pleasure would be 
greater in their shared knowledge that he had bent her to his will and 
treated her as a purchased woman. 

Gwen would have been pleased to have him thrashing her, humiliating her by 
deed and word, thrilling her with his deep thrust inside her, using her and 
(incidentally) giving himself to her, again and again ... until exhaustion 
or even death overcame both of them; but she knew he wouldn't want her for 
several hours, and that he wouldn't set her free for the evening. 

She uttered not a word, as he hid himself behind a newspaper. She wanted to 
rouse him to an anger in which he would beat her, but she feared to invoke 
again the ire which had caused him to speak earlier of her finding herself 
unemployed. She was not jealous of Delys; in fact, she rejoiced in the 
obvious pleasure the girl had derived from Irving's using her; but she 
feared that he now had, within his own home, the easy, pliable and humble 
partner in debauch who could replace her as his change of sensual diet after 
hours or nights of passion with his proud and high-born ladies. 

Irving stood up suddenly, and left the house, saying: 

"I'm going for a stroll; however long I'm away, you'd better be here when I 
come back; fresh air will revive my interest in that body of yours." 

Listening to dance music on the radio, Gwen found herself thinking about 
Eddie, the young out-of-work wastrel who had been her lover some years 
previously ... They had parted without an actual quarrel, but his demands 
for money had become prohibitive, and he'd also insisted upon her forcing 
Jean to give herself to him, which Gwen would not have done even had she 
been able. She relived one or two of her copulations with Eddie, and longed 
for him, until sleep took her. 

Irving paid Eileen Merivale the first call for two or three years, formal 
dinners excepted. She was thrilled to learn that his visit had no connection 
with business, and drew close to him, to give him the kiss with which a 
woman might greet a distant cousin. His acceptance of this gesture caused 
old hopes to rekindle within her; she placed her arms about his neck, 
leaning backwards so that, whilst their faces were more than a yard apart, 
her belly felt itself in close, intoxicating contact with his; her head hung 
backwards, and her hair fell. She laughed gaily, her tongue flickering like 
an inviting flame between her parted lips; when his kiss came, she struggled 
ardently towards him, eager to convey to him the desire she'd ailed to 
communicate to him during the intimate dinners of her early widowhood. One 
arm behind her shoulders, he lowered his other to behind her knees, and she 
kicked her feet joyously as his arms took the full weight of her; she clung 
to his neck, and moistly kissed his cheek. A few minutes later, upon j the 
blue silk of her bed, one of his hands was wandering firmly and gently over 
her belly and breasts, whilst the other thrilled her by its probing between 
her eager thighs. 

Gwen woke up, shivering, with a question-mark in her head; the cloud 
dissolved; it was eleven o'clock, and she was in Irving's house ... The 
moment she realized that he was absent, she knew that he had gone to Delys' 
home, and that he would either spend the night there or bring the girl home 
with him; she longed for him ... or for Eddie ... or for Percy, with whom 
she'd planned to spend the evening and the entire night:-he was probably in 
her bed, waiting for her; if she hurried home, within half an hour she would 
have his fierce fire within her yearning loins; but she dared not leave 
Irving's home. He might return at any moment, or he might keep her waiting 
until breakfast-time, but, at whatever hour he entered the house, he would 
expect her to be there. Fearing that, if he found her in bed, he would 
interpret her having retired as a reproach for his late return, she stayed 
upright in an arm-chair; but she fell asleep ... 

Gwen stirred, in the cold hour before dawn. Rubbing her eyes, she wandered 
from room to room in search of an Irving whom she knew she wouldn't find. 
Then she undressed, washed, and slipped into pajamas, having decided to risk 
a couple of hours of real sleep. 

Leaning out of the window, thrilling to the breeze which played with her 
hair, she observed a light, mounting the hill, in the middle of the road. 
Seizing a filmy dressing-gown, she dashed downstairs and out of the house, 
tying the fragile garment about her as she ran. The front wheel of the 
bicycle wobbled as Gwen stepped breathlessly out onto the road with a softly 
modulated: 

"Good morning!" 

The cyclist's curiosity brought his mount to a halt, and in the pale light 
of dawn he advanced his metal-helmeted head to peer at Gwen and whisper 
conspiratorially: 

"Anything wrong, Miss?" 

She smiled into his coal-smudged face, replying: 

"There was, but it's over now. Come in and have a drink!" 

Reason told him to spring into the saddle of his cycle and peddle away as 
fast as his feet would turn, but curiosity made him follow this eccentric 
lady into the sitting-room where she poured two large whiskies. Whilst the 
puzzled miner took his first gulp. Gwen flung off the dressing-gown, pulled 
a ribbon at her waist and another at her throat: her trousers sagged down to 
her ankles, and a shrug of her shoulders sent the jacket sliding down her 
arms and onto the floor behind her. Half an hour later, he left the house, 
forgetting to drink the rest of his whisky, and leaving Gwen on the carpet, 
her body carrying smudges of coal dust on its outer surface and the memory 
of his powerful motions inside. 

Lying amidst her night-attire, as the happy miner rode home to breakfast, 
Gwen decided she would try to retrace Eddie. 

 26. 

Eddie told Gwen part of his story, and she learned further parts from his 
associates. Since their previous meeting he'd been in prison twice ... once 
for his part in the doping of racing gray-hounds and the other time for a 
rape of which he continued to declare his innocence. He maintained that the 
girl had given herself to him, most willingly, on Brooksfield Common; 
surprised by her father, before she'd had the sensitive parts of her loins 
bombarded by Eddie's sperm, she'd begun to feign resistance, and had 
afterwards insisted to her father and to a magistrate that he'd attacked her 
on her way home from a dance. 

Eddie had continued to interest himself in any and every sport which lent 
itself to gambling; what he won was swiftly devoured by flashy, shoddy 
clothes, liquor and gold-digging girls. He'd also interested himself in all 
sorts of shady commerce, such as reselling a car for which he hadn't payed, 
in order to get money with which to impress a well-connected school-mistress 
whom he hoped to marry; he'd taken two rooms at a smart hotel in Brighton, 
she having insisted that, although only one room would be used, the other 
had to be reserved for the sake of appearances ... Later he had discovered 
that the girl's "wealthy" family were up to their eyes in debt, and that, 
whilst disapproving of him socially, they were relying upon his obvious 
prosperity to rescue them from bankruptcy: Eddie's love for his school-ma'am 
had instantly cooled. 

Gwen's renewal of contact with Eddie had coincided with another of his 
financial difficulties; a fifteen-year-old girl, also of a family highly 
respected in the town, had died at her parents' home after a clumsy abortion 
had been performed upon her;-death having stilled the girl's tongue, the 
only other person who knew of Eddie's responsibility for her pregnancy and 
abortion was the woman who'd performed the operation. She had lost her 
nerve, and insisted that Eddie find the money for her escape to Italy and 
her establishment there in some sort of business. 

Meeting all Eddie's debts and expenses made serious in-roads on the little 
capital Gwen possessed, which had been earmarked for Arwel's further 
education either at a university or a college of music; but Gwen didn't 
realize the extent to which this spoliation of her resources was taking 
place, and she always insisted that her salary would permit of her making 
good her losses of capital; Eddie's need of money was so urgent that he had 
become her slave, obliged to suffer for all the humiliations she suffered at 
the hands of Godfrey Irving: she would strip herself, show Eddie the marks 
left upon her flesh by Irving's frenzied thrashing of her, and then whip him 
into unconsciousness, feeling the pain flow out of her body into his. Then 
she would make him take her, and she would enjoy him in the knowledge that 
she was his mistress, which she'd never been to Merivale, Irving or even 
Percy Dent. Eddie continued to lose heavily at horse-racing and "the dogs'" 
and he tried to recoup some of his losses by participating in the fraudulent 
management of boxers and wrestlers, trained to win or lose according to the 
dictates of their managers; his partners usually disappeared with large sums 
of money, leaving Eddie either to pay the fees of their boxers and wrestlers 
or suffer the consequences of these gentlemen informing the police of his 
"sporting" activities. 

Whilst Gwen was at her office, or spending a few hours with Irving or Percy 
Dent, Eddie consorted with women, not prostitutes, who were less shocked at 
the idea of getting into bed with a prosperous man than with a pauper: 
Eddie's type of woman felt less immoral taking her clothes off under the 
greedy gaze or a man, if the setting was a luxurious room of pale pink silk, 
costly furnishings, scintillating candelabras whose crystal pendants catch 
every particle of light, flooding the scene of fornication with artificial 
rainbows. 

 ... Gwen footed the bill for all Eddie's excesses, but ultimately Arwel was 
the greater loser. He appreciated, better than Gwen seemed to, the sorry 
state of the family finances, and he realized that his going to Cambridge or 
to a college of music had come to depend upon his gaining a scholarship. 
Whereas his mother insisted he was going to concentrate on his musical 
studies, he wanted the wider education represented by arts studied at a 
university, keeping his music as an important, but not exclusive, interest; 
so that regular piano lessons and practice continued throughout the months 
he was devoting to his final revision prior to sitting the examination for 
London Matriculation, which he regarded as the first step towards obtaining 
a scholarship tenable at a university. Trying to ride two horses 
simultaneously, Arwel ran the risk of ultimately having to walk; and the 
situation was not helped by the fact that Eddie almost lived at the house, 
and was causing Arwel great anxiety by his flagrant exploitation of Gwen's 
physical need of him. 

Gwen no longer had the upper hand of Eddie. She had come to depend on him so 
much for her sexual well-being, that she was obliged to give him all the 
money he needed and yet place herself at his disposal as previously he had 
been at hers. There had been the time, shortly after his return to her, that 
she'd been able to pile shame upon him by her treatment of him in the 
presence of Jean; once she'd called Jean into her room, and told her of his 
request that Jean be placed at his disposal, with or without her consent; 
then Gwen had twisted her own underclothes into a hard instrument with which 
she'd lashed him across the face, so that Jean had fled from the room, 
unable to bear the sight of his degradation. 

Later on, he turned the tables on Gwen, deliberately choosing moments when 
Jean was present to demonstrate his new-found power over his former 
tormentor; in her presence he would undress Gwen, fondling her breasts, 
smacking her thighs and buttocks, digging his fingers into her loins, 
kissing her with their mouths open and their tongues fighting one another; 
and he would continue to excite Gwen until, unable to resist him any longer, 
and afraid to offend him by sending Jean away or suggesting that she and 
Eddie go elsewhere, she would beg him to take her, and he would comply. On 
such occasions, Jean had to exercise great restraint to prevent herself from 
succumbing to Eddie's longstanding and never-abating lust after her; and as 
he copulated with Gwen, Jean's delight was hot knives in her quivering 
flesh. 

Eddie never dared to take such liberties in Arwel's presence, but Jean told 
him all her secrets. Arwel learned much from remarks which Eddie made, not 
to him, but in his presence, and he thereby built an image of Gwen as the 
central figure in orgies arranged by Eddie, his criminal friends and their 
women ... Gwen dancing in her underwear, on a table, whilst all the others 
beat out the rhythm with the hand which didn't contain their glass. A woman 
threw half a glass of wine in Gwen's face, her friends followed her example, 
and she was drenched from head to foot. A man jumped on the table, and 
pissed on her; she knelt before him, and drank his urine. All the other 
lascivious sheep pissed on Gwen and the first man as they fornicated on the 
table. Eight or ten men had Gwen, one after the other, whilst the other 
girls frenziedly stripped themselves for any man who wasn't busy with Gwen. 

 27. 

Arwel left school shortly after the beginning of the Autumn term; his School 
Certificate results had fallen short of the standard which would have earned 
him a scholarship, and he had explained to his sympathetic headmaster that 
his mother could not afford to keep him at school another year. The head had 
offered to look out for a clerical position for Arwel, who had requested him 
to do nothing about it for a few weeks, since he had not yet given up hope 
that, by devoting the following two months to intensive study and practice, 
he would win a scholarship enabling him to spend a few years at a college of 
music. 

Encouraged by Taylor and Jean, Arwel worked hard at his studies ... too 
hard, so that he was a nervous wreck within a month. 

Gwen was blissfully unaware of the campaign of economy which was being waged 
within her own household; Jean or Arwel went to market for vegetables and 
other farm produce, saving a few coppers on the price they'd been accustomed 
to pay in the ships convenient to the house; lights and electric fires were 
allowed to burn as little as was necessary; they went less often than 
previously to the cinema, and they joined the queue for the cheaper seats in 
order to save a shilling. But Gwen continued to pay Eddie the price he 
charged for riding her and thrashing her whenever he felt so inclined; and 
Eddie, who thoroughly enjoyed his sessions of sexual intercourse with her, 
was prepared to go on being her lover as long as her money lasted. 

Arwel worked himself so hard, and worried so much, that his playing 
deteriorated as the fateful day approached. One afternoon, Taylor warned him 
that his chances of success were growing dimmer day by day: 

"On your present standard, 'Well, you'll get a second-class certificate; the 
judges will forgive your mistakes, because they'll recognize you as a young 
player with a real feeling for the music; but they'll say you're not ready 
for the Royal Col; it means a whole year wasted, a precious year; during the 
next twelve months you'll have to sort out all this domestic mess, get down 
to some serious, untroubled practice; I shall continue to come round, but I 
can't really help you any more: repetition of what I've taught you will sour 
you, and I've nothing more to teach you ... that's a sort of compliment to 
you, but I know it's a back-hander." 

Whilst realizing the soundness of Taylor's judgment, Arwel gritted his 
teeth, determined not to rise from the stool before he'd played that Faure 
nocturne as Taylor wanted it played; after his tutor's departure, Arwel 
played over and over again the nocturne he'd sworn to master; he played it 
almost as he thought it should be ... Once more straight through, without a 
flaw! Damn! Damn and blast! Hell-fire! Back to the bloody beginning! After 
several attempts to persuade him to rest, drink a cup of tea and eat 
something, Jean settled herself down to listen attentively and patiently; 
perhaps he'd ask her to help him, point out his mistake, and then what a 
thrill for her if she could render him some slight assistance! She knew the 
work quite well, and she'd heard Arwel playing it, several years ago, with 
real understanding; if only he'd leave it alone until tomorrow, she thought, 
he'd master it without difficulty. But no! Again and again, hour after hour, 
from bad to worse! Upon his brow and under his arms perspiration prickled 
him, driving him mad; suddenly the Faurg nocturne was devoured by a tidal 
wave of noise; he thumped out every tune which swirled up to him from the 
pit of despair into which he felt himself invited and made the house 
reverberate with noisy rhythm. He was ready to fall, exhausted, from the 
stool when, in a faint waft of perfume, soft, strong arms held him and his 
head stopped spinning and screaming as it found itself pillowed upon a 
gently heaving breast; Jean held him for a moment until his whole body 
relaxed. 

"Come!" she said, "Tea and buttered tea-cake! You've done enough damage to 
Faute for one day." Gently she led him to the fire, in front of which the 
small table was loaded with good things to eat, including buttered tea-cake, 
which he particularly liked. 

Together they ate, drank tea, and listened to a music-hall program on the 
radio. After an hour, he returned to the piano, in defiance of Jean's 
insistence that he leave the piano alone until the morrow. Refreshed and 
calm, he began to play the Faute nocturne; and he played it well, and 
silently he thanked Jean. 

Gwen wasn't expected home that night, having gone with Percy Dent and Eddie 
to one of the latter's parties, which invariably lasted until dawn or even 
later. 

Having played the Faurg nocturne to his satisfaction, Arwel turned his 
attention to other pieces which were still causing him some anxiety. It 
wasn't long before he was as deeply involved in defeat as he had been before 
supper; here and there a passage, which he'd previously played 
satisfactorily, would taunt him, and he'd attack it time and again, getting 
further away from the target every time; he was doing himself and his music 
no good whatsoever, and eventually he had to leave the piano, his hands 
trembling so that he just hadn't the strength to strike the key-boards. It 
was nearly midnight, and Jean persuaded him to go outside with her, for an 
hour of fresh air and exercise before they retired to their respective beds. 
During their walk Arwel insisted on discussing his music, asking Jean where 
he kept going wrong. 

"Darling," she said at last, "There's no place where you're going wrong: 
you're just altogether wrong. You've tried to do too much at once, and that 
at a time when other things have weighed so heavily upon your mind that 
there's really been only half your former self, trying to do the work of two 
men: you used to be calm and sure; now you're all worked up and neurotic, 
through being required, too young, to think about such things as the 
financing of your education ... All the other boys at school, and all the 
other entrants for Tuesday's music exam, they have the practical problems 
worked out for them, by their parents, and they're free tc concentrate on 
their studies; but you spend yourself on thinking about Gwen's welfare, 
about what's to become of you if you fail this exam, which of the many 
unpleasant alternatives to the Royal College you'll accept, and so on and so 
on. You come to your music tired and with frayed nerves; you're up to your 
knees in the bog to begin with, and the more frantic your efforts to 
extricate yourself, the deeper you sink ... " 

"And when only my head is visible above the bog, you come to the rescue." 

He stopped, drew her gently towards him, and kissed her tenderly. With equal 
tenderness she reciprocated, calling upon her final reserves of strength to 
prevent herself from transforming their tender kiss into a sultry embrace. 

They had no account of time ... The town was far behind them, and without 
taking any notice of where they went, they'd turned away from the highway, 
into narrow twisting lanes, which became earth-tracks, leading to a gate 
through which they passed into the game preserves of they knew not whom; 
when Jean suggested that Arwel see what time it was, it was with the 
greatest difficulty, by the light of a few half-hearted stars, that he read 
the dial of his watch. 

"Five and twenty past one!" he exclaimed, "It's time we started back." 

"I don't see why," she replied, rubbing her cheek cosily against his 
shoulder, "There's no one to tell us where we should be or what we should 
do; I feel fresh enough to go on walking until day-break." 

Nevertheless, they returned home, where Arwel tinkled the piano, whilst Jean 
prepared hot chocolate. As soon as they'd consumed their chocolate, Arwel 
returned to the piano and started to play, in all seriousness, Chopin's B 
Minor sonata. Half-way through the first movement, he stopped, clicked his 
tongue testily, and went back to the beginning; after a few notes, Jean 
interrupted his playing. 

"Arwel, it's time we were in bed." 

He spun round, his eyes flashing. 

"In God's name, girl, will you leave me alone!" 

Surprised by his outburst, but remaining calm, she replied: 

"Yes! As soon as I've tucked you cosily between the sheets." 

Defiantly he turned back to the key-board. 

"No, Arwel! That's enough! Gwen will expect you to be practicing bright and 
early tomorrow morning, and we can't tell her you did your exercises at 
three o'clock in the morning instead of during the day ... If she knows I 
allowed you to stay up until this hour of the night three days before our 
exam, she'll skin me alive. Come, darling! To bed!" 

"Jean, I'm busy; I'm not going to bed until I've played this sonata right 
through, once, and perfectly. Go to bed!" 

"If I go to bed now, you'll still be thumping out that first movement when 
Gwen and the boys come in at cock-crow; you're going to bed now, like a good 
boy!" 

"Oh, for God's sake, Jeannie, don't baby-talk me! That's half the trouble in 
this house; everybody thinks I'm just a child, a wonder-child, perhaps, but 
a child, certainly: well, I'm not; I'm not tired and I'm not going to bed; 
and don't you dare to interrupt me when I start playing again!" 

"You're not going to play any more; you can get up at ten o'clock, and play 
all day; but if you're too tired to get up then, Gwen will know you went to 
bed late, and I shall be in hot water." 

He rose to his feet abruptly, and stood quite close to her. 

"Look, Jean! Stop thinking of Gwen and yourself! I don't expect much 
consideration in this house, but I am sitting a very important exam on 
Tuesday, and until then nothing matters but the piano and me; after that, if 
I fail I shall never touch the confounded piano again, and if I succeed, I 
shall in future do most of my piano-bashing elsewhere; I shall be here only 
a few weeks every year, and if my playing is such a nuisance to you, you can 
arrange to be away whenever I'm due to be here ... " 

Jean's calm deserted her. 

"My, my! Aren't you getting a big idea of yourself! And what a persecution 
mania you've developed! All of a sudden I don't like your playing the piano, 
and I'm sending you to bed ... " 

"You're not sending me to bed; you're the one with big ideas; you've been 
reading a book on child-management; well, there are no children here, and it 
would take a better one than you to manage me. Now, run away, and don't 
meddle with things you're too young to understand! Go to bed!" 

"Oh, you can go to the devil! I'm going to bed, and if there's any trouble 
tomorrow, you can look after it yourself; and play at least one right note 
... for a change!" 

As she hurled herself towards the door, she threw over her shoulder, 
maliciously: 

"If you can't get it right, I'll come down again, and play it the way Chopin 
meant it to be played." 

Up in her room Jean slipped quickly out of her clothes, wondering why she 
didn't hear the music of the piano; her panties in her hand, she paused, 
imagining she heard Arwel's footsteps on the stairs. She ran to the door and 
pressed her shivering body against its cold wood, listening, her heart 
beating wildly, to the footsteps on the carpet of the corridor. She had no 
God, but still she prayed that he wouldn't go to his bed without giving her 
the opportunity of apologizing for her share of the quarrel, without 
requiring her to lose face by making the first move towards a reconciliation 
... The footsteps halted before her door, and she sent up a tentative and 
silent "thank you!" His knocking upon the door, and her opening of it were 
almost simultaneous; the door was wide open, and he'd stepped inside before 
she realized that she was naked, her panties still in one hand; with these 
she protected her nether parts from view, and she vainly tried to cover her 
breasts with one hand. 

Her embarrassment dissolved as she observed his lack of it. With a gesture 
she threw her panties away from her, and raised her hands to the height of 
her head. 

Unconscious of her nakedness, he put his arms about her, whispering: 

"I'm sorry, Jeannie. It was just ... well ... the truth came out standing on 
its head." 

Without a word, she snuggled closer to him, forgiving and begging a 
forgiveness which she knew was granted. He picked her up, and carried her 
over to her bed; the blood raced in her veins, singing happily and 
excitedly; her moment had arrived; her flower was falling, in full luxurious 
bloom, from the bough. She felt a throbbing in her loins, and prayed again, 
prayed he would hurry and have her before she reached her climax alone ... 
He flicked back the sheets of the bed; her body touched the sheets, a 
shudder ran through her, her whole body twitching ecstatically. Her buttocks 
lunged backwards, towards the middle of the bed and then shot forward, as if 
a powerful spring had been released. She moaned, trembling, and reached out 
for him, but he was out of reach; a paroxysm racked her body, and the white 
cream glistened on the inner sides of her thighs ... She was his mistress, 
but he hadn't had her. He was her lover, but she had thrilled only to the 
imagination of his thrust within her. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, 
he wiped the muck from her thighs. Tucking her gently in bed, he kissed her 
brow, and left the room, switching off the light at the door. 

 28. 

It was a bitterly cold November evening, a few weeks after Arwel's debut as 
a bank clerk; Arwel hurried home, knowing that Jean would have some food 
ready for him, and expecting to send the evening with Jean alone; Gwen and 
Eddie had a food ready for him, and expecting to spend the nearby town of 
Leechester; Eddie was entertaining some people with whom he was hoping to 
enter into business relations. As usual, Gwen was providing Eddie's share of 
the capital involved; Percy was attending a rehearsal of "The Seagulls" in 
which he was to play Treegorin; Taylor and Naomi were not expected, since 
they'd spent the previous evening at the James house. 

Having worked somewhat later than usual, he entered the house at about 
half-past seven; Jean met him in the hall with her customary questions about 
the day's work, whether everything had gone well, whether there had been 
much to do, whether he had any news; it was like being greeted by a loving 
mother or spouse; it was comforting, it gave him a certain feeling of 
importance and a very strong feeling that somebody was genuinely interested 
in him and in his work. As usual she had eaten nothing since lunch-time, so 
that they could eat together, and that, at table, an atmosphere of 
camaraderie should reign. 

After the meal, he went to the piano and smilingly played "The Golliwog's 
Cakewalk" whilst Jean cleared the table; the washing-up could wait until the 
following morning; she wanted to be near Arwel, but she didn't wish to have 
him in the kitchen helping her with the task; Jean insisted that when Arwel 
came home from his office, it must be to a peaceful foyer, a restful 
atmosphere, where he could spend his few precious leisure hours doing 
whatever pleased him, without thought for the problems and labor associated 
with a household. 

Sitting at the key-board, Arwel lost count of time; now and then, he 
addressed to Jean a remark or a question about the music he was practicing; 
all the time he was pleasantly aware of her presence. She was sewing, and 
she was enjoying the music. As usual when they were alone, the sitting-room 
was an island of warmth and light in a sea of dark rooms which, for reasons 
of economy, were un-heated. 

Arwel completed the twelfth movement of the suite "Iberia," and heard her 
voice quite close to him, saying, "Thank you, darling! That was lovely." 

As he turned to her, she raised her hands to his face, and caressed his 
cheeks; in her right hand was the article upon which she'd been working, a 
pair of panties in a fragile white material to which he, a mere man, could 
give no name. The stuff was Soft against his cheek; he smiled up at her. 

"I've finished this," she said, dangling the garment before his face, "I'm 
going to try it on; you don't mind if I do it here, do you? It's rather 
chilly in my room." 

He didn't reply, and she didn't wait for his answer anyway; quickly she 
slipped out of her dress and under-skirt, standing before the fire, facing 
Arwel; he rose from the piano stool and crossed to the sofa where he sat 
down. She handed him her brassiere and vest; as he received from her hand 
the panties she'd taken off, he handed her those she was to try on; wearing 
only her new panties she struck a pose before him, slowly revolving on her 
toes, the better to allow his appraisal of her handiwork. 

"Elegant!" was all he said. 

"Elegant," she repeated, "The garment or me?" 

"Both," he replied, "but I was speaking about the panties, because I'd 
previously seen the rest, and found it elegant." 

She recalled the night of their quarrel, after which he had come to her room 
to apologize for his rudeness ... 

"Elegant," she said again, "Yet the other time, you covered me and left me 
alone and miserable; you were younger, though, too young to understand." 

Slipping out of her new garment, Jean threw herself down on the sofa, her 
arms about Arwel's neck; she kissed his mouth, and his fine long fingers 
stroked the skin of her shoulders, back and buttocks. 

"On that occasion, when you picked me up in your arms, I thought the time 
had come of our friendship's consummation; I wanted you so desperately that 
my desire was painful." 

They exchanged kisses sensuously, and Jean tried to make her flesh melt and 
fuse with his. 

"But I'm not sorry you made me wait; I've been waiting for you fourteen 
years, and now that the waiting is over, I shall reap the harvest of 
fourteen years of the nursing of myself for this moment ... " 

"This moment, darling," she repeated insistently. 

Dazed, not quite aware of what was happening, not quite sure whether or not 
he ought to allow it to him, but wanting Jean, wanting her terribly, he 
submitted to her undoing the buttons down the front of his trousers. The 
pressure of his eager penis against the material of his trousers had been 
agony to him, but the agony subsided as warm, tender hands fondled his 
testicles, and soft lips and a moist flame of a tongue loved the shining, 
throbbing scarlet helmet of his penis. With her free hand, Jean helped him 
to remove his garments, until they were lying together naked. She guided his 
right hand to her loins, and one of his fingers to her vagina and clitoris; 
she whimpered with delight and cried out in her ecstasy as his penis probed 
her secret parts and then retreated prior to delving deeper into her. She 
held him to her as he thrust, and she backed away from him when he withdrew; 
she clung to him wildly as she felt her climax approaching, and she received 
his sperm within her. They remained in the most intimate contact after both 
had reached their climaxes, and Jean whispered with utter sincerity, that 
she'd never imagined that having a man could be quite such joy. 

Having slept they knew not how long Jean and Arwel each felt the desire for 
the other renewed, and it was at Jean's suggestion that he took her from 
behind; they were in no way disturbed by the sound of a key turning in the 
front;-it would do neither Gwen nor Eddie any harm to know, as they'd be 
sure to learn eventually, that Arwel and Jean had become lovers; Gwen was 
surprised, but by no means shocked, to find Jean and Arwel, naked and making 
love like a dog and a hot bitch; it was only when Arwel, satiated, pushed 
Jean away from him, that he and she noticed that the persons who had 
witnessed their delight did not include Eddie, but did include a man they 
had not previously met; Jean was suddenly ashamed, and she made a hurried 
move to leave the room; Gwen's friend, however, took a couple of brisk steps 
which placed him in a position to bar her way; his arms enfolded her, and 
his hands caressed her body. Her shame deserted her, and she surrendered 
herself happily to his manual blandishments; only the fact that Gwen had 
brought this man home for her own use deterred Jean from giving herself to 
him at once. 

After a few greedy kisses, Jean released herself from his grasp, whispering, 
"First Gwen! When she'd had a fair amount of you, I'll be ready for anything 
you can spare for me." 

She ran quickly up to Arwel's room, and he followed her; in his arms she 
slept soundly and contentedly until the first light of day. 

At breakfast, Gwen introduced her friend to Jean and Arwel. He was Sidney 
Horsbrugh, the man with whom Eddie and Gwen had had dinner the previous 
evening. He and Eddie were negotiating with a view to entering into 
partnership as proprietors of a club which would shortly be for sale, in 
London; Horsbrugh volunteered the information that his daughter, Rachel, who 
had also been present at the little dinner party, had suggested, on leaving 
Maynor's restaurant, that Daddy should take Mrs. James home, whilst Eddie 
took her home; this suggestion had been to everyone's satisfaction, and 
Rachel (who was sixteen years of age, and still at school) had told her 
father that she wouldn't expect him home before breakfast-time. She'd also 
expressed the hope that Gwen wouldn't be upset at the knowledge that Eddie 
wouldn't be home before nine o'clock in the morning. 

Listening to this man's account of the sleeping arrangements which his 
daughter had made for herself and her father, Jean determined that the man 
should return to the house as soon as possible, but with his daughter; 
Rachel sounded like an excellent playmate for Arwel, and, whilst Gwen had 
Eddie, Sidney could find pleasure and sleeping space in Jean's room. 

Gwen and Arwel left the house together, bound for their respective offices. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Sidney said to Jean, "Now it's our 
turn; but I can't spare you much time this morning; I've got a fellow to 
meet." 

His words accompanied his edging her into the angle formed by the 
dining-room wall and the buffet; his hands, under her skirts, gripped her 
thighs, high up. 

"Upstairs?" he asked, and kissed her before she could reply; her arms were 
about his neck, and she yearned for him. 

"No, if you're pressed for time, I'd rather wait; I had rather a hectic 
night; so did you, I imagine; but I'm not accustomed to it; what you saw 
last evening, when you arrived, was only my second time, Arwel's too; and 
the first time was only a couple of hours earlier; so you see ... ? But, 
whenever you have time, you'll find me here, very ready for you." 

"Good!" he replied, "The sooner I meet this other chap, the better, and you 
and I have lots of time before us, eh!" 

He pulled her panties down to her knees, drew her to the center of the room, 
and leaned her far back over his left arm. After exciting her clitoris for a 
moment, he thrust his hand upwards under her clothing, over her belly and up 
to her breasts. 

"No brassiere!" he said, as though informing her of something of which she 
was ignorant. 

She'd have liked him to force her into having him; she wanted him, but she 
had a reason for wishing to postpone having him until another occasion; she 
wished, however, that without her giving herself he would take her brutally, 
heeding not her remonstrances, ravaging her bestially, without consideration 
for her and without respect. 

After playing with her breasts, he returned to her clitoris, which he 
pummeled until she found herself expressing the silent hope that, when he'd 
gone, a big lecherous Alsatian dog would come bounding in and mistake her 
for an alsatian bitch. 

When he eventually raised her to an upright position, and released his grip 
upon her, she stumbled, and he had to help her to a chair. 

A few minutes later, he left, having accepted her invitation to come again, 
accompanied by Rachel, as soon as circumstances permitted. 

Somewhat shaky on her feet, she began doing the essential household chores; 
and she waited. The kettle was simmering on the stove, two tea-cups, the 
milk and sugar and the rinsed tea-pot stood at the ready. And her work 
continued. 

The rattle of milk-cans announced the approach of Danny Dawson; Danny had 
been delivering milk to the James' house almost as long as Jean had been 
there; Jean and Danny had become good friends, and never a morning passed 
without his drinking a cup of tea and eating a piece of her home-made cake 
with her; Danny's father had died before Danny reached majority, and about a 
year later Danny had married a girl whose lover he had become in direct 
succession to his father. Their first child was born six months later, and 
two more had followed at intervals of approximately two years; Danny never 
tired of singing his wife's praises; she was a good housekeeper, a devoted 
and sensible mother, and she had the interest in his business and the 
business acumen which together rendered her of great value to him in a 
business which had expanded greatly under his management. 

"It's queer," Danny had said to Jean, on more than one occasion, "It was 
what yer call a forced weddin'; given the choice, I'd never have married 
that lass. Before we were married, when I was makin' use of her, I never 
went out with her or publicly acknowledged that we were friends; my old man 
was nearly forty years older nor her, and yet, whenever he wanted her, she 
were ready for him, and in't beginnin' she were gettin' nought out on it; he 
on'y started payin' her rent for 'er when she got sack from Simmonds' shop 
after Clarry Simmonds had catched her in't lavatory playing with his son's 
privates, an' Clarry's lad no more nor thirteen years o'd; Dad knew, o' 
course, that he were not the'on'y guy as was messin' about wi'er; and none 
of 'em payin' for it. You know Simmonds' lad? Well, o' course 'e ain't a lad 
no more, but, after Lily got sack from his Dad's shop, that lad went around 
ter 'er place reg'lar, right up to't time she married me. She taught him 'ow 
ter do it, an' she's told me that before he were fourteen he were givin' her 
as much pleasure as any fully-grown man; she also told me that one Sat'day 
afternoon she were in bed wi' a guy near sixty years old, a stranger as 
she'd met in't Rose an' Crown at dinner-time, an' as she'd invited 'ome; she 
told this guy as he'ld have to leave about four, 'cos she were expecting 
visitors, but she'd had enough ale, he could take 'er 'ome again an' 'ave as 
much o' t'other thing as he fancied. Well this old chap were givin' her a 
sort of farewell doin' when a knock come at door; he didn't want to stop 
until he'd given 'er the hot-sperm injection, an' nor did she; but, as soon 
as they'd both shot their load, he dressed quickly an' went out one door, 
whilst she opened t'other door to let in Simmonds' lad. Within five minutes 
of th'old chap bashin' it into 'er, she were wi' young Simmonds in t'bed as 
thon ol' fellar 'ad warmed for 'im; he 'ad to be home for tea afore 
half-past-six, but 'e gave it to 'er a couple o' times first. When she let 
lm out, a bit after six, t'other chap come straight in again; he couldn't 
wait until half-past-six, to see 'er in't pub, so he'd been waitin' outside 
for t'young-ster ter goo; he'd ridden 'er just afore he went, an' as soon as 
th'ol' chap come in, he got stuck straight into 'er, across kitchen table. 
So yer see, I 'ad to marry a lass as were proud to tell me as she bet that 
she were th'on'y lass in t'county an' p'raps in all England, leaving 
prostitutes out, as 'ad 'ad a lad less nor five minutes after t'other, an' 
that twice within two an' 'alf hours ... An' yet that lass 'as turned out to 
be a bloody good mother to my kids, a good house-wife, a good helper in my 
business, an', as far as I know ('though I don't care one way or t'other) a 
faithful wife." 

In the early days of his delivering milk to the James' house, Danny had made 
certain "improper" advances to Jean, and had been repulsed. After that he'd 
tried frequently to cajole her into letting him make love to her; and he had 
been moved to a sort of admiration of her by her insistence in resiting his 
advances and still remaining friendly towards him. It was now several years 
since he'd repeated his plea for more intimate knowledge of her, but he had 
not ceased to find her very attractive. 

Jean greeted Danny with her usual bright smile and cheerful "Good morning!" 

He sat down at the kitchen table, and she poured out two cups of tea, 
deliberately putting two heaped teaspoons of sugar in his. 

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "How silly of me! I've put two spoons of sugar in 
your tea." 

As though reading from a script which she had prepared in advance, he 
replied, "Oh, it won't kill me; but, gosh, yer ought to know me better than 
that ... 'Ow long I been drinkin' my mid-mornin' bowl o' char with you?" 

She could have kissed him at once for that answer. 

"Fourteen years! What a long time! and how old it makes one seem! Things 
have changed greatly; you're married a passionate woman who really knows how 
to satisfy your every desire; but, do you remember how, in the beginning, 
you used to be very saucy, and try to seduce me?" 

She saw at once that he was puzzled, perhaps disgusted too; she'd taken 
things at too brisk a pace; and he couldn't adapt himself so quickly to 
circumstances which were, to him, unexpected, whilst they were circumstances 
she had long since foreseen and definitely accepted and even impatiently 
awaited. 

She rose quickly to her feet, spun round on her heels, deliberately making 
her skirt flare. She turned out the gas under the kettle, and, returning to 
her chair, she intentionally, but apparently by mishap, flicked her skirts 
up too high as she crossed one leg over the other knee; Danny wondered 
whether his long pent-up desires were misleading him, or whether Jean was 
really in a coquettish mood that morning. Taking the bull not too firmly by 
the horns, he said: 

"Things 'aven't changed so much; my bin' married to a woman I don't love, 
an' who no longer interests me much physically, don't make no difference to 
my wantin' you. I'm as 'ot for you as I ever was, an' it makes it worse when 
. ... " 

He paused; he'd said enough to make her angry, if she were going to be angry 
at all, and she just sat there smiling at him encouragingly; so he 
continued: 

"I get even 'otter than usual when you sit there showing yer legs almost up 
ter yer fanny." 

She made no move to diminish the amount of leg visible. 

"You mean to tell me you still want me, in the same way as at the beginning, 
and you've said nothing about it all these years?" 

"Yes! Or rather, it's not same as earlier; it's worse." 

She rose to her feet again, and the look of determination on her face told 
him that she was dismissing him. 

He too rose, intending to serve her with the usual two pints. 

"Come on then, Danny!" she said, as she turned towards the dining-room, "You 
have to go through the dining-room to get to the stairs." 

She skipped upstairs eagerly. He too was eager, but still stunned; he was 
also afraid of leaving dirty boot marks on the delicate beige stair-carpet. 
By the time he halted in the door of Arwel's bedroom, she was inside and had 
taken off her skirt; the sight of her standing there, feverishly stripping 
herself, her under-skirt half over her head, and her bare legs completely 
exposed, topped by the white panties she'd completed sewing only the 
previous evening, removed all reserve and hesitation from him; he stepped 
forward and threw her impatiently across the bed. 

 29. 

Upon his entry into the house at lunch-time, Arwel was greeted by a 
bright-eyed Jean who excitedly recounted the happenings of the morning. 

" ... So we must expect a visit soon from Sid, accompanied by his Rachel. 
It's arranged that whilst he looks after me, you and she . ... well, darling 
that's what you really need ... something younger than yourself....." 

He smiled his approval of her plan; and he noticed how like Gwen's her tone 
of voice had become, how her gestures and facial expression resembled 
Gwen's. 

During lunch Gwen announced that she and Eddie were going to a boxing 
tournament that evening; Gwen had previously despised boxers and considered 
boxing uncivilized, but since Eddie had been taking her to boxing 
tournaments in which he was financially interested (the capital involved 
being her money), she had made the acquaintance of boxers and the 
entourages, and had had several pleasurable sessions of sexual intercourse 
with brawny, brainless young men belonging to the boxing world. One such 
session had been craftily planned by Eddie, without Gwen's prior knowledge. 
At Eddie's suggestion she had visited, unaccompanied, a young hopeful whose 
opponent that particular evening was one of Eddie's prot'g's; whilst another 
match was in progress Gwen had entered the young husky's dressing-room 
without knocking, and had found him naked except for his underpants which 
he'd been about to remove prior to pulling on his boxing-trunks. Without 
realizing the harm she was doing, Gwen had whipped off his pants and started 
to fondle him in such a manner as to result in his returning the compliment; 
the dressing-room being tiny and almost unfurnished, the floor had served as 
their couch of infamy ... Suddenly the room had filled with men who had come 
to inform the young heavy-weight that his match was due to commence; 
unheeding he had given the few thrusts needed to release his tempestuous 
cream into Gwen, and a few minutes later, weak and dazed, he had faced an 
opponent who, fresh and strong, had knocked him out within thirty seconds. 
During the boy's absence, his manager, who'd witnessed the last few seconds 
of his hopeful's love-making, had replaced the boxer between Gwen's thighs 
and revenged himself most brutally, much to Gwen's delight. 

Only later the same evening had Gwen learned that Eddie's suggestion that 
she visit the boxer in his dressing-room had been made with the very 
intention that she should do what she had in fact done ... so drain the 
energy out of him that he'd lose a fight which he'd been strongly backed to 
win. 

"I shall be almost in and out this evening, Jean," said Gwen. "Eddie's 
picking me up at seven-thirty, but I shall be home only about seven. It's 
rather exciting really: there's a new boy working on the loading-wharf at 
Merivale's ... he's what we call the 'Stencil-boy'.....he does nothing but 
stencil on boxes things like 'Fragile,' 'llrgent,' 'This Way Up,' etc.; he's 
only eighteen, and as shy as a kitten; he's afraid to do anything during 
working-hours or on the premises, but he's promised to take me round to his 
house this evening at five-thirty ... He told me most earnestly that he 
lives quite near the office, and that he's alone at home until his mother 
comes home from work at half-past six. Poor darling! He asked me if I 
thought three quarters of an hour would be enough to enable him to satisfy 
me....." 

So, as lunch proceeded, Gwen regaled the ears of Jean and Arwel with details 
of her latest lover. 

In the evening, Gwen arrived home (an expression of great contentment upon 
her visage) shortly before seven o'clock; having eaten hurriedly, she rushed 
upstairs to dress for her visit to the sports stadium. Generally speaking 
Gwen required a great amount of time for her toilet, but the fact that Eddie 
hated to be kept waiting and that he was due at the house at half-past seven 
gave her wings, and she was ready when he arrived. Whilst Eddie was helping 
himself to a glass of whiskey, Gwen told him that, when she and Sidney 
returned to the house the previous evening, they had surprised Jean and 
Arwel in the sexual act. Upon hearing this, Eddie gulped down his drink at 
once, and moved eagerly across to Jean, who was ready and willing for 
anything he might have in mind; she submitted to, and responded to, his 
uncouth kisses and his suggestive fondling of her body. They quickly worked 
themselves up into a state in which they'd have been capable of lying down 
together before the eyes of Gwen and Arwel; only a loud knocking on the 
front door pulled Jean out of the sultriness of his embrace, and she ran to 
the door. 

Standing in the drawing-room, dressed for the departure, Gwen and Eddie 
heard a female voice, which Gwen immediately recognized as that of Delys, 
saying, "I've come from Mr. Irving; is Gwen . ... Mrs. James ... at home?" 

Gwen realized at once that, if Delys saw her and Eddie dressed to go out, 
she'd surmise that they were going out together; and if she were to tell 
Godfrey that Gwen was going out with a man, his jealousy would have the 
direct consequences for Gwen. Frenziedly she thought now of getting Eddie 
leave by the back door, of leaving the room herself, returning quickly 
without her hat and coat, as though she'd been intending to spend the 
evening at home; but it was too late; pushing rudely past Jean, Delys 
entered the drawing-room as though she were at home. She could afford to be 
arrogant; she had come as the emissary of Godfrey Irving, so she knew she'd 
be respectfully received by the lady of the house, who was Irving's lady, or 
rather one of his several ladies. 

Delys took in the scene at a glance; two people hatted and coated for a 
sortie. Two people who were quite obviously not going out in the so near 
future; and one of the people going out was Irving's property, whilst the 
other was without doubt a poacher upon that august gentleman's preserves. 

"Godfrey wants you," said Delys insolently and imperiously, "and he says 
you're to be quick; he's got some unexpected visitors, and he's promised 
you'll put on one of your inimitable shows for them." 

Torn between the need for arriving as quickly as possible at Irving's 
residence and the importance of giving Delys some misleading information 
regarding Eddie's relations with herself, Gwen stammered: 

"Delys, I'd like you to meet Eddie ... he's a friend of Arwel and Jean ... 
he often comes round . ... " 

Knowing she was lying, Delys interrupted brusquely. 

"Gwen! Don't keep Irving waiting! He was boasting to his friends that the 
moment you heard he wanted you, you'd fly like mad to fulfill his demands 
upon you." 

"So you're Delys, are you?" asked Eddie, "Am I pleased to make your 
acquaintance....." 

He noticed Gwen's frantic gestures and grimaces, which were intended to warn 
him against saying anything which might convey to Delys the impression that 
he and Gwen were on terms of intimacy; but his mind was too full of other 
things to permit of his trying to decipher Gwen's dumb-talk. 

"We've heard a lot about you," he continued, putting his arm about Delys' 
waist and drawing her close to him; "Oh, I'd have given a lot to witness 
that first time when Irving did you whilst Gwen held you." 

"Oh, she told you about that?" 

As she spoke, Delys snuggled closer to Eddie, and turned her head to throw 
at Gwen a regard which said, "Haven't you gone yet?" 

"Well, Eddie," Delys continued, "If you're so keen on things like that, get 
Gwen to bring you round to Irving's some evening, and we'll repeat the 
performance especially for you." 

For a moment Delys and Eddie stood together laughing, whilst Gwen stood by 
in an anguish of fear at keeping Irving waiting and an equal fear of leaving 
Eddie without some idea of when they'd meet again. 

Brushing past Gwen without a word, Eddie guided Delys out into the hall and 
then up the stairs; Gwen slammed the front door behind her as she rushed 
from the house; Eddie smiled as he noticed that, as she mounted the stairs, 
Delys was already unfastening the buttons of her frock. 

Gwen, as was to be expected, did not return home that night. At Irving's 
house were four men, in addition to Irving, and two girls, one of whom was 
the secretary of one of the men, whilst the other was a waitress whose 
acquaintance they'd made whilst having tea together at a restaurant. Without 
evasiveness Irving told his guests, upon Gwen's arrival, that they could 
rely upon her for an evening's entertainment; two of the men had been with 
Irving at Eton and then throughout his period at Cambridge; they were 
partners in business, and had remained Irving's firm friends through the 
years. Together those three had had amatory experiences and bacchic nights 
whose recounting would leave speechless even the most hardened reprobates 
and degenerates; Irving's friends took it as no affront that he himself was 
unable to remain at home, since he had an appointment with Eileen Merivale, 
his employer. 

As soon as Godfrey Irving had left the house, the men stripped Gwen and the 
secretary; the waitress, who was a virgin, a girl of conventional 
upbringing, became frightened, and she said she was going home. She was 
prevailed upon to stay with assurances that she would not be treated as the 
other women were being treated, that indeed not a finger would be laid upon 
her; half an hour later, when every one buffeting Gwen and the secretary 
with cushions and with their discarded clothes twisted into whipping 
instruments, the waitress joined in with gusto, and worked herself up into 
such a frenzy that one of the men was stroking her thighs under her skirt 
for half a minute before she became aware of it; she pushed the man away, 
and struck at him with a cushion, laughing uproariously; when he seized at 
the cushion to take it from her, she dropped it, threw her arms about his 
neck and let herself go limp. Without disturbing the others, he carried her 
to the bedroom, where she excitedly helped him to undress her. The orgy 
continued until the waitress announced at about half-past eleven that she'd 
have to be going home; she went home four lovers richer than she'd been 
three hours previously. The secretary left at the same time as did two of 
the men; Gwen and the two remaining men spent the ensuing couple of hours 
making love in their brutal fashion and recounting their various erotic 
experiences. Even when all three had retired to one double bed, they slept 
but little, Gwen waking up at intervals of not much more than an hour, and 
each time feeling the need of one or another of her bed-mates. 

At the James' house, Jean and Arwel painted and listened to the radio, 
whilst Eddie and Delys enjoyed one another up in Gwen's room. Shortly after 
midnight, they extinguished the lights downstairs, and went up to Gwen's 
room; quietly pushing open the door, they looked in, In the brightly-lit 
room they saw Eddie lying in bed in deep sleep, whilst at his side Delys, in 
a sitting position, was wide awake, bored, waiting impatiently for her new 
lover to attack her again. The arrival of Jean and Arwel created a needed 
diversion, and she responded to their beckoning fore-fingers by quitting the 
bed, and joining them in the corridor. Without a word, Arwel led her along 
to his room, whilst Jean entered Gwen's room, where, standing ankle-deep in 
the lamb's wool rug at the bedside, she undressed prior to slipping into bed 
at Eddie's side. Eddie continued to sleep. 

In Arwel's room, Delys got into bed silently, and watched, fascinated, as 
Arwel undressed and folded his clothes carefully; her impatience to have his 
hands all over her body, his mouth at hers, and his phallus in her vagina 
was tempered by her delight in his slim body and its easy, graceful motions; 
she became his second woman, and he her third man, and both were 
well-pleased. 

Jean couldn't sleep, knowing that within a yard of her was a man she could 
have for the mere effort of stretching out her hand. She wanted a man so 
badly, and, since Eddie had fondled her so thrillingly earlier in the 
evening, her erotic ambitions were more in his direction than in that of any 
other man; her desire was urgent and painful, but she wanted him to wake of 
his own accord, refreshed after his exertions with the tireless Delys; and 
she was determined that, when he reached out for her, he should be denied 
her until he knew that she it was and not Delys. She wanted him to have her 
in the full knowledge that he was having her, so that afterwards, wherever 
and whenever he saw her, he would say to himself, "I did her in such and 
such a place, at such and such a time, under such and such circumstances." 
In an impatient torment, Jean tossed and turned in the bed, trying to sleep, 
and desperately endeavoring to avoid waking Eddie by her restlessness. 

When he eventually woke up, as the eastern sky began to turn pink, he spun 
round quickly towards his bedmate; fully alert, he was eager to taste again 
the luscious flesh upon which he'd feasted the previous evening. 

Sitting up in bed, naked, only her legs hidden by the bed clothes, Jean was 
a lovely column of pink flesh, such as a red-blooded man would want to sink 
his fangs into. 

"You!" he exclaimed, springing into a kneeling position astride her legs. 

"Yes," she replied, stretching out her arms to him, "All ready for you!" 

His eyes glinted greedily and cruelly. 

"On this very bed," he hissed, "you made a fool of me twice in the same day 
... a long time ago ... I had you just where I have you now, and you slipped 
out of my grasp. All these years you're refused me, whilst dozens of other 
women have been prepared to commit every crime short of murder to get me; 
the other time I didn't dare force you, 'cos I was afraid of goin' to quod 
for rape; but now I know a thing a two more than I knew then; I'll have you 
this time, by God I will, and I'll have you screaming for mercy....." 

His hand shot up to her face, and she felt the impact of his knuckles across 
her mouth. Once, twice, again and again; his hand flashed again and again, 
his knuckles across her mouth, nose and eyes, and his palm stinging her 
cheek, her neck, her shoulders; blood trickled from her lips and from a cut 
below her eye; her face swelled under a rain of blows, and turned blue; she 
begged for mercy, and gained a moment of respite whilst he sprang across to 
his clothes ... He came back with his bracers, with which he thrashed her 
mercilessly, until the flesh bubbled on her shoulders, back and buttocks and 
her thighs. 

Throwing his bracers across the room, he got into bed again, turned his back 
upon her, and prepared to go to sleep again, content, elated. Jean yearned 
towards him; painfully she crawled across the bed, until her arms encircled 
his body; her bruised face soothed itself by contact with his bare 
shoulders. One of her hands found his penis, which throbbed under her 
caress; she tickled the testicle-bag, and Eddie turned to her, his face 
ablaze with ugly triumph. Adopting a kneeling position between her thighs, 
as she lay on her back, he brought the helmet of his vast penis into contact 
with the aperture of her vagina. His first thrust introduced the entire 
column of his penis to her body, so that his testicles brushed her buttocks; 
he withdrew and then advanced again, another full thrust, and then he pushed 
his whole weight into her, as one desirous that his whole body should be 
sucked into the woman's loins; Jean's pain was a tearing, raging succession 
of fires within her, and she feared some permanent damage, but she uttered 
no sound until the tempo of their bodies rose to a humming, singing ecstasy, 
when groans of complete joy escaped her. She held him to her, and she 
strained towards him; she pushed him away, and followed him, retreated from 
him and pulled herself closer to him, defying him, urging him on to hurt her 
more than he had done. Their possessed bodies left the bed, and their limbs 
thrashed like serpents driven by demons; he tried to grind her into the 
carpet, and she tried to creep, nay to charge into his body ... Her legs 
locked themselves about his body, and his knees battered her butt; a sudden 
hurricane, gale-force winds, thunder and lightning accompanying groans, 
grunts and stifled screams came before the calm and tiredness of satiety. 

Kicking Jean away from him, Eddie dragged his tired body to the warmth of 
the lamb's wool rug. 

 30. 

Delys was in no doubt whatsoever that Eddie was Gwen's lover; she knew too 
how important it was, from Gwen's point of view, that Irving should not 
enter into intelligence of the fact. It was with some satisfaction that 
Delys anticipated the occasion when she would inform her employer that Gwen, 
his abject slave, had made a cuckold of him. As she walked towards Irving's 
house on the morrow of that first night of fornication with Eddie and Arwel, 
she decided not to break the news to Irving immediately; her sharing of 
Gwen's secret could perhaps have certain advantages; Gwen might be prepared 
to buy Delys' silence, either with money or with services of one kind or 
another;-certainly as long as Delys lover, the door of the James' house 
would be permanently open to her; and Delys intended to spend many nights 
with Arwel and Eddie, as well as with any other men whose acquaintance she 
might make under Gwen's roof. The moment would probably arrive when Delys 
would delight in betraying Gwen's secret to Irving, but in the meantime Gwen 
had nothing to fear. 

Gwen, however, was very anxious. She knew quite well that, if Delys 
exercised discretion on the subject of Eddie and Gwen, it would be only for 
as long as it suited her;-sooner or later Irving would learn from Delys' 
lips that he wasn't Gwen's sole lover, and it would not then take him long 
to find an excuse for dismissing Gwen from the service of Merivale's; Gwen 
would have to be very sweet to Delys, and hope thereby to gain a few weeks' 
respite. 

After her beating at the hands of Eddie, Jean entered a private nursing-home 
for several days. Realizing the difficulty of giving any false, and at the 
same time convincing, explanation of the circumstances in which she'd 
acquired her cuts and bruises, she told the truth to the home's only doctor 
who was also its proprietor; that her story roused in him an interest 
totally independent of that demanded by his profession was evident to Jean. 
Within three days all her bruises were banished, whilst the few cuts which 
hadn't healed completely gave no more cause for alarm. 

"You'll be able to leave tomorrow," said the doctor, "if you feel strong 
enough." 

"Oh, yes! I'll feel fine; I'm impatient to get back home." 

"Back to another thrashing, eh?" 

"Not so much that! There will be more of that, of course, but equally 
important ... no, more important ... are my friends, Arwel and Gwen. I'm 
their house-keeper, but they've always made me feel as though he was my 
young brother, and she my mother....." 

"I too am impatient for your departure from this nursing-home," he replied; 
"Oh, don't look like that! You've been a model patient; the moment your 
discharge is registered in my office, you'll cease to be my patient, and I'm 
going to take you home in my car, and I'm going to treat you as a man treats 
a woman, instead of as a doctor treats her....." 

"We don't have to wait until tomorrow." 

"I'm sorry, but we must; at least, I must. I came into possession of this 
place at a bargain, its previous owner having been struck off the register 
after a woman patient had seduced him here, and later brought against him a 
charge of unprofessional behavior.....'in that you did seduce this woman 
whilst there existed between you a doctor-patient relationship'; I don't 
know exactly how they phrase these things, but that's how it is ... The 
other chap was engaged to be married, but this patient wanted him badly, so 
he gave it to her; there was no talk of love or anything like that; it was 
just mutual lust, with no promises, tacit or otherwise; but afterwards his 
continued intention to go through with his marriage roused the woman to such 
vengefulness that she wrecked his career....." 

"But I shan't ruin your career." 

"I'm not so sure about that; I shall wait until tomorrow, until you've 
ceased to be my patient ... " 

"Go now, and register my discharge, and then come back to me!" 

"I've told you ... tomorrow! I can't discharge you and then let you stay 
here; the duty nurse would smell a rat; we never discharge patients at ten 
o'clock in the evening, so even if you left here now, the nurse would still 
suspect something; you can wait until tomorrow." 

Throwing back the bedclothes, Jean pulled her night-dress up until she was 
naked up to her breasts. 

"If you don't jump into me now," she said, her eyes blazing with a mixture 
of anger and desire, "your blood's cold water." 

"No, it isn't," he replied, smiling, "The sight of you, abasing yourself, 
increases my appetite for the woman I'm just going to join; I know my 
predecessor's story is true, because it's been confirmed for me by the woman 
herself ... She's waiting for me, less than a hundred yards from here, and 
she'll laugh herself stupid when I tell her about you." 

The following morning, after her discharge from the nursing-home, Jean 
allowed her doctor to take her home in his car. Up in her room, he took her 
without undressing her, and left immediately afterwards, without telling her 
that she was the first woman he'd ever ridden. 

 31. 

For the major part of the evening of the day of Jean's entering the 
nursing-home Arwel was at her bedside; Gwen also spent more than an hour 
with them, and she brought with her a portable radio receiver which she knew 
would give great pleasure to her dearly beloved melomane of an 
almost-daughter; after Gwen's departure (to keep an appointment with Sidney 
Horsbrugh) Jean and Arwel listened together to the first part of 
Schon-berg's 'Gurrelieder.' 

The following evening, Percy Dent and Gwen went together to the hospital; 
Arwel, who had spent an hour with Jean at lunch-time, did not accompany 
them, since Gwen intended staying with Jean for a few minutes only, and he 
imagined that Jean and Percy would be pleased to be alone for the remainder 
of the evening. 

During Gwen's absence Arwel practiced Bach's third piano sonata, the second 
movement of which had been worrying him for several days; Jean had said that 
he played it too crisply; he had added some smoothness to his performance, 
and she had expressed herself in agreement with his new interpretation of 
the movement. However, the more he played it, the more convinced he became 
that his brisker execution was the correct one; eventually he decided that 
Taylor Beecroft must hear his two interpretations, and give his opinion. As 
was ever the case with Arwel, a decision made must be acted upon with the 
minimum of delay; so, the moment Gwen returned home, he announced his 
intention of going immediately to the Beecroft house. 

Gwen was expecting Eddie, so she remained at home. 

Arwel had left the house only ten minutes when Taylor himself entered the 
James house; he rarely came without Naomi, but she was listening to a play 
on the radio, and said she might follow him later. 

"Taylor! And alone! Why, it's so long since you came alone, that I can't 
recall the last time. You didn't meet Arwel?" 

Taylor nodded his head negatively. 

"He left here a few minutes ago, to go to you; he wants your advice upon a 
piece of this tuneless modern stuff he thumps out on this....." 

She waved a hand in the direction of the piano, and Taylor half-tuned, 
saying: 

"Oh, well, I'll hurry back home....." 

"No, you won't; it's ages since you and I have had a minute together; he'll 
be back in half an hour. Is Naomi at home?" 

"Yes; she's listening to 'John Bull's Other Island'; she may come round 
later." 

"That's alright then; she'll tell Arwe, that you've come here, and he's so 
impatient to see you that he'll run back like a man chased by a legion of 
demons. 

"Yes, I suppose so; it would be rather stupid to go back now, and find that 
he'd already left by another route." 

Gwen patted the cushions on the settee, and motioned Taylor to join her in 
its silky coziness; he sat down cautiously on the edge of the settee, as far 
away from her as possible, giving an impersonation of a timid postman who 
has to deliver a letter to a house whose front door is guarded by a snarling 
Airedale. 

Leaning back luxuriously in the cushions, Gwen threw one leg over the other 
knee; the hem of her skirt fell back carelessly upon the lower reaches of 
her thigh. She stretched out her left arm, and for an instant her hand, 
poised an inch or two from Taylor's elbow, was like the claw of a ferocious 
bird of prey about to fall upon its victim; a shudder passed through 
Taylor's body as her hungry fingers dug into the fleshy part of his 
upper-arm. Then he her; he tried to think of something to say, something 
which would offer her no opportunity of twisting the conversation into a 
sensual duet. But he remained speechless, and eventually allowed himself to 
be drawn deeper into the hedonic featheriness of the settee; Gwen seized his 
face between her hands, and looked into his eyes; her nostrils dilated, her 
skin stretched itself tight over her cheek-bones, her cheeks turned almost 
transparent, and her pale lips quivered nervously, excitedly as they swooped 
down upon his unwilling mouth. She felt him trying to divert his face from 
her, and her passion mounted, her desire for him became madness; she bit 
him; she writhed and clambered over him, pressing herself into his loins, 
causing her butt to jerk to and fro in a frenzy of lust. Taylor responded to 
none of her deliberate gestures, to none of the involuntary twitching of her 
body, to none of her irrepressible sighs and groans. 

"Take me, Tay! Do it! Do me, Tay! Help me! Oh, God, help me! Tay! Tay! I 
must have it; I must." 

He pushed her gently, but firmly away from him into the far corner of the 
settee, but she flung herself back upon him, and he was obliged to be more 
brutal in his repulsion of her: his roughness was an aphrodisiac to her; 
pulling her skirts up, she removed her panties with feverish hands, and 
struck a revoltingly seductive posture before him, her whole body trembling 
with the intensity of her need. Moved at last to an agony of desire, Taylor 
sprang to his feet and fled from the house, pursued for a hundred yards 
along the street by Gwen, crazily screaming her entreaties at him. 

Having escaped from Gwen, Taylor was revolted at the thought of returning 
home, to Naomi and perhaps Arwel; there was an impurity newly within him, a 
demon which he must exorcise, 'though he knew not how ... Taylor pushed open 
the doors of a public-house, and, almost breathless, ordered brusquely a 
double Irish; it scorched his throat and twisted his visage into a grimace 
of disgust. 

"The same again!" he commanded. 

As the barmaid handed him his replenished glass, she asked, "Are you not 
well, sir?" 

He drank half the contents of the glass, shook himself as one awakening from 
a heavy sleep, and drank the remainder. 

"I'm fine." he replied thickly, vaguely aware of the beauty of the person 
who was swaying before him in a cloud of multicolored smoke, "You all right, 
darling?" 

"Yes." she replied simply. 

"Yes," he said, smiling foolishly, "You're all right." 

Without waiting for his command, she filled his glass; the coins he pushed 
across the moist counter in her direction floated back to him, sugared with 
the words: 

"This one's on me, honey." 

"What!" he exclaimed, "Why?" 

He imagined that he heard her reply, "For services not yet rendered." 

A big masculine voice came to him from a distance of many leagues. His fists 
flashed upwards and struck his temples; for a moment he gripped hid head 
between his clenched fists, and then he was awake, light-headed, but not 
drunk. 

To the full glass of whiskey before which he had slept during more than 
half-an-hour he addressed the mono-syllabic question, "Time?" 

As if in answer, a massive voice sang out, "Time, gentlemen, please!" 

There was noise and movement; there was the passage of time; there appeared 
at Taylor's side the barmaid, divest of her apron, coated, but hatless. By 
pressure upon his arm, she incited him to rise from his stool; together they 
left the house, and he allowed himself to be led along the street a few 
yards, and into the yard of St. Michael's church. Only when his feet left 
the hardness of the churchyard path, and began to tread silently the grassy 
plain under which reposed the mortal remains of a dozen or more once-worthy 
parishioners of St. Mike's, did Taylor realize that he was being raped; the 
actual crime took place in the middle of a vast rhododendron, where the girl 
stripped herself naked prior to removing every stitch of Taylor's clothing. 
Feeling his penis thrilling to the blandishments of her lips and eager 
tongue, Taylor decided it was time to cease playing his passive role; he 
curled the girl up on her hands and knees, holding her head under her body, 
with her chin between her breasts, and he thrust himself vigorously into her 
from behind; afterwards, as she lay tired and contented, he dressed, threw 
all her clothing over the wall, into the street below, and danced gaily 
along the church-yard path and out on to the street. 

Arwel knocked on the door of the Beecroft residence about ten minutes after 
Taylor's leaving home bound for the James's house; before going to open the 
door, Naomi increased the volume of her radio, hoping thereby not to miss 
much of the plot during the little time it would take to get rid of the 
unwelcome caller. The moment, however, that she saw her visitor, the word 
unwelcome fell out of her mind, as did the play to which she'd been 
listening with the keenest interest. 

She used, to retain Arwel, the argument with which Gwen had dissuaded Taylor 
from returning home the moment he knew that Arwel had gone to visit him. 

"As soon as Taylor knows you've come here to see him, he'll return on winged 
feet; if you go back home now, you'll probably miss him on the way. Taylor 
has the grotesquest idea of what is the shortest distance between two 
points, and you and he would, perhaps, take different routes; your to and 
fro might go on all night." 

It seemed reasonable to Arwel, especially since he believed Gwen to be 
expecting Eddie; Taylor certainly wouldn't stay long if he were the only 
person present apart from Gwen and Eddie; Taylor and Eddie hated one another 
profoundly. 

When they were installed on a settee before the fire, and Naomi had turned 
the wireless dial away from her Strindberg play and to a Mozart concert, 
Naomi said: 

"It's strange, 'Wei, but, although we've been friends since you were a 
child, and we've met frequently, this is, as far as I can recall, the first 
time you and I have been alone together." 

Smiling, Arwel made no reply, since none seemed to be required. 

Moving closer to Arwel, Naomi continued: 

"Seeing you without Gwen or Jean as your bodyguard, I realize, for the first 
time, that you're no longer an adolescent, but a man....." 

"I'm in no hurry to be a man," replied Arwel, "I shall be adult in God's 
time; but until then I'm quite content to be considered a child." 

"You're making a big mistake there, Arwel. 

Childhood is not without its particular charms, but life really belongs to 
the adult; and the sooner you accept the status of manhood, the longer 
you'll be able to taste the real pleasures of life. Never forget that 
there's an end as well as a beginning to life with a capital L. So at the 
beginning as well as at the end you have to make the best of every hour; you 
don't regard as living people those whose only pleasures in life are a pipe 
of tobacco or a bag of peppermints, a warm room in Winter and a sun-drenched 
park bench in Summer? Well, that's what we all become, unless we die before 
we're forty-five, in the case of women, or fifty-five, in the case of 
men....." 

To Arwel, Naomi's remarks were interesting, but somewhat ridiculous; it was 
obvious that Naomi was thinking only of the sexual aspect of living; in 
which case her remarks were to the point; but Naomi was an intelligent girl, 
interested in literature, the theater, music, painting, politics, and 
philosophy. There was not the slightest doubt in the boy's mind that her 
appreciation of all these things would deepen with the years, that, with the 
passage of time, she would derive ever more satisfaction from those things 
which interested her in the early summer of her life. Before he could 
articulate his thoughts, Naomi added: 

"Start living now, Arwel! Don't let Gwen and Jean hold you in imagine! Brush 
aside their sweetmeats! Sink your man's fangs into the hot life, and drink 
the exhilarating blood of adult experience!" 

Gripping his shoulders tightly in her slender hands, blanched and reinforced 
by the intensity of her desire to persuade him to a course of action, she 
entreated him: 

"Let me be your mentor, darling! I'll help you to manifest your manhood; 
I'll subordinate everything to my duties as your guide and teacher. 
Everything I am and have is at your command; take off my clothes, Arwel, and 
pour your virginity to me.....! " 

Arwel took her eager hands gently in his, and tenderly smoothed away the 
tenseness from her fingers. Stroking her hands, he said: 

"You're two or three days too late, Nao; I've already had two girls, and I 
have another on order....." 

Lights of excitement shone in Naomi's eyes. 

"Who was it? Jean!" 

He nodded sis head affirmatively. 

"The other was Delys; I think you haven't met her; she's Irving's 
housekeeper." 

Naomi threw herself upon Arwel, her arms circling his neck. 

"Why, this is priceless, darling! How you must have enjoyed my talking to 
you as though you were a child whom it was my duty to lead from innocence 
into the glories of sin!" 

They laughed heartily together until Naomi brought her mouth to his in a 
passionate kiss to which he responded with every ounce of his strength. 

"I'd have liked to be your first," said she, "but I'll content with third 
place." 

Within a minute her dress was draped carelessly across the back of a chair, 
her underskirt and chemise were lying on the floor with her shoes, and she 
was standing provocatively before him clad in brassiere and panties. 
Removing the brassiere, she handed it to him prior to casting herself at his 
feet in a pose of complete and humble abandon. 

He bent forward and seized the hair which curled behind her head; he pulled 
her into a standing position in which she was bent backwards, her arms 
dangling down behind her. One movement of his free hand sufficed to tear her 
panties from her loins; she moved one foot, so that her thighs parted wide, 
offering him easy access to that part of her which was at that moment 
all-important. He kneeled before her, buried his nose and mouth in the hairs 
of her loins, and licked her, holding her buttocks firmly in his hands, 
feeling their flesh shiver as his tongue scorched her clitoris. 

They swayed to and fro in a frenzy of mutual desire; at the moment when her 
impatience became quite intolerable, he rose quickly to his feet, and 
lowered her onto the sofa; she thrilled to the thought that her moment had 
arrived, and, trembling from top to toe, uttering little sobs in 
anticipation of the joy she was going to squeeze out of his flesh, she 
reached out to him hungrily. He was out of the room before she realized that 
he had moved away from her; she sprang to her feet and bounded across to the 
door, which she tore open at the moment when he opened the front door of the 
house ... As he stepped out of the brightly-lighted hall into the darkness 
of the night, Naomi hurled herself across the hall, and seized the door 
which he was pulling to behind him. Oblivious of the fact that, standing in 
the illuminated doorway, she was clearly visible in her nakedness to 
passers-by, she supplicated him to return to her and satisfy the lust which 
he had roused within her. 

Arwel didn't turn his head in her direction: he was by no means 
unsympathetic to her pleadings. Her desire for him was matched by his for 
her; but suddenly, as he'd been indulging in the preliminaries to having 
Naomi, he had thought of Taylor ... Taylor, a dear friend, whom he loved, 
respected and admired ... Taylor, to whom the naked, shameless trull whose 
sexual organ he was sucking was not only sister, but everything ... He 
didn't know how great or how little hurt he would be doing to Taylor in 
riding his nag, but he was unprepared to enjoy himself at the possible 
expense of his friend, so he fled from the house. 

Arwel was only twenty yards from the front door when Naomi became aware of 
the fact that, at the garden-gate, a girl was gazing at her in undisguised 
amazement; closing the door, Naomi ran back to the sofa upon which she threw 
herself and wept bitterly until her sobs rocked her to sleep ... So it was 
that Taylor found her later in the evening when he returned home in the 
highest of spirits. 

The girl who had embarrassed Naomi by her stares, hurried to overtake the 
man to whom the strange nude woman had been shouting. This girl was young 
and had had little experience of the ways of men, but she knew at least that 
only a very unusual man would reject advances as blatant as those of which 
she had just witnessed the final gestures. 

Walking abreast of Arwel the girl said: 

"It's none of my business, but don't you think it's rather prodigal of you 
to throw away a chance like that?" 

"It is." he agreed, "especially since there are thousands of men within a 
mile radius of us who'd be delighted at the chance of having that woman." 

"I suppose you've had it with her so often that it's become routine instead 
of poetry; isn't that the reason for your running away?" 

"No, that's not at all how it is," he said, feeling as though he were 
confiding in an old and trusted friend, instead of in a girl whom he'd never 
previously met; he proceeded to tell her the whole story, ending with the 
request: 

".....so please don't judge me too severely; I wanted her badly, 
desperately; but I didn't want to work out my appetite on a woman who 
belongs to a friend....." 

By that time, Arwel was a long way from the route towards his own home; he 
had just followed wherever the girl seemed to be going ... .. in the 
direction of her home, he imagined. In point of fact they had just descended 
from the bridge which crossed the canal, and were walking along the tow-path 
bordering the water-way. 

As Arwel stopped talking, the girl halted. 

Looking frankly up into his eyes, she smiled, and said with the simplicity 
of the fourteen-year-old girl she was: 

"I'm not ... 'a woman who belongs to a friend.'" 

Astonishment almost rendered him inarticulate. He stammered: 

"What do you ... you mean ... I don't . ... " 

"You wanted that woman desperately," the girl said shyly, drawing him off 
the tow-path and into the shadow of some trees, "Has your hunger gone?" 

"No," he answered, "The sharp agony of the moment subsides quickly, but 
there remains a gnawing regret that circumstances robbed you of what was 
almost within your grasp." 

"In what way was Naomi so special, so different from other women?" asked the 
girl. 

Arwel replied that Naomi was in no way special, and that she was different 
only in as much as he imagined each woman was different from every other 
woman, however slightly. 

"So every woman you have is a new thrill, and almost any reasonably 
attractive girl could untie the knot of regret that you've mentioned?" 

To his simple reply of "Yes," she said: 

"You'll have to teach me, tell me what to do; I'm not as used to it as your 
Naomi." 

"No! No!" she said a few minutes later, "I want all my clothes off; I want 
you to see me as naked as she was; do to me everything that men do to women; 
I once read in a novel that women like men to be cruel to them: be cruel to 
me, Arwel!" 

Their bed of vice was no soft lawn grass; it was the black cinder-track, 
made rougher by the dried pine cones which tore the tender skin of her back 
as she writhed ecstatically under the weight of Arwel and under his 
merciless thrusting inside her. 

"Hurt me, Arwel! Harder! Deeper! Again! Hit me! Arwel, make a woman of me! 
Make me bleed! Oeer! Oo! Aaahhh!" 

The following day the girl visited Naomi; when she asked to speak with Naomi 
alone, and said it was about Arwel, she was told that Naomi and Taylor had 
no secrets one from the other, and that whatever she had to say must be said 
in Taylor's presence. Embarrassed at first by Taylor's presence, the girl 
soon thrilled at his evident pleasure in hearing the details of the story. 
She explained to Naomi that Arwel's leaving her unsatisfied had been purely 
a question of his affection for Taylor and in no Way implied Arwel's desire 
for her was inferior to hers for him. She repeated Arwel's declaration to 
the effect that he had wanted Naomi desperately; this latter was so thrilled 
that she kissed the girl passionately on the lips, and stroked her breasts 
and buttocks affectionately; Taylor was driven to agonies of joy by the 
girl's detailed and bright-eyed account of what had transpired in the shadow 
of the pine trees on the canal bank. 

The girl herself, living over again those few minutes of animalism, was 
roused to the most intense sexual desire, so that she was aware of drops of 
moisture upon her panties. 

As the girl fatigued by excitement of her tale, repeated, as well as she 
could recollect, the sobs and groans which had accompanied her reaching 
climax under Arwel's attack, Naomi embraced her, smothered her face with 
kisses, stripped her bare and gave her to Taylor; the moment Taylor's hands 
touched her unclothed person, the girl lost all lassitude, and, before 
Naomi's eyes she yielded herself tempestuously. 

 32. 

During the two or three weeks following Jean's release from the nursing 
home, Gwen's house was the scene of one sexual orgy after another; but, 
whereas previously Gwen had played the most important role in such festivals 
of the flesh, she found herself suddenly obliged to share the limelight with 
the other two regular members of her house-hold ... Jean and Arwel. There 
were even heights of fornication in which Gwen was not involved, since much 
of her time was spent in Irving's bed and at the homes of various friends of 
Eddie. Such an occasion was the visit of Sidney Horsbrugh and his daughter 
Rachel; they were received, as prearranged, by Jean and Arwel. During about 
half an hour drinks were sipped, there was some quite normal, polite 
conversation, and Sidney danced with Jean, whilst Arwel followed suit with 
Rachel. Sidney had decided to take no initiative in getting down to the real 
business of their visit; he wanted to see how his daughter and these other 
young people would break the ice without his help. Jean also felt that it 
was not primarily her evening; she wanted, and intended to have, Sidney; but 
it was, to her, more important that Arwel should have Rachel, and that he 
should not have her presented upon a plate borne by Jean herself. Arwel knew 
he could have Rachel: she had come for that purpose; and he had agreed to 
her coming for the same reason. But she was so beautiful, so sophisticated 
that he feared to make a first move which might strike her as the gauche 
impatience and clumsiness of a man who'd never previously made love to a 
woman and had no knowledge of feminine psychology; he wanted to convey the 
impression that whether this girl became his mistress or not was a matter of 
no world-shaking importance; she was but one of many whom he could have at 
will. In fact, from the moment he set eyes upon her, he wanted her terribly, 
and every movement of her limbs and body was a thrill to him; she was, for 
the moment, the only person in the world who really interested him. Arwel 
hesitated. 

Rachel began to think this young Welshman had taken a dislike to her; but 
her knowledge of her beauty and attractiveness quickly drove that silly idea 
from her head. Perhaps her father had made a mistake or was playing one of 
his tricks upon her; perhaps Jean and Arwel were not lovers at all, but a 
decent woman and boy typical of the British bourgeoisie; perhaps her father 
had lied when he'd told her his hands had knowledge of the whole of Jean's 
body, and that only his having an urgent appointment had prevented his 
reaching the highest peak of intimacy with her. Jean and Arwel conducted 
themselves with perfect propriety at their first meeting with Rachel. 

Rachel, looking cool and fresh, complained, during a torrid rumba, that it 
was getting too hot for energetic dancing; when Arwel suggested either 
sitting down or playing more leisurely music, she declared her readiness to 
accept whichever of the solutions suited him the better; at the same time, 
she took off her dress and underskirt, and the ice was broken. When Delys 
entered the house fifteen minutes later, male and female attire was strewn 
about the room, and she saw Arwel and Rachel making passionate love on the 
floor; whilst Sidney, quite naked, was standing behind a vast armchair, his 
penis flashing in and out of the loins of Jean who was standing on her head, 
in the chair, with her long, slender legs coiled about the body of her 
debaucher. 

No one taking the slightest notice of her. Delys helped herself to Gin and 
bitters, and sat down, to watch the final twitching of the two pairs of 
bodies, and to await her turn to enjoy the body of the unknown gentleman. 

A few days later, Naomi's birthday was celebrated at Gwen's house. Quite 
casually, without betraying that she remembered it was Naomi's birthday, 
Gwen had said to Taylor, "Come round tomorrow evening, darling! Perhaps Nao 
will come with you." Wearing a lovely dress which Taylor had bought for her 
birthday, Naomi arrived with Taylor to find the James's house wearing the 
smile reserved for parties, celebrations; colored lights in the bushes and 
trees of the front garden; lots of lighted candles indoors, a profusion of 
flowers, paper chains, bunting, tinseled and Chinese lanterns, tables heavy 
with edible delicacies and a rich choice of drinks. She was greeted by Gwen, 
Jean, Delys, Rachel, Sidney Horsbrugh, Arwel, Percy Dent and even Eddie 
Lennon, who, in common with all the others, had a present for her. This one 
gave silk stockings; that one perfume; someone else chocolates. The complete 
works of Shaw in a beautiful volume bound in Bordeaux-colored leather was a 
present which Naomi greatly appreciated; Eddie's present was gossamer-fine 
underwear. 

After the scrutiny of her presents, Naomi received something which gave her 
more pleasure than all the other things; it was a few words of counsel from 
Arwel. Learning that the lovely dress she was wearing was new and a gift 
from Taylor, Arwel said, "If I were you, darling, in view of the uncivilized 
mob here assembled, I'd take off that frock before somebody spills wine over 
it." 

Considering the number of pairs of hands which aided Naomi in her taking off 
of the dress, it is surprising that it was still in perfect condition when 
Rachel took it up to Gwen's bedroom; by the time Rachel returned to the 
salon, those willing hands had removed all the remaining garments from 
Naomi's body; when she'd agreed to take off her dress, Naomi had determined 
that none of the men should amuse himself with her before she'd had Arwel. 
So, as her panties slid down the calves of her legs, she threw herself into 
the arms of an Arwel who was eager to receive her. The others, having 
witnessed the first two or three thrusts of Arwel's weapon into Naomi's 
body, paired themselves off with the minimum of discrimination. 

No one went to bed that night; the beds were used, but not for sleeping. 
Having given their all one to another, a man and a woman would remain where 
they happened to be, too tired to move, and they would cease, for half an 
hour, to be aware of what was being done around them. Waking, a man would 
fondle the female nearest to hand, or he'd see a female form lying neglected 
a few yards away, and he would crawl across to it. When the party broke up 
the following morning, several of the participants didn't know with whom 
they had made love and with whom they'd failed to do so ... 

After breakfast, Gwen went to work, so drunk that only Jean's insistence on 
prudence deterred Percy from accompanying her to the office. Although Gwen 
and Percy worked together, they invariably went to work quite independently 
of one another, in case Irving should see them together and begin to 
entertain suspicions about the relations existing between them. 

One or two people in the office suspected that Percy Dent and Gwen James 
were friends in secret; they recalled Dent's earlier opposition to Gwen, and 
the sudden death of that antipathy; they'd noticed glances exchanged between 
the former rivals; but they'd never seen the two together outside the 
office. Tongues did wag, however, and lustily, when Gwen entered the office 
noticeably inebriated, followed, ten minutes later by a sober Mr. Dent who 
stank of liquor and wore the pale, haggard expression of one who has come to 
the office straight from a Bacchic feast. 

Typical of the remarks made was, "I'll bet a pound to a pinch of snuff the 
liquor that knocked her out came from the bottles he hums of." 

Even had Gwen heard these observations, she'd still have been very pleased 
with herself that morning. She'd arranged the party for Naomi's benefit, and 
that in all sincerity, for there was between Gwen and Naomi a love which is 
desperately rare between women. Gwen knew Naomi had thoroughly enjoyed the 
party, and that in particular she had delighted in becoming Arwel's mistress 
after her previous abortive effort to do so. Gwen had, however, her selfish 
reasons for not regretting the party; whether by chance or design, Taylor 
had seized Gwen, whilst Arwel and Naomi were fornicating together, and he 
had used her and given himself with a vigor and enthusiasm quite astonishing 
when you bear in mind that he had been visiting her house regularly during 
about a decade, and that he'd known throughout that period that a mere nod 
of his head would have stripped every stitch of clothing from her body, her 
body which was his to do with whatever he chose. It had taken him a long 
time to surmount the barrier which his imagination had built between himself 
and Gwen, and she was happy in the knowledge that the barrier was no longer 
effective. Everyone had had a good night and Gwen liked her friends to enjoy 
themselves. 

Delys went, drunk, to Irving's house. She was late, and he was already 
struggling with the preparations for his breakfast. 

"Where the hell have you been since seven o'clock?" 

"Don't you swear at me! I've been enjoying myself ... at a party ... I've 
been so well-cucked that my private parts are like scorched off'ring ... 
ought t'have been there, honey ... enough of what you like or everybody ... 
" 

"You're drunk; here, stop talking, and get my breakfast ready!" 

"You get my breakfast ready! I could've ha dit at Gwen's, but I had to hurry 
... " 

"You could have had it where?" 

His grip on her arm and the tone of his voice shook her out of her drunken 
babbling; she realized that she'd used Gwen's name, and that it hadn't 
passed unnoticed. 

"Ben, one of my friends ... he asked me to stay to breakfast ... " 

"Ben! To hell with your Ben! You said "Gwen." Gwen James ... that's where 
you've been ... you and her and a crowd of common poachers ... " 

He seized Delys by the collar of her dress. 

"Tell me where you've been! I'll tear every stitch off you and thrash you 
till you drop." 

Delys didn't want to betray Gwen; they'd spent a thrilling night together, 
and there would often be nights comparable to it. But Irving, knowing a 
thrashing at his hands would delight her rather than punish her, wouldn't 
hesitate to dismiss her from his service, if her reply didn't satisfy him. 
She'd already said too much; he'd heard her mention of Gwen's name, and 
hadn't been deceived by her talk of the imaginary Ben. It was too late to 
undo the damage to Gwen, but time enough, perhaps, to avoid sharing Gwen's 
fate. like Gwen, Delys could get another job, but few employers were as 
generous and easy-going as Irving. 

"I was at Gwen's house," she whispered. "It was a birthday party for one of 
her friends. It's true we had a good time, but not Gwen ... not with the 
men, I mean. They tried, but she wouldn't ... " 

Irving released his grip on her dress, and she stumbled to her knees as he 
flung himself out of the kitchen. 

She heard the front door bang. 

 33. 

Dismissed from Merivale's for reporting for work in a state of inebriation, 
Gwen knew that Delys had betrayed her. Irving had said nothing about their 
personal relations, and he'd silenced her when she'd tried to ask if, in 
spite of her dismissal, she could hope to see him outside the office as 
previously. Anyone overhearing their conversation would have imagined, from 
what he had to say, that it was purely and simply a business matter; the 
director of a respectable business house observed that one of his higher 
grade employees is drunk and incapable of fulfilling her duties. He 
reprimands her, expresses his surprise that she should conduct herself in 
such a manner, and his regret that, in the circumstances, he is unable to 
make any allowance for the sterling service she has hitherto rendered to the 
firm. She is dismissed with instant effect, and will be given two weeks' pay 
in lieu of notice. 

There followed, for Gwen, weeks of searching for employment. Several people 
to whom she applied allowed her to know that they could have no faith in a 
person dismissed by Merivale's from a position of importance. When she gave 
the reason for her dismissal ... the official reason ... they looked at her 
aghast, and said they could offer her nothing. She received one or two 
offers of clerical or warehouse employment of the humblest kind at salaries 
representing about a third of what she'd been getting at Merivale's. 

At The Alliance wholesale Fruit Company, she refused a clerical appointment, 
and was informed that there would shortly be a vacancy in an administrative 
grade. The young man who gave her the information said it was a vacancy for 
the post of Female Personnel Officer. 

"I am the personnel officer, you see; but it's become too much for one man, 
and the chief thinks there ought to be a woman as Personnel Officer for the 
women workers; she'd be subordinate to me, and would be able to help female 
workers in a way which no man can do, even one as experienced as myself." 

He was a young fellow, pretty and childish-spoilt-childish; he was obviously 
too young for the post he held, and couldn't possibly have the experience he 
pretended to have. Gwen saw herself making so great a success of the job of 
Female Personnel Officer, that, before long, she'd replace this child as 
Personnel Officer for the whole firm. First of all, however, she'd have to 
use this boy as a means of getting the subordinate post, and she'd have to 
keep him so occupied thereafter that he'd be blind to her treachery. 

"It sounds like the very type of job I need, and the job that needs me too. 
I'm sure you can arrange for the job and me to have the benefit of one 
another." 

"Well, of course, the decision does he with me; I make all appointments, and 
the chief has to approve higher grade appointments; but his okay is a mere 
matter of form." 

"So I have nothing else to worry about; I'll leave the whole thing to you." 

"Oh, dear, it's not as easy as that; I have to convince myself that the 
apphcant is in every way suitable for the post, and there are already a 
number of people for the job ... senior members of our female staff. They 
have a certain priority, though I personally doubt whether any of 'em have 
what I'm looking for..." 

Smiling wickedly, Gwen said, "I've got what you're looking for." 

The poor boy wasn't quite sure what she meant, but he blushed slightly and 
lowered his excessively oiled head. 

"I've had a lot of experience of handling large numbers of workers," Gwen 
said, leaning provocatively forward, "and I've found that the most important 
thing is that there shall be a really good understanding between the people 
in responsible positions. Now no elderly spinster, however good her 
qualifications for this post may be, is the ideal person for you to have as 
your closest associate; you're a young, handsome fellow ... " 

Gwen paused for a moment. She'd said something which an intelligent young 
man would have found nauseating, even though he might be handsome and aware 
of the fact; but she noticed that this colorless fop lapped up her crude 
flattery as a hungry kitten laps up milk. She felt hope flowing through her 
as strong liquor flows along the intestines, along the nerves, warming not 
only the body, but the soul as well. She was sure this boy could be used to 
her advancement, and she pressed on. 

"You ought to appoint a woman who's attractive enough and sufficiently 
broad-minded to be a companion as well as an assistant ... " 

Laughing fatuously he gurgled, "AD work and no play, eh?" 

"Precisely," Gwen said, "With me you'd have work well done, but you'd have 
as much play as you wanted, during and out of office hours." 

"Well, I'll bear you in mind. Leave me your address, and I'll call you to an 
interview when I've more time to go into details of your experience, 
etcetera. It's noon already; if you'll excuse me, I must be going to lunch." 

Ten minutes later, in a taxi which Gwen had ordered with the help of the 
telephone in the young man's office, they were on their way to Gwen's house, 
she having persuaded him that he'd not only have a better lunch there than 
at his usual restaurant but also that, after lunch, there'd be at her house 
the time and the place for their entering into closer acquaintance with one 
another. 

Immediately after lunch, Arwel left the house, making the excuse that he had 
to make certain purchases on his way to the bank. At the same time, Jean let 
it be known that, for some time, she'd be very busy in the kitchen. 

Conditions were entirely favorable to Gwen's plan. As she'd paid the taxi 
chauffeur on their arrival at the house, she'd also asked him to return at a 
quarter to two, to take her boy friend back to his office. They had half an 
hour to themselves, and they had to hand a bottle of Grand Marnier. There 
was nothing to prevent Gwen's giving a little of herself as a sample of what 
would be forthcoming in the event of her young man's throwing all his weight 
behind her candidature for the vacant post at Alliance Fruit; had she had a 
particle of the true whore instinct, the young man would have become her 
lover only after she'd been officially informed of her appointment to the 
post of Female Personnel Officer. However, much as the man wanted Gwen (or 
any other reasonably attractive woman), she quickly (and typically) came to 
want him even more; consequently, where she should have surrendered 
reluctantly in exchange for certain promises, she begged him, after their 
first kiss, to take her upstairs. Astonished that his conquest of her had 
been so easy, he hurried her up to her bedroom, and made her a present of 
his virginity. 

During the conversation which took place as they awaited the arrival of the 
taxi, the young man was unable to withhold from Gwen the information that, 
in fact, his responsibility for the appointment which interested her was 
much less than he had allowed her to believe. It was the manager personally 
who made such decisions, and he depended upon his Personnel Officer merely 
for the compiling of a list of all the applicants, together with details of 
their ages, qualifications, experience, etcetera. 

"I'd better see the manager then," said Gwen, her anger and disappointment 
struggling with her gratitude to this boy for the pleasure he'd given her. 

"He's off duty for a few days; had some sort of injury to his ankle; he's at 
the hospital today ... at Leechester ... for an examination ... might be 
back at the office next Monday, so he said." 

Surprised that Gwen should be so slightly annoyed by his duplicity, her 
newest lover undertook to come again soon, and to spend more time with her. 

Remaking the bed, Gwen admitted to herself that she'd just made the mistake 
which she'd previously made too frequently ... the mistake of begging men to 
become her lovers, when, by patience, she could have had them not only 
begging for her favors, but ready to pay her price for them. 

Gwen learned little from her experiences. 

The following afternoon, at the house of the manager of The Alliance 
Wholesale Fruit Company, she took part in an almost identical performance of 
the drama in which she and the Personnel Officer had played the main roles; 
the difference was in that the manager, a sixty-five-year-old widower who 
worked because he enjoyed wielding authority, was more sure of himself than 
his employee had been. Within five minutes of Gwen's knocking on his door, 
he believed that he knew just what type of woman she was and in what state 
her fortunes were at that moment; five minutes later, she was in his arms, 
and his hands were all over her body; the stripping and the thrashing were 
familiar to Gwen. Brutally he rode her, and hoarsely his cries of joy 
mingled with hers as their writhing bodies soared to the heights of delight 
where they exploded in cascades of hot cream. Brutally he told her 
afterwards that she was precisely the type he didn't want in his employment, 
and wouldn't tolerate in the slightest contact with his gin. 

His parting words were, "Here, on the other hand, you'll always be welcome; 
here there's no one you can pollute. You'll be back." 

 34. 

After her experiences with the manager of Alliance Fruit, Gwen continued her 
search for suitable employment, but with less hope, less enthusiasm than 
hitherto; having more time on her hands than she'd had for many years, Gwen 
got into more mischief than previously. 

Having reached the conclusion that work of the type she sought was not to be 
found, and aware of the fact that she'd either have to start earning some 
money or adapt her standard of living to her new circumstances, Gwen was 
ready for the proposition which Eddie made to her a few days later. He and 
Sidney Horsbrugh were going into partnership to take over a night club which 
was for sale in London; but Eddie had only a couple of hundred pounds as 
capital, and so depended upon Gwen for the remainder of his share of that 
which would be needed to launch the new venture. Knowing Gwen had very 
little liquid capital, he proposed her selling her house and its contents, 
and lending him the proceeds of the sale; she, of course, would share with 
him the apartment over the club, and Arwel and Jean would be welcome too. 
Eddie knew Arwel and Jean wouldn't accept his hospitality; otherwise he 
wouldn't have made the offer. 

At first, Gwen rejected the proposal. She too knew Arwel and Jean would 
disapprove, and would refuse to live with Eddie, and she was reluctant to 
part from either of her children. Eddie, however, made it quite clear that 
he had irrevocably decided to join Horsbrugh in the ownership of the club, 
and later having agreed, if need be, to lend him the necessary capital at a 
high percentage. If Eddie were to go off to London, leaving Gwen behind in 
Brooksfield, he'd have been lost to her for ever. So she finally agreed to 
sell her house and all the furniture except that which Arwel and Jean would 
need to furnish a modest flat. She was, however, intelligent enough to 
insist that, instead of lending Eddie the proceeds of the sale (after 
payment of the mortgage and various debts), she would herself enter the 
partnership; Eddie was furious, of course, but Horsbrugh appreciated Gwen's 
common sense. 

Having bought herself a share in the club sufficiently large to give her 
seniority over Eddie, Gwen set to work to persuade her two babies that, if 
they'd agree to go with her and Eddie to London, they'd be sharing a large 
apartment which was more hers than Eddie's, and so would be under no 
obligation to a man they both hated. Her efforts were, however, in vain. 
Arwel and Jean accepted a quantity of furniture, and Jean quickly found an 
apartment of two rooms and a tiny kitchen. 

Gwen very much regretted the separation from the two people she loved most 
in the world, for she never deceived even herself that there was any Jove 
between her and Eddie; that was something stronger than love, baser perhaps, 
shorter-lived, but stronger. Her two children, however, viewed her going 
with mixed feelings. Jean adored Gwen, even whilst she was aware of her 
grave faults; Arwel loved Gwen as a boy naturally loves his mother, but he 
also loved her as Jean loved her, as a person, a depraved person, selfish, 
almost without principles, ruthlessly ambitious, but also naive, 
warm-hearted, good fun, eternally young. Nevertheless, whilst feeling sorry 
for Gwen, and whilst fearing for her future, they welcomed her stepping out 
of their lives, leaving them free to indulge in a gigantic spring-cleaning 
of their morals and general conduct; they tacitly agreed that, in their new 
home, they'd begin a new life, nor narrowly virtuous, but cleaner, more 
honest, more civilized than the old life. 

The night before Gwen's departure for London was devoted to a wild party not 
unlike many parties of which Gwen's house had been the scene since Trevor's 
death, but perhaps somewhat madder than usual. During the night, as had so 
often happened, nearly every male rode nearly every female, but the 
following morning certain people were not sure of their own score. Percy, 
however, took his usual care to avoid having sexual relations with Jean. 
Jean and Percy had wanted one another for a' long time, but their knowledge 
of one another's body remained limited to the momentary contact of his penis 
and her vagina on the following morning following his very first entry into 
Gwen's house. 

At seven o'clock in the morning, Arwel and Jean bade Gwen, her business 
partners and Rachel "Adieu!" and went to their own home for breakfast prior 
to his going to his office. Two hours later, a drunken quartet climbed into 
Horsbrugh's car at the beginning of their journey to London.
