Venus in India. Charles Devereaux
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A memsahib! Now I had been in India before, this was my second tour of service in the country, and I knew that a memsahib meant a married lady. I was surprised, for had anyone asked me, I should have said that this lovely girl had never known a man, had never been had, and never would be had, unless she met the man of men who pleased her. It was extraordinary how this idea had taken root in my mind.
‘Is the sahib with her?’
‘No, sahib!’
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know, sahib.’
‘When did the memsahib come here, khansama?’
‘A week or ten days ago, sahib!’
It was plain I could get no information from this man, only one more question and I was done.
‘Is the memsahib quite alone, khansama?’
‘Yes, sahib: she has no one with her, not even an ayah [maid].’
Well! this is wonderful! How often did my young friend who had only gone away this morning, know her? You, gentle reader, with experience, no doubt have your suspicions that all was not right, but for the life of me I could not shake off the firm notion that this woman was not only a lady, but one exceptionally pure and highly connected.
I went back to my seat on the verandah, waiting to be looked at again, and I did not wait long. A slight rustle caught my ear. I looked around and there was my lovely girl showing more of herself. She still looked with the same eager gaze without the sign of a smile on her face. She appeared to be in her petticoats only, and her legs and feet, such lovely, tiny, beautiful feet, and such exquisitely turned ankles, were bare; she had not even a pair of slippers on. A light shawl covered her shoulders and bosom, but did not hide either her full, well-shaped, white arms, her taper waist or her splendid and broad hips. These naked feet and legs inspired me with a sudden flow of desire, in spite of the fact that her lovely face and its wonderful calm yet severe expression had hitherto driven all such thoughts from my mind.
Giacomo Casanova, who certainly is a perfect authority on all that concerns women, declares that curiosity is the foundation on which desire is built, that, but for that, a man would be perfectly contented with one woman, since in the main all women are alike; yet from mere curiosity a man is impelled to approach a woman, and to wish for her possession. Something akin to this certainly influenced me. A devouring curiosity took possession of me. This exquisite girl’s face inspired me to know how she could possibly be all alone here at Nowshera, in a public bungalow, and her lovely naked feet and legs made me wonder whether her knees and thighs corresponded with them in perfect beauty, and my imagination painted in my mind a voluptuous motte and delicious cunt, shaded by dark locks corresponding to the colour of the lovely eyebrows, which arched over those expressive orbs. I rose from my chair and moved towards her. She instantly withdrew and as instantly again opened the chick. For the first time I saw a smile wreathe her face. What a wonderfully different expression that smile gave it! Two lovely dimples appeared in her rounded cheeks, her rosy lips parted and displayed two rows of small perfectly even teeth, and those eyes which had looked so stern and almost forbidding, now looked all tenderness and softness.
‘You must find it very hot out there on the verandah!’ said she, in a low, musical voice, but with a rather vulgar, common accent which at first grated on my ear, ‘and I know you are all alone! Won’t you come into my room and sit down and chat? You will if you are a good fellow!’
‘Thank you!’ said I, smiling and bowing as I threw away my cheroot and entered whilst she held the chick so as to make room for me to pass. I caught the chick in my hand but she still kept her arm raised, and extended; her shawl fell a little off her bosom which was almost entirely bare, and I saw not only two most exquisitely round, full and polished globes of ivory, but even the rosy coral marble which adorned the peak of one of them. I could see that she caught the direction of my glance, but she was in no hurry to lower her arm, and I judged, and rightly, that this liberal display of her charms was by no means unintentional.
‘I have got two chairs in here,’ said she, laughing such a sweet-sounding laugh, ‘but we can sit together on my bed, if you don’t mind!’
‘I shall be delighted,’ said I, ‘if sitting without a back to support you won’t tire you!’
‘Oh!’ said she, in the most innocent manner, ‘you just put your arm round my waist, and then I won’t feel tired.’
Had it not been for the extraordinary innocent tone with which she said this, I think I should at once have lain her back and got on top of her, but a new idea struck me: could she be quite sane? And would not such an action be the very height of blackguardism?
However, I sat down, as she bade me do, and I slipped my left arm around her slender waist and gave her a little hug towards me.
‘Ah!’ she said, ‘that’s right! Hold me tight! I love being held tight!’
I found that she had no stays on at all. There was nothing between my hand and her smooth skin but a petticoat and a chemise, both of very light muslin. She felt so awfully nice! There’s something so thrilling in feeling the warm, palpitating body of a lovely woman in one’s arms; it was only natural that not only did my blood run more quickly, but I began to feel what the French call the ‘pricking of the flesh’. There she was, this really beautiful creature, half naked and palpitating, her cheeks glowing with health, though paler than one is accustomed to seeing in our more temperate Europe, her lovely shining shoulders and bosom almost perfectly naked, and so exquisite! The nearer I got my eyes to the skin the better did I see how fine was its texture. The bloom of youth was on it. There were no ugly hollows to show where the flesh had receded and the bones projected. Her beautiful breasts were round, plump and firm looking. I longed to take possession of those lovely bubbies! To press them in my hand, to devour them and their rosy tips with my mouth! Her petticoats fell between her slightly parted thighs and showed their roundness and beautiful form perfectly as though to provoke my desire the more, desire she must have known was burning me, for she could feel the palpitating of my agitated heart even if a glance of her eyes in another and lower direction did not betray to her the effect her touch and her beauty had on me. She held out one and then the other of her fairy feet, so white and perfect, as though to display them to my eager eyes. The soft and delicious perfume which only emanates from a woman in her youth, stole in fragrant clouds over my face, and her abundant wavy hair fell like silk against my cheek. Was she mad? That was the tormenting thought which would spring up between my hand and the glowing charms it longed to seize!
For some few moments we sat in silence. Then I felt her hand creep up under my white jacket and toy with the buttons to which my braces were fastened behind. She undid one side of my braces and as she did so said, ‘I saw you this morning! You were in a dak gharry and I just caught a glimpse of you.’
Her hand began to work at the other button. What the deuce was she up to?
‘Oh yes!’ I said, looking into her twinkling eyes and returning the starry glances which shot from them, ‘and I saw you too! I had been fast asleep, and just as I opened my eyes my sight fell upon you and I —’
She had unbuttoned my braces behind, and now stole her hand round and laid it, back up, on the top of my thigh.
‘And you what?’ said she, gently sliding her extended fingers down over the inside of my thigh: she was within a nail’s breadth of the side of my prick which was now standing furiously!
‘Oh!’ I exclaimed, ‘I thought I had never seen such a lovely face and figure in the world!’
The fingertips actually touched Johnnie! She slightly pressed them against him, and looking at me again with the sweetest smile, said: ‘Did you really! Well! I’m glad you did, for do you know what I thought, when I saw you lying inside the gharry?’
‘No, dear!’
‘Well! I thought that I would not mind if I had been travelling with such a fine-looking, handsome young man!’