Chapter 5
During the following few weeks, Mrs. Colton came regularly to Fontaine's. At first she came every day, but soon changed her schedule to every other day. She met Diania a few times and became intimate with other women who taught her many new tricks. She became quite an adept and lost almost all of her timidity. Now her greatest thrill lay in breaking in novices. Her desire turned toward young cunts, fragrant and juicy, dainty and delicious.
If she had been cold to her husband before, now she became an iceberg. So studiously did she avoid him that it was only logical that his suspicions should smoulder a while and then burst into flame.
"It isn't natural, a woman her age. She must be getting fucked by somebody else."
On the strength of this deduction, he sought out his wife's chauffeur. It was in the morning and the latter was washing down the coach at the rear-end of the driveway.
"Morning, Bob!"
"Good morning, sir!"
"Who pays your wages, Bob?" . "Why, you do."
"Exactly, and I haven't given you any presents lately, have I?"
"No sir," wonderingly.
"Well, here's a five for you."
The chauffeur pocketed the note.
"This isn't for nothing," he thought. "Wonder what he wants?"
"I want some information, Bob," declared his employer, as if in answer to his thought. "Where does Mrs. Colton go in the afternoons and evenings?"
"I don't know," replied Bob. "You don't pay me to spy on the Madame."
"No, of course not. But where do you take her?"
"Well, I drive her to X----Square and then she leaves the car and doesn't get back till evening."
"In which direction does she go?"
"North on Courtney Street."
"At what time do you generally reach the square?"
"Oh, between two-thirty and three."
"I see, and she comes back at--?"
"At five or six. Sometimes a little later."
"0. K. That's fine, Bob. You smoke cigars, don't you? Have a couple. They're 0. K. I smoke them myself."
"Thanks, sir. Much obliged."
As Colton strode away the chauffeur shrugged his shoulders cynically and murmured in a sing-song:
"It's none o' my business."
And so, that afternoon, Colton shadowed his wife, who went to the establishment of M. Fontaine to play once again the role of Sappho. As she entered the place masked and accompanied by Lucy, they bumped into Walsh, in uniform. He was buttoning his pants with one hand and his tunic with the other.
"Hello, sweetheart," he cried heartily. "How'd you like to take me on?" "No!" she answered frigidly. "I'll suck you off," he bargained. "No!"
"I apoligize for him Madame," said Lucy tactfully. "You will take number six today."
As the women disappeared the attendant turned resentfully to Walsh.
"You musn't do that, officer. You're spoiling the business."
"What do you want me to do?" demanded Walsh. "This is the third day I haven't been able to get a woman who'd let me eat it. That fat bitch you gave me a little while ago only wanted to fuck. And she must be about fortyfive. I guess she can't get fucked anywhere else so she comes here. This is getting to be a hell of a joint."
"I'll suck you off if that will give you any satisfaction," Lucy proposed.
"It won't."
"You can slip it into me from behind, then," insinuatingly.
"Naw! I don't go the dirt route. Well, so long. I'll drop in again tonight or tomorrow."
As Walsh reached the sidewalk he ran into Colton and recognized him almost instantly from the many photographs he had seen.
"Hello, officer!"
"How do you do, Mr. Colton. Fine day." "You know me then, officer. What is your name?"
"Walsh. I'm off duty now. I go on at eight"
"I see, Mr. Walsh. You're a fine looking cop, and I'll remember you. Might do you a good turn some day."
"I shouldn't wonder, Mr. Colton," with a grin.
"What kind of a joint is that behind the antique shop, Walsh?"
"Why, ah, nothing much. Just a store room."
"What were you doing there?"
"Oh, I was just talking to a chap who works in there. He's a friend of mine."
"Well, I'll tell you, Walsh, -you may be a good cop, but you're a rotten liar. You see, I've been tipped off to that joint, but I haven't got all the information."
"He wants to get in so he can fuck somebody in the ass," thought the policeman. "I guess there's no harm in giving him the lowdown."
So in a few brief words he described the establishment to Colton. That gentleman was amazed, but his trained features were relaxed as he listened.
"A great place, isn't it?" smiled the politician. "Got everything in there, eh? Boys too, I'll bet."
"I don't know," said Walsh sceptically, trying to keep a straight face.
"I think I'll take a whack at it, Walsh. So long. See you again."
When he had vanished into the ante-room, the cop chuckled and said to himself:
"Here's where Lucy gets his ass-hole loosened."
Masked and ready for action, Colton pushed the button. The moment Lucy appeared his cock began to stiffen, at last here was his ideal.
"How do you do," the attendant greeted.
"Hello! Any boys today? you know."
"I'm sorry. We haven't. They're so hard to get M. Fontaine will have to get some pretty soon because we get a lot of calls for them."
"That's too bad," muttered Colton. His tool was coming straight up, for he was giving Lucy's generous middle the once over.
"We have a middle-aged man today, who'll take," suggested the attendant
"No, I want a boy. You haven't any, eh. How about yourself?"
"You want me?" Lucy giggled.
"Yes, sure. How much do you want?"
"Oh, I'll make it cheap. Only ten dollars."
"0. K. Let's get busy."
Lucy ushered him inside and brought him to a little space, curtained off. She turned on a wall lamp, which disclosed a couch, a chair and a wash stand. On the wall there were two buzzers and some push buttons.
"This is my place," explained Lucy, "so
I can be close to the buttons, to let the customers in. Let me see your thing."
Colton opened his pants and out sprang the bald-headed soldier, all set for the frig.
"Oh, my, what a nice one!" Lucy cried in a transport of joy. "Let me kiss it."
"Nothing doing. You'll take it in the brown."
"Oh, please. I'll be mad at you. Just let me kiss it. I won't suck. I promise."
"All right, go ahead."
Lucy bent her head, and in a moment her lips were around the swollen head.
"Get away!" growled Colton, as he pushed the fairy free of his tool. "Come on! -let's see what kind of an ass you've got."
In a trice the attendant slipped down his trousers and turned his ass to Colton.
"Gee! -you've got a dandy." The politician grasped a handful of tender pink ass in either hand. Then as Lucy bent over, he parted the cheeks and inspected the circular brown hole, surrounded by a bale of hairs.
"Wait, dear, till I get the vaseline," said the fairy and straightened up.
"It looks pretty clean," remarked Colton, trembling in his desire for action.
"Yes, it is," Lucy assured him, "I'm never constipated if I get fucked regularly. The muscles get relaxed, then, you see, sr\i\ I have control over them."
"Being screwed is good for constipation, then?"
"Yes. Best thing in the world."
"Why don't you take your idea to Bernard McFadden?" laughed Colton. "He's looking for a sure cure for that ailment. Goofy on the subject."
"Hee Hee -That's a good one," giggled Lucy. "Imagine the Graphic and the Physical Culture Magazine having articles on the proper way to fuck in the ass, with illustrations, so you can't make mistakes. Do it to music on counts."
They laughed heartily at their joke, while Lucy greased her ass-hole. As Colton mounted her she cautioned:
"Don't force it, sweetheart. Slip it in gradually. I think I can take it all the way."
She was right, for her ass-hole slowly swallowed his cock, clear to the mustache. Colton began to ride his mount furiously. It was a tight fit, for he had a fat prick, but the hole was well-lubricated and he enjoyed the friction immensely. He clasped his arms around Lucy, while she turned her head and pouted her lips for a kiss. Colton refused at first, but after a while he became so blinded by his passion that he kissed her squarely on the mouth. Lucy worked her buttocks in unison with his strokes, just like a woman, and also achieved a circular rolling movement.
Suddenly, a buzzer rang. The attendant reached to the wall and pressed a button, holding her finger on it a few seconds.
"Damn it," Colton swore, "at a time like this somebody's got to come in."
The second buzzer, of a different tone, rang. "I've got to answer it," said Lucy, "I'll be right back."
"Nothing doing. I'll go off in a minute, so let them wait."
Lucy tried to free herself, and after struggling a while Colton let her go.
"Don't be angry, dear. I'll come back right away."
She pulled up her trousers, made herself presentable and left. Colton gazed at his glistening tent-pole and laughed. He did not have long to wait. Lucy came back, dropped her trousers and took it into her again.
"We'll finish it this time," the politician grunted, "you won't get away from me again."
"Why, I didn't want to leave you, honey. You know that. Give me a kiss and make up."
Colton didn't want to, but a little later, as he was about to go off, he pressed a burning kiss against his warm wet lips. A stream of boiling liquid shot into Lucy's entrails and she sighed with pleasure as her rider gave her the last few strokes.
"My ass-hole pretty near winked me to death that time," chuckled Colton, as he drew his shining spear out of the gasping wound.
Lucy washed it for him and they sat down on the couch, he playing with his balls. In vain she pleaded to suck it. On that score he was adamant, a little later, when Colton's cock was restored to stiffness, they went at it again. Two times they were interrupted, but the politician did not mind that now. He calculated that, with pauses, his enjoyment would last the longer. After the second fuck, seeing that it was only four o'clock, he decided to have a third one. They did, and it was close to five before he got away, promising Lucy that he would come again. And he meant it, for he saw in her an ideal lover. He would have liked to remain longer, but he wanted to catch his wife coming out.
He waited a block south of Fontaine's, standing in a store-front, smoking a cigar. She came at about five-thirty and was startled out of her wits when he stepped out and seized her arm.
"Where've you been?" he demanded.
"Nowhere," she answered, ragaining her composure. "Just taking a stroll. Why all the roughness?" Inwardly she was quaking. "Did he know anything?"
"What were you doing in back of Fontaine's?"
"Back of Fontaine's!"
"Yes, back of Fontaine's, back of Fontaine's!" he was mocking her. "Quit playing innocent. I know all about Fontaine's. You don't think a man as important as I am in the city hall would be blind to a place like that. You'd be surprised at the things I know about this berg. I get reports from all directions. Well -what were you doing there? Getting your pee-hole warmed by some two-legged stallion?"
"No!" It came involuntarily.
"Then I suppose you've been having some doings with another woman," he said sarcastically. He did not realize that he had struck the mark until she began to blush, scarlet with shame, while her whole being shook, as though with palsy. She began to cry, thinking he knew all.
"S" that's it. You're having traffic with women. That's why you wouldn't let me jazz you the last few weeks. How long has this been going on?"
"About -three weeks," she sobbed, putting her handkerchief to her nose.
They walked a block in silence. The suspense was maddening to her.
"What are you going to do?" she asked brokenly.
"Oh, nothing," he replied carelessly. "You can have all the women you want. I don't give a rap." A moments silence, and he blurted out: "But why the devil didn't you tip me off three week's ago, when you found out about that place."
NUMBER THREE
In which M. Fontaine, through an ingenious stratagem, averts a ruinous scandal. Mrs. Gerald Clovis, twenty-two year old wife of the well known banker, had been acquainted a long time with the establishment of M. Fontaine. Mrs. Clovis, however, did not come often to the Palace of Joy, in spite of the fact that she felt as though she would like to make it her home. The reason is simple. Her husband was, as you may know, about sixty-five years old, but as you may not know, he was impotent. Though he could not get an erection anymore, yet the impulse to attach himself to the body of a female still persisted in his brain, and all indications were that it would continue to persist until he was laid away in the hospitible ground. To placate his desire, he took readily to sucking his wife's cunt. Such an artist did he become at this delicious pastime that it took a strong hold on him, becoming almost a mania. His wife suffered for him to have his fill, even though he went to exorbitant lengths, for he was very kind to her and there was nothing in the world he would not give her, except perhaps a lover. The result was that she was almost always drained, and was compelled to eschew the activities she would have liked to take part in. She did not care to divorce him as she did not want any whisper or scandal; besides he was old and often ill and would soon die. She liked the old man in her own way and wanted to make his last few years pleasant.
The few times that she did go to Fontaine's were during illnesses of her husband, and during trips he took away from the city. Then she would compensate herself for her martyrdom with weird and fantastic orgies. The truth is, she liked to take part in any kind of sexual affair, -accepting the ministrations of both men and women with equal enjoyment. Also, she prefered to indulge with a whole group at the same time, for she was passionately fond of exhibitions. The knowledge that others were watching while she was fucking, thrilled her the center of her being, and she enjoyed very much to observe others at their erotic exertions. So many sexual experiences had she had during her short life, and so carried to extremes were they, that her heart had been affected to the extent of causing her physician to look grave. But this did not worry her.
When her husband imparted to her that he had to go to Europe on important business, she was overjoyed. Now she could go to Fontaine's every day, and, forgetting that she had ever worn clothes, play the wanton to satiety. The first day she went there, she engaged Lucy, the fairy attendant, in conversation, and suggested an exhibition party on the grand scale. She told him she was willing to start the ball rolling and keep it going and the fairy attendant became very enthusiastic over her proposal. M. Fontaine was conferred with, and he lent his sanction to hold the orgy the following day, giving Lucy instructions to apprize all guests that afternoon and evening of the gay event, so that those who did not care to attend might refrain. So, that night the sleep of many individuals was troubled by restless anticipations.
Mrs. Clovis came early next day. About one-thirty. Twenty-six people had arrived and Lucy assigned them to rooms, putting as many as four to a room. All were masked and they undressed freely before one another. All derived great excitement and pleasure from the stripping process. One woman, of middle age, in a room with two men and another woman gave an undressing party which became hilarious. First she lifted her gown as high as the middle of her thighs and then dropped it. She repeated this two or three times until the men became wild. All women know that it is nice to have something con cealed. Then, removing her gown, she teased them some more by fooling around with her dainty underthings. Before she was completely nude one of the men had her on the couch and was performing a very popular ceremony on the center of her person. The other two were not tardy in imitating them. Because of this they were a trifle late in joining the grand assembly.
To one, suddenly and without warning, stepping into this garden of Eros, the first shock of astonishment would be succeeded by the feeling that he had entered another world or another era, -one of those eras read of in history when major and lesser potentates were wont to amuse themselves and their synchopants with licentious tableaux of this sort. After remaining in the place a while and participating, as he surely would, in the erotic rites instead of merely being an observer, the scene and its activities would become so real and tangible that the world outside, with its stiffled longings and hypocritical moralities would strike the brain like an abhorent dream.
Ah. What a band of revelers!
What a splendid company of young gods and nymphs and their band of satellites! the few gray old satyres among them accentuated the charms of the former. Like the desirable creatures of a pleasant dream they appeared, their nude bodies changing color as they moved gracefully and suggestivly in the varigated lights. The air was a symphony of odor, for the usual incense of the place had co-mingled with divers feminine perfumes. All the senses were appealed to, including that of taste, an old man, with shrivelled peter and bag, had his head between a middle-aged lady's outspread legs.
Except for a few oldsters, all the men had hard-ons, and using their willing eyes and eager hands, all were in a state of transport. This soon wore off a little and most of them lost self-conscienciousness of their nakedness. It began to seem as though that were a reasonable and logical condition, and from this feeling they derived much enjoyment, for it gave them a sense of sudden freedom, and not one was sorry that he had come. Among them we might mention two of our acquaintences,Mr. Colton, the politician, and Walsh, the policeman. The law itself, it seemed, did not wish to be excluded from such a remarkable festival.
Lucy, bare, except for a long flowing veil, had a difficult time in bringing her charges to order. She finally, through the use of a chair, lifted herself above them, disclosing her diminutive privates, and cried in a high key:
"Ladies anp1 gentlemen, attention."
"Cunts and cocks, attention," mimicked some wag, and his sally was greeted with laughter.
Lucy's chair was close to a pair of step ladders, connected, with a stout plank. The plank was covered with soft cloth and had a hole cut out in the center. Its purpose will soon become apparent. The group, having become more or less quiet, the fairy rendered her introductory speech, which she had been half the night preparing.
"Ladies and gentlemen! We have a very fine entertainment for you this afternoon, an entertainment you will not forget even if you live to be older than the earth; except in dreams it will never be seen. This young lady," indicating Mrs. Clovis, "will lead our festivities with a splendid scene which she has agreed to repeat three times, providing that partners are available. But on that score, we need, of course, have no fear. She is threeway, this lady, and will show us how she can enjoy connections with three gentlemen at the same time. This act, as I already said, will be repeated three times, changing partners each time, the lady having had during her performance nine different tools in her person." A sigh of admiration arose from the assembly and necks craned so that eyes could the better devour the plump form of Mrs. Clovis. Lucy continued: "The lovely lady will carry on her performance standing, one of her consorts playing his role from the rear, using the circular orifice; the second, taking the opposite position, will employ the oval aperture for his enjoyment; and the third will lie on this plank, which may already have excited your curiosity, his standard of Hermes appearing through the opening, cut especially for the purpose. This last male member, ah, lucky lady, will find a proper lodgement between her beautiful lips. The actors in the drama will now stand forward, and between acts we shall have as many byplays as you ladies and gentlemen may care to extemporate. Ahem."
The three men chosen for their eminent and anxiously awaited exhibition presented themselves. Walsh, the policeman, and a man with a short but stiff pecker joined Mrs. Clovis, while a slender chap of medium height climbed up the ladder and posed on the plank, his cock, of monstrous size, standing erect.
"Oh, what a noble thing he has," cried a woman.
Mrs. Clovis maintained the proud posture of a young nymph about to be visited by Apollo. She was all prepared to be sacrificed on the altar of venus. Her cunt was afire, her ass-hole was greased with vaseline and her tongue and lips were impatient to occupy themselves with a hot prick. Her two partners on the floor were not idle. Each seized one of her firm breasts and began to suck on it. She threw an arm around either's neck and cried:
"Look at my babies, people! How thirsty they are."
"Whoever saw babies with such balls?" demanded an old man facetiously, and everybody roared.
At a signal from Lucy, the young man on the plank stretched out on his belly, permitting his cock and balls to protrude the opening in the plank. His tool was on a level with Mrs. Clovis's head, which fitted partly in the opening. Walsh and the assistant from the rear stood on both sides of the plank. The four were about to connect, when a woman stepped forward, flushed and excited.
"My dear," she said to Mrs. Clovis, "don't swallow it. Save it for me."
Mrs. Clovis agreed to do this.
"Bravo!" some one cried.
by this time Walsh had his cock into Mrs. Clovis's cunt and she took the stalwart member from above into her mouth.
"All right! -rear man! Do your stuff!"
The man with the small peter spread apart the beautifully rounded cheeks of her ass and his rod slipped in with little difficulty.
Amid the enthusiastic and admiring cries and exhortations of the onlookers, for the doors and walls were stout and no one outside could hear them, the debauch went on. Mrs. Clovis mouthed greedily on her all-day sucker, while the two men moved their lips in harmony as they fucked her from both sides. Some fellow remarked regretfully that it was too bad she had only three holes. Walsh, who was screwing her in the cunt, was annoyed by the bollicks dangling in front of his face, so he bent his head to her breasts to escape them. Many jeers and jests saluted this maneuver.
The group in action were in a paroxym of delight as they rushed in their speedy chariots towards the steep precipice of copulation. And the spectators mounted up the steps of frenzy till they reached the throne of madness. Before the show was over many of them formed groups of their own and became concentrated on their own lascivious engagements. One group comprised a woman on her hands and knees, sucking a woman lying on her back, while a man screwed her dogfashion. Another woman, her hands vaselined, was jerking-off two men, while she sucked a third, a fourth lapping her cunt from behind. Colton, the politician, mounted Lucy, his favorite, and fucked her in the ass while she sucked off another man. And so it went.
Among Mrs. Clovis's lovers, the man behind went off first, but held his position, waiting for the others. The man above was next and Walsh, in front, soon followed. The first bout was over and they parted. The lady who had requested the spend in Mrs. Clovis's mouth, now came forward and lay down on her back. Mrs. Clovis bent down close to her and let the sticky liquid slip out of her mouth into the other woman's. The latter swallowed it with enjoyment and asked for a spit so that she could have what remained of the cock juice. Mrs. Clovis, gracious lady that she was, complied by spitting a large lump of saliva into the supine woman's mouth. The latter then got to her feet and gave thanks for the offering.
As soon as Lucy was free of her group, she busied herself and brought around a tray with small glasses of benedictine, cagnac and Maderias.
"This is on the house," she explained as she served the patrons, at the same time wondering how much she would get in tips. Some of the worshipers of Venus drank while they were entangled in sexual embraces.
Cigarettes were lighted and the ghostly haze of smoke changed color as it drifted lazily upward in the path of many lamps. Some of the revellers were still at play and some of them had gone into the rooms to with their surroundings. This was IT! -this wash themselves. All had lost their embarrassment and had relaxed into that mental state wherein they felt they were in harmony was what they had breamed of and longed for so often, -the liberty to indulge themselves promiscuously and without a word of censure on anyone's part.
The second bout began, but with less spectators than before, since some of the clients elected, having found their affinities, to do their fucking in the rooms. Those who looked on while Mrs. Clovis was entered by three pricks, soon became bored, for it was only a repitition of the first tableau. They found diversion in their own games; which were at once unique and daring. This piqued Mrs. Clovis and she planned a different affair for her scene.
When the time came for this, she arranged a group in the following fashion. She had two men lie in the same direction on their backs, one's middle alongside the other's head. Then she got on top of one, guided his ramrod into her cozy coozy and rode him while she sucked the other man's prick. A third man, it was Colton with his seven inch driver, mounted her and fucked her in the ass-hole. Lucy then vaselined Mrs. Clovis's armpits and two fine male tools found ecstatic excitation in the hollows. The scene drew many of the debauchees out of the rooms and they gave Mrs. Clovis much applause. That lascivious lady was in her element.
To have five stiff cocks working on one's body at the same time was something to be elated over. She felt as though she were fulfilling her mission in life,-the splendid mission of being fucked, yes, well-fucked. She let go of the prick in her mouth to see how the others were enjoying the act, and became angered because of their apparent neglect. For the onlookers had started a little game of their own and their attentions were rivited on their own doings.
"What must one do to hold their eyes?" wondered Mrs. Clovis with scorn. "Must one cut a hole in one's body to give passage to a prick?"
She dismissed them from her mind and concentrated herself on her lovers. Ah. Men. Men,-with their wonderfully wrought bodies; the symmetry of their forms, the hardness of their muscles, the pride of their attitude, the agility of their hips as they loved, and last, but by no means least, the stiffness of their beautiful pricks. She sucked more energetically on the prick in her mouth as she thought of these things. And the other pricks worked furiously on her person, making her glow with a monstrous pride. Especially the big one in the rear. Her ass-hole smarted from the thrusts, but the excruciating sensation in her cunt offset this, and in fact she began to feel a certain pleasure from the pain. Her heart was pounding like a riviting gun as the blood leaped stormily through her arteries and veins. She was alive! -as alive as it is possible for a human being to be, alive and in the toils of passion. The prick in her mouth suddenly went off and the stream of salty fire spattered in her throat. She swallowed greedily and sucked for more. She sighed and groaned in her madness, for her whole body was on fire.
And then, without warning, the entire organization of erotic activity was thrown into confusion. For a moment very few seemed to know what was wrong, but it quickly became apparent that Mrs. Clovis had fainted. She was disconnected from her lovers and water was dashed in her face while her arms and legs were rubbed. The mask slipped from her features and a great hue and cry arose.
"Why, it's Mrs. Clovis!"
"Mrs. Clovis!"
"Mrs. Clovis?"
"Surely not Mrs. Gerald Clovis?" "Mrs. Gerald Clovis." "The banker's wife!" There was excited buzzing from the men and sobs and low screams from the women.
Faces turned pale and ghastly from fear and bodies shuddered.
"What's the matter with her?"
"Better get a doctor for her."
"Give her a liquor."
Mrs. Clovis was unconscious for quite a while. Then, she gave a sharp gasp and opened her eyes with an expressionless stare. She relaxed limp, her eyes still open, and suddenly stiffened.
Walsh, who had been jazzing in one of the rooms, pushed his way in authoritatively, and f sit her pulse. He looked worried. Next he turned his attention to her heart. Undisguised alarm showed on his face.
"She's dead!" he announced in a strained voice.
"Dead?"
"Dead!"
"She isn't dead?" "Yes. She's dead!" "DEAD."
The pregnant word leaped from lip to lip.
A convulsion of horror swept through the now thoroughly sobered assemblage. Venus was forgotten. Pricks hung down in limp neglect. Cunts stopped burning with a delicious fire. Only a strange fear knocked at their hearts. The Black Reaper was conqueror, and mounted on a fierce and trampling charger, rode madly through their brains, pounding, pounding:
"Dead! Dead! DEAD!"
The air was hushed and solemn and most of the revellers retired to the rooms and began preparing themselves to re-enter the outside world. Some were in a panic; some were merely nauseated; almost all were decided on one thing; -they must get away from the place. They must not be entangled in this affair. They must keep clear of scandal.
The couch in Lucy's curtained off space was dragged out and the body was placed gently upon. Lucy dressed hurriedly and shaking in every fiber, went to acquaint M. Fontaine with the grisly situation. One by one, quickly, like guilty ghosts, the earstwhile gods and nymphs let themselves out of the establishment. Their voices were low and their movements stealthy.
One young lady, still naked, stared a long while at the corpse and then laughed mirthlessly:
"The Queen is dead! Long live the Queen!"
She looked around at a half dozen males, still petrified, still overcome by the disaster, still unable to decide on some course of action. She addressed them with mock dramatics:
"Death has come, but Venus still lives! On with the fuck! I offer my body in Venus's service. Who will have me?"
A young man came to life and his prick, urged by his thoughts, began to rise. He stepped forward.
"I will," he said. "You remember the lines of Kipling:
"And the mutters of the dying Never spoiled the lover's kiss."
They slipped arms around each other's bare waists and adjoined to one of the rooms. The other men scattered and M. Fontaine came in with Lucy. Walsh was sitting at the side of the body.
"You are certain she is dead?" asked Fontaine.
"Yeh, she's dead," disconsolately. "What are you going to do about this?" "I don't know yet."
M. Fontaine assured himself that the lady was dead and then went from the room. He succeeded in getting two of the women who were dressing to wash and dress the body. While they were at their labors, the antique dealer paced nervously up and down, though his face was calm
"Oh, this is terrible, terrible," sobbed Lucy. "Whatever will come of it?"
"Be quiet, Lucy," Fontaine importuned sharply. "I'm trying to think."
The body, washed and dressed, lay on the couch, and, of all the clients, only the amorous couple remained. They were in one of the rooms, fucking without restraint.
Walsh, dressed in civilian clothes, joined Fontaine in his promenade, while Lucy wrung her hands in despair. All was quiet and the bleak atmosphere of eternity struggled with the exotic odors of the establishment. Only the faint footsteps of the two men sounded. Suddenly M. Fontaine stopped short.
"You have an idea?" asked Lucy, hopefully.
"Yes. You know that Jacobin chest of teakwood?"
"Yes," wonderingly.
"I'm going to sell it to her," pointing to Mrs. Clovis.
"Sell it to her?" cried Lucy. "Why, she's dead!"
"That's just why I'll sell it to her," was the strange reply. "If she were alive she wouldn't buy it. Being dead, she cannot very well protest. I'll put the body in the chest and deliver it to her home. The rest will depend on how clever we are."
"Good idea!" exclaimed Walsh, glad that logical action was now at hand. "I'll help you if you need me."
They were not long in carrying their intentions into effect. The body was placed in the chest which was made ready for transportation and a light truck was ordered. It soon arrived and the chest was carried out of the shop. Lucy sat with the driver, while Walsh and Fontaine sat on the precious box, which was covered with an old comforter, such as used by furniture movers. Never in the world would Mrs. Clovis have imagined that she would sometime sleep under such a dirty coverlet.
They passed street after street and traffic officer after traffic officer in the sharp and windy October afternoon while pedestrains and automobiles moved about their business, little knowing that Death moved among them.
And then an accident happened. In order to avoid striking a foolhardy pedestrain, who strolled in where even angels would have feared to tread, the truck swerved and smashed into the rear wheel of a heavier truck. The damage was fatal to their truck. There were shouts and curses, a crowd collected and a policeman's whistle blew. A light express, seeing the chance of a fare, drew alongside and bargained to carry the chest. The two trucks were extricated, an officer taking memoranda in his book. Walsh knew him by sight, and before his eyes, the teakwood box under the glance of the rapidly augmenting crowd, was moved to the newly-hired truck.
Soon they were on their way again, leaving behind a suspicious cop.
"Wonder what that guy Walsh is up to?" he communed with himself. "Bet that box was full of booze. Wise guy! Making a little side money for himself."
Mrs. Clovis lived in an imposing apartment house on Park Avenue, and the driver of their truck, with the assistance of Lucy and Fontaine, carried the coffin to the express elevator in the rear of the building. Walsh remained with the truck and twiddled his thumbs nervously.
At the apartment of the dead woman, a man servant and a maid were found, and the box was carried into Mrs. Clovis's boudoir.
There were automatic locks on the bed room and boudoir doors, so he set the latter and went to work. First, the stiffening body was removed from the casket and taken into the bed room. There, he took off the hat and cloak, and placed the corpse on the floor in a crumpled position. The clothes he arranged with great care and to his satisfaction. Studying her position very keenly, he made a few changes. Fine, he decided. Then he set the lock on the bed-room door, and closed it with a snap. In the boudoir, he examined the chest to see that no evidence remained. That was all right. He breathed easier and opened the door to leave. With a start at what he saw, he stepped back and shrugged his shoulders resignedly.
"I suppose I shall have to wait till they get through," he muttered, for Lucy was being fucked in the ass by the man-servant.
But he didn't have long to wait, for the servant was quick on the trigger. Out on the street again M. Fontaine reproached his em. ployee:
"That was a foolish thing to do at¯such a time. It seems your itchy ass-hole hasn't any reverance for the dead."
"Well, you've got to take it when you can get it," replied Lucy saucily, now that the dead body was disposed of.
At the corner they met Walsh and they all tumbled into a taxi. All were in good humor and they expressed their relief in conversation.
"This case," remarked Walsh, "reminds me of a good story. A white man with a weak heart was screwing a negro whore and his heart backfired on him and he croaked. Well, the girl notified the police, and in due time an inquest was held. Among other things the coroner asked the girl this question: 'Miss Johnson! At the time this man died do you remember noticing anything peculiar about his eyes?' 'Yes sah!' the girl says. 'Ah did notice he was coming. Ah didn't know he was goin .
Lucy and Walsh laughed unrestrainedly, and M. Fontaine permitted himself an amused smile.
The following morning the antique dealer sat in his little office at the rear of the shop, a newspaper in one hand and a bill in the other. The bill was to Mrs. Gerald Clovis for one teakwood chest of the Jacobin period. The newspaper had, in a couple of paragraphs, the account of the sudden death, due to heart disease, of Mrs. Gerald Clovis in the bedroom of her apartment. The body, according to the paper, had been found the evening before by the deceased lady's maid. Then there were a few lines explaining who Mrs. Clovis was, who her maternal grandmother was, and how her paternal aunt preferred to have her eggs cooked.
A considerable number of the elite of the city were also interested in the item and there was great wonder in their minds when they had perused it carefully. All were agreed that M. Fontaine was a clever man. How had he done it? One good lady stared at the paper and murmured:
"That was a wonderful way to die, with all those handsome pricks working on her."