Chapter 3

Discovery Of Men

I was about 12. Obviously my knowledge of the other sex and especially of his physique was very limited. I had seen drawings on the blackboard and on exercise books of a manly attribute which was certainly very interesting, as all the older girls used to talk and laugh about it.

But I had never actually seen one. Then one day it happened. I saw, and how!

I was at the window of my room. This window opened onto a big garden belonging to our neighbors. Unconsciously, I watched men at work there. All of a sudden one of them, a man about 30, left his work and went towards a bush nearly under my window without seeing me. There he undid his trousers to satisfy a natural desire and I saw the "thing."

It seemed to be extraordinary and my eyes never left it for a moment. When he had finished, the man shook it and closed his fly.

I stood still, thinking. So it was about "that" they made so much fuss? Frankly, I was disappointed. I did not really know what I had expected to see but certainly not what I had just seen.

In my childish modesty I did not speak of my vision to my schoolmates, not even Eliane.

My second vision of the male attribute was much more interesting. By a sort of natural instinct (I have changed since), I did not like boys. I greatly considered them noisy, turbulent, ill-mannered, and they rather frightened me. All except one. He was a boy about my age, son of a local policeman, living next door. I used to see him going to school quietly and nearly always alone. He looked rather effeminate, pale with beautiful blue eyes. He was the only one to whom I occasionally smiled.

One day I saw him walking a little in front of me. As he walked he was reading a little book which seemed to be of great interest. He went towards the station, instead of home. Why did I follow him? I don't know. Anyway, I did so at a respectful distance. He was so absorbed by his reading that he did not look behind.

The station used to be surrounded by woods. He reached the bushes and chose a grassy and cool spot. It was summer. Hidden behind thick shrubs three to four yards away I could see him perfectly.

He lay down on the fresh grass and went on with his reading. I remember that his face, usually so pale, colored. His eyes shone and I particularly watched his hand.

Ah, that hand!

First hesitantly, then more and more vigorously, it rubbed his belly; then all of a sudden he could not resist any longer.

He threw away the book, opened his short trousers and for the second time I saw the "thing."

But what a difference from the first time! It was much smaller, pink and white. His hand by now was busy on the naked "thing." As it worked, the "thing" became longer and thicker. Faster and faster he went, then suddenly came the final spasm. For the first time I had seen an erection and its normal conclusion.

Trembling, my head on fire, I put my hand between my thighs.

So it was, one summer's day in Bruges, a boy and a girl, a few paces from each other, accomplished the parody and the prelude of the sexual act, the immortal act which rules the world.

This time I did not keep this vision to myself but as soon as possible told Eliane, then all the others.

I was the center of attention!

"Tell us! Tell us again, what happened?"

"Did you see everything?"

"What was it like, when it came?"

"Tell us ... tell us ... "

"While he was doing it, were you rubbing yourself too?"

I can assure you, we were all warm between the legs in our panties. Many of us—I was not the last—went to the lavatory to cool our excitement with nimble fingers.

A few days after this, I met the boy who had shown me so well, unknowingly, how boys get their pleasure alone.

He smiled and greeted me: "Hello Monique!" If we had not been so near my house I could not have resisted the temptation to throw myself around his neck, to unbutton his fly and to grab his penis, which I had seen so well and was dying to handle.

Then my father died: a stupid car accident, but fatal.

I loved my father; in fact, I think he was the only one I have ever loved in my whole life. He had every vice and a few good points. He was a charming and attractive fellow, a real ladies' man; seductive, unfaithful, and a brazen liar. Strictly between us, I believe I particularly loved him for his defects. In any case I am certain he passed every one of them on to me.

But I am afraid this was his only legacy. Before his death our standard of living had been getting steadily worse; now we were on the brink of poverty! Our old way of living did not help; my mother, still believing in her noble prerogatives, seriously considered them sufficient to carry on in the same fashion as before.

She merely forgot the main fact, the only real tangible thing, the one concrete reality which is stronger than all nobilities, sects, prejudices and traditions: money!

With that outlook on the world we were well on the way to starvation.

Then it happened: war was declared.

At Bruges, as everywhere else in Belgium, we began to be lulled by the "phony war." This time, we thought, and really began to believe it, they'll leave us alone.

Then came May 10th, 1940.

My mother, at her wit's end as always, decided we should go to France to the Count and Countess F—'s residence in Touraine. This she considered to be a place of safety.

Although I was only 15, I tried to talk her out of it, pointing out the long dismal columns of refugees all also fleeing towards France. There was nothing doing. Like" all muddleheaded people when they get hold of a screwy idea, she was completely and irrevocably determined to carry it out.

So it was, the next day we crowded into a small van with another noble family, bound for France and Touraine!