About a fortnight afterwards I saw the girl in the Strand, followed her for a quarter of an hour, saw her speak to various men, saw that an old, common, low servant followed her at a distance, occasionally stopping to speak with her, and turning up a street for that purpose. There was a fascination about looking at the girl; she was showily but handsomely dressed, her legs looked lovely. I longed to fuck her again, but without any intention of gratifying my lust, for I loathed her whilst lusting for her. She turned up C.t....a Street, stood over the gutter and pissed standing, the old woman talking to her and partly hiding her whilst she emptied her bladder. I waited till she had done. It was only about half-past nine o'clock.

She came towards me thinking I wanted her. I moved back close to a lamp, and raised my hat. “Look at me you damned whore, you attempted to rob me the other night, go out of the Strand, or I'll tell the next policeman you have picked my pocket.” She turned on her heels and bolted without uttering a word, the old woman after her, cursing.

A month or two afterwards I saw her again, she was speaking to a group of gay women. Said I, “That bitch attempted to rob me the other night at Court.” “It's a lie”, said she, but again turned round, and ran up a side-street as fast as she could. I don't recollect seeing her afterwards.

I often used to go and look at the house when that way, it was such a needy-looking house outside with a narrow steep staircase starting close to the street- door. No one would have imagined it was so handsomely furnished inside (although I only saw the top-room). Two or three years afterwards there was a row there, a man tumbled down the stairs (or was pitched down), and was picked up dead. The owner of the house was transported. I don't know if it was the same man who was called Bill, but suspect it was, and that many a visitor had been bullied out of his money in that house.

One night about this time I saw a well-grown, stout woman who looked four-and-twenty. “What a thigh she must have”, thought I, “can I afford her?” and I felt in my pocket. Ten shillings with the room besides was too much for me that night. I passed her again looking her in the face, and longing for her, until she knew me and smiled. She had a bright laughing eye. Summoning courage I gave her a signal, and she followed me up a bye-street.

“I have only five shillings.” “Lord ! you do want it cheap, — make it ten shillings.” “I can't.” “Well I can't.” “Three half-crowns, and then with the room I shan't have a shilling in my pocket.” I used to speak in that frank way to them. She laughed. “You are an odd sort of chap, — well come along, — what house are you going to take me to?” “Where you like, — I don't know them.” “Oh! yes you do”, said she, “you know well enough with that eye of yours.” We turned into a house which we both knew, not one of the most expensive.

I was exceedingly pleased with her manner, and in her house still more pleased with her face. Her eye was one of the merriest, she was bright, and fresh-colored, yet the general color of her flesh was slightly brown. Her plumpness made me so randy I could scarcely wait to feel or look at her, I wanted to push on to the fullest pleasures at once.

She eyed me pleasantly, and made some remark about the smallness of the sum, which made me uncomfortable. She saw it, and laughing showed a set of beautiful small white teeth. I gave her her money at once, and then began preliminaries. The room I re-collect well. There was a large four-post bed, a large wire screen three feet high all round the fire-place, like those in nurseries. The house-woman flattened the fire down, and took away the poker, — to prevent the fire being stirred I suppose. There was but one candle, and the room was dark, there was scarcely gas in any of the houses in those days.

I drew her to me, my hand roved about her bum, belly, and notch, I asked her to undress, desire in-creasing by the feel of her thighs made me inquisitive. She would not undress, was in a hurry, some other night perhaps, not now. Impatient so that I might begin, I placed her on the edge of the bed, putting a chair for one of her feet. She lifted up her clothes freely, and I saw her cunt.

It was surrounded, though not in great quantity, with fine chestnut brown, soft, thick hair, her thighs were large, round, fat, and firm, the split looked small, was small outside, and I found it to be small inside as well. A large bum squeezed together by the position in which she was lying closed up almost the cuntal opening, so that just where the prick must intrude itself, the hole could scarcely be seen, her flesh had the slightly brown tint of her face. How is it that at a glance all this was seen, and remembered ever since? What fascination a cunt has! Strange that a mere gap close to an arse-hole should have such power.

In admiration of her cunt and its surroundings I held a candle for a moment between her thighs. “Hold your quim open, — do, — do.” Her hand came down, the fore and middle-finger went on either side of the split, and distended the lips, showed the red lining, a clitoris, small, and nice-looking, and small nymphae sloping down to the narrow carmine darkness, closing up gradually and tightly between her bum-cheeks, squeezed up and closed by the weight of her body pressing up her bum the bed.

“I can bear being looked at”, said she. “Then open your legs wider, — wider dear.” Wider they went. Candle in one hand I pushed the finger of the other up her cunt. Then all delight of the eye was merged in the maddening desire to fuck. Putting the candle somewhere it fell down, and was extinguished; at the same moment slipping my prick to the opening, with a smooth glide up it went. Before I had moved my prick half a minute I was spending, before I had had a wriggle in her, before I had well clasped her buttocks, I was leaning over her sighing, and had finished before I had well began. I now think I feel my sensation up her as I write this, of the rapturous smoothing of her buttocks as I finished. Some women make me recollect them thus.

“What a bore”, said I squeezing my belly dose up to hers, “I hate to be quick.” I heard her laugh, but could not see her face. She did not hurry me out of her, but at length nature caused me to withdraw, and we got the candle lighted. Washing herself whilst I stood talking and regretting my haste, holding my unwashed prick in front of her, she laughing and saying I must take my time an-other day, emptied the basin, and turning round asked if she should wash me. Years had elapsed I think since a woman had done so to me, then it was by a French woman. The offer comes to me now as having been an unusual one. Delighted I let her. Delicately handling my doodle she soaped and washed it, making complimentary remarks about it as she did so.

The operation excited me, I stiffened. “Oh ! I do so want you again, — let me.” “No its late, — if I don't make money before twelve I never do afterwards, — see me another night, — besides you can't do it again yet.” “Let me feel you then only for a minute.” She approached me, one hand I put to her cunt, the other thrusting between her fat bum-cheeks met the tip of the fingers on the other hand. “My prick's standing so.” “It's not.” “Feel it.” She put her hand down and felt, I stiff to the utmost kept asking her to let me again. “Well get on the bed then”, said she after feeling me quietly for a minute, — “see the candle has burnt down, it won't last long.” By the time she had said this she was lying down with her clothes up above her navel.

We were fucking with intensity, the candle went out, I felt her kisses. “Oh ! what a lovely cunt you have.” “You've a nice prick, — who taught you to poke so nicely?” Our tongues met, — silence, sighs, short shoves, spunk, — and all was over. “Let me wash your cunt.” “Very well.” “You wash my prick.” “Yes.” The mutual washing over we separated, I promising to see her again. We had washed by the fire-light alone. Next night at the same time we fucked again. I stripped her, and was enamoured of her body if not of herself. She made no sign of wanting to leave me, but rather wanted to keep me. I had not since I lost Mary tasted a woman's mouth, with this woman I was delighted in doing so, though with the ordinary gay women I could not bear their tongues. Whilst we were fucking they knocked at the door saying they wanted the room. Bessie swore, “Damn her”, said she, “for interruping us, — and the money I have brought her.” This increased my pleasure, and Bessie participated in it. After fucking her twice we sat by the fire and talked, she warming her bum, her petticoats up to her knees, my hand on her quim, and airing my balls. “If you want me another night, and can't see me, ask the woman about, — ask for Brighton Bessie, — there are two Bessies, so mind, — Brighton Bessie”, said she as we parted.