My Secret Life

The whiskey made her talk freely, and we had lots of time. Five shillings was her usual fee. — “For I don't dress like swell ones.” — “No, not often ten — I don't like speaking to gents. — I've only been three months at the business and don't like it — nor the gals.” “Why did I go to millwork? Father made me so as to look after me, he said, mother didn't want me to go. You may wait and see me with him but don't come near me, I'm quite sure he'll come for me. — I shan't tell him what I've done tonight, I wouldnt' ha' done it but we want money so.” I waited in the distance, saw her meet and go towards the station with a decent young man, her lad evidently. — I've met from time to time some interesting harlots and this was one of them, so retain the narrative about her.

Late on a dull, moist, dark night in November, I was passing along a quiet street in a poor neighbourhood, when two women approached me singing and loudly laughing. They held a short rope between them, and as they came near, thinking them a common frolicksome and half screwed couple, I moved to the edge of the footway to let them pass. They larking, lengthened the rope, and caught and entwined me with it just below my hips, laughing heartily at their trick. — “We've caught you young man, what will you stand?” — It was close to a gaslamp, and seeing it was a handsome, bold faced woman who spoke. — “Stand my dear? — It won't stand any more, you've pulled it off with the rope, look for it.” — I happened to have a hottish ballocks that night, and baudy replies came naturally — tho far from being young.

At that both laughed so heartily and I as well, and we standing close together — the rope still round me, — made such a noise, that some one on the other side of the way stopped to look at us. — “I can't see it,” said the biggest and plump one, who looked about five and twenty. The other a slim, poor looking creature of about eighteen, only giggled, and then became silent. “It's between your thighs perhaps.” — “Ho, ho, ho — it ain't you're wearing it still.” — “He, he, he,” giggled the slim one. — “No, between your thighs — let me feel there. — It was stiff and if I find it there I'll give you five shillings, and you shall put it back if you can, I can't go home without it.” — “Ho, ho, ho — what?” — “My peg,” — and I pushed at her clothes in the region of her cunt. — “Give me the five bob then and you shall.” — “Polly — Polly — yer don't know what yer about,” said the other remonstrating. — “His peg — ho, ho, ho,” laughed the other.

They were game I saw, whores they didn't seem to be, but workers of a poor class and who decidedly had been drinking. That class doesn't mind baudy language, they hear enough of it. — “I call it a peg to ladies, but there's another name.” — “Tell us.” — “Polly — come along.” — “Feel if it's on yer yet. — Ho, ho,” and Polly laughed still, as untwining the rope she was putting her hands between the fold of my great coat, when the other pulled them away. “Polly — yer don't know what yer about.” — “Shut up,” — said Polly. “Come along.” — “I shan't.” “Let's have a glass of wine and I'll feel if you've got it about you dear,” said I. — “You've got it right enough.” — “Lord, so I have, and it's still stiff.” — Then the other — named Sarah — again rebuked the elder, said she should go and was told she might, but, “Don't be a fool, come and have a drink with the gent,” — which I'd offered. — “Follow us, there's a nice Pub around the next street,” said Polly, who seemed to know the locality.

I was going to the pub, knowing that Bacchus helps Venus, and thinking I might somehow get into the plump one who'd excited my desires, when it occurred to me as not desirable to be seen by a chance medley of poor people, at a public house in a poor nieghbourhood now, and because she was so coarse and common — singular are my letches — and perhaps would have gone to the Pub, sooner than lose the chance of seeing what I knew was a spanking bum.. At the street corner was a poor looking coffee shop. “Let's go in here, they'll fetch us all we want,” said I. — In we two went, the other loitered outside. — “I'll wait for you.” — “Come in, don't be a fool,” and in came Sarah.

They'd nothing but tea and coffee, but they fetched us liquor for which they charged highly. They sat at a table in a corner with me, the two drank gin and water, the eldest's tongue ran on incessantly, I chaffing baudily but without frank words, she delighted replying and looking in my eyes lustfully. Then under the table I grasped her large thigh outside her clothes, and nudged her belly. “Now, don't.” — “It's there.” — “It ain't.” — “It is.” — “What?” — “Don't, Polly,” said the thin one again. — Just then in came one looking like a cab-man, who bought a roll and butter, and disappeared with it, but he'd eyed us so the whole time he was there that I felt uncomfortable, and so soon as he had gone, asked if they had a private room.