Chapter 12: Giving Advice

There was another Madame Von R-- story that I recollect from around that time, the early period of the Revolution, but it does me no credit. It's merit is that it is short, and I'm not sure why I even include it in this journal, but since I have the notes.

"You've met my nephew," the charming lady said to me.

"Of course," I said, not knowing her nephew from the king.

"He's got some woman problems. I told him I knew a man that might be able to help. You," she said, tapping me on the chest with her fan.

"Women? I don't know anything about women," I said.

"Obviously," she said, "but get over there and do what you can for him. He's alone with seven or eight women, and it's driving him mad."

Since I owed the good lady for many favors, and since I was curious, I went. Her nephew turned out to be a man of middle years and more-than-adequate means. He had an ornate and well-dressed wife, two marriageable daughters, three maids, one for each woman, plus his sister and her young daughter, both nubile, wasteful and licentious, he told me.

"Wife's no problem. Do her regular, no complaints. Damn'd girls both need swiving, you ask me. My sister now, dried up that one is and her stupid girl needs a tonic or something."

I stood and nodded, feeling very peculiar.

"Main thing's the heavy chores. I can't, back's sprained. You do what they ask, if y'will. Oh, and y'can eat in the kitchen with the other help."

So I moved furniture, cleaned rugs, hauled trunks from attic to basement and back, made minor repairs, cut firewood, and found several dozen other long-delayed jobs that every home accumulates. The cook and cleaning girl thought it was very funny to see me hurry from one task to another, sweating and striving.

"What's your reward, then?" asked the cook, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Get it in heaven," I said with a smile.

She laughed.

The man's daughters were flying high in what passed for Tory society in the occupied city, having a wonderful time and certainly did not need any of my attention. Both their maids had beaus who visited them regularly. I went for a week without any female company and was wondering whether Madam Von R-- had played a rather mean joke on me, when her niece cornered me in the upstairs hall.

"See you for a moment?" she said, stepping into her room. I followed and she closed the door, reached up on her toes and put her mouth on mine. I closed my arms around her and we enjoyed the feel of each other for a bit. "Bout my daughter," the woman said, when her mouth was free. She sat on the side of her high bed and spread her legs, hoisting up her voluminous skirt. I stepped between her knees, unbuttoned my foreflap, brought forth my swelling member and went to work. She gasped and gritted her teeth.

"My girl, Morgan's her name," said the woman, once we were well joined and moving toward mutual satisfaction in a rather thoughtless manner and therefore could put our minds to other things, "is a tease and a rather brazen one." She leaned back against my locked hands and moaned, shaking from head to toe while I grasped her wide buttocks. "I'm a widow," she continued, once the passion rolled past and she could speak normally, "and, lord, that's good, drive it in there, she needs a man's firm hand, and more, more, more." Her legs were locked behind me, and I was lifting her clear of the mattress while she writhed on my aching spear and chattered on, licking her lips from time to time and shuddering at the end of each plunge.

"Do what I can," I gasped out, accelerating and reaching my own heaving climax as she enjoyed another shattering orgasm and fell back on the counterpane, arms spread wide.