December 2, 1909.
During our last meeting, you expressed a wish for knowledge of certain of my youthful adventures. As you have been such a friend to me during these long years, what remains secret to others, I shall gladly divulge to you. My initiation, so to speak, should serve as an ideal beginning to all else that might follow in future missives, and in this letter I will relate the same.
You will recall that my father did a great deal of travelling for the sake of his business. He strongly desired involvement with that horse race nearly twenty years ago -do you remember, the great one held by the Americans? Before the preparations necessitated by such an event could begin, he journeyed once more to the United States; he elected to bring his daughter for company while he, pardon the expression, jockeyed for position amongst the other would-be sponsors. I knew very little of these proceedings, for while Father was thusly occupied, I was permitted to visit the shops, with an attendant, of course. It was in one of these shops that I first saw my friend.
Should I refer to her as a mere friend? She was just as much a teacher and a lover, however short our time together was. You are perhaps laughing now, even as you are scandalised, Roxette, but you will see the truth soon enough.
I was examining a row of lovely porcelain statuettes, when, beyond that shelf, I espied what I thought to be my very own Galatea, given life before I could even think to wish for her. She was possessed of lustrous dark hair, a soft ivory skin, a fine figure, and a countenance both dignified and inviting. Though I did not intend to be rude, my eyes never strayed from her form. Not until I was approached and questioned by one of the men guarding my lady, did I realize my error. I quickly stammered a lie about an old schoolmate who had gone abroad, and to whom she bore a striking resemblance, and having saved face in this way, quit the premises.
Alas, the capriciousness of fate meant that the matter was not yet settled. My apology was conveyed through her protectors to the First Lady of the United States, but my complete lack of subtlety had in turn drawn her attention. Despite Mlle. Haddaway's protests that to do so would spoil my appetite, we adjourned to a nearby patisserie, and I endeavoured to forget my shame by turning my attention to the sundry sweetmeats within. Mrs. Valentine followed us in there; escape was prevented, and she struck up a conversation. To my surprise and relief, her speech held neither reproach, nor scorn. Soon I was put completely at ease, and realised that just as the Americans could depend upon their President to be capable and steadfast, so could they consider his wife to be a veritable font of kindness and conviviality.
She secured from me a promise that we would meet again, as she longed to see more of me in future days. My head was turned so, that I readily agreed. Becoming further acquainted with Mrs. Valentine was a true pleasure; we laughed like children as we strolled through the city streets, and though I did not wish to impose upon her generosity, I could not help but accept the occasional delicacy from her, in memory of our first meeting amongst the pastries. She delighted equally in hearing tales of travel my father had told me, and in telling me about the husband she adored.
Father, for his part, was surprised and grateful that I had managed to make such an influential friend. Bless him, he never thought to turn this situation to his own profit, but when he learnt that he and I had been offered lodgings more sumptuous than the comfortable rooms we currently occupied -within the same building as my favourite pair, no less -it was near impossible to discern who was merrier. Upon relocating, we were even invited to dine with the distinguished Dr. McDonald, and the fashionable Mrs. Quarterflash. At last I was allowed the privilege of meeting President Valentine, who with his beloved wife made the final two members of our little dinner-party. He was elected by the common people, but, Roxette, he possessed the bearing of a King. A true gentleman, with elegant, engaging conversation and a face to rival those of the noble marbles of antiquity, he behaved as if nothing in the world should please him more than to attend this gathering. His magnanimity was apparent to all when my father -the poor wretch, he was in such high spirits -rose during dessert and, with cheeks aflame, offered a toast:
"To the Americans! They've no royalty, but, by Jove, their President shall do the trick quite nicely! Quite!"
And he drained his glass in the blink of an eye. Before I, my face beginning to match his in colour, could reprimand him, President Valentine quaffed his own vintage, and immediately called for more.
"I must return that wonderful compliment," he said. "To our friends from abroad -to Miss Ford, whose friendship my wife has so enjoyed, and to Mr. Ford, whose merry and industrious spirit must be praised for the development of his fortune and of his lovely daughter."
"Hear, hear!" cried Father, before once again emptying the glass.
We all supposed that to be the end of it, but a few moments later, the President stood once more, delivering this brief speech:
"Though tonight our coming together is for the sake of pleasure and not business, I also wish to pay tribute to that competition never before attempted by mankind; it has already begun to serve as inspiration for the people whom I represent, and now more than ever, enterprising, adventurous souls from around the world, much like our dear Fords, flock to these United States. To optimism, to unity!"
Any semblance of restraint was threatening to abandon my father, who now finished his third draught.
"Papa, you must take care," I murmured, "not to spoil the evening with shameful, drunken conduct."
"Oh, he looks fine to me," remarked Mrs. Valentine, whose own glass sat half-empty. "It is hardly unusual to see rosy cheeks on a cheerful soul, and can three glasses cause so much damage when accompanied by such a repast?"
Her husband put in, "You yourself have only had a little to drink, Miss Ford. Is the wine not to your liking?"
"Oh, no, Mr. President, it isn't that. Everything is lovely, only I have focused on the food to the nigh-exclusion of the drink." (This seemed to somewhat amuse him.)
"Both father and daughter will remain in good health. There's no need to worry," added Dr. McDonald, whom we had all nearly forgot to be the host, instead of the President.
With this blessing, I continued to sip at my first glass, and Father consumed a fourth; soon after, the dinner was concluded. I bade all a good night before assisting the poor devil upstairs and to bed. He talked in his sleep, of utter nonsense that caused him to giggle the way a silly child might. Mlle. Haddaway fetched me my chemise de nuit, but instead of following the example I had forced upon my father, I chose to sit upon the bed and read for a little while, until my eyes fell shut of their own volition. I do not doubt that my fate would have remained unaltered, had I simply gone right to sleep.
The peaceful night was interrupted by a sharp rapping. I set aside my novel and approached the door, but did not open it.
"Is Miss Ford there?" came a low, nervous voice from the hall.
"I am, but the hour is late. Tell me the reason you came here."
"Please, Miss, it's urgent; it has to do with Mrs. Valentine."
The speaker might be a maidservant, sent to act the part of messenger, but she might also be a troublesome girl with nothing to do but keep her fellow-guests awake for half the night.
"Don't say such things," I scolded her. "Mrs. Valentine is surely asleep, and I doubt I could render the aid she required, if she truly required any."
The voice returned, "She really is awake, and asking for you. She wishes for you to remember the figurines and the cakes."
A mischievous stranger could have perhaps sighted the two of us in the patisserie, but could hardly be expected to know of my initial failed attempt to elude she whom I now regarded with such fondness. Convinced of the girl's story, I donned a dressing-gown, and agreed to be led to the presidential suite.
The First Lady herself answered when the maid knocked; she opened the door only slightly, and though a fraction of her lovely face was visible to us, I thought I perceived a strange light in her eyes.
"Good," she whispered. "You may go."
The maidservant withdrawn, and myself entered, Mrs. Valentine -dressed, like myself, for the boudoir -went to a little table that stood within the lavishly-appointed room, and took up a decanter of fine glass. Her eyes still in that unfamiliar state, she smiled at me and said,
"As I am now your hostess, I would be remiss in my duty were I to offer you nothing. If you wish to have something sweet instead of a drink, I can order it brought up right away."
"Please, I don't understand, Mrs. Valentine-"
"No, no. Just Scarlet will do."
"I want you to address me as Scarlet. I hope that I may call you Lita?"
Why would I deny her that intimacy? "Certainly, Mrs... Scarlet. But for what sort of trouble do you require my presence tonight?"
"There is no trouble. I merely desired to converse with you, away from all others with their wagging tongues and prying eyes." She had poured herself a small amount of whatever that liqueur was, and now she drank it down at once before perching upon the large, soft bed. "Come, sit here. What do you think of me, Lita?"
Scarlet's expression said that she knew perfectly well what I thought of her, that she knew what I had felt upon first seeing her had not diminished, but intensified as we came to know one another, and could not be quelled even if I wished it to be. As I struggled to find words both affectionate and appropriate, her smile (dare I call it predatory?) widened.
"My dear Lita, your face is positively aflame," she cooed, reaching to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. The gesture was no longer an innocent one of friendship, and I could not help but to shiver. I had heard rumours concerning certain of the First Lady's predilections, but had dismissed them as nothing more than murmurings of petty wretches envious of her good fortune. Confronted with this behaviour, however, I felt myself torn between joy that my desire was reciprocated, and shame that I felt this way towards a married woman and had somehow drawn her to me, as well.
Alas, Roxette! I was imprisoned within my own mind, and my very breath stilled within my body, for my friend, Mrs. Scarlet Valentine, had leant forward and kissed me. I should have freed myself from her touch and fled the room straightway, but I could only groan with illicit pleasure, and, when movement at last returned to me, I embraced her and returned the sweet pressure exerted by her lips. They were so warm, firm, yet yielding; as more sound escaped my throat, I felt a wetness upon my cheek.
Now she retreated, and inquired as to whether I felt quite well.
I sighed, "Oh, Scarlet, I am glad that you care for me as I do for you, but what of your husband? What of my father?"
Whilst wiping away the tear, "Are you in peril of being ruined by a rakehell, Lita? Am I?"
"There is no need to inform your father, then, but if you are so vexed after tonight, there are some I know who might help you to find a husband. As for me, surely you can imagine how busy the President of the United States becomes?"
"There is no need to inform my husband, either. Please, allow me to show you the esteem in which I hold you!" So saying, she took me into her arms and kissed me once more, allowing herself to fall backwards as she did, so that presently I half-sat and half-lay atop her.
"Scarlet? What shall we do now?"
"Louder," she commanded. "Say my name louder, Lita. Order me to disrobe."
I wondered how she would obey, seeing as how she kept me pressed to her bosom -the same which was separated from mine by a mere few layers of silk. Nevertheless, I cleared my throat and said, harshly as I could, "Scarlet, you will immediately undress. And then you shall sit there on that bed, and -and await further instructions!"
She laughed even as she struggled to obey me. "Ah, well spoken, my darling, for a first attempt. There is so much that I long to teach you. However, as much as I relish this closeness, will you not arise, and do the same as I do? I think it equitable." Unable to fall any further under her spell, I concurred, and briefly kissed her before we both stood. She wrenched the dressing-gown from me, counting, "One, two, three." Then we faced one another un-draped.
I finally stated, in a voice softened by lewd reverence, "You are the most radiant woman I have ever seen."
As long as I live, I shall never forget my friend in all her natural splendour. I felt justified in my previous comparison of her to a sculpture; as Pygmalion witnessed the transformation from objet d'art to cherished womanhood, so I, who had previously considered Scarlet to be lovely and caring, yet out of reach, was now enraptured by the unveiling of her pale beauty, suffused with the rosy flush of ardour, and the bed of glossy black curls which I had not found betwixt the thighs of any statue.
"And how many beautiful women has my Lita seen?" she asked amusedly as she noticed where my eyes lingered the longest.
"I cannot recall, but in such a state, you are the first."
"It brings me great joy, to hear you say that."
She held out her arms to me, and I leapt upon her with such force, that for a moment I worried I might have driven all the air from her lungs when we landed upon the bed. Only merry sounds issued forth from those plush lips, however, and so I, overcome with desire, flung my arms around her neck, and furiously rained kisses upon any flesh within reach.
"Oh, Scarlet," I gasped, "I love you, I love you!"
"And I you. Such a delicious weight you are!" Scarlet took one of my hands and guided it downwards, until I was obliged to raise my hips away from her own, and could feel my fingers brush through the soft hair encompassing her cleft. "This will be a simple task, my sweet girl. You have only to rub there for a little while, and I will do the same for you. Then I shall give you your next lesson."
My treatment consisted of being handled as if my body were a fine instrument; Scarlet the virtuoso, combining light touches with harder strokes, caused me to bury my face in her shoulder and burst into voluptuous song, tethered to reality only by my duty. Reciprocation was indeed a simple task. She must have been aroused from the moment she kissed me, perhaps even since the maid quit her lair, for I, novice that I was, paid sufficient attention to her clitoris that soon she threw back her head, gave a shrieking kind of sigh, and spent all over my unpractised hand. Her visage showed only ecstasy, but I had never before encountered that sound, or that wetness, and fretted that my performance had been unsatisfactory.
"Well done," panted the beautiful American, dispelling my notions of inadequacy. "Now, get on your knees." She placed a heated kiss right over my heart, which was pounding furiously, and directed me to kneel before the foot of the bed, after which she lay supine once again, one white leg outstretched to each side. "We've made a mess, Lita. You must clean it up. No, no-" I had begun to rise, in search of a handkerchief, but she prevented me. "Kiss me again."
I had supposed myself past the point of nervousness, but now I must be proven wrong as the meaning of her words became apparent. My face and body grew red-hot for a new reason, torn between passion and trepidation. How could I regress, after what I had seen and felt? Gingerly I crept forward and, having before found nothing but happiness in Scarlet's lips, resolved to treat the other pair with all the tenderness I could muster.
"A-a-ah, good girl," my friend hissed, her fingernails digging into the coverlet as if seeking to tear it. "Don't stop, use your pretty pink tongue!"
Encouraged by her words and her uniquely heady scent, I kissed the seat of love once more, then followed this newest exhortation. The taste was altogether new to me and indescribable, but not unpleasant. Scarlet groaned in approval and declared what a memorable evening we should now have. My mouth was otherwise occupied, so in lieu of spoken assent, I hummed quietly, which also seemed to please her. A hand stroked my hair as I did so -then its grip turned forceful, I was pulled backwards, and I found myself looking up at President Funny Valentine.
"Good evening, Miss Ford," he greeted me, a menacing echo of the solicitousness he had shown during mealtime. "I trust you find your new accommodations comfortable?"
Though the sting in my scalp was already abating, shock alone would have rendered me incapable of movement. The President let go my hair, his other hand now coming nearer, and just before he was able to touch me I finally scrambled away, snatched up my dressing-gown, and flung it round my trembling shoulders as I backed away into a corner.
"Mr. President, I know that no explanation will truly suffice, but I-"
"How much has she had to drink?" This was directed at his wife, of course, and I knew not whether to think it better or worse that he remained so unruffled.
With an equal lack of perturbation, Scarlet sat up and answered, "Only that one glass of wine at dinner. I almost had some cake brought to her, but either way, the poor lamb was too confused to want anything."
"I see." He bent over her, and they embraced lovingly. Then, with his arms still round her waist, "Miss Ford, I believe I asked you a question."
"Oh, yes, Mr. President! Father and I are grateful for, and honoured by, all that you and Sc-Mrs. Valentine have done for us."
"Would I be correct if I were to guess that I caught you in the midst of expressing that gratitude?"
I could no longer meet his eyes, but instead turned my thoughts to how quickly I might retrieve my poor fallen chemise, which lay in a dainty heap near President Valentine's feet. Unfortunately, he was as perceptive as the woman whose affections each of us sought; he stooped, and gathered up both hers and mine, informing me, "These will not be necessary."
"Not only will you frighten Lita to death, at this rate," Scarlet admonished him, "but you are a dreadful hypocrite. Away with that coat, Funny!"
After depositing we ladies' garments upon one of the chairs, he proceeded to strip to the waist, granting us a grand view of his sinewy physique. My nerves briefly turned to pity when I saw the vicious marks gouged into his back, but I kept quiet for the sake of his dignity and Scarlet's excitement. He bit down upon a long finger, the better to remove one of his curious gloves, but caught the appreciative, quiet, yet impatient, cry of his wife and stopped.
"Well! I think there is more to you than you let on, dear. But you'll have your turn soon enough. Come here."
When the President extended a violet-striped hand to me, I realised that my own body had betrayed me; I, in truth, had been the one responsible for that sound. Another epiphany came to me soon after.
"Scarlet," I stammered, "you told me that there was no reason to confess any infidelity to your husband. Did you say that because he would be joining us tonight?"
She replied, "I was completely honest with you when I lamented how often my husband has been engrossed in his work. Funny is magnificent in many ways, as you have seen, but I hardly knew whether he would be with us tonight or tomorrow night."
"Come here, Miss Ford. Now."
Both of them were indeed magnificent, and still I must have hesitated an instant too long; Mr. Valentine lowered his hand and strode towards me, and then for the second time that night, I was seized and dragged towards the most powerful man in the country. Stubbornly I clung to the last remnant of tissue in my possession, even as it trailed uselessly along the floor while he sat next to his wife and deposited me upon his lap. With one arm now around my waist to keep me in place, he sought to reassure me:
"Miss Ford -Lita -look at me when I speak to you -now, listen. You must pardon the intensity I am wont to show. I am accustomed to my orders being followed without hesitation, and I have been looking forward so to meeting you. Scarlet has spoken highly of your exquisite looks and your charming temperament -ah, and you are as red as your father was during his toast. But it was gratifying to finally see you with my own eyes, downstairs, and to know that her description scarcely does you justice. Do you not think you might grow to regard me the way you do her?" He kissed me upon the cheek with an unexpected tenderness. "You have nothing to fear from either of us, only do as you are told."
"I think she understands, Funny," said Scarlet, who had been worrying her lip with her teeth, and idly running her toes along the bedpost. Her husband, understanding in turn, set me upon the bed, fell to his knees, and began gamahuching her with ten times the sweet ferocity I had endeavoured to show. I now had a clear view of her rapturous expression, and it was a captivating sight; they were as a pair of love-gods condescending to provide a glimpse of what could never be enjoyed by lowly mortals.
With a strength I did not expect, she pulled me till I was in the same pose she had caused me to assume the first time. She held me there, her greedy hands fondling and kneading my sides and breasts until we both were mewling from luxurious sensation. Then I felt a new touch: a gloved hand gliding up my thigh. Though its destination was easy to guess, the rub of fabric against flesh and the arrival of those fingers within my cunny still sent a jolt through me. A few skilful movements against parts already sensitised, and my eyes slammed shut of their own accord as I paid my second tribute to Venus, soaking the fine material. My poor, spent body could cope with no more (so I believed at the time). I collapsed almost as if in a dead-faint.
In my ears the sounds of love-making continued, reached a crescendo, and died away; simultaneously, Scarlet gripped me till I felt as if my lungs would burst, then relaxed her hold on me. Only for a short moment did the quiet last, to be replaced by some good-natured argument or other, whose topic I in my stupour could not discern.
"Lita. Lie on your back, and spread your legs."
I shifted a little to one side, and began to stretch my limbs, but I once again failed to show alacrity, and was rewarded with a nice slap to the rump. The President repositioned me himself -Scarlet ruefully let me go -and knelt over me.
"M-Mr. President?" He had discarded the rest of his clothing. In the past, I had overheard Mlle. Haddaway whispering and giggling of such things with certain of our staff when they thought I could not hear, but tonight was the first time I myself laid eyes upon a man's erect tool. The tip was such an angry red, it looked as if it might do me an injury should it enter. Now fully realising the ramifications of what I had done that night, and of what was to be done to me, I put both hands to my face and sobbed, "Oh, oh, I shall be ruined!"
Scarlet frowned. "Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow, after all. You certainly have intimidated her enough."
"Will twenty-four more hours cure her apprehension, or increase it? Better to do it now." Mr. Valentine caught both my wrists in his hand, and again and again his lips met my neck and bosom with such fervour, flaxen curls falling about his handsome face, till I knew not whether I longed to flee or surrender.
The First Lady soothingly pet my hair. "Do not forget what I said, Lita. If you and your father wish it, I will prevail upon my acquaintances to make it so that our time together will not render you without suitors. For now, you only have a little discomfort to endure, and then something marvellous awaits you. There must be no other feeling as blissful as this transport."
I was no match for President Valentine and King Priapus combined, and so I nodded and leant up to kiss him. He returned the action with vigour; thus was I muffled when I cried out, though more from dread and shock than from pain, as he took possession of me. He loosed my wrists and used that arm to hold me to him, while the other hand toyed with a lock of my hair.
"Dear Lita... The worst is over. I hope that you haven't become faint again. If you have, I mean to bring you round-" thus saying, he claimed another kiss, before withdrawing then sheathing himself anew, at an unhurried but gratifying rhythm. My body offered up no further resistance, but welcomed him each time. I found that my hands were grasping at the strong shoulders, tangling in his hair. "Yes, you're awake. You feel divine -I knew you would, when I came in and saw you and Scarlet with nothing on. You were alluring enough at dinner, but now I could not keep away from you for the world..."
His head dropped to the junction of my neck and shoulder, and from there, the President continued in a husky voice: "From the way you clutch at me and swallow me up so eagerly, I would say I was right in my earlier guess. Was this what you were imagining, when you were first admiring me, Lita? You made such an enchanting little sound. Let me hear you again!"
Mr. Valentine used his spare hand to pinch a nipple, and at the same time gave a particularly energetic thrust. I writhed beneath him as my voice did things of which I had never thought it capable.
"Ah! Mr. President, please, please..."
"Please, what?" he asked with an impish pride, his voice electricity against my skin.
"I need... More. Please, Mr. President, give me more, faster, please!"
He actually chuckled then. "My, what a polite little libertine we have in our arms. How could we allow such a request to go unfulfilled?"
Mr. Valentine wove his fingers through my hair, and bestowed upon me his most savage kiss yet, quickening his pace as he did. Scarlet growled filthy praise to us both, but her words went uncomprehended as my mouth fell open and produced an amalgamation of moans and pleas. My arms were now thrown around her husband's neck. The friction between our bodies, the inescapable heat, his sapphire eyes gazing with such intensity into my own -I could endure no longer, and with a final scream I collapsed in a flood of bliss. He remained engaged for a few moments more, before the engine of love was taken from within me, and I felt a warm gush upon my belly.
As before, I lay motionless while my lovers conversed. The First Lady shared some jest or other with her husband, then, their speech turned lascivious, and shortly thereafter she was in his lap, riding Saint George. They were overjoyed, of course, to teach me to do the same, as well as other pastimes, and that tale, Roxette, I hope you will be content to read in our next correspondence.