My Secret Life

and many a fine Spanish woman, and coarse but well-built English woman I had for half-a-crown a piece. I was recalled after seven months, and within a few days was in the Strand, but saw no Kitty until one night in early Summer. “Oh ! it's you, — I'm so glad”, said a female. It was Kitty, delighted. I did not know her for the instant, but in ten minutes we were fucking. How glad she was to see me; she was a well grown young woman, and lovely, her breasts were well developed, her calves and bum as well, al-though she was not seventeen.

She had quarrelled with her mother, left, and set up as harlot. It was wonderful what harlotry had done in giving her taste in dress, deportment, style of walking, and even in language. She had learned the value of her cunt, it was no longer three and six, but twenty shillings. “I don't want your money”, said she, “let's talk of old times.” We spent several evenings together. One man almost kept her, she thought he was going to keep her altogether, and hoped so.

I had taken her to the house in B . w Street, quietly there we talked all things over; we laughed over the affair of Pol and the coal-heaver, the sausage-rolls, the lost ten shillings, the afternoon her poorliness came on. “So you are gay, — do you like the life?” She really did, got lots of money, and now kept her mother who had been disabled by rheumatic fever. I saw her daily for a week or two afterwards, and we fucked to our hearts' content. Her motte was delicately hairy now, and of dark golden colour, slightly brownish. Then I went to the sea-side. When I came back to London, looking for her everywhere, I could not find her, and though I longed for her very much, was obliged to render myself happy with others.

To complete her history I must go forward two or three years when I had been madly in love with a gay woman as I shall tell, but had quarrelled with her for presuming on my love, and resolutely abstained from seeing her, doing however great violence to my affection and inclination. I used to go to the baudy house in J. . .s Street (not yet mentioned), and cry to its Mistress who would ask me to let her send to the lady of my affection (Miss M. . .$), — but of this more presently.

After reading over this part of my narrative relating to Kitty written full thirty years ago, I add these few words.

My secret life was written for my own pleasure, and to be a narrative of what I myself saw and did, and nothing else. I have pretty well adhered to that, but my fun with Kitty took place within a few years after I began to write, and describe the amatory episodes as leisure inclined me, and as they seemed to me unusually amusing or illustrative. I arranged them in order afterwards. Nothing at that time had been so piquant in my acquaintance with harlots as Kitty's had been. I had not then had much to do with lasses as young as she was, the novelty therefore I suppose made me write out her narrative intermixed with my own, at the length it has reached.

Besides Kitty was really quite original, her freshness, frankness, and truthfulness impressed me much, and after much experience since in the ways of frail ones, I believe now that what she told me was mainly true, and am sure she was delighted to get a confident in me, to whom she could unbosom herself unreservedly.

Chapter VII

Brighton Bessie. • Change irresistable. • Bessie in quod. • Lewd effects. • Spooning. • Her home. • Her cabman. • Reflexions. • Two years after. • Five years later on. • The mouse's promenade. • Bessie disappears.