He was a quiet, polite fellow, large of stature, always plainly but neatly dressed. How they had come to designate him as "the Swede" I don't know unless it was that his blond hair and Nordic accent someway suggested the nationality. As Josephine replied to my query, she too began to giggle and my curiosity was further aroused. "Well, what's so funny about it?" I insisted and as I spoke, there flashed over me the recollection of previous instances when, after the departure of this man I had observed smiling glances directed at Marigold-Marigold, the girl I had seen cross the room naked the memorable night of my initiation in sporting life- who was also blond and whose copper colored tresses, and big breasts had always secretly fascinated me.

At first Josephine seemed disinclined to enter into explanations, but her reticence only augmented my curiosity and I persisted with the result that the following novel facts came to light.

This man, despite his robust appearance, suffered from a lamentable physical defect. His

cock was less than half normal size, and incapable of attaining an erection of sufficient rigidity to penetrate a woman. The only way he could satisfy his passion was by sucking a girl and jacking himself off at the same time. For the privilege of sucking Marigold once a week he paid a generous fee. But this wasn't all of the story. These little devils had scratched away a bit of paint from one corner of a glass transom above a door connecting with Marigold's room and were in the habit of entertaining themselves by watching while the sucking operation was being realized. "Does Marigold know that?" I asked, astounded.

"Sure, she knows it. She doesn't care," replied Josephine, but he doesn't." Instinctively I cast an apprehensive glance around our own room, to see whether there were any "scratched transoms" through which I had possibly been subjected to the scrutiny of curious eyes. Josephine read my thoughts and said smiling, "Don't worry, we don't do anything worth watching!"