Soon she was standing before me with a bowl of water in her hands and a towel over her arm, waiting for me to disrobe. There was no help for it and reluctantly I commenced to undress. She had removed her chemise, and was completely naked except for her little high heeled slippers and hose, but even the sight of her exquisitely rounded hips and legs, her protruding breasts, the rich profusion of hair that stood out so prominently at the union of her plump thighs were insufficient to revive the miserable appendage which hung its head so lifelessly between my own legs. And now, the last garment was off and its condition was revealed. Without evidencing any surprise, she took it between the fingers, and immersed it in the warm water, saying:

"You've never had it "french" before, have you, dearie?" I made no reply, and she continued:

"You're just nervous that's all. Lots of men are that way the first time. I'll make it stand up all right."

Meanwhile the girl kept up her amiable chatter to which I was now able to listen with more attention, and as my tranquiliy returned, I ventured to ask her a few questions. Her name was, Rose. She was not as I had supposed, French, but Belgian. No; she didn't like this kind of life. She was saving up her money to leave it and return to her native land. Some of the men who came were not nice. They were never satisfied, and expected a girl to do all Jrinds of things. Only last night, she confided, a man had wanted to do it to her in the bottom, and had gotten angry when she refused. Inwardly I marveled at the incongruous lifte of reasoning she must have employed to justify herself in taking a man's cock in her mouth, and at the same time maintain scruples against it in her bottom but I kept my thoughs on the subject to myself.

The abulutions now concluded to her satisfaction, she removed the basin, and inquired: "How do you want it, dearie, single or double?"