“N-no… Georges…

“Let me have the handkerchief I see at your bodice, my lovely Marie!”

Marie flushed exquisitely; her dainty fingers plucked the silk from the valley of her bosom, where she had placed it at the opening of her gossamer brassiere and she handed it to the masked man, her lips forming a coquettish moue of pudicity that was delicious to behold.

Without a word, the man took the arrogant, aquiline nose between thumb and left forefinger and as Marcia opened her lips to cry out, he buried the scented kerchief in her lovely mouth; then, swiftly, he took his own handkerchief from the lapel pocket of his tuxedo coat and applied it over Marcia’s red mouth, knotting it tight at the back of her neck.

Thus she was speechless and fettered, powerless, compelled to watch the spectacle of her maid’s yielding to the first “caller” of this indisputable bordello!

And her widened eyes, gleaming with furious humiliation and offended dignity, must behold the ultimate offense to her beauty: the stranger’s preference for her own despised young maid Marie!

Oh, it was maddening; her fingers clenched and unclenched, she stamped her feet-that, at least, she could do-but, disregarding her completely, the masked stranger returned to the divan, one arm fondly encircling Marie’s adorably bare white shoulders.

Marcia’s eyes turned to regard the strange couple, widened, humid with apprehension and wrath.

The masked man sat very close to the exquisite young maid and now his right hand stole forth gently and rested on the hem of her chemise, which caressed the edges of her silken-embraced, dimpled, rounded knees.

“Oh… monsieur… you must not…“ she murmured, turning.her face to him and giving him a demure, shy glance between quivering golden lashes.

“You are very lovely, Marie,” murmured the man, his left arm holding her tight against him; her soft fingers entreated his pilfering right hand to move from the attainment of her knees, but, insistent, he lingered his fingers on the white chemise hem, their tips gently palpating, stroking, to sense the flesh of her thighs beneath the silk and the mesh.