"Oui… oui, I do cher," she answered quickly, without the slightest trace of pretense, "When I have such a lover as you."

He chuckled warmly. "You are a clever little girl, ma chere. You know the many ways to excite a man… but I fear you have yet to know Julian Forrest." He continued to smile down into her face. He kissed the tip of her nose and his great hand went on caressing her breast through her clothing.

Madeleine squirmed beneath his gentle, but stimulating touch. She was not ashamed at her obviously growing desire; instead, she was pleased and satisfied that she would have to put on no airs for this man whom she wanted physically… sexually, as was so often the situation in this new-found profession she had temporarily chosen. But, she wasn't about to wait much longer… She slipped her arms up and around his neck, drawing him down to her kiss, forcing her tiny pink tongue into his mouth as she writhed against him.

Finally, she said: "Make love to me, cheri."

"How?" he whispered hotly into her mouth.

"However you choose?"

"You… you say that so flippantly," he hissed down at her.

"B-Because that's the way I feel," said Madeleine, trailing her hand down over his chest toward his loins… moving over his flat, hard stomach to the front of his trousers, her long, sensuous fingers seeking and exploring with gentle tenseness… at last to discover his still flaccid member lying docile inside the protection of his clothing.

Her brow knitted and she stared up at him. He dropped his eyes and looked away; finally, he turned from her and sat upright on the edge of the chesterfield, his back to her.

"I-I'm sorry, cherie. I… I had no right asking you to come here… not a warm blooded, normal young woman such as you. It was a cruelty on my part… but then, you see, I didn't expect to regard you differently from the others." Suddenly, he arose and walked toward a small corner bar. "What would you like… scotch, bourbon, a gimlet, perhaps?"