The Gentlemen's Club: Volume One in the 'Noire' series by Emmanuelle de Maupassant Read Free Book Online

so that it was hard to tell where one ended and another began.

 
    So ended the tableau and the
gathered assembly gave its applause with enthusiasm, some standing to offer
their ovation. The play had been presented with utmost delicacy, so that each
kiss appeared to fly on wings from Heaven and each thrust was delivered with
ease, such as truly bestowed by a god.

 
    MacCaulay had watched enraptured, gratified to see the serenity
with which the object of his affections had conducted herself .
Each movement was lithe, performed with the grace of a ballerina. From the tilt
of her head to the pointing of her toes, her body was a thing of beauty: a ship
in full mast gliding across an ocean of pleasure. How relaxed she was, and how
ready to lay bare her inner self -showing her soul in
its utmost state of bliss.  

 
    As the gentlemen began to
drum the tables, shouting for an encore, the three young players rose from
their slumber to bow in thanks, honoured to receive
such approbation. The approval and admiration of the crowd brought a new flush
to the performers’ cheeks and they exited the stage with lightness in their step.

Chapter Nine
    The Bath

 
    The Gentlemen drifted from
the salon into the adjoining room: the assembly hall in which they might act
out their own tableaux, with the ready participation of the harem there waiting.
The scene inspired a great use of perfumed oil that night and the stripping of
clothes, so that limbs might glisten: all the better for the massaging of
tender flesh and the slip-sliding of bodies one against the other.  

 
    MacCaulay remained in the salon until quite alone, ordering his
customary whisky and waiting, in expectation that Thetis might reappear. An
hour passed in solitude, so that he had all but given up hope, until the Master
of Ceremonies entered, to inform him that Mademoiselle Noire awaited his
pleasure. He led MacCaulay through the salon drapes
to a corridor beyond. There were several doors here, but from behind one could
be heard feminine laughter and the splashing of water.

 
    On entering, he noticed first
a huge bath, above the rim of which three graceful necks were visible, crowned
by pinned locks: one dark, one palest blonde and one richly red. To the rear of
the room was a large bed, cloaked in drapes.

 
    Mademoiselle Noire turned on
hearing his step, her face flushed rosily from the steam. She appeared younger
than he had seen her thus far, her face stripped of any embellishment at the
lip or cheek. Moreover, she was without her mask, so
that Lord MacCaulay was at last able to fully meet
her eye. She held his gaze for some moments, her head tilted to one side, chin
slightly raised, taking stock of him.

 
    She was the first to speak
and caught him off guard by addressing him by name.

 
    “Lord MacCaulay ,
you remember Daisy and Hetty I think?”

 
    The girls turned their heads
at their names, looking at him over their shoulders, as demure as he remembered
them, but with something worldly about their eyes. They were also without any
mask of concealment, so that he was able to gaze openly upon their young faces.

 
    “Our bath is still very
warm,” Mademoiselle Noire called to him, her voice all velvet. “It would be a
shame for you to miss the opportunity to join us, would it not?”

 
    His eyes fastened upon hers,
desiring so very much to be near her. MacCaulay removed all items of his evening dress, placing them neatly upon a chair. He
took pains to ensure that his actions were without undue haste, and then slid
into the comfortable embrace of the water, placing himself at one end, so that
the three women faced him at the other, all but their shoulders hidden.

 
    “So, you discovered my name,”
he said at last, his eyes searching hers, keen to detect any nuance of feeling.
“You know that anonymity is one of the Club’s watchwords.”

 
    “I thought it only proper,”
she reproached playfully. “A lady requires a formal