Venus in India Read Free

convinced that I was right as to my surmise that my unknown beauty was a lady, and a colonel's daughter) should be guilty of such bad manners as to stare at a perfect stranger in this manner. I turned my head once more, and this time I looked at this lovely but strange girl a little more fixedly. Her eyes, large, lustrous, most beautiful, seemed to pierce mine, as though trying to read my thoughts. For a moment I fancied she must be a little off her head, but just then, apparently satisfied with her reconnaissance, the fair creature disappeared from sight. From that moment my curiosity was greatly aroused. Who was she? Was she alone? Or was she with the unknown colonel in that room? Why was she staring at me so hard? By Jove! There she was at it again! I could stand it no longer. I jumped up and went into my own room and called the khansama.
    'Khansama, who is in the room next to mine?' and I pointed to the door which communicated with the room the lady was in, which was closed.
    'A memsahib, sahib.'
    A memsahib! Now I had been in India before, this was my second tour of service in the country, and I knew that a memsahib meant a married lady. I was surprised, for had anyone asked me, I should have said that this lovely girl had never known a man, had never been had, and never would be had, unless she met the man of men who pleased her. It was extraordinary how this idea had taken root in my mind.
    'Is the sahib with her?'
    'No, sahib!'
    'Where is he?'
    'I don't know, sahib.'
    'When did the memsahib come here, khansama?'
    'A week or ten days ago, sahib!'
    It was plain I could get no information from this man, only one more question and I was done.
    'Is the memsahib quite alone, khansama?'
    'Yes, sahib: she has no one with her, not even an ayah [maid].'
    Well! this is wonderful! How often did my young friend who had only gone away this morning, know her? You, gentle reader, with experience, no doubt have your suspicions that all was not right, but for the life of me I could not shake off the firm notion that this woman was not only a lady, but one exceptionally pure and highly connected.
    I went back to my seat on the verandah, waiting to be looked at again, and I did not wait long. A slight rustle caught my ear. I looked around and there was my lovely girl showing more of herself. She still looked with the same eager gaze without the sign of a smile on her face. She appeared to be in her petticoats only, and her legs and feet, such lovely, tiny, beautiful feet, and such exquisitely turned ankles, were bare; she had not even a pair of slippers on. A light shawl covered her shoulders and bosom, but did not hide either her full, well-shaped, white arms, her taper waist or her splendid and broad hips. These naked feet and legs inspired me with a sudden flow of desire, in spite of the fact that her lovely face and its wonderful calm yet severe expression had hitherto driven all such thoughts from my mind.
    Giacomo Casanova, who certainly is a perfect authority on all that concerns women, declares that curiosity is the foundation on which desire is built, that, but for that, a man would be perfectly contented with one woman, since in the main all women are alike; yet from mere curiosity a man is impelled to approach a woman, and to wish for her possession. Something akin to this certainly influenced me. A devouring curiosity took possession of me. This exquisite girl's face inspired me to know how she could possibly be all alone here at Nowshera, in a public bungalow, and her lovely naked feet and legs made me wonder whether her knees and thighs corresponded with them in perfect beauty, and my imagination painted in my mind a voluptuous motte and delicious cunt, shaded by dark locks corresponding to the colour of the lovely eyebrows, which arched over those expressive orbs. I rose from my chair and moved towards her. She instantly withdrew and as instantly again opened the chick. For the first time I saw a smile wreathe her face.