upported by gentlemen at
the West-End. I went home with her to a house at the corner of G-l-n
square, after fearing and hesitating.

As I got to the door my fear returned, and but for shame I would
not have gone in. "I have but little money," said I, "Have you not a
Victoria?" said she. "No." "You will find one, I am sure." By that time
the door was opened, and in I went. "You will find one Victoria," said
she in broken English as she closed the room-door, "but if not, shall you
not give me what you shall find." The room was nicely furnished, out
of it was a nice large bed-room and a smaller one (she paid twenty
shillings a week for all, as you will soon hear). Four wax candles were
lighted, down she sat, so did I, and we looked at each other. I could
say nothing.

"Shall I undress?" said she at length. "Yes," I replied, and she began.
Never had I seen a woman take off such fine linen before, never such
legs in handsome silk stockings, and beautiful boots. I had had the
cleanest, nicest women, but they were servants, with the dress and
manners of servants. This woman seemed elegance itself to them. A
nice pair of arms were disclosed, a big pair of breasts flashed out, a
glimpse of a fine thigh was shown, and as her things dropped off, and
she stopped to pick them up, with her face towards me; her laced chemise
dropped, opened, and I saw darkness at the end of the vista between her
two breasts.

A pull up of the stockings and garters, disclosed other glimpses of the
thighs and surroundings. Then she sat on the pot, pissed and looked
at me, whilst I sat in fear, saying nothing, doing nothing, my cock
shrivelled to the size of a gooseberry, and longing to go away. The
whole affair was unlike anything I had seen or dreamed of, a quiet
business-like, yet voluptuous air was about it, which confused me; it
affected my senses deliciously in one way, but all the horrors about
gay women were conjured up in my imagination at the same time. I was
intensely nervous.

She seeing me so quiet, sat herself on my knee, and began unbuttoning
my trowsers. I declined it. "Are you ill?" said she. I told her no,
scarcely knowing what she meant. Then she unbuttoned me in spite of my
objection, laid hold of my little doodle, and satisfied herself that
it was all right I suppose; for she hurt me; I could not tell why she
squeezed it, for I did not know then the ways of gay women. The squeeze
gave me a voluptuous sensation, although fear had