As I said, the headmistress's lessons were a military affair, with ruthless incursions of our teacher into our ignorance, met with meek resistance and poorly successful evasion tactics.
On the contrary, the lessons of Mlle Clery were peaceful events. Like picnics mostly, with plenty of jokes and laughter moving through the crowd of pupils, while that minute, mild-mannered lady tried to drive a point home.
This distinction crumbled whenever Mlle Renouf marched into our classroom, while Mlle Clery, in her clear and pleasant voice, softly presented the content of the lesson.
Mlle Renouf would smirk at poor Mlle Clery and say:
'Don't concern yourself with my presence, mademoiselle. I'm just an observer.'
Our headmistress, made of highly flammable stuff, could not abide by her own advice. Instead, after but a few minutes of listening to the quavering voice from behind the desk, she would burst out with:
'Surely, Mlle Clery! How is anybody supposed to respect your authority when one can barely hear you?'
The poor woman would tremble and attempt a few words as a kind of an explanation:
'I believe they can hear me. Can't you, girls?'
The whole room would be silent, unsure of whether to agree with one side or the other of this argument.
'Ah!' the headmistress would say. 'See? They can't answer a question they can't hear! Volume, volume, and more volume!'
'I will try,' Mlle Clery would answer, in a voice that was even fainter and more unsure than usual.
On the day that followed our escapade, Odile and I slept late and arrived to class on one of such occasions.
When I woke up, I had felt disoriented. I barely knew where I was: I was surprised I was not in my bed, back at home; for a moment, I didn't recognise the room I was in; I stood there for a moment, until, with a jolt, I realised that I was in our dormitory, and that the hour was quite late already. In a flash, the images of the night just passed flashed before my eyes: the exhilaration, the bawdy jokes, the gambling, and the debauchery that ended the proceedings.
I shook Odile, who lay as dead. She showed no signs of life for a minute, even though I was working on her resuscitation with great energy. Finally, she gave a loud noise with her nose and mouth, as if she had inhaled some toxic vapour. She looked around, unable to focus her eyes on anything.
'What – ?' she mumbled.
'Odile! It's very late: everyone has already gone to class.'
'Indeed?' she said, finally looking at me.
Then, she fell back onto her pillow and began snoring again.
I shook her some more until, as a last effort, I pulled her by the feet off her bed.
When her head hit the floor with the loud thud typical of the ripe gourd that falls off the table, that seemed to do the trick.
'Hey!' she cried. 'What's the idea?'
'We're late. You'd better dress!' I cried from under my dress, as I was trying to put it on in one swift movement.
Odile didn't seem too concerned, such was her conviction that she would be expelled for the way she had behaved with Juliette.
We walked to class, I at a speedy pace, often turning behind to encourage my friend, and Odile strolling leisurely, surely savouring my exasperation as her last enjoyment before Mlle Renouf expelled her, and her father committed her to the mental asylum.
My apprehension was tempered by the knowledge that the first hour was with our sweet Mlle Clery, who was incapable of raising her voice or dishing out just punishment, but this consolation quickly vanished when I saw the large, dark bulk of Mlle Renouf at the back of the class.
'Mesdemoiselles!' she cried. 'Explain yourself! Explain such tardiness!'
'We must have eaten something bad: we were both sick,' I invented.
Fear can be such a tonic to the laziest of minds, but I surprised myself with the readiness and the plausibility of my answer.
I gave a quick look at Juliette, who was watching me with great concentration. Surely, she didn't buy it, as I had given no sign of illness the night before.
'Be as it may,' our headmistress barked, 'find your seats.'
Mlle Clery was looking about with great apprehension.
I knew not the cause of her agitation, but I could surmise it to be caused by something the headmistress had said before our arrival.
'So?' Mlle Renouf asked our teacher, resuming her inquisition and forgetting all about me and Odile.
'I cannot explain, headmistress. Do you truly believe our students are not well prepared?'
'But of course! You let these young devils pull wool over your eyes. I've shown the results of their latest efforts to some colleagues of mine, and they all concur that these students know no more of algebra and biology than a child.'
'I assure you that we follow the curriculum,' Mlle Clery stammered.
'Let me warn you,' Mlle Renouf said, pacing menacingly towards the trembling teacher and lifting a finger the size of a sausage towards her, 'if these students don't improve… Mark my words, mademoiselle, you will be off a job faster than you can say… what can you say?' the headmistress lost her train of thought here. 'This is not any school. This is the school! The best families of France entrust their children to me, and to you, for their education.'
At this point, she was very close to Mlle Clery, who had walked backwards until her back was against the blackboard, and she had no more room to retreat.
'Discipline. This is what's lacking. See how carefully you listen once I give you a reason to pay attention? You shall do the same with these girls: they shall kneel on chickpeas; they shall be spanked; they shall be made to wash the latrine! Do you understand me?'
Mlle Clery, holding back tears, nodded.
'Good!' Mlle Renouf said with a broad, horrible smile. 'I see we understand each other.'
The headmistress turned towards the class, looked at us with disgust, and left.
There was a minute of silence.
Everyone was considering what the headmistress had said, and whether our meek teacher would truly follow these precepts.
I, on the other hand, was considering the fact that the headmistress had made no mention of Odile's infraction.
My friend too must have been pondering this for she looked at me, at first with a questioning look, then looking rather pleased with herself.
She then tilted her head to look at Juliette.
While Odile smiled with great satisfaction, the prefect was seething.
It was obvious now that the extent of Juliette's influence on Mlle Renouf had its limits, and, even though she might have complained to the headmistress, this one had decided not to act upon it and lose a student.
Meanwhile, Mlle Clery was asking, in her soft and timid voice, whether the class truly believed they had learned little from her lectures.
Then, without waiting for an answer, she sat at her desk and, having found a handkerchief, she sobbed into it for a while until she found her situation so overwhelming that she stood up and left.
I felt very sorry for this young woman, whom I found sweet and patient. Yes, I had to admit that she hadn't been able to find a breach in my ignorance and disinterest for her disciplines, but I felt that the unrestraint rage and public humiliation that Mlle Renouf had dispensed had been unnecessary. Certainly, the matter could have been better dealt with more tactfully and in private.
'If she can't even teach, what is she good for?' came the smirking voice of Juliette.
I had grown to dislike this girl intensely for her arrogance and lack of compassion.
Mlle Clery certainly didn't deserve such judgment. Furthermore, Juliette, who was certainly not a very bright student, should have felt thankful for having such a kind and patient teacher.
After lunch, I found a moment to talk to Odile about our previous evening.
The season had become too cold for the students to spend time outdoors, and everyone was crammed in the corridors and public rooms, but I found a peaceful corner where we could discuss those events that had so surprised me.
'I really enjoyed last night,' I told Odile.
'Wasn't it fun? Much better than the silliness that these girls put on.'
I agreed wholeheartedly. I had not been used to behave as I wished, without any restraint. My parents first and now my teachers always made it impossible: their watchful eye was always on me, and I never felt able to drop any restraint, laugh when I wished to laugh, say what I truly thought, and to drink to excess.
Odile then explained that she had met Bernard by chance, and that they had become good friends, that she had met with him regularly after the other students went to bed, and she offered to bring me to see him again, if this pleased me.
'How soon?' I asked.
'Why not tonight?' was Odile's reply.
We then discussed briefly the fact that Odile had not been expelled. In fact, nobody had mentioned her fight with Juliette.
'I bet she will make me pay for it, though.'
That night, once the dormitory was quiet, Odile and I crept out of bed. I had suggested to sneak out from some of the side entrances, and to avoid putting our lives in danger by climbing off the roof.
The corridors were dark and quiet. Nobody had ever tried to leave the school at night, and therefore nobody thought it worth patrolling the school at night to catch any possible fugitives in the act.
The same scene repeated itself once we were out of the school: the walk through the fields, the call, the light, the noise of the horse, and finally Bernard at the reigns.
This time, however, Bernard welcomed me cheerfully:
'Good evening, Eloise. It's good to see you again.'
'Good evening,' I replied. 'I looked forward to seeing you again – you, and your good friends, Mr. Pepin and Mr. Bad Leg.'
'What for?' Bernard asked.
'What for?' I asked in turned. 'But for a game of cards and a drink.'
Bernard laughed:
'But they have run out of money. We won't see them for a good month.'
We soon arrived at the town. Bernard secured his horse to a pole, and we walked upstairs.
I was surprised to see a man and a woman in the room.
These two people were quite different from each other and, together, made a queer effect.
The woman was not much older than myself. She dressed in a simple manner, which made me imagine she was a laundress, or a young woman employed behind a counter in the local market. She had arranged her hair with little art, and her whole figure revealed a general carelessness. What surprised me, however, once I got to spend some more time with her, was that she had never learnt the art of appearing reserved, which is so typical of women. She was quick to feel at ease with strangers and treated everyone with great confidence. There was a general vulgar air of disinterest for serious problems and a great disdain for what's refined. I liked her instantly, even though I felt like I could not fully trust her.
The man, on the other hand, was much older. He was probably in his late forties, with a balding round head, a rotund face blushed at the cheeks, and pince-nez perched on a aquiline nose through which he looked at the cards. He dressed fastidiously: every piece of garment he wore revealed a great taste. There were pearls and rubies on his cufflinks; the pocket watch was secured with a fine golden chain that ran across his waistcoat made more precious by small pearls; and he wore a large Emerald on his left pinkie. He had the air of someone who enjoys fine things and has a revulsion of what's common.
I soon noticed that both Bernard and the other woman were very obsequious towards him, and often demanded whether he needed something, some food, or a better seat.
When we walked into the room, he was listening to the woman with a polite air.
'And then…' the woman was saying in her coarse voice, waiting a moment to deliver the final sentence, 'everyone began to fart!'
The woman laughed loudly at this closing remark to the story she had been telling, while the man nodded politely to indicate he understood the point of the tale.
'And look who's back!' the woman said, when Bernard appeared on the threshold.
Bernard threw his hat on the sofa and sat down.
A bottle and a few glasses appeared, and the cards were laid.
'So, I know Odile. Who is the new girl?' the woman asked.
Bernard eyed me:
'She's Eloise, darling.'
'Sharp with her cards?' the woman asked me.
I shook my head, to which the woman laughed:
'That's all the same. My name is Minette.'
We soon began to drink and play cards.
Minette held court; the gentleman listened and smiled at the prurient jokes; Odile tried to equally impress the company, albeit with less success. Bernard observed and poured the wine generously. I drank, played, and enjoyed every little drole moment of the evening.
I was certainly determined not to lose this game, and, in fact, I had been thinking about the mistakes I had made when playing this or that card the night before. But I was also keen on the company, which was freer and less pretentious than the one I had become used at the school.
The company traded jokes, arguing over the game, laughing, and loudly demanding that new bottles be brought, as the old ones were emptied.
'What's your name?' I demanded, at one point, looking at the man, as he hadn't been introduced to me yet.
The gentleman looked at Bernard in an embarrassed manner.
'You can call him Uncle Stone,' Bernard said.
'Of course, a precious one,' Minette added.
Bernard then gave me a meaningful glance, which I understood to mean: no names, here.
I blushed at my gauche remark that had perturbed this guest of the house and demanded forgiveness for my question.
'But not at all,' this gentleman said in a magnanimous tone, filling my glass that I had just drank from.
Odile often tried to make a joke or a quick remark, which, although they didn't upset the company, didn't seem to please anyone greatly.
I spied on my friend and notice that she was drinking heavily and glanced often at Minette, who was sitting next to Bernard and often caressed his hand, with the glum air of a queen dethroned.
The game proceeded until a very late hour. We all had great fun, but soon the company began to yawn.
'I believe I won three Franks,' Odile announced once the cards were put away.
Bernard smiled at her and said:
'Have you also accounted for the money you owed me? And the wine?'
Odile scrunched up her face:
'It's always the same with you.'
'What's fair is fair,' Minette said.
'Nobody has spoken to you,' Odile said morosely.
Uncle Stone raised his hand:
'Ladies, no squabbling. I can't bear it.'
To that, Odile laughed and said:
'Fine. I think I like losing more than I like winning. It suits me just as well.'
'That's the spirit,' Uncle Stone replied.
I looked around. I had lost track of the game and, in the stupor which the wine had plunged me into, had put down cards without any conception of whether this profited me or not. I just enjoyed the laughter that I would get from winning a small hand with a big card, only to lose everything a few minutes later.
Nobody was really paying attention to me.
Bernard and Minette were heading towards the bedroom.
'I'm quite tired,' the former claimed.
'Yes, some rest would do us good,' the latter echoed.
'What about me?' Odile asked in a plaintive tone.
Bernard, who looked quite tired by now, waved his hand casually and yawned:
'Don't you know what to do?'
Minette laughed and pushed Bernard into the bedroom jokingly, shutting the door behind them.
Uncle Stone sat on the sofa. He too looked weary from the evening, but he didn't make a move to leave.
I sat on my chair, unsure of what to do. To go back to the institute on foot would have taken me a few hours, and I thought Bernard might soon take me and Odile back by cart.
'So, monsieur,' Odile said. 'What would you like to do now?'
Uncle Stone looked at her and sighed:
'I wouldn't know.'
'I'm sure that my friend and I can find ways to occupy the time while Bernard rests.'
The man shrugged his shoulders in a non-committal way:
'If you will, my young friend…'
Uncle Stone's face was flushed from the wine. He looked a little shy, but there was another feeling brewing within him, which I couldn't fully understand.
Odile sat next to him on the sofa and held his hand.
'Surely, the three of us can have some fun.'
'As I said,' that gentleman replied, 'I don't mind.'
I then began to guess that Uncle Stone was now feeling boredom for the situation.
'Eloise,' Odile said in a jocular manner, 'why don't we show our uncle something that might revive his interest?'
I looked at her without understanding.
Odile stood up and, standing next to me, said:
'Come on, Eloise, don't be shy.'
Then, she began to disrobe.
Her candid skin, her supple breasts, her navel, her little bush, her round thighs emerged. She caressed my shoulders and began to work on my buttons and ribbons.
I wasn't too sure I wanted the evening to progress in this manner. Although Uncle Stone had proved to be adequate company during the card game, I didn't feel inclined to become more acquainted with him, in the manner that Odile was suggesting.
'Don't be silly,' my friend whispered to me, 'don't forget our debt towards the house.'
This remark surprised me, and I let Odile continue without any resistance.
Soon, we were both naked.
'Isn't she pretty?' Odile asked Uncle Stone, caressing my hips.
That gentleman, however, didn't seem too moved. He had reached an age where the novelty of a woman's naked body doesn't surprise anymore, and he had wealth enough to afford such spectacle enough to be bored with it.
Odile looked at him for a moment.
He, having lowered his gaze, was now staring at his fingernails.
'If you prefer, Uncle,' I said, 'we could get dressed again.'
'I don't mind,' he said distractedly.
Odile, once again, leaned over and said:
'Let's don't give up yet. I have heard of such cases: old gentleman of… different tastes.'
Then, to my surprise, my friend changed her tone. Once girly and servile, she now began to speak in a more assured tone:
'Stand up, you little, fat man.'
'Excuse me?' Uncle Stone asked, looking at her with the same bored look.
'You heard me:' my friend continued, 'stand up!'
The man did as he was told, looking at Odile with an indulgent smile:
'What would you have me do, now?'
'Get naked!' she ordered.
Then, seeing that the gentleman was not moving, she got closer and slapped him across the face. That hit produced a loud smacking sound.
The man was startled. He raised a hand to his face and said:
'You little…'
'Don't make me slap you again. Naked. Now!' Odile said.
I observed this scene, which in retelling I now find quite humorous, with great apprehension, not fully understanding it at the time.
The man slowly disrobed.
'Come on!' Odile said impatiently.
When the man was naked, my friend observed him carefully.
He had a round belly and small, saggy breasts. His body was quite short and, without the ornament of his fine clothes, appeared quite ill-proportioned and comical.
'Look at this little dick of yours,' Odile said with a derisive tone.
She gave that organ, which was certainly quite small, a flick with his finger.
'Are you sure you're a man? My clit is bigger than that,' Odile said.
The man grew dark in the face.
'I'm out of here!' he said.
Odile slapped him again.
'New rule: you speak when I tell you to speak.'
The man looked at Odile and then at me. All naked, outnumbered, he soon felt powerless and had no other option than do as he was told.
'First of all,' Odile said, pacing back and forth like a general before a battle, 'we will get some satisfaction – don't you think, Eloise?'
I wasn't sure of what she meant, but I believed the role I had to play in the comedy she was inventing demanded I assented to such questions:
'Of course, Odile.'
'Very well. Now, sit next to me,' Odile said to me. Then, to Uncle Stone: 'You – there – on your knees.'
Odile and I sat on the sofa. Odile spread her legs and invited me to copy this pose.
Uncle Stone knelt before us.
'You can start with her. I want to see you if you're any good,' Odile said.
The gentleman accommodated himself between my legs and moved his mouth closer to my crotch.
'Come on! Put your tongue into her bush. You'll see how nice she tastes,' Odile said and reached with a hand towards the scruff of Uncle Stone's neck, forcing him to advance.
'He's rather ugly, but you don't have to look at him in this position,' Odile said quite loudly so that the man could hear this crude remark.
He began to lick me. Quite timidly at first.
'How is he?' Odile asked me quite a tone that didn't expect an enthusiastic reply.
I scoffed, still playing my part.
'You filthy boy!' Odile cried. 'Lick!'
I felt a pause in the activity, then Uncle Stone began licking a bit more thoroughly.
'Oh, this won't do!' Odile said.
Then, she stood up and, having walked behind the man, gave his bottom a little kick with her foot.
The tongue moved now a bit more frantically, which I found quite pleasing.
Odile eyed the man's rear. She then began circling the man's anus with her big toe, running it along the perineum.
'I wonder how painful it would be…' she said.
At that point, the tongue moved with such intensity, prodded by the threat.
'I believe he's learning,' I said.
'Good… Keep going, then! You don't want me to stick my big toe up your dirty hole.'
Uncle Stone licked and licked, desperately.
'Mmmh! It's not too bad, you know?' I said, now closing my eyes.
The sensation that that frantic tongue, that stabbed around my genitals in a confused and orderless manner, was increasingly pleasurable.
Odile kept holding her foot against the man's rear, moving it about, stabbing the flesh now and then with her toes.
'I hope he's not slowing down!' she said.
'He… is… not!' I said, finding it hard to speak in one breath.
'Look at this old carcass – keep going! – she can be of some use!' Odile said, relishing the cruel words she was uttering.
'Mmmmh!' I moaned, as the pleasure was now quite intense.
I closed my eyes and focused on the movement on the tongue that was now insisting on my clitoris. I then pressed the hard, bald head of Uncle Stone against me, and I finally came with a groan.
I puffed, quite flustered, and opined that maybe it was time to reward the gentleman's effort.
Odile laughed.
'Not so fast,' she said. 'What about me? Are you going to behave and do as you're told?'
The man looked up to her.
'Yes, yes… I'll be very good!'
'Then, get busy. I like quite a forceful action, so don't get lazy,' she ordered.
Then, she spread her legs and opened the curtain of her little theatre, so that the pink scenery would appear.
The man clumsily moved on all fours, like some sort of animal, to reach her, and he repeated for Odile the little service he had dispensed with me.
My friend enjoyed the treatment as much as I had.
I observed how the pleasure increased and how the various stages of excitement progressed: my friend could initially request more force or insistence on a particular point, but soon her words came broken and with great sighs to separate them. Odile liked to torment her breasts as Uncle Stone worked on her genitals: she pinched her nipples, immersed her fingers in the soft flesh, and rubbed her chest, which seemed to now calm the fire, now stoke it further.
When she was done, she stood up. There was a luciferin gleam in her eyes.
'You've pleased us. Now, let us see what we shall do to you next,' she said.
The man, still on all fours, was looking at Odile with apprehension, awaiting her next order.
'Stand up,' Odile ordered.
The man obeyed.
My friend surveyed his body. His chest was reddened from the effort, and, after having attended to our needs, his little dick was erect. This cut a pitiful figure. The organ hadn't increased much in length or girth. It stood up, bent in the middle, in the shape of the twelfth letter of the alphabet, with its tip slightly uncovered. Below, two small plums dangled.
'You're not much of a man,' Odile said, commenting on this. 'I think you're just a little, old tart. You've fooled us into thinking you were a great man. But look at this: you fat whore!'
The man blabbed that he had given satisfaction to many ladies with it.
Odile slapped him again:
'Silence! You're permitted to talk only to apologize!'
The man's lip trembled:
'I'm – sorry…'
Odile looked at him, then said:
'On the sofa. Now!'
The man sat down, still looking at Odile, unsure of what would come next.
'Now, spread your legs… Like this! Haven't you been fucked before?'
The man raised his legs, like a woman who's about to give birth, so that everything that resided between his thighs was exposed, unprotected.
'Look at this ugly pussy,' Odile said.
Odile knelt before him and ran a finger on the man's balls.
'Look at these fat lips… and this big clit… she's a real tart!'
The man held his breath.
'Ow!' he cried, as Odile flicked the bottom of one testicle with her finger.
'Come on, Eloise. Don't you want to give this whore the treatment she deserves.'
I knelt next to her, diverted by this.
Prodded by Odile, I now picked the end of the skin of the testicles and pulled.
'Oh… Ohh…' went Uncle Stone.
'See how it stretches?' Odile said. 'But look… What's here?'
Now, Odile was running her finger around the man's anus.
'I wonder…' she said, then she penetrated him.
'Aaah!' he went.
'I cried too my first time,' Odile said laughing, and penetrated the man with a second finger.
'Slowly!' he went again.
Meanwhile, I began playing with the man's balls. I caressed them longingly, only to slap them unexpectedly ever so gently, but clearly causing the man a great shock.
Uncle Stone reached down with a hand a began stroking his dick.
'This tart can't help herself,' Odile said.
For all the discomfort that Odile and I were producing, the gentleman was clearly enjoying himself.
Odile had by then three fingers up the man's anus, all the way to the knuckles, and was moving them back and forth quite liberally. Each time she went in, the man gasped and sighed.
I kept tormenting his testicles, which were trying to retreat into the man's groin. I held them in my fist, squeezing and pulling. The smallest movement would make this man squirm and cry out.
'I'm sorry,' I said at one point.
'Don't… Stop!' the man replied, masturbating furiously.
'What a slut!' Odile commented, still fucking his rear entrance with three fingers.
'I'm coming… I'm coming!' the man cried.
Odile then replied, quite out of breath now from the vigorous movement of her arm:
'Haven't I said to keep quiet? Eloise… Do something about this! I'm rather busy here.'
I laughed and released the man's balls and moved on top of him.
'This will keep your mouth shut,' I said, spreading my cheeks and placing my ass on his face.
'Mmmh!' came his muffled reply from under my butt.
I could feel the man pushing and moving his face under me, as he was probably struggling to breathe.
Filled with the charitable instinct, I reached down with my hand, and took hold of his little cock, which, with a couple of energetic strokes, I made ejaculate on Odile's head.
I then freed the man, who emerged from underneath me, all red in the face, gasping for air.
'Thank you, thank you!' he was whining. 'I have never… I will pay Bernard double!'
I was surprised at this comment, but I said nothing, preferring to query Odile about their meaning later one.
My friend now stood up next to Uncle Stone and forced her fingers, that she had used on his anus, into his mouth.
'That's it. Lick them all. One after the other.'
The man completed these instructions with such eagerness, making such noises, you would have thought Odile's hand covered in the sweetest honey.
'My good ladies,' the man said, 'you have given me such pleasure tonight, as I had always wished to receive, but I believe I had always been too embarrassed, too conscious of my station, too used to manlier position to request.'
We poured more wine and toasted to our mutual good health.
As soon as we were all dressed, Bernard emerged, called by an invisible bell, ready to take us back to our beds.