“I must say,” she exclaimed, shaking her head, “you certainly work fast! We just finished moving in yesterday — mother, my three sisters, and I — and today when we met on the stain you already kissed me, pushed me into your apartment, shut the door… And here we are.”
“And that's only the beginning,” I remarked rather brazenly.
“Oh? I suppose you don't know that our two apartments adjoin each other? That there's even a blocked-off door between them? I don't even have to fight back it you decide to act a little unwisely, my good man. It would be much easier to shout, 'Help mother! Rape! Satyr! Attack?'“
The threat was no doubt intended to intimidate me — and successfully, I might add. However, she soon reassured me, and my scruples began once more to fall away. My desire, unfettered, once more flamed high in a new atmosphere of freedom.
This young girl, scarcely fifteen years old, whom I had so easily made captive, wore her jet black hair knotted in the back, a plain, slightly crumpled blouse, a short full skirt, and a wide leather belt. As slim, brown, and trembling as a kid in something by Leconte de Lisle, she pressed her legs together and lowered her head without lowering her eyes, as if to charge towards me with her horns.
The willingness in her words and manner had already prompted me to attempt to take her, however I didn't think things would go as quickly as they did.
“What's your name?” she asked me. “X-. I'm twenty years old. And you?”
“Mauricette. I'm fourteen and a half. What time is it?”
“Three o'clock,” she repeated, lost in thought for a second. “Do you want to go to bed with me?”