'Isn't it The Hound That Caught The Pubic Hair?' said Ian Pethick innocently which made us all laugh heartily as he went on: 'No, actually it's Stan Satterthwaite's theme song, Naughty Little Maudie. Don't you remember seeing him sing it at the Holborn Empire a couple of months ago?'
'Of course it is!' Jack exclaimed and to prove that he did remember this popular ditty, he sang in a rich tenor voice:
'Oh you don't know Maudie like I do,'
Said the pretty little bird on Maudie's hat.
'I could tell you some stories about Maudie
About many strange places she's been at.
By the sea, by the shore,
There's lot's of fun in store,
But always wipe your feet upon the mat!'
'You have a splendid voice, Jack,' said Erika admiringly. 'But I do not understand the song. What is the connection between a girl being naughty and wiping feet? Perhaps you would please explain this to me?'
Jack could not help smiling at the puzzled expression on the pretty blonde's face as he answered: 'Don't fret, it isn't your command of English that is at fault. The fact is that there's no connection at all. You see, Stan Satterthwaite is one of those so-called “eccentric comedians” who rush on stage dressed in weird costumes and bawl out nonsensical songs.'
'I agree with you, but Stan Satterthwaite's songs have very catchy tunes even though the lyrics are no better than nursery rhymes,' remarked Susie as she thumped out a stirring introductory melody on the piano. 'Have you heard his latest, You Can't Give Daisy Any Winkles'! No? Well, it goes something like this-
'You can't give
Daisy any winkles.
You can't give Dora any shrimps,
Gertie's a sport
But don't give her port
You'll never know what she'll begin!'
_
The two Danish girls laughed as Susie sang the chorus. Then the rest of us roared out Let's Go Down The Strand, Burlington Bertie and my own particular favourite The Girl I Love Is Up In The Gallery. Whilst I sang the lilting sentimental melody I caught Katie's eye and looked meaningfully at her which caused a delightful reddish tinge of colour to appear on her so-kissable cheeks.
Not that Katie could ever be classified as one of those empty-headed girls who deliberately give the impression of helplessness to attract a man. In my opinion, one of the most remarkable evolutions of recent times has been the rebellion of women against remaining second-class citizens denied the same educational and political rights as men-and whilst I deplore violence as a method of argument, the women's suffrage movement has my total support.
As I said warmly to a recalcitrant acquaintance in the bar at the Jim Jam Club only the other day-he was bemoaning the fact that women no longer seemed to know their place-it is precisely those women who take an interest in economic, political and social affairs outside their own narrow horizons who make the best wives and lovers.
'Such girls are capable of making fair judgements, of ceding a point as well as enforcing a demand, and unless they are very stupid chaps, their male friends will not sigh for the “foolish little things” of other days,' I concluded sternly. The fellow slunk away, unable to counter my reasoning.
Be that as it may, it is undeniable that I would have been smitten by Katie whatever her views on the matter! Certainly, I sprang to my feet like a shot when she asked if anyone would care to come to the art gallery on the mezzanine floor and see the new pictures the Judsons had bought on their recent visit to the Continent.
Frankly, I was far from unhappy that none of the other guests took up her invitation, which I suspected was not because of any lack of interest in art. But it was clear that Teddy and Susie wanted to slip away by themselves whilst Ian and Jack no doubt were keen to find out if any pairing off could be arranged with Alexa and Erika.
I said as much to Katie as we climbed the wide sweeping staircase and commented that it was a pity that these young men were heading for certain disappointment. But Katie looked at me with a smile on her face and said: 'Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that, Andrew. Alexa and Erika do not confine themselves to tribadic encounters. Indeed, I am sure they would have grown out of these feelings long ago if they had only been given the opportunity to meet more young men by their parents who brought them up very strictly. So I don't think that Ian and Jack will be too disappointed because, as far as the girls are concerned, they want to make up for lost time!'
'I know just how they feel,' I murmured in Katie's ear as I slipped my arms around her and pressed my hands to her breasts as she opened the door to the gallery.
'You are an impatient boy, Andrew,' she scolded me with a giggle. But she responded by feeling behind her and rubbing her hand against my thickening prick. 'Don't work me up now, there's a dear, because somebody might come in. Besides, I'm looking forward to being fucked by you tonight and I'm sure you wouldn't want to spoil my appetite.'
'No, of course not, Katie,' I said humbly. 'Please forgive me. Now I promise I shall behave like a monk whilst you show me the most interesting pictures in your parents' collection.'
And I kept my word whilst we strolled through the gallery-which did not prove too difficult a task for I genuinely enjoyed looking at the wide variety of paintings hanging on the whitewashed walls. There were canvasses by contemporary British artists of the calibre of Spencer Gore, D. S. McColl and William Nicholson. But my eye was most taken with two rich portraits, placed on either side of a window, which had been executed in the style of the Dutch Old Masters, one of a bright-eyed young girl and the other of a gentleman dressed in the fashion of an English Cavalier.
'These pictures are first class, Katie. Who it the artist? A pupil of Rembrandt or Rubens?' I remarked as I peered at the pictures. But Katie shook her head and said: 'No, the artist is a Dutchman named Anton Dourlein and he's not from the seventeenth century but is still very much alive. So are the models, even though he has painted them in historical costumes. The man is his cousin Henk who bears a strong resemblance to Prince Rupert of the Rhine, the nephew of King Charles I who fought for the King during the English Civil War.
'Since he learned about his feats at school, Anton has been fascinated by Prince Rupert who was a skilled engineer, chemist and artist. He developed the mezzotint process of engraving on copper by scraping and burnishing the roughened surface and devised a new method of painting colours on marble which, when polished, would be permanent, as well as inventing a new, more powerful gunpowder and a quadrant for measuring stellar altitudes at sea.'
'Really? Well, I've definitely learned something this afternoon,' I said and resisted the temptation to kiss Katie's perfectly shaped red lips, 'I never realised that Prince Rupert was such a polymath. And what about the girl? Is she also a relation of Mynheer Dourlein?'
Katie gave me a roguish smile. 'Not exactly. At the time she was only seventeen and the youngest daughter of a wealthy merchant who lived next door to Dourlein in his little home town of Maastricht,' she answered as we sat down on a small sofa in the centre of the sparsely furnished room.
'And now?' I queried and she shrugged: 'Well, Bernice is still the youngest daughter of the wealthy merchant but the last I heard of her was that she now lives with Dourlein in Amsterdam!'
'There is certainly something to be said for taking up an artistic career, especially if one has the benefit of even a modest independent income, as there never appears to be a shortage of pretty girls who are ready, willing and able to be bedded either before or after their portraits have been painted,' I mused thoughtfully. I slid my arm around Katie's waist as she continued drily: 'Yes, Anton Dourlein has a jolly life because women are queuing up to sit for him and he gets well-paid for his portraits, however they might turn out.'