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Flossie600 Flossie by Anonymous
Flossie

Flossie by Anonymous

Flossie is an orphan under the care and tutelage of a Miss Eva Letchford. By happenstance, Miss Letchford and Flossie, while out strolling one day come across Captain Jack Archer. Thus begins a wonderful friendship, later relationship, based upon sexual explorations.

Flossie (1897), also known as “Flossie, A Venus of ** ” was written anonymously by “One who knows this Charming Goddess and Worshipped at her Shrine.

This edition includes five illustrations from a 1930s edition of this book.

flossie4a Flossie by Anonymous
Excerpt

Excerpt: Flossie

Chapter I.

“My Love, She’s But a Lassie Yet.”

Towards the end of a bright sunny afternoon in June, I was walking in one of the quieter streets of Piccadilly, when my eye was caught by two figures coming in my direction. One was that of a tall, finely-made woman about 27, who would, under other circumstances, have received something more than an approving glance. But it was her companion that rivetted my gaze of almost breathless admiration. This was a young girl of **, of such astounding beauty of face and figure as I had never seen or dreamt of. Masses of bright, wavy, brown hair fell to her waist. Deep violet eyes looked out from under long curling lashes, and seemed to laugh in unison with the humorous curves of the full red lips. These and a thousand other charms I was to know by heart later on, but what struck me most at this first view, was the extraordinary size and beauty of the girl’s bust, shown to all possible advantage by her dress which, in the true artistic French style, crept in between her breasts, outlining their full and perfect form with loving fidelity. Tall and lithe, she moved like a young goddess, her short skirt shewing the action of a pair of exquisitely moulded legs, to which the tan-coloured openwork silk stockings were plainly designed to invite attention. Unable to take my eyes from this enchanting vision, I was approaching the pair, when to my astonishment, the elder lady suddenly spoke my name.

“You do not remember me, Captain Archer.” For a moment I was at a loss, but the voice gave me the clue.

“But I do,” I answered, “you are Miss Letchford, who used to teach my sisters.”

“Quite right. But I have given up teaching, for which fortunately there is no longer any necessity. I am living in a flat with my dear little friend here. Let me introduce you, —Flossie Eversley —Captain Archer.”

The violet eyes laughed up at me, and the red lips parted in a merry smile. A dimple appeared at the corner of the mouth. I was done for! Yes; at thirty-five years of age, with more than my share of experiences in every phase of love, I went down before this lovely girl with her childish face smiling at me above the budding womanhood of her rounded breasts, and confessed myself defeated!

A moment or two later, I had passed from them with the address of the flat in my pocket, and under promise to go down to tea on the next day.

At midday I received the following letter:

“Dear Captain Archer,

“I am sorry to be obliged to be out when you come; and yet not altogether sorry, because I should like you to know Flossie very well. She is an orphan, without a relation in the world. She is just back from a Paris school. In years she is of course a child, but in tact and knowledge she is a woman; also in figure, as you can see for yourself! She is of an exceedingly warm and passionate nature, and a look that you gave her yesterday was not lost upon her. In fact, to be quite frank, she has fallen in love with you! You will find her a delightful companion. Use her very tenderly, and she will do anything in the world for you. Speak to her about her life in the French school: she loves to talk of it. I want her to be happy, and I think you can help. Remember she is only just **.

“Yours sincerely,

“EVA LETCHFORD.”

I must decline any attempt to describe my feelings on receiving this remarkable communication. My first impulse was to give up the promised call at the flat. But the flower-like face, the soft red lips and the laughing eyes passed before my mind’s eye, followed by an instant vision of the marvelous breasts and the delicate shapely legs in their brown silk stockings, and I knew that fate was too strong for me. For it was of course impossible to misunderstand the meaning of Eva Letchford’s letter, and indeed, when I reached the flat, she herself opened the door to me, whispering as she passed out, “Flossie is in there, waiting for you. You two can have the place to yourselves. One last word. You have been much in Paris, have you not? So has Flossie. She is very young—and there are ways—Good-bye.”

Excerpt From: Anonymous. “Flossie.”


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