Free Notebooks of the Young Wife by Tara Black

her Mistress: each Buttock bears the Print of the Taws emboss’d in pink on the marble-white Surround. The Flesh is hard, so that one may trace the rais’d Outlines with a Finger, and I cannot resist to kneel and press my Face to the Heat. Though the very Picture of a Slapp’d Bottom it is sore only to a Degree, avows Nabby, which bodes well for my Experience in the Month to come.
    We are all a-flutter when the second Man arrives, so straightway he is treated to a full Examination of the rosy Object, after which the Cock springs eagerly from his Trews. I take a firm Grip of the Stem close to the Ballocks and concentrate my Efforts on the Head. Soon he declares the Moment is upon him leaving me to sit agape – and no little aghast – while the Spending coats my Lips. Crying to me ‘don’t move!’ Nabby shoos him, still buttoning, out of the Door, then she is at me with her Tongue. Sans Impediment, the Male Seed is dispersed among the Saliva of our Mouths and when she raises my Smock to gain access to the Nether Lips I am easy prey to her Love-Making. In Truth, dear Reader, there is little in it to shock, for my Abigail is become of late no Stranger at Night to the Bed we disport ourselves upon.
     
    I gulped down some essential, if stewed, coffee that had been left in the small dining room as fast as I could, but it was still almost ten when I hurried through the library. In the study Tamsin was sitting at the screen of her laptop surrounded by books.
    ‘Busy night, guv?’ she asked without looking up.
    ‘It had its moments. As it seems did yours.’ I stared pointedly at the cushion that separated the mini-skirted behind from the wooden top of the stool, and was rewarded by a blush. ‘A memento?’ I suggested.
    ‘Sort of, except it’s not going to last.’
    ‘You’ll just have to book in for weekends, Tams.’
    ‘Too right.’ She grinned, at ease again, and waved at the pile of leather-bound volumes on the counter. ‘They all meet the criteria of girl on girl and absence from the Nemesis collection. Will I deliver them on the way back?’
    ‘If you don’t mind the detour. Just make up a list for, er, Matilda, will you? And there is one thing. She told me that we were the only ones in here since the death, but I heard that’s not exactly true.’
    ‘And you want me to do a little probing.’ Tamsin made a face. ‘I’m just going to ask, right? No tricky stuff. Now I’ll just print out these titles and then I’ll get to it.’
    When the PA had gone I settled down with the early record of literary acquisitions, whose first entry was for January 15th 1700. The family had been already five years in residence, so it was perhaps the new century that prompted the keeping of a log. That was all it appeared to be on a cursory glance: essentially a bibliography by date of purchase that ran through to a final entry of 1787. Since the shelves were similarly arranged it was easy to check that the first three titles were indeed present, as were another three selected at random from the first decade. Then it occurred to me to look at the records for the year of 1728, when, from the scanty evidence I possessed, my uxor juvenis was busy putting pen to paper.
    The start of it noted the arrival of a copy of the pseudo-medical treatise Gonosologium Novuum in an edition from 1725, and further down I spotted the rare Rod of Venery , hot from the press in that very year. Then at the foot of the page there was a line of writing dated September 19th and enclosed in square brackets. The ink had faded more than the entries above and I shone the desk lamp directly on it to make out the following lines.
     
    J copied for me a fortnight since Scene No. 4 from the purpos’d Commentaria Perversa , which is set fair to be a Work of the most debauch’d Kind! The same was deliver’d to MR of Covent Garden, who this Day returned it with a Note that he is ‘greatly interested’ in her Endeavours.
     
    The penultimate word clinched