Lost Victorian novels 4

A Virgin No More.

The totality of this unseemly farrago has been expunged by the Board Apropos Dainty Deeds (Domestic Division) Documentary Disassembly; Delicate Substitution.  The unsuitable, largely biographical, novelette that was committed in ink upon these pages prior to the timely intervention of the BADDDDDDDS still lurks beneath the properly pasted-on pages, at which trained professional BADDDDDDDS members work tirelessly to save, cherish and enhance public morality.  As you have purchased this unsavoury item, certainly in the hope of drawing its existence to the attention of the authorities, a suitably circumscribed description of the previous contents between these covers, together with actual textual extracts follows.  Readers happening upon further so-called literary excursions by this author or disgusting printed matter of a similar nature are encouraged to study the following and, upon identifying more of the same, report the existence of the abomination to BADDDDDDDS, utilising the address at the end of the extracts.

Within this thinly strung, highly explicit, graphically described tale were lurid and excessively detailed explications likely to lead the innocent astray.  Within the first chapter alone there were: garters (blue, elasticated with ribbons, described as setting the firm bare flesh of the upper thigh ashudder as they snapped): corselets (boned, black and lotus coloured, with frills, sporting three double rows of paired lace holes, twenty in each double row, sixty in all, every single one of them threaded with black velvet cord that slides though each tight, metal bound, urgently restricted hole with an audible swish): a diamond studded, multiply boned suspension bustiere with frill-fringed apertures at a most unseemly location, intended (according to the unpleasantly graphic description) for bodily parts not only to be visible through the aperture but to protrude!  For the sake of the innocent the BDDDDDDDS refuses to enumerate any bodily part in the upper chesticular area that could be possibly utilised in this manner, and also socks.

We hope your gratitude at being spared this disgusting and sadly loquacious novelette, is piqued.  Should you still waver we would direct you to some of the more lurid passages of chapter two which contain descriptions of hands sliding over bodily parts (to wit: buttocks his hands urgently sought and cupped each perfect sphere as his, knees she caressed his mighty knees, breathing in his ear, ‘They are like the giant pistons on the steam engine, ain’t they?  And this (sliding up his thigh) is like, muscles as the silken shirt slipped from his chest, caressing his muscular torso, she followed it with her slim and yielding fingers tracing the contours till she reached his pink and also nasal hair (thoughtfully he picked his nose, urgently she sought his face, so, smiling, he picked her nose too.)

Chapter three is largely a catalogue of soft furnishings.  She reclined suggestively upon the low, red velvet chaise longue, one arm thrown carelessly over the padded back rest. one hand trailing on the floor, one knee hooked over the carved end scroll, one heel, booted yet, resting in the chandelier.  ‘My goodness’, she said, ‘isn’t it hot in here?’

And later in this chapter: He stood breathless behind the skyward pointing finger of the prickly pear cactus which filled the aspidistra bowl on the low coffee table.  ‘Come to me,’ she murmured, bending to search, shiftless behind the sofa cushions.  Standing suddenly upright she produced a riding crop.  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, reaching toward her, ‘ooh,’ he said, ‘ow’ he said, ‘ouch.’

This variety of detailed and salacious unsuitability continues for a further 305 pages, all of which we are proud to have spared our readers.  Towards the end of what we can only categorise as the worst kind of  penny dreadful there is a short chapter of blessedly light relief with a variety of themes.  Some are centered on the railways with interesting passages about trains in tunnels.  Others give pleasant seaside depictions of waves crashing on the shore interspersed with descriptions of waterfalls.  The travelogue concludes with a stimulating visit to an active volcano overflowing with molten lava.

Other than the geographical passages, which the Board may publish with pictures as a school book under a much more edifying title, the entire first and, we hope, last edition of A Virgin No More, other than these usefully amended instructional copies, is marked for pulping by the Board with the intention of turning it into spittoons for the penguin sanctuary on the corner of Thrumknock Lane and the High Street.


JaneLaverick.com – frightfully improving.

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