PREFACE My readers of
Forbidden Fruit may wish to know the origin of the work. It was
this way, whilst I was staying at an out of the way village on the
Sussex coast, I used to take long solitary walks, and several times
saw a very beautiful girl sitting on a secluded part of the downs,
attentively reading what looked like a manuscript in a black cover.
Naturally I concluded she was some very studious young lady trying
to improve her leisure, as she did not appear anything like the
frivolous novel about what she was so intent upon.
One day, on the same foot-path, I
picked up what I believed to be her manuscript book, and looking
curiously at the contents, was surprised to find it was a tale of
the grossest kind, scenes of love and lust depicted in the most
realistic manner, with Prick, Cunt, Fuck and other things mentioned
in the plainest language.
I sat down on the bank to enjoy
this unexpected voluptuous treat, when suddenly I was startled by a
breathless exclamation of: "That's my book! Oh, give it me back,
Sir; I must have dropped it as I passed along here, a short time
ago, and ran back to find it."
"Your book, Miss. I was just
looking to see if there was any address in it, when I saw what it
was about. Excuse my looking, it was done quite innocently, and
your secret is safe with me."
Realising at once the shame of
the thing, she gasped for breath, flushed crimson, and then turning
pale as death, fell fainting at my feet, before I could catch her
in my arms.
Reclining her against the mossy
bank upon which I had been sitting, I rubbed and chafed her hands,
squeezing her fingers quite painfully, in order to bring her to
herself, but for several minutes without success, as there was no
chance to obtain either water or brandy in such a place.
Presently she murmured "Fuck me!
Shove in into me! I want it all—I must have it now;" and a
succession of bawdy expressions, quite shocking from the lips of
such a young girl, as she could not be more than seventeen, at
most.
It was incredible she could be so
depraved, but it seemed a striking confirmation of what a doctor
once told me, viz, that even the most virtuous girls often use
frightfully obscene words, when recovering from a fainting
fit.
Anyhow, I resolved not to take
advantage of her, and behave honourably to her.
As she came round a little she
opened her eyes with the question: "Oh! where am I?" And catching
sight of me holding her hands so tightly, all her shame returned to
her in quite an overwhelming sense, and bursting into tears, she
cried so bitterly, it was a long time before I could reassure
her.