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NASTY BOSS LADIES
A Dark Boss Romance

Mia Hill
Copyright © 2023 Mia Hill

All rights reserved

 Contents

Title Page
Copyright
the naughty step
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
About The Author
 the naughty step

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 CHAPTER ONE
Suddenly, her lips were on mine, and my laptop clattered onto
the mattress as Cassie pulled me closer with that mischievous
giggle.
I had to find a job, but boy was she making it hard. Pardon the
pun.
With a gasp, I felt her warmth against me, and I melted into the
kiss.
My pulse quickened when she pressed against me with an
intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. “What are you doing?
You know I have to do this?”
“This will help”, she whispered.
My hands moved up her back, feeling the softness of her skin
under my fingers as we kissed. She leaned in closer, deepening the
kiss as our tongues danced together.
Her breath was hot against my neck as she traced kisses down
to my collarbone and then lower still until her teeth found my hard
nipples.
“The things you do to me”, I sighed with pleasure, my hands
moving from her back around to her waist. I could feel the heat
radiating off of her skin, and I wanted to take in every sensory
detail.
I moved one hand down to her thigh, feeling the smoothness of
her skin as my fingertips danced along it.
Then I peeled her legs apart and found that sweet, wet,
warmth.
“Fuck, Lucas, my God”, Cassie gasped as I moved further up
between her legs, until my fingers slid inside her tight, smooth pussy
lips. She leaned into me even more, and my fingers curled deep
inside her.
“You started this”, I teased.
My other hand moved around to cup the back of Cassie's neck
as we continued to kiss hungrily. She moaned with pleasure against
my mouth, and I shifted so that we were laying side by side on the
bed.
Her hand had found my cock and was gently forcing little squirts
of pre-cum from my slit.
She was right. This was helping. In a way.
Cassie pushed me back onto the bed and her legs spread
around me, her slit sinking down and eating my cock.
She leaned down and kissed me deeply as little drops of her
arousal leaked down my dick.
She slid up and down me, her twat so tight it was like my cock
was being sucked by the hungriest mouth. But I was lucky, I had her
other mouth locked onto mine, as she twerked on my shaft with
athletic skill.
Cassie moaned into me as she gyrated my cock inside her.
I could feel my cock welling and about to erupt.
And she could too. She grinned, and hopped off me, leaving a
trail of frothy arousal from my cock.
“What the fuck?” I laughed.
“You can finish when you’ve found a job!” She giggled playfully.
I sighed, and sat up in bed, laptop balanced on my knees, as I
scrolled through the job listings with a feeling of frustration, my cock
still semi-hard and desperate to unload.
"Ugh, nothing good yet today," I muttered.
Cassie sighed, her breath tickling my neck. "Something will turn
up, babe. Just gotta keep looking."
I glanced around our tiny studio apartment:
The peeling paint, thrift store furniture, and lack of any
separation between living and sleeping areas was really starting to
get to me.
Cassie and I had dreams of moving somewhere nicer, maybe
even buying a place someday.
But that wasn't possible on my current retail salary.
Cassie gave my arm an encouraging squeeze. "We'll get there,"
she said firmly. Her optimism never ceased to amaze me.
"I know," I replied with a small smile. "I just want to give you
the life you deserve. You shouldn't have to live like this."
 Cassie craned her neck to give me a kiss. "I'd live in a cardboard
box with you. But yeah, central heating would be nice," she added
with a playful grin.
I laughed and pulled her closer. Her bright spirit never failed to
lift me up.
We'd been together since high school and she was my rock.
Scrolling through page after page of job listings, I let out an
irritated huff. "Ugh, it's all just retail and fast food. We're never
going to get out of this hole."
"You just have to get your foot in the door somewhere that has
potential to move up," Cassie encouraged. "Doesn't have to be your
dream job right away."
I nodded slowly, knowing she was right but feeling impatient.
I was sick of barely scraping by.
I wanted to take Cassie on nice dates, buy her gifts, and take
weekend trips out of the city.
She deserved so much more than this cramped apartment and a
boyfriend who stressed about making rent each month.
"Ooh, what about that one?" Cassie said, jolting me from my
thoughts as she pointed at the screen.
I read the listing. "Legal assistant needed for a busy corporate
law firm." I shrugged. "I don't have any experience with law offices."
"So?" Cassie nudged me eagerly. "You're smart and great with
people. I bet you could pick it up. Plus it says here they're willing to
train the right candidate."
I read through the job description. It did seem like a good
opportunity to get a corporate role on my resume. "I guess it's worth
applying," I mused.
"Yes! Go for it!" Cassie cheered, kissing my cheek. Her
enthusiasm was contagious and I felt a bubble of hope.
I clicked to start the application, quickly inputting my work
history and education. Cassie sat on the edge of the bed behind me,
providing her usual quiet encouragement.
"You've got this babe," she said, rubbing my shoulders to
release some of my nervous tension. “And I’ll suck your cock when
you’re done…”
 I started filling in the basic information - name, address, email.
So far so good. Then I got to the section for work experience. I only
had retail and some random gigs, nothing that really stood out. I
knew I was qualified for this job, but I worried my resume wouldn't
reflect that.
Unsure what to put, I hesitated. Cassie seemed to sense my
uncertainty. "Just take your time and be honest," she advised. "You
don't need to exaggerate."
I nodded, but an idea was forming.
What if I spruced things up just a little? It wasn't really lying if it
helped me get my foot in the door, right? Before I could overthink it,
I quickly typed "Volunteer at local animal shelter - 1 year."
Cassie noticed the addition. "You don't volunteer at a shelter,
babe," she said with confusion.
I waved her concern away. "It's just a little white lie to make me
seem more well-rounded. They'll never even check."
"I don't know..." Cassie said, sounding doubtful. "Maybe you
should just use your real experience. You're an amazing candidate as
you are."
"It's fine, don't worry about it," I replied firmly.
Cassie still looked uncertain but didn't push further. I felt a small
twinge of guilt but ignored it, moving on to the next section. We
really needed this job opportunity. A tiny exaggeration wouldn't hurt.
I filled out the rest of the application accurately, my conscience
assuaged. At the end, I was surprised to see a slot for an attached
photo. Strange requirement for an office job, but I supposed they
wanted to put faces to names.
"They want a picture too? Weird," I commented to Cassie.
She agreed it seemed odd but suggested I just go with it.
"Maybe it's for security badges or something."
I mulled it over before deciding there was no harm in
humouring the request. "Well, bottoms up I guess."
I held my phone out and snapped a quick headshot selfie. I
gave the camera my best friendly, professional smile. After attaching
the photo, I looked over the full application one last time.
 "Here goes nothing," I said, clicking submit and sending it off
into the void.
Cassie wrapped her arms around me from behind. "I'm proud of
you for putting yourself out there," she said. "And I meant what I
said - you're going to ace this."
I pulled Cassie into my lap, holding her close. "So… Can we
finish what you started now?”
She grinned, and guided my hand between her legs. “Oh I
insist", she said.
Thinking back, about Cassie dropping to her knees and
devouring my cock, it’s shocking how things went.
But she started it. It was kind of her fault, right?
 CHAPTER TWO
It all started on my first day in the office, I think.
The second I spoke to the CEO.
The second I met Felicity.
I lingered in Felicity's doorway with some paperwork that
needed signing off, watching her gesture animatedly as she spoke
into the phone. "Well that's nearly double the figure we discussed
last week," she said, her voice clipped and businesslike.
Felicity was gorgeous and she knew it: a thick head of crimson
and brown hair, a pale pink dress that clung to her so tight I could
see the outline of her nipples even as she sat behind her desk, and
with red lips that were as big as her steely blue eyes.
I could tell from her tone that the negotiation wasn't going well.
Felicity waved me into her office and I entered, closing the door
softly behind me.
"No I don't believe it's going to be satisfactory," Felicity
continued, shaking her head. "We are going to have to tell them it
needs to come down at least fifty per cent before we can move
ahead. Or we don't have a deal."
I stood awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt. Felicity glanced up
at me. "I hate to interrupt you but our new hire has just come in,"
she said into the phone.
Shit. She meant me.I gave her a little wave. Felicity nodded at
me, barely acknowledging my existence as a human being.
"Yes, yes, have your receptionist send me the documents," she
said after a pause. "If I like it, I can have it signed and approved by
the board by the end of the week. Fantastic. You have a good one."
Felicity hung up the phone and turned to me with a smile.
"Sorry about that," I said.
"I told you to come in, didn't I?" she replied. "No need to
apologise. You must be...Lucas?"
"Yes," I said. "Nice to meet you. Are you the Felicity that has to
sign off on these reports?" I held up the paperwork in my hand.
 "That's me," Felicity said, leaning back in her chair. "Nothing is
going to get done in this office without my say-so."
She just gazed at me as I held out the papers, and I really
didn’t know what to do.
"You can bring them all the way around, I'm not going to reach
across my desk," she added, gesturing for me to come closer.
Shit.
"Sorry, of course," I said, feeling a bit flustered as I walked
around to her side of the large oak desk. Felicity smiled up at me as
she took the papers, her fingers brushing mine.
She glanced through the paperwork, lips pursed in
concentration. I couldn't help but notice how the sunlight streaming
in from the window brought out the different shades of red in her
hair.
"Yep, just about everything you do around here will have to be
run by me," she said finally, stacking the papers neatly and looking
up at me.
"I'm still getting used to this whole corporate structure thing," I
admitted. "My last job was in retail. Not used to having to get every
single thing signed off by someone."
Felicity tilted her head sympathetically. "I do appreciate your
initiative," she said. "A lot of other interns would have left this
paperwork here while I was away from my desk. And I take my
sweet time with those files."
She gave me a knowing look and I felt myself blush. "I'll keep
that in mind," I said.
"You don't have to be afraid of the big bad CEO," Felicity said
with a playful smile.
"I just really want to make a good impression," I replied
earnestly. "A lot of people applied for this position so I'm really
grateful. Just...consider me your loyal employee. I'll do whatever it
takes to get the job done."
Felicity nodded approvingly. "Well, that is what I like to hear.
Just that kind of dedication. You'll go far in this company."
I couldn't help but grin at her praise. Felicity skimmed through
the paperwork I had brought her.
 "Okay, well these seem to be in order," she said, handing the
pages back to me.
"Thank you," I said. "Is there anything else you need?"
"Yes, I'll have you turn around for me," Felicity replied casually.
I was confused by the odd request. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she said with a playful lilt in her voice.
"Oh, you mean like you're kicking me out?" I joked weakly, still
not understanding her intent. "I was actually on my way out
anyway."
Felicity laughed. "No, silly. When you leave my office, I want
you to turn around and pause for a moment before exiting."
Wait… what?
Though the request seemed strange, I decided to oblige her.
First day, first impressions, and all of that. "Okay," I said slowly.
I walked to the door, then stopped and turned to face away
from Felicity like she had instructed. "Like this?" I asked over my
shoulder.
"Perfect!" she said brightly. I heard the click of a camera shutter.
I looked back to see her putting away her smartphone.
"Just capturing the moment for posterity," Felicity explained
with a giggle. "Okay, that'll be all. Have a nice day!"
As I stepped out, I thought it was strange. But maybe it was
just the way they do things in offices.
So I tried to put it to the back of my mind.
 CHAPTER THREE
Later that day I was sitting at my desk, finishing up a report,
when I heard a friendly voice say "Hi there. Lucas?"
I looked up to see an attractive woman standing by my desk.
She had long black hair framing a pale complexion, and was
wearing a stylish black and white pin-stripe business suit.
"Hi," I replied.
"I'm Tabatha, I work in HR," she said with a smile. “I oversee all
the employee relations. Make sure everyone is happy and being
treated well. I basically get paid to be your trusted friend."
"Cool, thank you," I said. "I'll keep that in mind." I appreciated
knowing I had someone looking out for me. Especially someone as
friendly and hot as her.
"Did you get a chance to fill in all your insurance and employee
paperwork?" Tabatha asked.
"I did," I confirmed, sifting through the pile on my desk to grab
the relevant forms. "Should be all good." I said as I handed them
over to her.
"Great! I will get this processed right away," Tabatha said
enthusiastically as she looked over the paperwork. "The only thing
for you to do is attend the mandatory sexual harassment training
this afternoon."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "The what?"
Tabatha looked confused by my reaction. "Did I say something
funny?"
Oh no. Shit. Fuck.
"No, sorry," I said, trying to stifle my laugh. "It's just the way
you worded it, it sounded like you were training people on how to
sexually harass."
Tabatha's expression grew serious. "We don't make jokes about
that kind of stuff around here. We take these matters very
seriously."
"I'm sorry, bad joke I guess."
 "Well if you don't attend I won't be able to process your payroll
paperwork and then you won't get paid," Tabatha said sternly. "And
that wouldn't be a very funny joke, would it?"
"No ma'am," I said quickly to Tabatha. Note to self - no more
attempts at office humour, especially with the HR rep.
She leaned forward with a friendly smile. "You don't have to call
me ma'am. Remember? It's Tabatha. I'm your friend."
As she leaned closer, I could smell her seductive scent, and the
coffee on her warm breath.
"Right, sorry," I murmured as Tabatha walked away with my
paperwork. I let out a breath, trying to regain my composure.
I carried on with my work, still feeling embarrassed about my
inappropriate joke.
Cassie had warned me about that kind of thing, how office
politics and all that are completely different to working in retail.
From that point on I had to be on my best behaviour.
A while later, Felicity sauntered out of her office.
I may have had my eyes on her for a few seconds longer than
appropriate, but seeing her stood up from behind her desk was…
something else.
Her legs were long, firm, olive, the sign of someone who walked
quickly through whatever obstacles were in her way and looked sexy
as Hell doing it.
I grabbed some paperwork off my desk. "Are you leaving for the
day?" I asked. "I've just got a few more items that need signing off."
"No no no, just a late lunch," Felicity replied breezily. "Want to
come along?"
I guess I did make a good impression, I thought to myself.
"Uh, thank you but there's a couple other things I'm trying to
figure out still," I said, scrambling for an excuse. "I appreciate it
though."
Felicity stepped closer and stroked my cheek. "Okay, sweety. I'll
see you when I get back."
I stood frozen as she walked away, her lingering touch leaving
me very uncomfortable. I went back to my work, trying to focus.
This can’t have been the stuff Cassie was talking about.
She wouldn’t have pushed me to apply for the job, right?
 CHAPTER FOUR
The office had become deserted as the day went on, which
suited me fine.
I was having a coffee and checking my phone in the kitchen
area when Felicity suddenly appeared behind me.
I turned, startled, and accidentally spilt coffee all over her
blouse.
For fucks sake.
This was like a first-day cliche, but it was actually happening.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed. "I didn't know you were
there."
Felicity looked down at her stained top in dismay. "This is a
communal coffee station?" she said irritably.
I grabbed some napkins and instinctively began dabbing at the
spill on her chest. "I know, I'm so sorry," I rambled, mortified at
touching her inappropriately yet again.
I couldn’t do anything right.
This was it, I thought to myself. I’m fired.
"Are you okay? Did it burn you?" I asked worriedly. This day was
turning into a disaster.
“Oh don’t worry. I actually like a little pain every now and
then…” said Felicity, gently nibbling her bottom lip as she grinned.
I felt myself go flush red at her comment.
She laughed, a deep guttural sound that made my skin prickle.
"If anyone should feel embarrassed it's me," she said. “Now you
know my secret”.
“Secret?”
“That I’m not wearing a bra today…” she whispered with a wink.
My eyes widened at her confession. My eyes automatically
glanced back at her chest, and seeing her round, tasty nipples
beneath her wet blouse had my heart racing.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, averting my gaze, "I really didn't even
look, I was just trying to dry it quickly."
 She smiled and brushed my cheek with her fingertips. "It's okay.
Why don't we just keep this our little secret?" she whispered,
pressing a gentle kiss against my skin.
What the fuck?
What was happening?
“It’s a good job I have plenty of changes of clothing in my
office”, she said, striding slowly away. “Maybe come by later and
help me pick out something else to wear… or not…”
I nodded in stunned silence.
This can’t be real, I thought.
 CHAPTER FIVE
I sat at my desk, lost in thought over all the strange, surreal
things that had happened around the office that day, when Tabatha
came around the corner.
"Hey Tabatha, I've got a question for you," I said.
She stopped by my desk. "What's going on, Lucas?"
"Would you be able to sign off on a couple of these reports for
me?" I asked hopefully.
Tabatha gave me an apologetic look. "Oh, no, I'm sorry I can't
do that. That's not my department. Felicity has to do that."
I knew that.
But the two encounters with Felicity had already been
inappropriate, who knew what a third would involve?
"She seemed a little busy today or something," I said, trying to
hide my reluctance. "I just wanted to see if you could do it instead."
Tabatha shook her head. "I'm sorry it just doesn't work like that.
It is part of her job to make herself available for these types of
things. Do you want me to speak to her? It’s part of my job to keep
an eye on the workflow around here."
"No, no it's fine, thank you," I said quickly, not wanting to cause
any issues.
"I mean she's in her office, door open," Tabatha continued. "I
don't think she has any meetings for at least an hour."
"Oh, okay, I'll go ask her then," I replied, seeing no way out.
"Great!" Tabatha said brightly before walking away.
I sighed, dreading having to interact with Felicity again but not
seeing any other option.
I hurriedly rifled through the papers, panic coursing through
me. I could feel my heart in my ears.
And then it was there.
A nude photo of Felicity.
Just mixed in with the rest of my paperwork, as if I’d put it
there. She was posing, on her knees, squeezing her ample tits
together as she winked at the camera. Her body was incredible, and
I felt my cock begin to harden.
Before I had a chance to think, I crumpled it and hurled it into
the bin beside me.
Desperately needing an alternate plan, I grabbed a piece of
paper and hastily wrapped up the picture, desperate for the image
to be concealed from view.
But I was having trouble concealing my hard-on from view.
How the fuck did it get there?
Did Cherie put it there?
Why would she do that?
 CHAPTER SIX
I was sitting in the conference room going through the sexual
harassment training workbook when Tabatha came over. It was full
of stuff that I thought should be common sense, but also a lot of
great advice.
"How's it going over here?" she asked.
"It's going pretty well," I replied. "I'm almost done."
"So quick?" Tabatha said, sounding surprised. "I hope you paid
attention, I take these matters very seriously."
"Yeah it's just common sense stuff, to be honest," I said with a
shrug.
Tabatha's stern demeanour was a bit intimidating.
"Well, four out of five women get sexually harassed in the
workplace, so I have to be extra careful with new staff. Especially
men. No offence," Tabatha continued.
"Well, men can be sexually harassed too," I pointed out, trying
to build up the courage to just tell her what was going on. "I know
that because I read it thoroughly."
"I'm glad you did," Tabatha said.
She leaned over the table and tapped a spot in the workbook.
"Make sure you sign right here - that says you've fully read and
understand everything and comply with our policies. And that you
know who your advocate is."
I nodded. "Okay." I went to sign before pausing. "Hypothetically
in that situation...who would that be?" I asked.
"Me, obviously!" Tabatha said. "I'm your HR rep."
"Got it," I said
I should’ve said something.
But I just couldn’t risk losing the job so soon.
I signed where she had indicated, and Tabatha took the
workbook from me.
"Thank you," she said briskly before walking away.
 I stood up, stretching a bit after sitting for so long. "Is there
anything else?" I called after her.
Tabatha turned back. "No, just go about your work day and
remember I'm always here for you." She gave me a reassuring
smile.
"Thank you," I said sincerely.
As I stepped out of the conference room, I glanced back to give
a little courtesy smile, only to catch Tabatha gazing at my ass. Just
like Cherie had done in the morning.
I hurried out.
I felt claustrophobic, like I had nowhere to turn.
I just wanted to get home to Cassie.
 CHAPTER SEVEN
I was in the bathroom, scrubbing my hands like Lady Macbeth.
When I looked up, Felicity was standing behind me, and too damn
close at that.
I could smell the cocktails on her breath, see the glass-eyed
tipsy look in her eyes.
Shit.
“Lucas,” she cooed. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
“This is the men’s bathroom,” I pointed out.
“I thought someone young like you would know it's all gender
neutral now.”
“Fair enough.” I turned to leave so that she could have her
privacy, but she blocked my way.
“What's going on with you? You need to loosen up a little bit.”
It was all getting too much.
The weird requests, the coffee incident, the nude photo…
And now she was closing in on me like all those other incidents
had added up and given her the wrong impression or something.
“I’m just trying to be respectful, Cherie”.
“Well, I’m your boss,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s gonna be
awfully hard to respect me for too long. You know, you’re going to
have to get used to working with me just a bit better. I take very
good care of my team.”
Before I had a chance to respond, Felicity squeezed my crotch
and licked my cheek, her tongue tracing all the way around to my
lips.
It danced over them, the tip entering my mouth before she
stepped back and let go of my throbbing crotch.
“You can go now,” she stated simply.
I rushed away horrified, feeling violated and confused about
what had just happened between us.
Violated.
Totally violated.
 And rock-fucking-hard.
I sat at my desk, feeling a wave of cold sweat overcome me.
What was happening wasn't right; I was being sexually
harassed at work.
And it didn’t matter if I kind of enjoyed it and I was turned on,
it was still wrong.
My hands shook as I grasped the sexual harassment complaint
workbook that had been tucked away in the corner of my cubicle
since I took the course.
Tentatively, I stepped into the boardroom where Tabatha sat
with crossed arms.
She must have seen the fear in my eyes because her expression
softened as she saw me approach. “Hi Lucas, what’s going on?”
I took a deep breath before replying. “Tabatha, I’d like to file a
complaint... Against...well against someone who works here.”
I could feel my voice shaking but I kept going despite my rising
anxiety.
“I don’t want to cause a big thing but you guys have a pretty
serious policy so I wanted to do the right thing and… yeah. I have to
file a complaint.”
She leaned forward, studying me intently before asking slowly,
“A complaint against who?”
Fuck. This was so hard to do. I took a deep breath.
“Felicity,” I said, my voice low and even.
Her mouth parted slightly and her gaze fell away. She cleared
her throat before speaking softly. “Your superior?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes. My boss.”
Tabatha pursed her lips and sighed, shaking her head ever so
slightly.
“Lucas, this would be a very serious matter. A full investigation.
I hope you’re telling the truth.” Her voice had dropped to barely
more than a whisper.
I took a deep breath, pressing my hands together and looking
directly into her eyes. “Look. I know I made a joke the other day.
But I'm not now.”
 She exhaled slowly and gave a single nod of acknowledgement,
leaning back in her chair with a resigned expression that felt almost
like defeat on her face. “Okay well, this is going to require a
thorough investigation…Why don’t you come back and see me at 5
pm? I want you to be fully comfortable and candid with me which
might be easier when everyone is gone from the office…And we can
get this started."
A wave of relief washed over me just hearing those words,
because it meant that someone believed me enough to take action
and investigate further; that someone was willing to listen to what I
knew was true rather than brush it off as a joke.
I knew Cassie would be proud of me for doing this.
I just had to get through the meeting at 5 pm, and then I could
finally get home to her.
 CHAPTER EIGHT
5 pm came quicker than I expected.
My hand froze on the doorknob, my heart racing.
I slowly stepped inside, and was met with a hauntingly eerie
silence.
With a deep breath, I scanned the room to see two sordid
figures slouched in chairs:
Tabatha, her coal eyes set on me; and Felicity, her small mouth
contorted into an arrogant smirk as her gaze lingered on me.
"Come in Lucas," Tabatha said casually. "Have a seat."
Felicity chuckled under her breath before she spoke. "Or if you
don't like our chairs, might I recommend my face?" Her tone was
laced with ridicule. "Your ass is looking delicious today Lucas."
I stood there feeling uncomfortable and exposed to their stares.
This wasn't part of the job.
"What the hell is going on here?" I asked warily.
Felicity answered quickly, cutting through the air with each
word. "Lucas cut the shit," she sneered. "Do you really think you got
hired here for your brains and your skills?"
Tabatha roared into a fit of laughter, slapping her knee as if
something had struck her funny bone. "I have to say thanks for the
laugh because we passed around your resume and got such a kick
out of it!" She sniggered through her words, still shaking from
laughter's grasp. "It was such a joke this is a law firm why did you
think we'd give a shit about you volunteering in an animal
A fire ignited in my chest as they laughed.
I had been the butt of their jokes, right from the start.
They’d been fucking with all day!
"Oh my God, the animal shelter part!" Felicity exclaimed,
laughter rippling from her lips.
“I thought it would make me stand out?” I suggested,
embarrassment threatening to choke me.
 "No, what made you stand out was your cover photo," Tabatha
said with a smirk on her face. "I mean you are crazy hot. You
actually look better in person; I assumed when I saw that photo of
you it was Photoshop or something but fuck, you lived up to it."
Felicity nodded and smiled while I shifted uncomfortably in my
seat.
Tabatha continued,"Now Lucas. I told you several times that we
take sexual harassment very seriously around here. And it pains me
to say that numerous complaints have been made about you from
female staff members, including one from your superior: Felicity."
Felicity raised her hand in agreement at this accusation, which
caught me off guard. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm the one getting
harassed! I didn't do anything—I'm the one trying to make the
complaint!" My voice came out as an unhinged yell, but I couldn’t
help it. I was so angry I was vibrating.
Tabatha looked taken aback by my outburst before
responding,"Oh! There must be some confusion. Would you like to
talk to my boss about this?" She said, almost patronisingly.
I gulped before answering, "Yes actually."
The two laughed again as Felicity put her hand up.
“I’m Tabatha’s boss, what can I help you with dear?” Felicity
said, stifling laughter.
I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, feeling myself getting
warm with rage.
"You know you seem to be such a joker so you should've known
that was a joke." Tabatha said with a smug air about her. "You see
there is nobody above me. Not in HR, anyway. I am HR. I am your
advocate—I am the boss."
“I just wanted to do a good job”, I murmured, feeling myself
shrivel.
“Aww, you wanna do a good job?” Felicity mocked. “The
problem with that Lucas, is that you lack the initiative that we’re
looking for. And the position that you’ve been hired for, is frankly
useless. Do you really think we need another paper-pusher in the
office? We don’t. This salary position you have, Lucas, is to please
both of us. I’m not really sure why you haven’t figured that out yet.”
“And you see once I file this”, Tabatha grinned, fingering the lies
about me. “You’re going to have sexual harassment charges on your
permanent record. And that’s gonna make life very difficult”.
“I mean for this job that would mean immediate dismissal”,
Felicity chimed in, playing with her perfect hair as she pondered
destroying my life.
“Oh yeah I’d have to”, Tabatha grinned, her eyes meeting mine.
“Immediately”.
“That would make it potentially impossible to find any other
job…” Felicity grinned, sticking out her bottom lip at me.
Fucking bitch.
This was fun for them.
“What do you want me to do here? I cannot have my fucking
future ruined by something like this. I just got accepted for a new
lease on a house with my fucking girlfriend!” I begged, rubbing my
face as I felt everything slip away from me.
“Congratulations!” Tabatha beamed, almost convincingly.
“I can’t have this hanging over me. I need this…”
“Well, that’s good news! Really!” Felicity beamed. “Because
Tabatha and I are the ones who can really help you climb that
corporate ladder. With amazing speed. And if you think your entry-
level salary is exciting, just wait and see what it’s like when you’re
promoted. Now, Lucas. Why don’t you go ahead and turn around for
me again? But this time, let’s do it without the pants”.
Felicity's eyes bored into mine, her voice trickled like acid across
the scorching room.
I froze to the spot.
They just gazed at me, like I was their toy.
"Well, Lucas, why don't you do as we say?" Joanna said as she
gestured to the wall in a tight-lipped smile. "Turn around for us."
What would Cassie think?
What was I meant to do?
I needed the job, so, so bad.
 I slowly obeyed, feeling the blaze of their gazes on my back.
The air tightened around me, pulse racing.
Felicity offered me an out; "Of course, you don't have to do this
if you don't want to," she said calmly.
"No!" I exclaimed quickly, shaking my head vigorously. "I told
you I'll do whatever it takes to get the job done - and that means
giving 110%."
They clapped silently, their stares raking over my body hungrily.
"Well that's just fucking fantastic Lucas," Felicity purred mockingly.
"Why don't you get started and take those pants off?"
My skin blazed red as I undid the waistband of my trousers,
feeling their stares burning through me like fire.
“Wait, wait. Slowly”, Felicity ordered with her eyes locked onto
mine.
My heart thumped as I started to unbutton my jeans. Inch by
inch they slid down my legs as if in slow motion, revealing my tight
waist and powerful arms.
Every inch of fabric peeled from my body felt like a lifetime
under their gaze - until finally, every piece of clothing pooled at my
feet and I bowed my head slightly in wait for further instructions as
heat coursed through me.
I tried not to think about Cassie as I noticed my prick at half-
mast and rising.
Both Felicity and Tabatha leaned forward in anticipation as the
fabric slipped off of me, leaving my bare ass exposed for their
delight.
Felicity's breath quickened and she ran her fingers along my
lower back, tracing every curve.
"Oh yeah, it's perfect", murmured Tabatha, nodding her head in
approval.
"Can you do a few squats for us?” asked Felicity.
This was humiliating.
My cock and balls felt the cold air of the boardroom.
I obliged and as I lowered myself into the crouched position
they watched intently. Every muscle flexed and contorted with each
movement I made, tantalising them further and pushing me further
out of my comfort zone.
And I was enjoying it.
Suddenly Felicity burst out laughing “Oh yeah, you see how it
spreads at the bottom. His tight little hole... fuck!" she exclaimed.
She was right. I could feel the cold air on my asshole every time
I reached the bottom of the squat. Like I was literally loosening up.
I felt a surge of heat in my lower stomach as Felicity stood up
and stroked my shoulders tenderly.
"You have fucking outdone yourself," Felicity purred into my ear
softly, her warm breath caressing my skin.
Felicity bent me over the desk and took her seat around it.
"Come look Tabatha, you have to see this," she sighed, her hands
spreading my clenched cheeks.
They both spread my cheeks and gazed at my asshole. "Oh my,
that is tight!" Tabatha gasped excitedly. "And some nice balls too,"
she added lustily.
My pulse quickened even more as they bent me over the
boardroom table and both began licking my asshole hungrily. "Oh, it
tastes so dirty. I love it," Felicity moaned passionately. "Sweaty," she
murmured, her tongue making circles around the entrance to my
ass.
Jesus fucking Christ it felt good, so good I wanted their tongues
to go deeper in my ass.
"It's because he's a hard worker, Felicity," Tabatha said playfully
as she rubbed her fingertip over my vulnerable hole.
Fuck. Put it in, I thought, please.
Their wet tongues continued to explore me feverishly, and I was
finding it increasingly difficult not to moan in bliss. My breathing
became heavier and faster as Felicity simultaneously began rubbing
my cock until I was fully hard.
"Yeah, we made a good choice," Felicity uttered triumphantly
with a smirk.
She then leaned in and kissed Tabatha deeply, their sloppy
tongue-tussling making me hold my breath, before jumping off the
table and coming to face me again.
 "Keep stroking that cock, Tabby, I need to check in with our new
recruit," Felicity commanded sultrily.
Tabatha complied without hesitation and gently stroked my
throbbing member while watching me intently.
She knew how to handle a cock.
I felt a shockwave of electricity shoot through my veins as
Tabatha smacked my ass, followed by her gentle fingers stroking my
cock again.
Felicity stood me up and ran her hands up and down my veiny
cock.
She locked eyes with me, her intonation marbled with sadistic
pleasure.
"How does it feel knowing every day we’ve been looking at you
and eye-fucking you?" Felicity asked.
Tabatha came around front and grabbed my cock gently. "My,
that is a perfect cock!" she exclaimed, her attention completely
devoted to the size of my manhood.
"Might I suggest in the future you include that in your resume?"
Felicity teased, fully aware of Tabatha's adoration for my member.
Tabatha nodded in agreement, unable to take her eyes away
from my dick.
I could tell Tabitha was thinking about how my cock would
taste. She was practically drooling.
Felicity dropped to the floor, hunching over the table as Tabatha
continued stroking me.
"We were taking bets around the office," she said, rubbing
harder and grinding against herself with her free hand. "You said 6
inches I said 8," she began before adding with delight: “this is nice
and long though”.
Tabatha turned to me and said “How long is it?”
I had no idea, but I had to say something. Had to play their sick
little game.
“I dunno”, I said. “7 inches?”
"Well you owe me then, Tabatha," Felicity laughed as she
sauntered towards us.
Tabatha sighed playfully, "Yep, I owe you lunch."
 The two of them shared a giddy laugh before Tabatha stripped
off her shirt to reveal her breasts, pale and pierced, signs of a slutty
wild-child past.
Her nipples were pin-prick hard.
I wanted to milk them.
Eyeing me seductively, Felicity growled, “You know who owes
me lunch? You Lucas. You remember when I asked you to come to
lunch with me but you were too busy?”
My heart sank as I realised what was happening. Felicity pulled
down her underwear and shoved her meaty, glistening wet wet
pussy in front of my face while Tabatha fondled my cock.
"Are you still too busy for a snack Lucas?" She purred.
Her meaty lips oozed arousal.
I could smell her cunt.
It smelled deliciously nasty.
Felicity put her foot on my shoulder and dragged me closer to
her waiting twat. Her sweet aroma filled the air as I tasted her
frothy arousal, and then sucked on her bulbous clit.
With each lap of my tongue, Felicity's moans grew louder and
louder until finally she screamed out in pleasure.
It took all of my power not to shoot my load.
Flashes of Cassie flew through my mind.
I shut them out and focused on eating my bosses whore-hole.
I looked up past Felicity’s mountainous tits, and saw that
Tabatha had climbed onto Felicity's face and begun riding her
passionately. "Is this proper office protocol?" Tabatha moaned,
pinching and stretching her nipples.
"It fucking is now!" Felicity hissed back as she slurped on
Tabatha’s bald fuck-hole with reckless abandon.
This was clearly not their first rodeo.
I stood up, and watched as Tabatha leaned forward and
munched on her bosses muff, wet sounds of licking and sucking and
moaning making dribbles of pre-cum trickle from my stiff rod.
This was too insane.
Felicity eased Tabatha’s ass to one side and found me.
 "What's he doing over there?" Felicity asked almost sarcastically,
her eyes never leaving me.
She helped Tabatha off of her and pulled me by my cock to her,
my naked body pressing against hers.
Felicity slapped and pinched my nipples, and rubbed her pussy-
juices up my leg and hips, her slit sliding over me like a suction cup.
"I hope you were taking notes on how to eat pussy!" she
scolded as she stood next to me.
I remained speechless and sheepishly nodded, waiting for my
next orders.
Tabatha spread herself out on the desk and invited me in with
her sultry eyes.
Her cunt lips parted with a sweet stickiness, little pools of
arousal at the bottom of her tight canyon.
Felicity ordered me to dive back in, and I readily complied. My
tongue flicked around Tabatha's clit while Felicity grabbed her tits,
sucking on them hard, making her nipples stretch and engorge.
Tabatha moaned and hissed as her body was ravaged by me
and her boss, and her clit quivered every time my tongue circled it.
My head bobbed faster between her flaps, and she cried out,
my mouth catching little squirts of piss and cum.
It was vile, the polar opposite of the fun and tender sex with
Cassie.
This was sadistic, dirty, animalistic.
There was no love here.
But I fucking loved it.
Then, Felicity started stroking my cock beneath the table,
spitting in her palm and wanking me like she hated me.
"That's right new guy eat her cunt! Do a good job," Felicity
sneered, as she stroked my cock and squeezed my balls. "Bright
future ahead of you if you make us both cum, bitch!"
The air was cool around my soaked face as I came gasping up
from the depths of Tabatha’s loose lips, the taste of her fluids still
tangy on my tongue.
"Oh you good boy!" Tabatha cooed, lifting my face to hers for a
kiss.
 We shared her pussy-juice, the kiss hard and deep and
passionate and raw.
Cassie never kissed me like that…
"Now get up on this table on your back," Felicity commanded
me in her stern tone and I obeyed without question, laying my body
outstretched on the cold conference table, feeling the steady
pressure of its edge against my skin.
My asshole was still wet from the intense rimming, squelching
against the table.
I was so hard you could have pitched a five man tent.
Do it. Whatever you want. Do it, I thought to myself.
Felicity traced parallel lines down my chest with her finger
before settling her hand firmly around my shaft. "Think of this
conference table as your second home," she said seductively, as her
slit moved closer to my face.
I felt the sudden warmth of her body as she settled on top of
me, pressing her pussy to my lips while those stairmaster-thighs
squeezed my sides.
Tabatha was watching, moaning and groaning in pleasure, her
cunt inches from the top of my head as she squatted on the table,
supervising me as I ate away at Felicity's pussy.
It was then that I heard it; a faint yet sharp sound coming from
behind me... Tabatha was frigging herself and small splashing
sounds had become louder!
The pleasure built up quickly and suddenly exploded into an
orgasmic squirt over my face.
Tabatha cried out and howled like a girl possessed, spraying my
face and Felicity’s ass, a waterfall of pungent piss-juice rolling down
Felicity’s crack and into my hungry mouth.
I moaned in pleasure as Felicity came inside my mouth, thick
strings of mucus-like pussy-snot gagging down my throat.
There was nothing to compare this to.
I was in a whole other dimension of sweat and piss and cum
and spit and depravity.
Some people called it Hell. I called it Heaven.
 Felicity jumped off, still quaking from her orgasm, and turned
me over onto my front.
“You clean up that squirt you filthy pig”, she ordered, holding
the back of my head as I obeyed and slurped up the puddle of sex
from the table.
“He’s so thirsty”, hissed Tabatha as she climbed down from the
table, twitching like she was high, her cunt still dripping like a leaky
faucet.
I moaned like a bitch, tasting sweetness and saltiness all
intertwined into one delicious sensation.
The squirt was intoxicating, as if it was laced with MDMA or
something.
Everything became a blur.
I ended up on my back on the table again, sliding around in the
pussy-juice remains.
Tabatha squatted over my face, laughing and hollering as she
aimed her slit at my mouth and pissed on me, the bitterness stinging
my eyes and taste buds.
Before I could react, a warm, tight wetness enveloped my cock,
and I realised Felicity had impaled herself on me, and began using
those powerhouse legs to squat up and down my length, clenching
her cunt-muscles and devouring my dick.
The piss kept coming, and I met Tabatha’s pussy so I could
drink straight from the source.
As they switched positions, Felicity jumped off of me and
wanked the cum out of me before pulling my face back onto her
own.
They refused to let me stop as she got back on top and rode me
until I was hard again.
Tabatha then took it a step further by sucking my cock straight
from Felicity's pussy.
The thought of her cleaning pussy juice straight from my cock
was just so fucking hot.
Felicity screamed as she rode my dick like a beast, only muffled
by Tabath’s tongue.
 I licked and sucked on my HR advocate's messy minge and
made her moan into my bosses mouth, feeling the sloppy drool from
the pair land on my abs.
They then both came simultaneously, screaming out in pleasure
as their orgasms smashed through them like a wave of ecstasy
crashing over them.
They rocked, rocking my body, every part of all three of us
pulsating and quivering.
Finally, after what felt like eternity, their domination subsided
and I lay there exhausted yet happy; feeling the satisfaction of being
thoroughly used by two powerful women who wanted nothing more
than to see me beg for more.
I was a fuck-toy. Meat.
Good for only one thing.
I lay exhausted on the conference table, my body trembling.
Tabatha and Felicity stood before me, drenched in sweat and
drool and cum, looking down with satisfied smiles spread across
their faces.
The two women stood before me, the satisfaction in their eyes
evident.
I was beyond exhausted; my body trembling with pleasure and
exertion from all that we had done but I also felt incredibly proud
and ashamed of myself for having managed to complete their
depraved test.
Felicity then stepped forward and placed her hands on either
side of my face, her gaze searching mine for a moment before she
finally spoke. “Now for the final challenge” she said softly. “We want
you to cum again – this time on the conference table… and you have
exactly ten seconds to do it!”
My eyes widened as I realised what they were asking me to do,
but I was determined not to let them down.
“Yes boss”, I said.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and focused all of my
energy inward as they counted down from ten seconds.
I stroked hard, pushing past the shame, the guilt, and focusing
on my soaked body, the stink of piss and cm all over me, the feel of
tongues in my backdoor…
At zero, I let out a loud groan as wave after wave of pleasure
crashed through me.
My load splattered all over the table, spraying thick white lines
as I trembled and cried out at the final release.
When it was all over, Felicity and Tabatha looked up at me with
admiration in their eyes; proud that I had managed to do something
so incredible under the circumstances.
But there was one more thing I could do to prove my worth.
So before they asked, I went ahead and did it:
I leaned forward and licked up every last drop of my own filthy
cock-cream from the table, swallowing the thick gooeyness of my
own sex.
They whooped and hollered and clapped as they watched me.
“Such a bright future here”, Tabatha said softly.
“Okay newbie it’s time for our next meeting so why don’t you
clean up the conference room?” Felicity said as she took her naked
ass out of the room.
The two women went to grab a coffee, leaving me there.
“You got ten minutes!” Felicity said before slamming the door
shut on me.
I stood there, and licked the last bit of my semen from my lips,
looking over the mess that we’d made.
This was the deal.
I promised 110%, and I had to deliver.
I just had to make sure Cassie never found out.
 About The Author
Mia Hill
Mia Hill is an erotica author who discovered her passion for writing
after going through a difficult time in her life. After getting divorced
and losing her job during the pandemic, she turned to write as a
form of therapy and expression. Her stories are inspired by her own
experiences and the desire to empower women to embrace their
sexuality.

With her raw, honest, and relatable writing style, Mia's stories are a
reflection of the real-life struggles and triumphs of modern women.
Her characters are complex and relatable, and her stories are filled
with steamy scenes that will leave you wanting more.

Mia's books are not only a source of entertainment but also a way to
start a conversation about sex and intimacy. She wants her readers
to feel represented, and understood and to enjoy their reading
experience.

When she is not writing, Mia enjoys travelling, trying new foods, and
spending time with her family and friends. She currently resides in
the UK with her cat, Shaun.
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ce triste amoureux, M. de Bérébère, la présence même de ce Milius,
élément comique indispensable à tout drame, et jusqu’à la beauté réelle du
couple d’Alex et de Raymonde enlacés,—banale ou ridicule, inconsciente
assurément, cette réunion projetait sur la muraille une ombre plus tragique
que burlesque.
Cependant Alex, emporté par une ardeur bien naturelle, entraînant sa
danseuse dans la chambre à coucher, un moment déserte, lui écrasait la
bouche d’un baiser fou. Raymonde dit:
—Oh! c’est mal!
Mais il recommença, et la jeune fille, suffoquée, allait bel et bien
s’évanouir.
On s’empressa autour d’elle: en un clin d’œil trois femmes furent là. La
scène eût été préparée qu’on n’eût point vu de mouvement plus prompt.
Raymonde, trop avertie de la science interprétative de ces dames, à demie
pâmée qu’elle était, maudissait sa faiblesse. Déjà l’on chuchotait, et
quelques femmes s’indignaient comme si, en vérité, elles n’étaient venues
là pour assurer elles-mêmes et solenniser par leur présence le résultat
obtenu.
Madame Proupa ne commenta point du tout l’incident, d’ailleurs
équivoque, et, quand elle eut frotté les tempes de sa fille à l’eau de Cologne,
elle dit:
—Allons! allons! il y a eu plus de peur que de mal... Et que la fête batte
son plein!
Elle confia à Alex:
—Elle a une santé de fer, mais les nerfs, mon cher monsieur, c’est de son
âge... Avec ça, une sensibilité!...
Et elle ne modifia rien aux chatteries dont elle comblait Alex tant chez
elle que chez le professeur et madame Denis. Mais Alex s’aperçut qu’on lui
parlait à l’excès de feu M. Proupa, de sa grande honorabilité, des
«illustrations» qui avaient suivi son convoi, et de toute la famille Proupa, et
des qualités morales et ménagères de Raymonde, enfin de l’avantage qu’il y
avait, ici-bas, pour un jeune homme, à faire un mariage désintéressé. Tant y
eut qu’Alex se crut obligé, en honnête garçon, de confesser à Raymonde,
tout en valsant, et la poitrine appliquée contre sa gorge magnifique, qu’il
éprouvait pour elle un irrésistible attrait, mais qu’il ne saurait prétendre
d’ici de longues années à devenir l’époux d’aucune femme.
 —Je ne l’ai jamais pensé, dit Raymonde: allez! ce n’est pas moi qui me
monte le coup... Mais je vous remercie de votre franchise.
Alex ne savait qu’ajouter, car il était ému du sort de cette belle fille
pauvre qui lui parlait, elle aussi, avec une grande franchise. Ce fut elle qui
dit:
—Cela ne fait rien, monsieur Alex, pourvu que je continue à vous voir.
—J’y tiens autant que vous, dit Alex.
—Non, dit Raymonde, pas tant que moi!
 XVI
Aux environs de la Toussaint, l’installation étant faite depuis bientôt six
semaines, rue Férou, madame Dieulafait d’Oudart dit à son fils:
—Mais enfin, mon pauvre enfant, tu n’es donc pas bien ici, puisque tu
ne peux rester à travailler une demi-heure dans ta chambre?... J’ai remarqué
que ton bureau n’est pas placé convenablement pour écrire; ta main fait
ombre sur la plume... ne t’en es-tu pas aperçu?... Est-ce que le bruit te gêne?
On entend bien souvent les cloches de Saint-Sulpice... Moi-même, les
premiers jours, j’en ai été incommodée... Tu sais que, s’il le fallait,
j’aimerais encore mieux changer d’appartement que de te voir oisif.
—N’aie pas peur, maman! nous avons encore trois semaines avant
l’examen... Et puis Thémistocle va arriver.
—Qui ça, Seigneur Dieu! Thémistocle?
—Tu verras.
Madame d’Oudart vit en effet arriver, un matin, Thémistocle. C’était un
Grec aux cheveux aile de corbeau, au teint de cire; une sombre moustache
lui coupait si crûment le visage que l’impression en était douloureuse. Alex
s’était lié avec lui, l’année précédente, au hasard, comme avec tous ses
amis: rencontres de cafés, de restaurant, voisinage de banc au cours ou au
jardin du Luxembourg. Mais Thémistocle, déjà licencié, bientôt docteur,
était fort en droit. Il l’eût été plus encore en chicane: il aimait les détours
captieux d’un raisonnement; les plus menues subtilités étaient son affaire;
des examens, notamment, il connaissait tous les trucs.
Il parlait un français correct, d’une voix doucereuse et tout à coup aiguë,
et en faisant de la main de vifs petits gestes nouveaux et surprenants pour
des Français. Il étonna beaucoup madame d’Oudart; il l’amusa, un moment,
puis lui donna envie de dormir par sa manie procédurière. Mais lorsqu’il
parlait de Smyrne, l’endroit où il était né, tous avaient le goût de figues à la
bouche, et il plaisait à cause de cela, comme une femme qui répand une
odeur agréable. En outre, madame d’Oudart comprit qu’il était utile à Alex,
et il l’éclaira d’un mot sur une particularité de l’esprit de son fils, qu’elle
ignorait:
 —Il comprend tout ce qu’on lui dit, rapidement, et le retient bien; mais il
n’aime pas les livres.
—Venez déjeuner avec nous quand il vous plaira, monsieur Thémistocle.
Le Grec sourit et dit que Thémistocle était son petit nom et qu’il
s’appelait Constantinargyropoulo.
—Ah bien! moi, je ne suis pas comme mon fils, vous savez, monsieur
Thémistocle, je ne retiens guère ce qu’on me dit... Et je vous appellerai, si
vous voulez bien, par votre petit nom.
Ensuite arriva d’une petite ville du centre un nommé Givre. Il tenait
plusieurs journaux à la main, regardait au travers d’un binocle en portant la
tête en arrière, d’un air inquiet, et ses épaules déjà se voûtaient, comme
sous le poids d’un fardeau invisible. Il suivait de près la politique, intérieure
et extérieure, sans être initié aucunement à ses dessous, et sans être apte à
en saisir le sens général; élevé dans un milieu de bourgeoisie pessimiste, il
interprétait toutes choses défavorablement, et aux quatre points de
l’horizon, levant son nez crédule et écarquillant ses yeux de myope, il
découvrait des sujets d’alarme.
Pas plus que le Grec Thémistocle, pas plus qu’Houziaux et que Fleury,
ce Givre n’avait avec Alex la moindre affinité de caractère et de goûts; mais
ces jeunes gens étaient ses amis. Ils ne lui avaient été imposés par personne:
c’est pourquoi il croyait les avoir choisis lui-même et librement; et, de
gaieté de cœur, il acceptait cette fraternité.
Madame Dieulafait d’Oudart commençait d’avoir des déjeuners bien
agités et la pauvre Noémie y suffisait à peine; les réceptions du soir, bi-
hebdomadaires, se prolongeaient tard dans la nuit, consommaient de la
bière par tonneaux, et Alex, à une heure du matin, sortait pour reconduire
ses amis, ce qui, le lendemain, nécessitait une grasse matinée réparatrice.
L’après-midi filait subrepticement, comme un voleur.
Enfin, la veille même de l’ouverture des cours, arriva Hilaire Lepoiroux.
Hilaire annonça qu’il était descendu à l’Hôtel Condé et de Bretagne.
—C’est idiot! s’écria Alex.
—Pourquoi? demanda madame d’Oudart, ce garçon n’en connaissait pas
d’autre!
Alex ne sut pas dire pourquoi il trouvait idiot qu’Hilaire descendît à
l’Hôtel Condé et de Bretagne.
 Le malheureux Hilaire était vêtu d’une manière dérisoire: il portait une
sorte de lévite, et la casquette du collège des Pères.
—Mon pauvre garçon, dit madame d’Oudart, tu ne vas pas pouvoir
rester dans cet état-là. Viens voir si tu peux mettre une jaquette d’Alex.
Les jaquettes d’Alex étaient trop longues. Les manches couvraient la
main entière: Noémie reçut ordre de les raccourcir. Mais la taille tombait
quatre doigts trop bas, et le buste d’Hilaire semblait posé sur de toutes
petites jambes de «clown».
Houziaux et Fleury entrèrent, sur ces entrefaites. Alex présenta:
—Lepoiroux.
Les deux jeunes gens pouffèrent. Madame d’Oudart se hâta de dire:
—Allons! allons! messieurs, vous allez me faire le plaisir
d’accompagner un peu ce garçon-là en ville et de lui choisir un chapeau
convenable.
Ils sortirent avec Hilaire Lepoiroux; mais ils le laissèrent aller devant
eux, tout seul, et ils jouèrent de lui cruellement, comme des enfants, jusqu’à
ce qu’ils lui eussent calé sur le chef un melon à bords exigus, du plus pur
style anglais, sous lequel Lepoiroux était plus grotesque encore.
Alex, non moins dur que ses camarades envers le disgracieux Hilaire,
fut, aussitôt séparé d’eux, gentil, serviable et doux avec lui.
 XVII
Vers la mi-novembre, une huitaine avant l’examen d’Alex, madame
Chef-Boutonne dit à madame Dieulafait d’Oudart:
—Voyons, ma chère amie, voulez-vous être raisonnable?
—De quoi s’agit-il?
—De votre fils, cela va sans dire. Vous savez l’intérêt que je porte à ce
cher enfant. Voulez-vous, oui ou non, qu’il soit reçu?... Bon!... Venez avec
moi faire un brin de cour à monsieur le doyen... un vieil ami à nous...
Ce n’était pas sans raison qu’elle prenait des précautions oratoires pour
aborder la question d’une visite au doyen. Solliciter une faveur humiliait
madame Dieulafait d’Oudart; reconnaître qu’elle avait besoin de solliciter la
blessait. Par une contradiction singulière, elle confessait que la protection
des Chef-Boutonne, puissants par leurs relations, serait indispensable à son
fils:—c’était une manière de providence, préétablie, dont le secours vous
est dû, pour ainsi dire, en vertu d’un contrat dont on ne cherche pas
l’origine;—mais mettre en branle sa providence, l’assister par un acte
efficace, à son avis, c’était déchoir.
—Écoutez, ma chère, non! dit-elle, je n’aimerais pas, je l’avoue, mendier
l’indulgence d’un jury d’examen pour mon fils, qui, tout compte fait, n’en a
peut-être pas absolument besoin... Ce pauvre Alex a été ajourné en juillet!...
Eh! mon Dieu! c’est un accident qui put arriver à tous les candidats.
N’oublions pas qu’il était à l’hôtel, seul, dans les conditions les plus
fâcheuses pour le travail. Dorénavant...
Madame Chef-Boutonne l’interrompit:
—C’est parfait, ma chère amie, c’est parfait! Je n’insisterai pas, comme
bien vous pensez, pour vous entraîner à commettre la petite infamie que j’ai
eu l’imprudence de vous proposer...
—Ma bonne! ma bonne! qui vous parle d’infamie? Voyons! je vous dis
simplement: «J’aime autant ne point recourir à ce procédé, parce qu’il n’est
pas prouvé qu’il soit indispensable...» Après un second échec, nous
verrons...
 —Eh bien! nous verrons après un second échec!... Prenez acte, toutefois,
de ceci, ma chère, que je vous ai offert le «procédé»,—puisque procédé il y
a,—qui était en mon pouvoir.
L’influente amie était piquée! Par bonheur, madame d’Oudart comprit
qu’une telle femme, interrompue en son bel élan tutélaire, ferait une chute
mortelle si, bon gré mal gré, l’on ne secondait sur l’heure l’envie qu’elle
avait de faire valoir ses moyens. Hilaire Lepoiroux, pour une fois, fut utile
aux Dieulafait d’Oudart: qu’il est donc aisé de solliciter pour qui ne porte
pas votre nom!...
—Vous concevrez, dit-elle, que je ne veuille user de votre crédit qu’avec
une certaine discrétion, car j’aurai trop d’occasions d’y recourir...
Ces paroles convenaient à madame Chef-Boutonne.
—Il est naturel, dit madame d’Oudart, de s’occuper de ceux qui ont des
besoins plus pressants que les nôtres... J’avais à vous parler, ma chère amie,
de mon jeune protégé, Hilaire Lepoiroux...
Elle exposa le cas d’Hilaire. Obtenir une bourse pour l’infortuné et
intelligent étudiant serait une bonne action.
—Mais, dit madame Chef-Boutonne, les bourses s’obtiennent au
concours!
—Sans doute!... Mais vous ne me ferez pas croire que si vous juriez d’y
mettre la main...
—Oh mais! oh mais!... ce n’est pas si aisé!
—A la Faculté des lettres, qui donc de ces messieurs n’est pas de vos
amis?
—A la Faculté des lettres, ces messieurs sont justes, comme ailleurs.
—Insensibles à l’éloquence?
—Savez-vous bien, ma belle, que vous me demandez beaucoup!
—On n’importune que les riches!
—Eh bien! eh bien!... fit madame Chef-Boutonne en souriant, il faudra
me donner les nom et prénoms de ce jeune homme... très exactement!...
—Ah! ma bonne amie, quelle gratitude vous aura la pauvre veuve
Lepoiroux!...
Elles se quittèrent en fort bons termes.
 XVIII
Dans le moment qu’Alex allait subir son examen, et alors que sa mère
plantait chaque matin un cierge allumé sur le plateau à dents pointues d’une
petite chapelle de l’église Saint-Sulpice, dédiée à saint Alphonse de
Liguori, Alex, lui, était perplexe et tracassé. Et ce n’était point la
préparation à l’examen qui l’agitait de la sorte, mais bien une question à
résoudre: s’abandonnerait-il ou non à l’«irrésistible attrait» qu’il éprouvait
pour Raymonde?
Certes il avait décidé que non. En effet, d’abord il aimait beaucoup
Louise qui était une petite amie charmante, ensuite Raymonde était une
jeune fille digne de faire un mariage convenable, et destinée sans aucun
doute à le faire, puisque déjà il n’eût tenu qu’à elle de devenir madame de
Bérébère, ou bien la femme du jeune homme rougeaud qui apprenait à
danser chez le professeur et madame Denis.
Mais, d’autre part, Raymonde, qui avait bien la tête de plus que Louise,
était aussi brune que Louise était blonde; elle devait avoir une gorge et des
jambes de déesse; elle était dépourvue de l’esprit espiègle de Louise, et l’on
se fût ennuyé peut-être une journée entière avec elle, mais elle paraissait
affamée de tendresse; mais son humeur, plus sombre, avait un charme aussi;
mais il y avait quelque péril à devenir son amant... Il en faut moins pour
qu’un jeune homme prenne un parti déraisonnable!...
Alex allait au cours de danse avec une régularité dont le louait sa mère et
qu’applaudissait madame Chef-Boutonne.
—Il n’est guère mondain, pourtant! disait madame d’Oudart.
—Il le devient, vous le voyez! disait son amie.
—Oh! que cela m’étonne!
En peu de temps, Alex était passé «le meilleur élève» chez monsieur et
madame Denis, et, bien que, en adoptant le groupe de madame Proupa, il se
fût aliéné le groupe ennemi, il fréquentait l’un et l’autre, obliquement
regardé des mères, mais agréable aux filles, à deux ou trois jeunes femmes
d’état incertain, qui venaient là, aux messieurs mêmes, à cause de son
caractère sympathique, et enfin à madame Denis, pour l’ornement que sa
personne apportait au cours de danse.
Madame Proupa, tout avertie qu’elle fût qu’Alex ne serait point son
gendre, ne le boudait pas et, devant le monde, tirait vanité de l’amitié du
jeune homme, bien que l’on clabaudât fort.
Les langues étaient menées par une dame Coincœur, mère d’une fillette
de quatorze ans, et qui se couvrait les yeux lorsqu’Alex valsait trop près de
la belle gorge de Raymonde. Elle prétendait que la danse était parfois d’une
immoralité répugnante et que, si sa fille n’eût été encore une enfant, elle ne
l’eût point amenée deux fois là; mais, par bonheur, Myrtille, à son âge,
n’avait pas l’idée du mal, «le cher petit ange»!... Lancée par l’exemple de sa
mère dans la veine des mauvais propos, le cher petit ange ne tarda pas à
renchérir, de sa voix aigrelette, sur les calomnies que madame Coincœur
répandait, et cette pomme verte s’en allait, buttant de droite et de gauche, et
suintant des acidités à vous allonger les dents. On riait; on répétait, et
quelque chose en demeurait, qui rongeait les esprits.
Ainsi Raymonde, dont l’emploi à la maison d’éditions classiques faisait
vivre sa mère, s’étant vantée récemment d’une augmentation
d’appointements,—de cinq francs par mois,—on affirma qu’elle s’était
donnée au secrétaire général, un vieux laid rendu hideux par une grosse
loupe à la tempe, et qu’un élève du cours de danse avait surnommé
«Riquet-à-la-Loupe». Le nom de «Riquet-à-la-Loupe» courait comme «le
furet du bois, mesdames!» le long des banquettes de la salle Denis.
Raymonde sut que l’on appelait ainsi le secrétaire général, et fut des
premières à en rire. On la trouva «très forte»; on dit qu’«elle ne perdait pas
la carte». Puis elle fit observer naïvement que, si l’on venait à apprendre
que monsieur le secrétaire général était tourné en dérision autour d’elle,
cela pourrait lui être, à elle, très préjudiciable. On jugea qu’elle avait du
toupet; quelqu’un dit que c’était tout bonnement du cynisme. Et Myrtille
allait de l’un à l’autre demandant: «Et vous, est-ce que vous embrasseriez
une loupe?...» L’innocence d’une telle question désopilait la rate de
madame Coincœur.
A Alex seul Myrtille ne parlait jamais. Quant à lui, il la négligeait,
comme trop jeune, et ne dansait point avec elle. Madame Denis lui confia
qu’elle aimait que ces messieurs ne fissent point de jalouses: Alex invita
mademoiselle Coincœur. Mais la fillette, surprise, tout à coup pâlit,
balbutia, ne répondit rien; et ses yeux chaviraient, quand, par un effort
d’une volonté de petit diable, elle se fit au bras un pinçon; la douleur la
ranima, et elle dit:
—Le pas de quatre? Oui, monsieur.
Alex s’assit à côté de madame Coincœur, qui le pria d’excuser la timidité
de sa fillette:
—Elle n’a pas l’habitude du monde, disait-elle, et, à son âge, elle a
l’innocence du jour de sa première communion... Je suis d’avis, monsieur,
d’élever les jeunes filles très sévèrement... Pour le piano et le chant, par
exemple, elle en remontrerait à toutes les demoiselles qui sont ici... Ceci
soit dit sans intention d’offenser personne!... Mademoiselle Proupa, cela va
sans dire doit être d’une belle force en tout...
—Mademoiselle Proupa n’est pas musicienne.
—Ah!... Eh bien! voyez, je n’en savais rien... Quand on voit une jeune
fille jolie et développée, on se figure toujours qu’elle a toutes les qualités.
Mon Dieu! la musique et les arts ne sont pas nécessaires pour faire son
chemin dans la vie; mais tant qu’à séduire l’homme, comme m’a dit cent
fois mon pauvre mari,—puisque c’est le rôle de la femme, n’est-ce pas vrai,
monsieur?—mieux vaut encore les moyens de la bonne société...
Alex n’entendait aucunement malice; il dit:
—Par la musique on se rend agréable à tout le monde.
Et il offrit le bras à la jeune Myrtille pour danser le «pas de quatre».
Myrtille semblait butée à ne point lui parler; il tint à honneur de lui tirer
quelques mots, tout en levant la jambe avec elle, en cadence, par un des
gestes les plus niais que l’humanité désœuvrée puisse inventer. Il lui dit,
plaisantant à demi, qu’il avait lieu de n’être pas flatté, car il avait bien
remarqué qu’avec d’autres elle n’avait point la langue dans sa poche.
—Ah! dit Myrtille, on n’aurait pas cru que vous ayez jamais fait
attention à moi!
Il protesta, il dit qu’elle avait, tel jour, une robe rouge, et qu’un soir elle
était venue sans natte, ce qui lui allait beaucoup mieux... C’était une petite
rouée, mais un compliment sur sa personne physique lui faisait perdre tous
ses moyens. On la regardait danser avec Alex: elle se troubla et, tout à coup,
se monta la tête. Elle dit:
—N’est-ce pas? le catogan me va cent fois mieux?
 —Cent fois mieux, dit Alex.
—Adieu la tresse! fit-elle.
—Vous l’abandonnez? demanda Alex, indifférent.
—Plutôt que de reparaître avec mon cordon de sonnette, j’aimerais
mieux me faire couper les cheveux ras!
Alex, sans penser à rien, levant la jambe en cadence:
—Ce serait bien dommage, mademoiselle!
Mais sur la fillette tous les mots portaient:
—J’aurais cru, dit-elle, que vous n’aimiez que les cheveux noirs.
—Pourquoi? dit Alex.
—Oh!... pourquoi... ne me le demandez pas.
Alex commença à comprendre; du moins, il découvrit que la gamine
était coquette. Mais, comme elle ne l’intéressait guère, et pour s’épargner le
soin de mesurer ses paroles, il se taisait.
Ce fut Myrtille qui reprit:
—Ah bien! si on m’avait dit que je lui ferais ce soir mes adieux!...
—A qui?
—A ma natte, donc!
—Ah!... dit-il, en riant; vous y joindrez les miens.
Mais la petite était sérieuse; elle répliqua:
—Ne riez pas! ça va être la guerre, à la maison. Plus de natte dans le dos,
c’est maman vieillie de dix ans!... C’est elle qui tient à ce que j’aie l’air
d’une gosse.
—Oh! dit Alex; mais, mademoiselle, il ne faut pas faire du chagrin à
votre maman!
Elle le regarda, avec la gravité prématurée d’une amante, en levant les
yeux très haut: ils faisaient un pas de polka et sa tête d’enfant touchait la
poitrine du jeune homme. Elle dit:
—Vous vous en fichez, que je sois en catogan ou en natte.
—Comment! Comment!...
Alex bégayait, la polka s’achevait; Myrtille, par dépit, calcul secret ou
simple habitude de médisance, glissa à son cavalier ces mots, d’allure
sibylline:
 —Méfiez-vous des cheveux noirs: ils ne sont pas propres!...
Alex fut laissé sur ce louche avertissement, qui avait la concision et le
tour des formules de tireuses de cartes. Il haïssait, d’instinct, le mystère et
les ragots, mais fut frappé par la phrase augurale de mademoiselle
Coincœur.
Comme tous les jeunes gens, il tenait ses amis fidèlement au courant de
ses aventures amoureuses. Fleury, Houziaux, Givre et le Grec Thémistocle
connaissaient par ouï-dire Raymonde, le groupe Proupa, Riquet-à-la-Loupe
et les perplexités d’Alex. Il leur rapporta l’avertissement de Myrtille, qui lui
semblait de nature à lever ses scrupules touchant la conquête définitive de
la belle aux «cheveux noirs». Tous, à l’exception de Fleury, qui était un
sentimental, méprisaient les femmes, sauf leur mère, leurs sœurs et l’être
angélique, indéterminé, la jeune fille «bien élevée», qui serait un jour leur
fiancée, leur femme, la mère de leurs enfants. Éperdument crédules à la plus
médiocre démonstration amoureuse faite à leur profit particulier, ils
taxaient, a priori, de pure hypocrisie, ou de calculs machiavéliques, toute
entreprise galante, en général, d’où qu’elle vînt, fût-ce d’une Raymonde,
qui avait des apparences d’honnêteté, et à quelque personnage qu’elle
s’adressât, fût-ce à Alex qui, notoirement, possédait la faveur des femmes.
Un conseil fut tenu, un mercredi soir, chez Alex, qui décida à
l’unanimité—Fleury lui-même ayant opiné dans ce sens, mais pour des
raisons différentes—que la seule attitude digne était la charge à fond de
train.
Thémistocle, toutefois, qui avait la prudence d’Ulysse, crut devoir
avertir don Juan des «conséquences judiciaires» de son acte, et, par là, cette
assemblée nocturne d’étudiants, traitant l’amour à la française, se termina
par la discussion d’un point de droit, qui, du moins, fut profitable à Alex.
 XIX
La prochaine réunion chez le professeur et madame Denis tombant la
veille de l’examen, madame d’Oudart supplia son fils d’y manquer et de
consacrer cette soirée à récapituler ses matières. Il y consentit, à la
condition qu’on invitât le Grec, qui l’interrogerait, l’égaierait, l’empêcherait
de s’endormir sur ses bouquins. Le Grec vint, interrogea, égaya et se retira
fort tard, en disant avec son doux zézaiement et la connaissance qu’il avait
des familiarités du français:
—Le diable m’emporte, madame! il est fiçu de passer!
Madame d’Oudart, qui acceptait toutes les libertés de langage, sourit,
sans grande foi, mais eut, à cause de cette parole, la nuit meilleure.
Elle était sortie, le lendemain matin, pour entendre la messe à l’intention
d’attirer les faveurs célestes sur l’épreuve que devait subir son fils, lorsque
celui-ci, rue Férou, en subit une assez inattendue.
Avant huit heures, la bonne entra précipitamment dans la chambre
d’Alex et dit:
—Monsieur, sautez vite: c’est une dame qui veut vous parler, à vous, pas
à Madame!
—Une dame? fit Alex, somnolent encore.
—Une belle dame, dit Noémie, en dessinant des courbes devant sa
poitrine.
Il s’habilla nonchalamment, et pénétra dans le salon. Il y reconnut
Raymonde, et fut stupéfait.
—Pardon! pardon! dit la jeune fille, il ne faut pas interpréter ma
démarche, monsieur Alex... Au point où j’en suis, on ne calcule plus... J’en
ai fini avec la vie, telle que vous me voyez: j’ai seulement voulu que vous
sachiez que je ne suis pas celle que l’on vous a dit...
—Que l’on m’a dit?...
—Oh! ne faites pas l’ignorant! Vous savez tout... La preuve en est que
vous n’êtes pas venu hier soir au cours de danse: vous ne voulez plus me
voir, j’en ai la certitude... Après ce qu’on vous a dit de moi, je ne vous en
veux pas, allez!... Mais ce n’est pas vrai! ce n’est pas vrai!... C’est
abominable ce qu’on a dit de moi!... Oh! est-il possible qu’il y ait des gens
si méchants!...
Un sanglot l’étouffa, puis les larmes jaillirent: elle ne se maîtrisait plus.
Alex pensait tout haut:
—Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!... si ma mère rentrait!...
Raymonde dit, entre des hoquets:
—Tant pis, monsieur Alex!... Votre mère ne peut pas être inhumaine: elle
comprendra... Je sais bien que je risque de la rencontrer, mais au point où
j’en suis!... Je vais me tuer, monsieur Alex...
—Vous tuer! Raymonde!...
Son nom sur la bouche d’Alex, son nom tout seul, non précédé de
«mademoiselle», elle l’entendait!... Elle en écouta la musique; et elle ne dit
plus rien. Elle regardait le jeune homme, et, de ses yeux, les pleurs
coulaient comme des rivières.
Elle dit:
—Oh!... oh!... laissez-moi pleurer!
Alex craignait de voir arriver sa mère. Et il se souvenait que l’avant-
veille, dans cette même pièce, on avait traité cavalièrement des femmes en
général et de cette belle fille en particulier.
Il se jugea garanti, par le masque tragique que présentait la figure de
Raymonde, contre tout danger d’abuser chez lui de la présence d’une jeune
fille: tant de larmes, d’ailleurs, ne portent guère à la volupté. Il s’inclina
vers Raymonde, lui prit la main et lui dit:
—Venez, je crains d’être obligé de donner des explications à ma mère...
Elle comprendrait, je ne dis pas non, mais aujourd’hui elle est préoccupée
parce que je passe mon examen.
—Votre examen!... mais vous ne nous en avez pas parlé!...
—Cela n’avait guère d’importance.
Elle fut frappée:
—Votre examen!... dit-elle, mais c’est pour cela que vous n’êtes pas
venu hier soir.
—C’est pour cela.
 —Et vous ne le disiez pas!... Pourquoi ne m’en avez-vous pas avertie
tout de suite?... Vrai? bien vrai? c’est pour cela, monsieur Alex, oh! répétez-
le!
Il le répéta. Il s’étonnait qu’on fît de son absence une affaire. Sa jeunesse
insouciante admirait qu’un pas fait par lui en avant, ou bien fait en arrière,
pût au loin mettre une âme à la torture. Il aurait pu ajouter: «On m’a obligé
à rester là, hier soir», mais il n’avait pas encore atteint la maturité qui vous
inspire le mot qui convient à consoler un être souffrant; à peine concevait-il
qu’on souffre.
Il dit seulement:
—Parlons bas!
Inquiet, décidément, il entraîna Raymonde.
Elle n’accordait aucune attention aux lieux ni aux objets extérieurs. Une
idée la tenait, à savoir qu’Alex était sensible aux calomnies répandues
contre elle.
Alex la considérait. Il pensait:
«Elle est bien jolie; mais pourquoi se faire tant de peine?...»
Il regardait sa belle gorge qui moulait le «jersey», comme un linge
humide, la longue régate de satin noir tombant d’un faux col d’homme, et
où deux raies de lumière, parallèles, vacillaient au gré des soupirs, une
épingle de camelote, la ceinture de cuir, un peu défraîchie, mais qui sanglait
une si mince taille entre tant d’ampleurs.—Et il eût aimé à se trouver, ainsi,
avec elle, en tout autre endroit.
Elle disait:
—Si vous croyez que je ne vous ai pas vu, l’autre soir, quand vous avez
eu fini de danser avec la gosse!... Vous n’étiez plus le même... Oh! oh! je la
connais, votre figure! Vous n’étiez plus le même: vous aviez l’air mauvais.
Qu’est-ce qu’elle a bien pu vous insinuer, la petite vermine? Oh! il n’y a pas
que moi qui m’en suis aperçue; maman m’a dit en montant l’escalier, à la
maison: «Brosse-toi, ma fille, on t’a encore traînée dans la boue...» Et
l’autre, donc, le rasé, vous savez, qui voit tout, qui entend tout!... et quand
on m’a maltraitée, je m’en aperçois: il est plus tendre avec moi, et plus
hardi. On dirait que ça lui profite!...
L’âme légère d’Alex n’échappait pas complètement au pouvoir de ces
paroles douloureuses livrant le secret de la vie d’une jeune fille pauvre;
mais, à mesure que la compassion le gagnait, il en était incommodé, parce
que ce sentiment ne s’accordait pas avec celui qu’il éprouvait pour
Raymonde: il la désirait d’autant mieux qu’il était plus touché par sa
condition déplorable.
Il disait, pour la tranquilliser:
—Vous imaginez-vous que je crois tout ce qu’il plaît à ces pies borgnes
de raconter?
—Il suffit qu’on vous le raconte!... A d’autres, passe encore! On n’en
meurt pas, et le monde est si méchant qu’il faut bien s’y faire; mais, à vous,
je ne peux pas souffrir qu’on dise de moi des horreurs. Je ne le peux pas;
j’aime mieux mourir... Tout ce qu’on a pu vous dire est faux, monsieur
Alex, faux, faux! Je vous le jure!...
En criant: «Je vous le jure», elle leva la main comme pour prêter
serment, et atteignit son chapeau qui pivota autour de l’unique épingle fixée
en arrière, dans son lourd chignon.
Alex sourit, en la voyant un peu décoiffée, et il regarda ses beaux
cheveux d’un noir de jais et ses yeux bruns, humides. Et, tout à coup, il la
baisa à pleines lèvres. En même temps, d’un geste habituel, il tirait l’épingle
du chapeau: épingle et chapeau tombèrent. Et il affolait de baisers cette
belle fille amoureuse, tout en s’affolant lui-même à seulement toucher de la
main ce jersey plein et tendu à rompre par les derniers soulèvements des
sanglots.
Elle n’éprouva aucune honte et eut la rare vertu de ne pas feindre d’en
éprouver. Elle était venue sans préméditer, assurément, une telle conclusion
à son entretien, mais non pas sans savoir qu’elle s’y exposait. Se donner à
l’être charmant qu’avaient choisi son cœur et ses désirs ne lui paraissait pas
un indigne parti; tout au contraire, quelle beauté que cela, quelle suavité et
quelle pureté! Les baisers d’Alex, ah! quel torrent d’eau limpide, et qui lui
lavait le visage! Qu’elle était loin, maintenant, la peur des dégoûtants
contacts dont la malice de femmes ennemies l’avait voulu souiller!... Par-
dessus tout, Alex savait qu’elle n’avait appartenu à nul homme. Et elle se
sentait radieuse, fière, prête à crier partout son amour triomphant. Elle
oubliait tout ce qui n’était pas de cet heureux matin: la méchanceté
humaine, et la mort même qu’elle avait souhaitée. Une seule chose
demeurait pour elle: quelques minutes de poésie dont sa vie serait à jamais
parée.
 Et pour celui qui versait tant de poésie une seule chose demeurait: le
souci d’éviter que sa mère surprît la présence de Raymonde. Deux pensées,
mais bien légères, alternaient avec le souci; l’une était sceptique: «Les
femmes sont faciles», et l’autre chagrine: «Le jour, pour en profiter, est
vraiment mal choisi!...»
Mais tout se termina à souhait: Raymonde put s’évader avant que
madame d’Oudart fût revenue de la messe; et Alex, étonné que des choses
si imprévues et si tumultueuses eussent pu se passer en un temps si court,
s’étendit et fit un somme... Il était convoqué à l’École de droit pour l’après-
midi.
 XX
Il fut reçu.
Ce résultat surprit tout le monde: le candidat tout le premier; sa pauvre
maman, malgré la messe matinale et bien qu’elle eût brûlé beaucoup de cire
auprès des autels; le Grec Thémistocle, quoiqu’il eût quasi annoncé le fait;
enfin madame Chef-Boutonne dont on avait dédaigné l’appui.
Il n’était pas reçu brillamment, certes, mais il était reçu. Nul ne l’avait
jamais vu travailler, et il était reçu. Nul favoritisme n’était intervenu, et il
était reçu. Cet infiniment petit désordre social dérangea les esprits.
Madame Chef-Boutonne, pour aboutir à une fin identique,—à quelques
mois près,—se donnait autant de mal que son fils; elle voyait vingt
personnes influentes, elle payait trente-six heures de fiacre; elle était sur les
charbons ardents, une année entière. Madame d’Oudart conclut de
l’événement que son séjour à Paris était profitable à Alex, et qu’Alex
possédait en lui des ressources que l’on s’était trop empressé de nier pour
un pauvre petit échec, au mois de juillet. Quant à Alex, il pensait: «C’est
épatant!...»
L’un de ses amis lui dit:
—Toi, mon vieux, tu es un type à avoir touché une mascotte!
Alex répondit sans sourire:
—C’est épatant!
Avec cela, Alex n’allait pas se trouver trop en retard sur Paul Chef-
Boutonne: on était à la fin de novembre; les cours commençaient à peine;
les deux jeunes gens gagneraient ensemble, l’été prochain, leur diplôme de
bachelier en droit. Quel doute avoir sur l’issue de cette seconde année,
puisqu’en si peu de temps à Paris, près de sa mère, Alex avait rattrapé une
année gâchée à l’Hôtel Condé et de Bretagne? Allons, la méthode était
bonne. Madame d’Oudart releva la tête, un peu haut, comme toutes les fois
qu’on la relève, et elle se dit: «Ah çà, voyons! Paul Chef-Boutonne suit, en
même temps que les cours de droit, ceux des Sciences politiques, où il se
prépare au concours de l’auditorat au Conseil d’État: pourquoi Alex, avec
les facilités qu’il a, n’en ferait-il pas autant? Le travail est un jeu pour lui:
qu’il assiste aux cours; qu’il écoute; qu’il cause avec M. Thémistocle, et
nous verrons de quoi il retourne!...»
C’est pourquoi Alex fut inscrit à la docte École de la rue Saint-
Guillaume, moyennant un versement de trois cents francs, renouvelable par
année, et une visite au directeur, qui sourit finement, imperceptiblement,
quand on lui dit qu’Alex était tout frais reçu à ses examens de droit, «en
novembre», mais qui fut jugé un homme tout à fait supérieur.
En le quittant, et après avoir visité une maison si bien tenue en ses
vestiaires, ses lavabos, ses salles où le drap vert abonde, et située, avec tant
de tact, à la frontière du quartier le plus aristocratique et du quartier le plus
savant, madame d’Oudart se sentait rehaussée et déjà savourait la joie
orgueilleuse d’avoir un fils participant à tant de science et de correction.
Alex s’en aperçut bien, et lui dit:
—Ne t’emballe pas, maman.
Mais elle ne put se retenir:
—Enfin! ils ne nous la corneront plus aux oreilles, leur École de la rue
Saint-Guillaume. Nous aussi nous en sommes!
Alex dit:
—Paul y aura toujours une année d’avance sur moi.
—Mais, répliqua madame d’Oudart, comme il ne s’agit pas là de passer
de vulgaires examens, mais d’être des cinq ou six premiers au concours, il
échouera au premier concours, avant que tu t’y sois présenté: voilà son
avantage!
Alex regardait sa maman, tout en revenant par le boulevard Saint-
Germain, et cela l’amusait de la voir guillerette et optimiste. Il voulut lui
offrir un baba chez un pâtissier, «sur ses économies».
—Sur tes économies! dit-elle, parlons-en!
Ils entrèrent chez le pâtissier. Elle avait les yeux plus humides que le
baba qu’elle mangea. Elle admirait son fils, comme un homme aimé; et
quand les femmes avaient le regard accroché, un instant, par sa moustache
et retenu par sa jolie figure, le bonheur maternel lui soulevait la poitrine;
elle y portait la main.
Elle manifestait son contentement comme elle pouvait; elle dit à son fils:
—Qu’est-ce qui te ferait plaisir?
 Il haussa les épaules, gentiment, et dit:
—T’es bête!...
Elle ne voulut pas qu’il payât. Elle lui mit dans la main un louis. Il lui
rendait la monnaie:
—Non, non, garde! dit-elle.
Elle ajouta:
—Écoute! si tu voulais être gentil, par exemple, là-dessus, tu paierais le
prix d’un télégramme au grand-père Lhommeau; comme cela simplement:
«Inscrit Sciences politiques».
Alex trouvait cela fou. Il fit observer en riant:
—C’est bien laconique. Si nous ajoutions: «moyennant trois cents
francs»?
Mais elle ne saisit pas l’ironie; elle dit:
—Mets-en aussi long que tu voudras, grand panier percé!
Les heureux moments!...