I had noticed that very first day that Francois was a very
good-looking young man. He was extremely shy that first morning, when I
entered to receive my instruction. He blushed and stuttered when he
began to ask me the first, innocent questions.
But soon he grew bolder and looked at me with penetrating eyes which
seemed to be more concerned with my looks than with his thoughts about
how to teach me philosophy. I was well aware that I had made a deep
impression upon my tutor, but I was not about to let him know
immediately that I had guessed his innermost thoughts. I therefore sat
down beside my teacher like a nice, obedient little girl, allowing him
to glance down my neckline which plunged rather deeply, as far as nice
little girls are concerned.
Francois trembled slightly, and it seemed to take all his will power
to avert his eyes from my firm little breasts whose nipples strained
against the body-hugging silk of my blouse.
I could not help myself, but my desires were awakened by this
good-looking teacher of mine who, himself, had great trouble to hide
his increasing passion for me!
During this first lesson we did not talk much. All he did was to
review briefly my existing knowledge of Latin and the few other
subjects I had taken.
After we had taken our meal, Francois and I went into the park for a
little stroll. This was part of the daily curriculum which my good aunt
had worked out for us.
Francois is walking next to me, from time to time taking my arm. It
seems that he has become a little bit more sure of himself. I hope he
has recognized the fact that I am a precocious girl. I aim to find out
We have approached a beautiful marble statue. Leda is leaning back
and the swan, white as fresh-fallen snow, rubs its long neck
voluptuously between the legs of the goddess, caressing her with its
I stand still, admiring this beautiful grouping. Leda has a marvelous
expression of satisfied passion, and looking at this passion which one
can only guess and which I have been hungering to experience, always
Francois also has stopped walking, and he is standing right next to
me. I innocently ask him many questions about Leda and the Swan. Does
he believe my hypocritical innocence, or has he discovered my little
game? He blushes, his hand presses my arm tighter, and quickly we walk
away from the statue, continuing our stroll.
On our way back we again pass the statue of Leda and the Swan. Again
I ask him, smilingly, to explain the mystery of Leda's facial
expression. Finally Francois offers to explain to me the whole story of
the divine Leda and her mysterious partner.
He puts it in such a way that I have reason to believe he has