the film jump directly to the pair’s bedroom, where they began to undress.
It looked like the work of an amateur, but the director clearly had artistic aspirations, as the camera panned back and through a dark tunnel that revealed itself to be a keyhole. The classic voyeur’s point of view. The couple were now in their underclothes and Alice was surprised at just how much of Mrs Pinkering was on display. Her nipples were clearly visible beneath her thin shift.
Then the shot cut to the spying chambermaid and Alice gasped in delight at the familiar face. ‘It’s Lili!’
Then she gasped again as she realised what the chambermaid was doing. One hand had vanished beneath her short, frilly skirt and the camera zoomed in to show it moving deep inside her vintage bloomers. Alice blushed to the roots of her hair as the realisation of Lili’s secret hit her like a bomb.
‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered.
Jake looked just as shocked. He had slid down in his seat and was doing his best to stifle a grin. When Alice met his eyes, they both burst into helpless laughter.
‘I guess that would explain why she wasn’t welcome in mainstream Hollywood,’ Jake said.
Alice nodded. She was shocked, certainly, but not offended. That her great-grandmother had been a vintage porn star was perfectly in keeping with the woman’s feisty personality.
The film was really getting interesting now. Mrs Pinkering was pointing at the camera, at the keyhole, and there was a campy reaction shot of the naughty chambermaid as the door was flung open by Mr Pinkering. In case his outrage was in question, a helpful intertitle appeared: ‘BAD GIRL!’
The man dragged the protesting maid inside and it was obvious what was about to happen. Alice squirmed in her seat. Part of her desperately wanted to shut off the film and finish watching it – and all the others – later, by herself. But she glanced sidelong at her companion, who looked every bit as aroused as he was fascinated, and decided it would be more fun to watch it with an audience.
‘PLEASE, SIR! MADAM! I AM SORRY!’
But Mr Pinkering wasn’t having any of it. He pulled the protesting girl over his knee and began to spank her. Lili kicked and struggled so much that Mrs Pinkering felt obliged to take hold of her wrists and hold her still.
The embarrassment was exquisite. Alice had never felt such powerful empathy with a film character in her life. That was her own flesh and blood up there, her closest and most beloved relative. It was as though a part of Alice herself was on-screen.
The camera zoomed in to show Lili’s wriggling bottom as her angry master flipped up her skirt and pulled her bloomers down to her knees. It was clear from the darker colouring of Lili’s cheeks that there was no fakery, and Alice suspected that her kicks and cries were every bit as real.
‘OWW! OH! SIR, PLEASE!’ Lili yelped and pleaded in histrionic capitals while the action continued in silence. Alice’s mind provided the soundtrack. She winced in sympathy with every slap and smack, and her own bottom began to tingle as Lili’s grew redder and redder. Well, darker grey anyway.
When Alice didn’t think she – or Lili – could take any more, the spanking stopped. Now Mr Pinkering was stroking the maid’s poor punished bottom, cooing to her in silly intertitles. His rubbing became more lascivious as Lili wriggled about on his knee. Mrs Pinkering was soon joining in, and then the kinky couple had their naughty maid on the bed and were undressing her completely.
Alice pressed her hands against her burning face as she watched her great-grandmother stripped naked. She was beautiful, with a body to match. She raised her long dancer’s legs in the air and parted them to reveal her sex, thatched with pale hair that she must have dyed to match the hair on her head. The camera pushed in for a good view of her pussy as the Pinkerings caressed and stroked her. Mrs Pinkering kissed the dewy little slit, flicking her tongue over Lili’s clit while Mr Pinkering played with her breasts, pinching and teasing her nipples into erect peaks.
The title writer had stopped intruding now that there was no need to explain the plot or elucidate dialogue. Alice didn’t need any help to imagine Lili’s moans and gasps as both master and mistress toyed with her. Lili was astonishingly flexible, a talent they exploited fully, putting her in a variety of different positions while they sucked and fucked her. Alice had inherited some of that flexibility, but nowhere near as much as she’d have liked once she saw its full potential in Lili.
Her panties were soaked by the time the reel clattered to a halt and the loose end of the filmstrip whipped against the projector. She hurriedly went to turn it off. Her hands shook as she removed it and placed it carefully back in its canister. She was still blushing so hard she didn’t think she could face her guest. He hadn’t said a word since the real action had begun.
‘Well,’ she said at last, just to say something. Anything.
Jake got unsteadily to his feet and Alice couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his trousers. He cleared his throat and met her eyes with a sheepish grin. ‘That was … quite something.’
Alice could only nod. Silence spooled out between them like a dropped reel of film. When they finally spoke, they did so in unison.
‘Would you like to—’
‘Maybe we could—’
Alice laughed. ‘You first.’
He smiled. ‘I was going to suggest a double bill.’
Alice returned his smile, relieved and excited. ‘So was I. It was Lili’s final wish, after all. Make the most of my inheritance. That’s what she made me promise. She said not to let her be forgotten.’
‘I can guarantee I’ll never forget that,’ Jake said.
‘Me either.’
They both looked back at the open box, a treasure trove of secret delights.
One by one, they took out all the film cans. There were 47 in all. Alice’s heart swelled with pride at the body of work, at Lili’s obvious pride in preserving them. These probably weren’t even all she had made. Surely other people – directors, producers, actors, collectors – must have some as well. Maybe there was even a preservation society for films like Lili’s.
All the titles were intriguing, but some of the slang expressions were downright mystifying.
‘What the hell is a “bearcat”?’ Alice said, squinting at the handwriting on a peeling label. ‘Or a “floorflusher” for that matter?’
Jake shook his head with a laugh. ‘I’m sure they’d have been just as confused by our terms. Hey, I like the look of this one: Molls and Dolls.’
Alice had to laugh. Guys hadn’t changed in a hundred years. ‘Sounds good,’ she said, taking the canister from him. She threaded the film through the projector and they resumed their seats as it began.
Two flappers laden with shopping bags and hatboxes were giggling outside a shop window displaying Roaring Twenties fashions. The blonde was Lili. She didn’t really have the boyish figure for the fringed dress and ropes of pearls she wore. Her breasts were rather larger than most women’s of the period. But, of course, the audience for these particular films wouldn’t have been too concerned with how fashionable the actresses looked wearing clothes. From what Alice
