Authors: Chanse Lowell
The water closet was tiny, and all four of these ladies had to take turns.
When someone exited, the next shuffled in.
She hoped she did not reek of William enough they would notice.
Oh God, it would be three days until it was women’s free wash day at the floating baths. Could she wait that long? Would sponge baths suffice to remove his scent from off her?
She cringed, knowing damned well it would not be enough.
Nothing would ever get his wonderful, comforting, exotic scent out of her head. There was no disinfectant strong enough to do that.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the dark, dank hallway.
William had windows. What must that be like to wake up to natural light? What of opening the sashes and throwing the panes opened as well?
Visions dashed at her senses, and she imagined staring out into his lush gardens from inside his home and feeling a gentle breeze dance past her. Her arms erupted in goose bumps. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her reaction.
One of her roommates stopped and looked her over. “Ain’t you the new girl staying wit us now?”
“Yes, hi—I’m Clarissa.”
“You sounds like you gots money, and lots of it.” The red-haired woman sniffed. She was tiny, but had a waspy attitude to go with the plethora of freckles covering most of her face and the tops of her very large breasts pushed up under her chin.
“No, I don’t.”
“Can you afford to be here wit us then?” The woman grinned.
“I believe so, yes. If I lack the funds, then I shall move elsewhere.” Clarissa backed way.
The woman followed. “I’m Suzie.”
“Nice to meet you.” Clarissa was almost backed up against a wall.
“You smell like you been with a man. An expensive man. Did he pay ya?”
“No! God in Heaven—no!” She wanted to blurt out she wasn’t a prostitute, but then she thought better of it. This woman might be a streetwalker for all Clarissa knew.
“Good.” That was all Suzie said, then she stepped outside and immediately flew into a tirade at the Italian grocer, lobbing rotten fruit her way.
“Tramp! We don’ts want no trollops round here!” He flung more and more.
Clarissa raced out, ignoring the fact her instincts were probably correct. This woman was a paid whore.
Oh mercy. What if William had been with this woman?
She’d heard about how he used to pay for his wicked pleasures.
All at once, Clarissa felt dirtier than ever, but she helped Suzie cross the street, taking the brunt of the bruised fruit on the back of her own dress.
What did it matter? She needed to burn this thing anyway. There was no way she could ever wear it again—it would only serve to remind her of the wonderful wicked things William had done to her.
Her chest throbbed, and so did her puss.
“Thanks,” Suzie said, then she blazed down the street, running very fast for someone so short.
Clarissa stalked back over to the grocer with the thick, wiry black mustache and black mop of curly hair on top of his squarish head.
“Look here—it is unacceptable for you to do that to that poor woman!”
“Poor? Woman? She’s a monster! She took my son’s innocence, and he—”
“Did he pay her for it?” she asked.
Swaaaack!
A mushy tomato was slopped in her face. “You shut your mouth, you little tramp, or I treat you worse than her. Huh? You wants some more? I will run you out of here! Decent folk live here. Families!”
The old, worn lines of his face crinkled so hard she could barely see his black beady eyes.
“I am sorry she caused you pain. I am not a slut, and I—” she cut herself off because, yes, she was. She was William’s slut last night, and she had not been paid and had lost all she was.
Her shoulders fell forward.
“Please, just . . . We want peace. We won’t cause any trouble here. Can you allow us that much?” she implored.
“If she stays away from my son, Rinaldo, then yes.”
“I will speak with her,” she said, and then she went inside, locking the door behind her.
She had to wait for the washroom once more, only now she had red slime oozing down her face, and she refused to acknowledge it by wiping it away with her dress that smelled exactly the way a whore’s would.
Chapter 7
William’s face flamed as he took the basket of clean, folded laundry from Pauline’s hands.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“No, everything is completely wrong!” He stormed off with the basket before he had to explain to her that after having the most amazing night ever with the creature of his dreams, he woke in his bed—
alone
.
He got in the motorcar—also alone—and drove to Bial’s.
His sole purpose this morning was to shove this laundry in Clarissa’s face and demand an explanation of why she slunk out the door without saying a word.
As he drove to the theater, his hands shook on the wheel.
What if she was upset because he had hurt her with his rigorous movements? The second time he was much less gentle when his cock was inside her tight cunt.
Oh fuck! What if she really was hurt badly and left to seek medical help?
His mind raced. He had harmed her when he thought for certain he had been tender with her. Or as much as a man like him could be.
“Ahhhhh!” he screamed and drove on, his mind racing faster than his vehicle.
When he arrived at the theater, he ignored everyone that spoke to him, merely giving them a passing, curt nod.
There were wide eyes that followed him as he carried in the full basket of cleaned laundry.
“Where is Miss Stone?” he asked one of the crew members.
“She is in back—in Lenora Cheri’s dressing room.”
He thanked the man, barged right into her dressing room and stared at his cherry girl, then flung his glare at Lenora. “Get out.”
“This is my room! I am back now, and it belongs to me!” Lenora’s chest puffed up.
“You belong back in prison, you wretched woman,” he said, pointing at the door.
“Well, I never!” Lenora marched past him, her head so high he could see through her nasal passage to her empty brain.
She slammed the door shut after she exited.
“Why did you leave me? Did I hurt you beyond repair?” He dropped the basket, moved past it and seized his cherry girl in his arms, hugging her.
“N-no, I . . .”
“I hurt you—just tell me. I need to know. I can take care of it—take care of you.” His voice shook—drat her, making him such a bumbling mess.
She pushed on his chest, freeing herself of his grip.
“I said no, and I meant it. I am fine,” she said, refusing to look him in the eye.
She took a seat nearby in a wobbly chair.
“Then why did you leave? What did I not provide for you? I wanted to hold you until the morning. I wanted to break bread with you in the light and see how your cheeks softly glowed from the aftereffects of our coupling.” What was he saying? He sounded like a besotted, lovesick fool. But this ache in his chest was radiating through his body, making him almost shake before her.
He never spoke this way to anyone, but he could not stop these sentiments from pouring straight out of his chest into her lap.
“I am beneath you. I do not entertain thoughts of love with you—what would the point be of that, Ferrismore,” she began.
He dropped straight down in front of her. “Don’t you say this to me.”
“Why not? I do not belong in your world. I clean off the shit from your motorcar you run over—that is my station in life. I don’t ride around inside it with you. It was one moment—we lost our heads.” She patted his shoulders and gave him a patronizing look.
“Last night meant nothing to you?” His stomach was threatening to drop onto his stones.
“I did not say that, but I will not destroy myself over something that cannot be.” She stroked her hands up his neck, made her way to his jaw and her eyes softened. “It meant something.”
He took both her hands in his, cupped them and kissed her palms. “Do you know how long I searched for you? I have been searching for years on end to find a woman that could handle me and all that I was dying to give, only I did not realize it.”
“Do not say these things. It will only tear at what is left of our insides.” Tears gathered in her eyes.
“Please, come back to my home with me right now. I can set you straight. I can fix this.”
“Like you wanted me to fix
you
? There is nothing to fix. There is nothing broken because there is no us.”
He licked his lips and sucked in a quick intake of air. His gut was twisting in horrid knots. “I am voracious for all that you are. Please—don’t deny me.”
“William, please, you—”
“You said those words many times last night, and did I not give you every last drop of what you begged for? Did I not beg back? And you gave me more than I could have dreamed I wanted. Please . . . Clarissa. I am telling you—I am yours. You are mine. Come with me now. Leave this place, and I shall see to it you have everything you have ever wanted and more.”
“Such as? You intend to give me a house—set me up as your mistress? No, sir. I am not a whore, though I may have playacted that part for you last night.”
His face fell and drained of all warmth as his nostrils flared. “You are lying. It was not playacting. You felt it. I touched you and got deep inside that bosom and head of yours.”
“You are right. It was not playacting, but it cannot be more than that. I don’t relish being a high-priced call girl that gets rotten fruit flung her way as she strolls down the block toward her home.”
“But that’s just it”—he scooted closer on his knees, then settled his weight back into his calves—“you don’t have to live with anyone other than me. I have space, and you will sleep with me nightly.”
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Ungh! No!” She stared up at the ceiling. “I have little respect for myself as it is. If I am to sleep in your bed and roll out of your covers, what will any decent folk think of me? Your servants even, and I—”
“Fuck them and the rest of society. Be with me.” He gripped her thighs. “I must have you.”
“You had me already,” she reminded him.
“That is not what I meant.”
His lips twitched. What did she want? Why didn’t she say it?
She fell silent, and her exterior was chilly toward him.
“You want a promise of marriage? I’ll give it.”
Her head dropped, and her eyes went wide. “It is not in me to trap you, and please do not shove words my way and pretend they are mine.”
“Then what do you want, woman? I will give you any damned thing you wish. Just tell me!” God, she still smelled like him. His cock engorged at the thought of her purposefully choosing to keep his scent on her.
She gripped his jaw with both hands. “I want you to be you, and for me to go on being me. I am already a shredded scrap of a woman because I throw myself at your feet like a wanton floozy. No more. I have more self-respect than that.”
“Fine. I will not touch you that way again. Just . . .” He groaned once more and stretched his neck. “Just live with me.”
“As what? A sister? Who would believe that? There would be no plausible explanation for my being there.”
“Cleaning lady, then. Whatever you wish. Only be near me.”
She laughed, but it was dark and made his insides tense up and squeeze the breath right out of his lungs.
The door opened, and Lenora stood there, seething, with two men directly behind her.
“Out!” she yelled.
“You are to come to me tonight. As soon as Bial’s closes, you go home with me,” he told Clarissa, his head bent down so only she could hear his voice as it traveled from the vicinity of her pussy up to her ears.
She swallowed but gave no verbal answer.
He hopped to his feet, gave her a look that said he was entirely serious and then he departed.
The rest of the day poked by at a sluggish pace.
Clarissa was nowhere in sight.
It was close to lunch time when he saw her, eating by the side of the stage. He was almost done with Lenora.
“No, no, not that again. Sing it once more, only this time lift your shoulders, expand your chest out so you can breathe properly,” he instructed.
Lenora scowled. “I know how to do this!”
“Then do it correctly. Every Cherry knows how to sing this.” He cast a look at Cherry girl, and she blushed, then fidgeted.
When he looked back at Lenora, she was glowing.
Oh dear Christ—Lenora thought he spoke of her with that amorous tone he’d used, since her last name was Cheri. Or at least that was her stage name.
“Again. Expand your voice, expand your throat. Let it open,” he said, once more, glancing over at Cherry girl, since he was using enticing words to secretly scandalize her.