Authors: Kate Pearce
"Shall we proceed? The buffet seems to be more than adequate."
"Of course, my lord. I want to take you to the next floor now."
He glanced at the open double doors. "There really is more?"
"There are two more floors that are open to clients and not their guests, unless I personally approve them."
He averted his gaze from one of the naked women, who was beckoning to him, and fixed it on the stairs. A tall well-built footman standing by the newel post nodded to them as they passed.
"Good evening, madame." The redheaded freckled man had a thick Irish brogue.
"Good evening, Sean. I'd like to introduce you to Lord Knowles. As of now, he has entree into all parts of the establishment, including back stairs."
Sean stared at Philip for a long time as if memorizing his face and then nodded. "Aye, madame. I'll tell me brother."
Helene nodded. "Any trouble this evening?"
"None, madame."
Helene smiled graciously as he bowed his head. Philip found himself nodding too.
"Is Sean placed there to prevent unauthorized persons from going upstairs?"
"Indeed he is. His brother Liam is just over there by the wall."
Philip observed the other hulking figure and could only admire Helene's security. Not many men would get by the two Irish brothers without a fight. They reached the second landing, and Philip looked around him curiously. The hallway looked remarkably like the one below. White paneling, thick pink carpet, and a distinct lack of noise. More doors led off it, and the salon at the end appeared smaller.
"This floor is for our more discerning patrons. Usually they reserve a room in advance with specific requests about what items they wish placed in it."
"Such as?"
Helene smiled. "Perhaps it would be better if I showed you one of the rooms that is already set up."
Philip found he was holding his breath as she slowly unlocked a door with the number ten on it. To his surprise, the room looked quite normal. Kindling lay ready to light in the grate, the large bed was covered in cream silk sheets, and the rest of the decor appeared quite ordinary.
He shrugged. "It all looks perfectly respectable to me."
"It is respectable." Helene walked across to the bed, and he followed, reluctantly admiring the swing of her hips and the way her silk dress outlined the long line of her thigh every time she took a step. She picked up an item that had been placed on the silk counterpane and showed it to him.
"Why would these people ask for golden ropes?" Philip swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.
"To tie each other up?"
Helene let the thin gilded cords swing in her hand. Philip couldn't take his eyes off them.
He imagined being tied to the bed or the wall like the man he'd witnessed the day before, having to allow sexual acts to be performed on him, having no ability to say no. His cock twitched and thickened in his breeches.
"What if a person didn't wish to be tied up?"
"Then they probably wouldn't ask for these, would they?"
Helene put the ropes back on the bed and carefully straightened them before moving to one of the large cream-painted cupboards against the far wall. She opened the doors, and Philip struggled to breathe. Inside the closet was a selection of whips, floggers, cuffs, and other items he didn't want to identify.
"Of course, if they get bored with their chosen scenario, there are plenty of other toys to choose from."
He licked his dry lips as memories of his time in India flooded through him, memories he thought he'd forgotten. The smell of spices and sex, his oiled body writhing between two women as they pleasured his cock and his mouth . ..
He turned to face the door. "Are all the rooms on this floor like this?"
"Most of them. There are two public salons, as well, for clients to meet in if they choose.
There is also a network of peepholes and narrow passages between the rooms for those who simply like to watch."
"And you allow that?"
She shrugged, the gesture making the puffed sleeve of her blue gown slide down over her shoulder. "The choice is made by the people in the rooms. They decide whether to open the peepholes or not."
Philip stared at her. If he had known of this place during the long barren years of his marriage, would he have come here and indulged himself? He'd avoided exploring his sexual options because of his fear of what Anne might do to the children if she heard any gossip about him. The idea of watching other couples fucking rather than participating himself might have saved his sanity.
He shrugged. "I can't say that any of this excites me particularly."
Helene closed the cupboard doors and hesitated, her hand on the ornate paneling.
"There is one other special room, but I'm not sure you will appreciate it."
"I thought you agreed to show me everything."
She sighed. "I did, but..."
"Show me." He marched across to the exit and opened the door. "I'm not a child who needs to be protected."
She followed him out of the room and headed for the far end of the hallway. At the end of the corridor, a green door read PRIVATE. He tried to open it and found it locked.
Helene brushed past him, her scent overwhelming his already aroused senses.
"Not that one. That leads down the back stairs to the staff and servants' quarters.
Everyone who works here has a key. I'll give you one tomorrow." She gestured to her left. "This is the door I meant."
Philip studied the door. It looked exactly the same as all the others. A small white plaque on it read ALL YOU DESIRE.
"What is so special about this room?"
Helene leaned against the wall and lifted her dainty chin to look up into his face.
"It is different in that it is a place to express your deepest sexual desires."
"Isn't the rest of this bawdy house enough?"
"For some people, no. In the privacy of this room, you can share a secret sexual desire that might not be acceptable to your lover, or your wife, or even perhaps to yourself." So?
"So the pleasure house will try and fulfill your request in the anonymity of that darkened room. You might not ever know the identity of the person who provides the service for you. It is a way of trying out a new facet of your sexual personality in a safe and discreet environment."
Philip folded his arms and leaned back against the other wall. "I still don't understand why anyone who pays to enjoy this salacious place would suddenly become too shy to express their sexual desires openly."
"Perhaps they just wish to try something once or experi-
ment without hurting a loved one." She smiled. "Or perhaps it is something that is not considered at all respectable."
"Like what?"
She shrugged. "Kissing a member of their own sex? Trying anal play?"
He simply stared at her as all his blood deserted his brain for his cock.
"Those things are sinful."
"So?"
"You are an amoral, wicked woman."
She didn't even blink. "Yes, I suppose I am."
He straightened away from the wall. "I would prefer to see the rest of the pleasure house tomorrow."
Her gaze dropped to his tented breeches, and he fought an urge to grab her hand and press it to his throbbing cock.
"Then perhaps you would like to escort me back to my private suite?"
Chapter Eleven
Helene watched a series of conflicting emotions flow across Philip's face. Despite his arousal, he was obviously not the sort of man to be led by his cock. In truth, he seemed to fight any signs that he was a normal hot-blooded male. For the first time, Helene considered his marriage. Had he been happy? Was his disaffection with sex because he'd been so much in love with his wife that he couldn't bear the thought of touching another woman? Her normal instincts about men seemed to have deserted her.
"My lord, do you wish to accompany me?"
He nodded and turned abruptly on his heel. She touched his arm and he shuddered.
"We don't need to go back through the salons. We can use the servants' stairs; it is much quicker."
She felt the heat of his uneven breathing on the exposed nape of her neck while she unlocked the door. Had she pushed him too far? And how would he react if she had? She hadn't seen him for eighteen years and had hardly known him even then. He followed her down the steep uncarpeted stairs, the barren decor a stark contrast to the luxury of the pleasure house. She always loved escaping into that world, the place where her hard work and organization made everything happen.
Eventually they arrived at her suite. She murmured a cheerful greeting to the footman stationed outside her door and a dismissal to her maid within. She left the door open for Philip, and he followed her inside. What would he make of her inner sanctum, the place that was hers alone? The color palette was , neutral. A harmonious mix of cream white and gold in a simple style that soothed her at the end of her hectic days.
He paused in the center of the room, his hands fisted at his sides. "This is not what I expected at all."
"It is not?"
She draped her shawl over a chair and kicked off her high-heeled slippers, giving her toes some much-needed relief.
"I imagined it would be more ..."
"Crude, tasteless, and sinful?"
He frowned. "I was going to say colorful, but any of the above words will do quite as well."
Ah, so despite his raging erection, he was back to being stuffy again. Somehow that made it far easier for Helene to deal with him. She strolled across to him, watched him tense as if for flight.
"Could you undo my gown for me? I can't reach the ties." She turned her back on him and stood still. It took only a moment for him to start on the task. His fingers shook like a virgin's whenever they brushed her revealed flesh. Helene fought a smile. Whatever had happened to him in the past, his sexual future was hers—at least for the next thirty days.
"It is done."
"Merci."
She slowly turned to face him and allowed the bodice of her dress to fall to her waist. His heated gaze followed the downward slide of the silk. With a deliberate shimmy, Helene allowed the dress to drop to the thick carpet and stepped out of it. She wasn't particularly vain, but she knew she looked well for her age, her skin firm, her breasts plump and rounded, her derriere tight.
Philip licked his lips as she ran her hands over her corset and sighed. Her breasts were almost fully exposed and were lifted by the design of the shift to look as if they were cupped by a man's hands. The shift beneath her corset was fine lawn and did little to hide her skin or the fair hair at the juncture of her thighs. Blue ribbons held up her stocking just above her knee.
She let out her breath with exaggerated care. "I hate wearing a corset. They are so restrictive." She plucked at the strings. "Men do not know how lucky they are not having to follow such absurd fashions."
Without speaking, Philip spun her around and unlaced the corset, letting it fall to the ground. Helene stepped out of it, turned away from him, and went to her dressing table.
She sat down, raised her arms and began to take the pins out of her hair. In recent years, many women had adopted shorter, more fashionable hairstyles, but Helene believed most men preferred a woman to have long hair.
She watched in her mirror as Philip took two halting steps toward her. Even if he didn't realize it yet, every time he returned to her side was an admission of his sexual interest and of his needs. She picked up her silver-backed hairbrush.
"Would you like to brush my hair for me?"
"Why?"
She looked over her shoulder at him. "Because my maid has left, and it is hard to see the tangles at the back when I do it myself."
He held out his hand, and she gave him the brush. She loved having her hair combed. It made her feel like a child again, made her remember her mother in a kinder light than her last memories of their days in the Bastille.
"Mmm .. . that's nice."
Philip still didn't speak. His gaze was directed downward, his hands steady as he parted her hair and carefully brushed from the roots to the ends.
She tried to catch his eye in the mirror. "You are good at this. Did you brush your wife's hair?"
He went still, and the bristles stuck in her hair, jerking her head back. Ah, things had definitely been awry between him and his wife.
"No." He put the brush on her dressing table and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Now enough of this posturing. I want you to suck my cock."
She met his angry stare in the mirror. "If you don't take your hands off me, I will scream."
"I'm sure your footman's heard you scream before. I'll wager he doesn't burst in here every time you have sex."
She held his gaze. "Take your hands off me, or you will find out whether he knows the difference. Jem is a champion boxer. I can assure you your encounter will not be pleasant."
"You asked me to accompany you to your suite." He released her and stepped back, thrusting his hands in his pockets.
Helene swiveled on the low stool to face him. "That is true, but I didn't agree to touch you, did I?"
A hint of angry red flushed his cheeks. "You owe me thirty nights of sex."
Helene allowed her hand to slide from her throat to the swell of her breasts, and toyed with the lace ribbon of her shift. His heated gaze followed her fingers.
"Your first day is tomorrow. And night follows day, n'est-ce pas?"
"So why did you ask me in here?"
She opened her eyes wide at him. "I simply asked you to escort me to my suite, did I not?"
A muscle flicked in his cheek and he bowed. "I can only apologize for my error, madame.
You must forgive me. A country bumpkin like myself didn't realize that when an experienced woman who runs a brothel invites a man into her bedroom and he helps her out of most of her clothes, she is not actually offering to have sex with him."
She offered him her most enthusiastic smile and clasped her hands to her breasts. "That's exactly right, my lord. I'm so glad you see the error of your ways."