* * * * *
Two nights later, he found himself in Madame DuPuis’ foyer, explaining his desires in concise terms. Strange how describing his sexual needs to a former Parisian courtesan was easier than explaining his needs to an unsullied, innocent wife.
The whorehouse madam was used to his varied needs and the whores who played his games where never ill-treated, and since they were paid well, unconcerned that he never fucked them himself.
One saw it as a business opportunity and encouraged him—the other would no doubt be disappointed in his odd and possibly perverted requirements.
“You say she’s French?” Michael asked.
Alice DuPuis nodded. “I wouldn’t ask just anyone, and I understand you speak the language.”
He nodded.
“You see, she’s new to the business, not a virgin mind you, a widow in fact, but she hasn’t experienced all of the ways men, at an establishment such as mine, pleasure themselves.”
“I don’t know.”
“She would welcome your advances and tutelage. She needs the money firstly and she is a gentle creature. I would hate to think of another initiating her in some of the more creative aspects of intercourse so early in her career.”
“I’m not prepared for that kind of intimacy. You’ve always known that.” Somehow, he’d gotten his raging desires back under control. He was not yet prepared to completely break his vows with Clarissa, though if she knew what he was thinking at this moment, she’d probably consider them broken.
“But there are things you can teach her that do not involve physically breaking your marriage vows. That is what hinders you, is it not?”
Michael didn’t answer. He’d never come out and admitted it to Alice, but being shrewd and insightful went a long way to making her a successful madam.
“Since you are unsure, why don’t I offer her to you free the first night? We’ll see how it goes.”
“Surely, there are other men who would pay handsomely for the pleasure you are offering me.”
Alice smiled. “Of course there are, but I’d still like to have a whore who wasn’t afraid of the next one hundred men she’d have to bed.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“She’ll be here on Thursday. I hope you’ll join us. Now will it be your regular entertainment for this evening?”
“Yes. Oh, about the girl. Would she not like to be part of my current arrangement? I don’t hurt the girls.”
“No. For now, I do not think she would like for one man to be fucking her while another is watching. It’s not for everyone.”
Chapter Four
Clarissa lowered herself into the tub, and once she wiggled into a comfortable position, slowly inserted the large dildo. The smooth phallus was a poor replacement for Michael, but it was something to take the edge off her reborn, demanding needs.
And remembering his mouth on her after such a long drought enhanced her pleasure.
She might have imagined the morning interlude with Michael, except for the fact he pointedly ignored her for the rest of the week. No doubt he was embarrassed that he’d pleasured her in that manner and that she’d so wantonly accepted the delightful intrusion into her body.
She couldn’t tell him about the exquisite pleasure, not in any way that he would understand or approve. He must believe those forbidden pleasures were too exotic and too vulgar for his wife. A week ago, she’d thought so too.
He’d be shocked if he knew she was growing attached to her morning routine. She especially enjoyed it while in the bath.
One foot remained propped on the edge of the tub while she worked the delicious dildo inside her body. Eyes closed, she let the pleasure build in slow degrees.
After she sweetly climaxed, Clarissa soaked in the tub.
She’d awoken with thoughts of tonight’s adventure foremost in her mind, hoping events went as Madame DuPuis had assured her they would. She’d had to change her plans after a little thought. How to get rid of her carriage so she could arrive anonymously? Discretion was paramount.
Clarissa had planned an attendance at a musicale only, but decided that a quick stop at the Sandhurst gathering, the largest event in the ton that night, would provide a better alibi.
Once there, she could slip in, be noticed and be on her way. She had the added benefit of being able to send her driver home under the pretext of riding home with one of her numerous acquaintances while she hired an inconspicuous livery. Plus Michael dreaded such entertainments as musicales. Sitting still for two hours was anathema to him. She’d only tell him about the ball as an afterthought and only if necessary.
He said he’d meet friends at his club for some light gambling and be home late.
Clarissa knew better. Madame DuPuis had confirmed he would be at the brothel tonight.
Already giddy with excitement, another, stronger emotion—fear—pooled in her belly. She would be able to please Michael tonight, yes, but there were so many things that could go wrong.
Clarissa nearly laughed thinking of Anne VanLandingham’s complete sincerity when they had met last night. Admittedly, she had avoided Anne. She would want to know details and Clarissa had decided she’d already disclosed too much. As soon as Anne had cornered her, she rushed to assure Clarissa that Michael was not interested in her—or her husband. As if Clarissa had ever imagined such a thing. Leave it to Anne to go to the extreme.
“Anne, you are such a dear friend to sacrifice your reputation for me.”
“Oh, it was no trouble at all. I thought his eyes would pop out of his head when I… Well, anyway, I’m glad I settled that matter for you.”
Clarissa had listened to the same old gossip and deftly avoided any more mention of Michael. She’d been almost relieved when Michael fetched her for home. Anne had a way of prying loose information one wanted to remain deeply hidden.
And if all else failed, Anne would vouch for her once she understood the dire straits of Clarissa’s marriage.
The day was interminable.
At last, the daylight hours faded and she prepared for her departure. She dressed in a simple silk gown with a wide pearly ribbon under her breasts and tied at the back.
Her maid had styled her hair loosely, without ornamentation. Simplicity was all she needed tonight.
Before departing her room, she kissed her wedding band, then slipped it off and hid it in the drawer of her nightstand.
After the musicale and the quick dash through the Sandhursts’ ballroom, Clarissa felt as if she were riding to the executioner. The carriage passed through the city with a gentle clip-clop of hooves and a soothing rhythm that nevertheless did nothing to comfort or encourage her.
So many things could go wrong. Knowing Michael would be in the room gave her little assurance at this point. She would be deceiving him, embarrassing him if he found out and cementing their relationship failure if Michael rejected her.
Her limbs shook as the carriage drew to a halt at the back of Madame DuPuis’. Clarissa lifted the veil over her face and departed from the hired coach. A dim covered candle lit the back door and a beefy man opened the door at her knock.
A woman guided her to a back room where Madame DuPuis waited.
Fear choked her now that this moment of irrevocable truth stared her in the face.
“Would you care for a drink?” she asked.
Clarissa nodded, accepting a glass and swallowing back the small amount of alcohol, needing the burn to dampen her worry. “Is he here?”
“There’s a small complication.”
Clarissa’s knees gave way. She slumped into a chair and clutched the plump armrests. “What’s happened? Or do I dare ask?”
Alice DuPuis lowered herself onto a backless bench positioned near the small crackling fire. “Complications, but not something we can’t resolve, if you are willing.”
“Willing? I’m here,” Clarissa said.
“Your husband has changed his mind.”
“What do you mean? He doesn’t want… He doesn’t want me?”
“He has an odd sense of morality, yes. And it’s not
you
exactly that he doesn’t want. He’s content with his current arrangement. And to give him credit, he said he wasn’t sure if he had the self-control necessary to see you alone.”
“Morality? He enjoys dildos and restraints and is happy to perform in front of other couples and he doesn’t want to be alone with
me
?” Her voiced raised sharply at the end, though she knew it wasn’t Madame DuPuis’ fault.
“You’re taking this personally. He doesn’t know you will be in his room.”
“This was a mistake. I was completely prepared for…for everything.” Clarissa leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. The tension inside her nearly snapped.
“Is he up there now, with them?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
Clarissa glanced sharply at the madam. “You have an idea?”
“I always have ideas. This one may not be to your taste.”
“Is any of this?”
“I’m suggesting you enter the room as part of the couple that will entertain him.” Alice sat calmly, her hands clasped in her lap. Her grandmotherly gaze held no threat. Her rosy red cheeks and steely hair could have belonged to a wealthy matron at the most exclusive ball, offering her refreshments.
Frozen in her chair, Clarissa digested the suggestion with the same revulsion she’d felt a week ago. How could she do that?
“You ask too much.”
“It is not I that ask. You want your husband. Your husband demands certain entertainment. And here we are at an impasse.”
“Another man will violate me? I will be naked to the gaze of another man while my husband looks on. Even my adventurous husband cannot be so accepting.”
“What part of my suggestion is most unacceptable to you?”
“Why… I… I will not have another man’s penis inside my body.”
“So you could live with everything else you witnessed?
“I didn’t say that.”
Madame DuPuis sat quietly for several long minutes and then stood, slapping at her bulky skirts. “Well then, I’ll tell my other couple to proceed without you.”
Her hand was on the door.
“Wait.” Clarissa clenched her teeth. “What is it you’re suggesting? Exactly?”
Madame DuPuis approached her from behind. “You have lovely hair.” She plucked at the few pins Clarissa had tucked into the mass of black tangles. Dark strands fell across her shoulders. “Why don’t we get you dressed and I’ll explain.”
Stiff and impassive, Clarissa stood. Madame DuPuis pulled at the ribbon wrapped under Clarissa’s bosom and then began unbuttoning her dress. The sleeves were pushed aside and the dress slithered to the floor. The laces of her shift loosened. The soft material pooled at her feet, followed by the last of her undergarments.
Clarissa labored for breath, knowing but not knowing to what she’d tacitly agreed.
“I can write the script, but it is the players on stage who interpret what I write,” Madame said. “I promise you will not be touched in that way. You saw the stage, you saw what and how the players performed. If it does not progress as planned, you say no.”
Naked and feeling alone, Clarissa heard the clink of a canister as Madame DuPuis rubbed along her shoulder. “This will cover your mark. I knew you’d be lovely. You can be assured that your husband had other reasons for leaving you besides what your body could offer him.”
Clarissa bit at her lip and stared down at her feet. She crossed one arm over her breasts. She still wore her black stockings made of the finest French silk. Michael had always purchased the best of everything for her. He’d even sent to Italy for a pair of shoes she’d once seen. She’d laughed at his extravagance when they’d arrived four months later. He’d always been concerned for her happiness.
Mechanically, she lifted her arms as the madam commanded.
A black corset with red eyelet and ribbon was placed at her waist. Cinching the corset, the madam forced Clarissa to take in a lungful of air. Her breasts were fully displayed and pushed upward in vulgar prominence, the lacy material below showcasing them. Perfect, firm round globes with hard-tipped nipples surrounded by light chocolate-brown areolas. Michael had always enjoyed her breasts.
Her derrière and mons remained on display. Two ribbons dangled against her legs, lightly teasing her skin.
The first hint of her indecent excitement trickled down her leg.
“There. Would you like to see?”
“No.” When she swallowed, she only felt a dry, scratchy sensation. “May I have another drink?”
Madame DuPuis poured and then handed over the glass. Clarissa gulped it down.
“I think perfume, yes?” A light mist cooled her skin. Madame then sprayed it near the V of Clarissa’s thighs. “And lastly, your robe.” The silky smoothness slid over Clarissa’s arms and floated around her. It was entirely red and transparent.
Madame smoothed rouge over Clarissa’s cheeks, reddened her lips, placed a single black patch near her mouth and then slipped a sequined mask over her eyes.
“
Chérie
, you are perfect. Better than any of my girls he’s seen. Remember who you do this for.”