by Vlad Kahany
She took a quick breath but stopped before saying a word.
“If you want to ask something, do so. Don’t be afraid. If I don’t have the answer, I don’t know who does.” He chuckled again and waited for her to summon the courage.
“Do…” She hesitated, then looked at him cocking her head. “Do all women get pleasure from the actual…love-making,” she finally said, trying to seek the proper words.
Love-making. Charming, Lord Ashbee thought.
“No. Not at all,” he said, but it didn’t seem to satisfy her curiosity. “Some never do,” he explained. “No matter the skills and time. Some do but require other stimulation. Some have an orgasm every time. Though these are in the minority.” He smiled gently. “If you are worried that you didn’t enjoy the act quite the way everyone says you should, don’t worry, sweetheart. It takes time. It takes practice. And you might find out your body is not designed to enjoy everything.” His smile turned into a cunning one.
‘Takes practice’ tickled May’s mind in a strange way, and she was surprised to admit to herself that she was excited at the prospect.
“You need to learn your body to know what it can and cannot do,” Lord Ashbee continued as he got up and poured himself a drink.
May watched his body, his confident moves, wishing that he took his trousers off so she could see all of him as he saw her. “Some women never make an effort to explore themselves,” he went on, “then spend years in misery, unsatisfied, bitter, angry at their spouses and men in general, spiteful of others’ romances, shaming them. Because shaming others only comes from personal dissatisfaction.”
“Do men need to explore themselves the same way?” she asked curiously.
“Some.” He smiled at her. “Men are simpler creatures when it comes to bedroom pleasures. They are more physical than sensual. More visual.”
“Visual…” she echoed, remembering how Lord Ashbee looked at her body. Then something came to her mind. “Do men prefer nice bodies?”
He looked at her with surprise.
“Nice? What do you mean by nice?”
“Well… Big breasts? And…” she blushed without finishing.
He chuckled and slid next to her on the bed.
“Men like everything.”
“But do they prefer certain things?”
“Everyone has preferences. Just like women.”
“But my body is not as perfect as Eliza’s.”
He broke out in laughter and saw her lower the eyes in confusion.
“Is that what this is about? You are comparing yourself?” He stroked her chin as she batted her eyelashes at him. “I like your body the way it is, sweetheart.”
“Then, it is not the body that you chose, is it?”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“You don’t just want my body,” May continued. “There are plenty around. Then what is it that men look for?”
“Ah! That’s the mystery!”
“Which is?”
“It’s complicated.”
She watched him for a moment.
“Perhaps the opposite of themselves?” she suggested.
He cocked his head. “You might be right. We do hate to admit that someone has the same faults as us. We strive for something new that can feed our curiosity. The opposite is as shocking as it is alluring. If you were like Eliza, what would be so new in you to make me want you? If you were like me, my curiosity would not be as great. Tell me, have you met young men in your life, virtuous and noble like you, that invited your interest?”
The question made the corners of her mouth twitch. “Maybe,” she said coyly. She could think of two or three though they never ignited anything more than just quick infatuation.
“Maybe…” Lord Ashbee echoed with a smile. “That’s your answer right there. Did they make you burn with desire as much as I do?”
May was shocked at this assumption. “You assume that I’m burning with desire?”
“Are you not?” He cocked an eyebrow again, and she lowered her eyes. “Answer me, May. You don’t have to pretend. I know it all too well.”
“What about you?” She threw an inquiring look at him.
“You didn’t answer, May.”
“You are right,” she admitted looking at him with a dare. “You know it all.”
“That’s my girl.”
She looked at him with hurt. “So what if I gave you the rest of the money I owe you? Would you stop the visitations? Would you be fine with it?”
His smile faded, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “Would you?”
“Hm.” She looked away, retreating, then raised her eyes at him. “I want to know more about your burning desires, Lord Ashbee.”
“Mine are asleep and dulled, May.” He smiled and took her chin between her fingers. “There is not much that can excite me.”
“Is that so?”
“You, May, are my consolation lately. I do find our arrangement quite delightful. In teaching you, I give you a part of myself. And it pleases me greatly to know that no matter how far you run from me, I will always be with you. For this very reason, I am even more drawn to you. There, you have it!” He leaned over and kissed her, softly, then more insistent. “Will you take them off?” He motioned at his trousers, and she did as he asked, awkwardly, blushing, and not knowing where to hide her eyes, being so close to his aroused member. He took her again, without restraining himself this time, satisfying his own needs that he’d been holding off for some time.
CHAPTER 4
It was a warm day, the sun unusually bright, playing on the shiny surfaces, on the heavy red curtains, and throwing the peach light into the main parlor of the Belle House. The spring filled nature with life and Londoners with cheerfulness, so the men flocked parlors, restaurants, and all places of entertainment in search of company. The Belle House was full every day for several weeks now. Men went in and out, filled the parlor with laughter and chatting, the rooms—with moans and satisfied grunts, for the spring brought with it not just the higher spirit but something else that filled men with the urge for women’s company, and women—with furious flirtation.
Lord Ashbee sat in the armchair next to Mrs. Sharke, smoking and having a casual conversation. He observed the mingling of the men around, but his thoughts were in the room in the back of the upper floor. May was there. It excited him and gave him a strange feeling of transcendence as if he could see her through the walls, feel her just a short distance away. He wanted to visit her, but it was too early, too crowded, and he tried to limit his visits. The waiting fueled his anticipation.
At the table next door, Charles was playing cards with two other gentlemen in the company of the ladies of the House. Young Bentley was engaged in the conversation with Lucie, who smiled and blushed with the passion of a trained courtesan.
“Your cousin seems to enjoy himself quite a bit,” Mrs. Sharke said. “He’s been here almost every day for the last week.”
“Perhaps, he found his new investment.”
“He seems quite infatuated with that little thing.” She narrowed her eyes at Lucie, studying the girl.
“We all enjoy little things until they become a burden or grow claws.”
His eyes shifted to Eliza, who sat at the other side of the room, chatting with an older gentleman. She was forcefully cheerful, smiles and giggles, but the occasional hostile glances she threw in Lord Ashbee’s direction and the way she sought him out in the room gave away her desperation.
“Eliza does not seem very friendly,” Lord Ashbee commented with a chuckle, observing the woman through the smoke of the cigarette in his hand.
Mrs. Sharke smirked.
“Just like any woman that happens to fall out of favor with you. It’s a trend that follows you around, Ray.”
“She didn’t fall out of favor. I have my interest engaged elsewhere for right now.”
Mrs. Sharke turned to give him a long stare.
Of course, she was infuriated when Krissy brought
the news about Miss May and Lord Ashbee. Of course, she took a ride to his house to confront him. Of course, he assured her the affair would stay secret and laughed. And yes, she knew Lord Ashbee could be trusted. But the girl?
Ah, she hated when things got out of hand!
“I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, Ray. You seem unusually cheerful lately. Just remember that life can stab you in the back.”
“Are you threatening me, Sally? You? Out of all people?”—he raised his eyebrows in surprise—“You are just like me. You can’t possibly be upset by this situation!”
She waved her hand in annoyance. “God, Ray. I wasn’t talking about myself, you fool. That little thing of yours”—she motioned upward with her eyes—“you don’t know what claws she has. You don’t know anything about her. That was the reason I asked you to stay away.”
Lord Ashbee flashed his teeth.
“Come, now, Sally. You can’t be angry with me. A little adventure never hurt anybody. I told you I would be discreet.”
“And I told you to get your hands off my business.”
“I think I will keep that little business in quite a good shape.” He laughed good-heartedly, and Mrs. Sharke rolled her eyes. “I can assure you everything is going to be all right, Sally. If anything, the girl will leave this place thinking that she had the best time of her life.” He chuckled and downed the rest of the gin in his glass. “Think of her as a client—you provide the lodging, I ensure the entertainment. Remember, she entered into it at her own free will.”
“Don’t justify your means to me. If only you used your head instead of your cock in women’s matters, you could marry well by now, double your fortune, and be one of the most powerful men in London. Instead of the most rumored about, that is.”
“It is not us, men, that think with the cocks, but women do with ours,” he argued.
“That might be true.”
Suddenly, there was a loud disappointed groan. Charles stood abruptly from the table and made his way to them.
“I have no luck either in cards or in love!” He laughed nervously and flung himself in the armchair across from Lord Ashbee.
“Maybe you need a woman that would steer you in the right direction,” Lord Ashbee snorted with laughter and offered Charles a cigarette.
“Do I hear this out of your mouth, Ashbee?” Charles chuckled and lit up.
“That is what Mrs. Sharke suggested.”
“I was simply saying that women are chosen not for their looks but their skills. The ladies of the court and the ladies of the House are the same. The court has money and titles. The House—the skills to steer men in the right direction. It is with the cocks that men make their decisions—in love, in society, in politics. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“To a point,” Charles nodded, poured himself a drink and gulped it, agitated by the loss in the card game. “Everyone can be trained, taught, and educated. I am quite sure that street cats have more survival instincts and learn faster than others.”
“What a comparison,” Mrs. Sharke murmured, and Lord Ashbee fixed his eyes on Charles with curiosity.
“You adopt a young street cat,” Charles continued, “feed it and take care of it—and it’s a matching competition to the house-raised ones, the fat and the lazy. In fact, a properly groomed street cat will always be more alert, more cunning, fast, observant.”
“Here’s the catch,” Lord Ashbee intervened. “No matter the training, there will come a time when the street cat will snap, and its street claws will come out. You can take the cat out of the streets, but it will never cease to be a survivor.” Lord Ashbee smiled. “Moreover, in times of adversity, it will jump the fence in a second. Because that’s the difference—street cats lack shame and loyalty.’
“There is almost something of a man in them,” Mrs. Shark commented, and both men broke out in laughter.
“Well, say this to Sir Ryrie, who married that girl of yours. Penny was her name, wasn’t it?” Charles frowned, remembering.
“She was the hungriest cat with the most deceiving looks.” Mrs. Sharke’s eyes darkened with spite.
“So, Ashbee, hypothetically, would you prefer a reformed street cat or a nice house one?” Charles looked at his friend with curiosity. “I know you like both, and I know your view on marriage. Nevertheless, what would you chose?”
“It takes a truly magical creature to satisfy a great man and satisfy his hunger. Do you believe in magic, Charles?” Lord Ashbee chuckled.
“Do you consider yourself a great man?” he retorted.
“Don’t we all?” Lord Ashbee smirked and thought of May.
CHAPTER 5
The last month of spring.
Nature was in love with itself, and everything was a breath of passion. The colorful birds that fluttered around the trees. The bees that slowly moved from one flower pistil to another, burrowing deep, with hunger and lust, drinking the pollen, invading the blossoms most ruthlessly. Irises. Peonies. Roses. Daffodils.
There seemed to be romance in everything around. In the way women’s shoes softly touched the cobblestone. And the gloved hands that stroked the flowers. In the way one brought the cups to their lips in outdoor coffee shops and sipped timidly, savoring the taste of it. In the way one opened the windows letting the spring breeze in, bathing in its freshness. And the way the stray dogs and cats lapped water from the morning puddles after chasing each other around all night.
May couldn’t stop thinking about Lord Ashbee. What they were doing seemed wrong at first. She burnt with a strange mix of shame and desire as if her body and mind worked in different directions. Sometimes, overcome with guilt, she thought of herself as one of the ladies of the House, a harlot. But no, that wasn’t the case! Even if that was the intention—to serve a man for money—it didn’t feel that way. She realized that Lord Ashbee was trying to please her more than he wanted to satisfy his own needs. As if he found some strange satisfaction in getting her to learn sex, intimacy, herself. She was a student. Or, perhaps, a protegee. Or maybe a match. As if Lord Ashbee tried to groom her into a proper lover.
But she was rationalizing.
Most of the time, May wasn’t.
More often than anything, she thought of Lord Ashbee’s body and how he made her explore her own. It aroused her.
When he wasn’t with her, she wanted more of him.
When he was, she couldn’t get enough.
When he left, she wished she could go with him.
It was a usual afternoon when she stood by the desk and picked up one of the books. It was a manual of sorts, showing the drawings of a man and a woman naked and in all kinds of positions. Their private parts were drawn in detail, depicting exactly how they fit together in any particular pose.
Oh, how time changes people! When she had just arrived, she pushed the book away with disgust. Now—she was drawn to it as if it opened a new world to her.
She leafed through the pages, and immediately, the usual uneasiness followed as if someone was watching. She went and closed the window. Then flung herself into the armchair by the desk and kept flipping the pages of the book.
She studied the naked bodies and allowed her mind to wander, imagining Lord Ashbee and herself in those positions. Her body responded with the familiar tension in her lower belly, and as she examined the images, the throbbing between her legs intensified. Another minute and she thought she’ll just touch herself to ease the urge. Her one leg went up, and she perched the heel of the shoe on the edge of the armchair, spread her legs wider and pulled the skirt up. She stopped wearing the knickers, and now, when her fingers slipped to the hot spot between her thighs, she found it soaking wet. She exhaled in relief and pleasure as her fingers responded to her desires.
She wished for a second that Lord Ashbee was here.
Ah, the timing!
How could she know that that very moment he entered the back door of the Belle House, went up the stairs, and slowed down as he reached the door to May’s room? H
e stood there for several minutes, leaning on the doorframe, smiling about something to himself.
May’s fingers kept flipping the pages, her eyes took in the images, as her other hand kept touching the throbbing spot between her legs, and a soft moan escaped her mouth. And only when she heard the quiet squeak, she raised her eyes and saw Lord Ashbee in the doorway, his eyes fixed on her open legs.
She jumped up like a bunny, pulling the skirt down.
“Lord Ashbee,” she exhaled loudly, her heart pounding.
He bolted the door behind him.
“I see you are practicing, May,” he said with a smile, and she blushed with the deepest shade of red.
The next moment, he was next to her, kissing her on the lips and stroking her cheek, and the excitement spiked her body with even deeper desire.
“No need to hide it, sweetheart,” he said softly as he threw a glance at the book and turned his eyes to her.
“Let me help you.” He reached for the buttons of her dress. “Did you miss me, May?” he asked, pulling the dress and the chemise off her shoulders and down to her waist, freeing her hands and exposing her upper body. His fingers went up to stroke her bare breasts, her hard nipples as shivers ran down her body.
She kept her eyes down, frozen in shame at being caught.
“Show me how you missed me, May.” He kissed her again, more greedily this time, his hands caressing her breasts.
Show him?
“I want you to do what you were doing,” he said, his voice soft and hypnotizing.
He pushed her softly down to the chair.
“I want you to open yourself up.”
He stroked her cheek, looking down as she tried to avoid his eyes.
“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I want your legs over the side arms of this chair.”
She held her breath, then pushed deeper into the armchair and spread her skirted legs, one over each of the arms of the chair.
“Now, show me yourself, May.” He slowly took off his jacket and lay it on the desk.
