by Eliza Lloyd
Or was it just because she wanted what he promised? Wicked pleasure instead of decorum or morals or character? No, nothing so complicated. She wanted what those fancy women had—fine homes, complete families, dedicated men and someone to love.
And what did she have to be uppity about? She was going to be a damn whore, why be so finicky now?
Her right hand slowly moved behind her back and the hard length of him pressed into her palm. She clasped him in the familiar grip and stroked from the root to the tip, her fingers encircling the bulging ridge. He sighed as if he were in the middle of a dream.
“I’m sorry. I’d like to be doing more for you, but I think I’m going to shoot clear to the stage if I’m not careful.”
At least, with his hand safely away, Imo could think more clearly and kept her mind on the task. Three months she’d done this and for a wide range of men who had taught her a lot about how they liked the firm motion of her hand, and she gave him her best. If the urgent and deep sounds coming from his chest and throat were an indication, he’d be getting his relief real soon.
He batted her hand away. She lowered her fingers, felt for the tight, high sac, wrapped her hands around it and squeezed. A swish of material fell across her wrist as he placed a handkerchief over the end of his cock. “Imogene,” was all he said. His deep breathing rasped in her ear. Then she heard the sound and felt the slight movement of him rearranging himself and hiding his misdeed.
Few opportunities existed where Imo felt powerful. This was one of them.
“Where can I meet you?”
“Just go away,” she said. Now that it was done, she wanted him to leave and she didn’t want to see his face ever again.
“You live down by the docks?”
“Maybe.”
“I could meet you at a lodging house.”
“Is this some game? Men like you don’t go chasing after river rats like me. I can’t do anything for you like some of those other molls can.”
“Imogene, you do things to me I want to explore further. I’ll teach you. I’ll treat you well.”
Have mercy! Did every person she meet think she wanted to settle in with them?
“All right. Hand over my five hundred pounds.” She wished she could see his expression.
There was laughter in his voice when he spoke. “Well, I don’t have that kind of money with me.”
“And I don’t take credit.”
“I wouldn’t imagine you did. So this is goodbye?”
“We ain’t never said hallo.”
“Hallo. I’m Jack Davenport.”
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned toward the tree again. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his broad shoulders. “Didn’t your mam teach you it ain’t polite to speak without looking someone in the eye?”
“You can turn around if you wish.”
“No thanks.”
“Imogene, where do you live?”
“Over by St. Paul’s. You know it?” she asked sarcastically. Why didn’t he just go away now that he had what he wanted? Pestering her wasn’t going to change her mind.
He laughed again. “Over by is an awfully large part of London. Can you be more specific?”
“What are you going to do if I did tell you?”
“Maybe I’d like to be one of your regular clients.”
“No, you always want more than I want to give.”
“Under the right circumstances, I think you’d be willing and wanting to give more.”
“Don’t be twisting my words with your fancy talk. You know what I mean.”
“Isn’t one client much like another?”
“No.”
“So all your clients drop seven guineas in your pocket just for a few minutes of your fingers on them?”
She bit her lip. Ain’t no use arguing with a man who thinks he’s right. And there was no way in hell she’d admit he was the best client she’d ever had.
“I think your silence speaks volumes,” he said.
“Amazed you could hear what with all the yapping you’re doing. Show’s about over. I have to find my brothers.” She turned, but his hand caught the crook of her elbow. She stole a quick glance and immediately regretted her theft. Rich. Nice smelling. Compelling.
Handsome as sin on a dark Friday night. Danny was right. She was foolish and gullible to have one iota of interest in the man—aside from his money. He was the moon and stars and she the salt of the earth.
“I am serious, Imogene. You name your price and I’ll make arrangements for us.”
“Told ya. Five hundred pounds. And it’s your own blame fault for telling me to get what I thought I was worth.”
* * * * *
The London nights were getting darker and a little cooler as autumn crept up on them. Imo didn’t mind so much. This winter they would have the ability to stay warm and fed every day. Frank and Danny disappeared more often. Molly Smith still hadn’t convinced Danny there was a baby, though she’d done enough squalling to convince the king, if’n she had the opportunity.
She hadn’t told her pa yet or there’d be hell to pay. Imo thought it sure proof of chicanery.
The little building on Cable Street had started to fill on its own. Enough people knew what Imo did behind her shadowy curtain so that the boys no longer had to hunt too hard for men wanting sexual release.
Tonight, she worked on the seventh man, her fingers sliding in a perfected rhythm which got the best results. It took no ability to mindlessly complete the task. Mostly they’d stopped asking to get between her legs. Her brothers still contended with the occasional drunken assault. Even Imo had mastered a few maneuvers to keep them under control.
Everyone called her the Virgin Whore now. Maybe the nickname gave her a little protection. The notoriety was good enough for a few extra coins each night.
She heard the door open and a man mouth off to Danny. “Heard we could get a whore here.”
The crisp, precise English was a rarity down here on Cable Street.
“Sorry, she’s almost done for the night. You can come back tomorrow.”
Imo smelled the strong odor of opium that had wafted in when the door opened. A stone’s throw over there was a notorious den that kept Chinamen for servants and rich men in chains, in worse servitude if one thought about it deeply. The men who went to that place weren’t interested in whores afterward. Normally they liked to lie on the floor and count sand grains.
“We were told there’s a special whore here. A virgin. Well, we want a go at her and we’ve got money to buy what we want.”
The rich bloke had a friend and she heard mutterings as they conversed. Imo’s current client had his head back and his hips thrust gently into her hand. His kicksies were down around his ankles. His beefy hand gripped her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if he was holding her in place or trying to keep his balance. Imo was more interested in what was happening on the other side of the curtain.
The voice carried back to her. “I want a whore,” he bellowed. His accent painted him a lord or a peer or some such. A man who could get what he wanted without stooping to degrade himself by entering her ramshackle hideaway. Imo milked her current man a few times and felt the swell of his testicles. She moved to the left and let it shoot to the floor while she palmed the sac and finished him off.
Imo shooed him out the back door as he was fastening his trousers. She dipped her hands in the water bucket and then shook them out.
Danny’s head popped around the curtain. “Imo, you want to do another?” He held up a gold sovereign. Imo grinned and nodded. A fool and his money...
A disheveled mess stumbled around the corner. He reeked of opium. His eyes were bloodshot. Imo sensed that she had seen him before. Maybe on the docks. Any man flashing gold coins would get her best jack-a-nanny. Danny wasn’t going to turn the money down either. In that, they were in complete accord.
“Come here, darling,” he said as he fumbled with his trousers. “Put those pretty li
ps to good use, hmmm.”
“You only get hands.”
“Fuck I will. Get over here. I paid for a whore. A whore is what I’ll get.”
Imo dodged his lunging embrace. “Danny?”
Danny came around the corner along with another man. One she recognized. Danny shrugged, but his look said they have money, so why not take it?
“Jack, this bitch won’t give me what I paid for.”
Jack touched Danny’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.” He strode toward his friend. “Shiffington, you only paid for a grope. Let her get to work.” He glared at her as if he couldn’t believe she did such things.
“A hand job? I gave the bitch a full guinea. I want more.” Shiffington rubbed at his cock still hidden behind the material of his breeches. He stumbled over his feet and into Jack.
“You’d better take what she gives you. I don’t think she likes being kept waiting.”
Imo kept her gaze away from Jack. His friend worked for a few minutes and then dislodged the partially tumescent piece of flesh.
“Do you mind if I watch?” Jack asked. The underlying anger was not lost on Imogene. His gaze bore into hers and Imo was just disturbed enough to let him see what her life was like. Did he think he was the only man she’d ever pleasured?
“You have to pay my brother for anything, including the sideshow. See him.”
The moment Jack turned away, Imo backed his friend up against the wall, fearful he would take a fall. She reached for the sensitive flesh and started the quick work. She didn’t know if the opium made a difference.
“Ah. She has nice hands, Jack.” Shiffington giggled like a schoolboy. His fingers skated through her hair. “I’d like to fuck you too.” He slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her close. He pressed his mouth to hers, but Imo kept her lips sealed tight.
“Is she giving it for free, Shiffington?” Jack asked as he pushed back the blanket. Frank and Danny were nowhere in sight.
“Oh, come on, Jack, let me have some fun. Pay her more—I want to fuck her from behind. Pretend she’s a boy while I’m doing it. I’d let you watch.”
“Ask her. Maybe she’ll cooperate with you.”
Jack’s words bit into her and she gave him a hard, meaningful frown. Pride pushed her to let his friend have her just to get that smug and angry look from Jack’s face.
“Sorry, mate. It’ll cost you more than you have in yer pockets, that’s for sure.”
“And I’ll bet she doesn’t take credit.”
“But if you got two more of those gold coins, I’ll take it in my mouth,” she said. “I do run a business here, such as it is.”
She worked the flesh in her hands. Jack didn’t take his eyes from her face.
“Faster, sweetheart,” his friend said.
He was going to land on his arse any minute. Imo squeezed the jewels between his legs and he drew a sharp breath between his teeth. He moaned and Imo felt the building tension in his body. A few more tugs and he came, shooting small jets as she stepped away from him. She wiped her hands on her trousers. “If that’s all, you can see your friend home.”
Jack smiled, one-sided and dangerous. “The night is still young.” He pulled his hand from his pocket and threw a few coins on the ground. “That should be good for a hand job.” He dropped more coins and Imo didn’t bother looking. “That for your mouth.” Another coin. “That to swallow. What else will you do for money, Imogene?”
Shiffington groaned and his head lolled to the side.
“Danny?” Imogene called.
“I paid them to wait outside. Seems greed runs in the family.”
“Look, you get what everyone else gets. Nothing more.”
“You’ve gotten selfish.” He stepped closer. Imo held her ground. The weight of his hands on her shoulders pressed her down until she was on her knees, sinking into the soft dirt and sawdust. She hated what Jack made her feel. Dirty and low on the one hand. Powerful and desirable on the other. Men came to her because they wanted something. Just like Imo couldn’t explain it, she doubted this man could explain why he seemed to want it from her when any other girl would have done just as well.
A small purse appeared in his hand. He dumped those coins on the ground too. A few of the coins clinked as they landed on top of the others.
“Take off your shirt, Imogene. I want to see what I’ve purchased.”
If those coins were shillings, there were a least twenty. If they were crowns, she’d do as he asked. If they were guineas, she’d know he was mad-arse crazy.
She hadn’t worn her jacket nor her bindings. Without a second thought, she lifted the shirt over her head, suddenly anxious for Jack’s eyes to feast on the big tits that caused her such grief.
The candle burned a few feet away, casting a light on the right side, exposing that breast, while the rest of her seemed to be hidden.
Just as she reacted to his demand, he reacted to the sight of her. Her gaze was eye-level with his groin. His cock was already long and hard inside his breeches.
“I’ve paid you. Get to work,” he said. His voice sounded raspy and breathless. One of his hands fell to her shoulder.
Imo reached for the fasteners of the fall and slipped the carved wooden buttons through the tiny holes. She peeled back the flap and lowered the trousers around his thighs. His cock surged outward—unruly, disobedient, anxious. Large.
His legs were covered with dark hair and the black thatch between his legs was partially hidden by the hem of his shirt.
It wasn’t going to take long. She could see the tension in his body.
She used her fingers to lightly stroke and coerce his cooperation. She rolled the flesh between her palms and cupped the balls beneath. She glanced upward. His gaze was fixed on her hands. One hand held the trousers, preventing them from falling to the ground. The fingers of his other hand caressed her skin.
His cock was as long as any she’d seen, and hard like a piece of maple. Why wasn’t he coming? Imo used her best tricks, the things that made her clients think a penny was too much for the short amount of pleasure.
Another glance at his expression told her he was doing all he could to prevent his release. The way he gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. And his lower body, legs braced wide, tense beneath her grip.
Imo knew the source of her power. It was in the female form and all that a man wanted was in that body. Her body.
She leaned forward, opened her mouth and wrapped her lips over the tip of his cock. He moaned deep and she felt the first crack in his control. He’d be giving it all up soon.
Her hands slipped over the taut skin of his hips, sliding back toward the hard rounded cheeks of his arse. She pulled him forward and angled her throat to take him all, breathing and swallowing at the right time to prevent her gagging.
“Imogene,” he said. His voice sounded strangled and hoarse as if he couldn’t breathe or function. His body bucked under her hands and she felt him pick up the rhythm. Imo wasn’t going to give him everything she had. She wanted him to spill and leave. Tonight was just one more lesson in why it was foolish to dream. His actions were no different from another client. This one just happened to have money.
Imo wanted to show him what a whore she could be. Her fingers crept along the crack between the two hard mounds of his arse. Worry that she’d do it wrong almost stopped her. Maybe she would do it wrong just to make him go away. She used her middle finger, the longest. Searching, she found the puckered hole. He tensed. She breathed fully at the same time she took him all.
Pressing in past the tight ring, her finger sank as deep as she could push. It wasn’t easy and then she remembered she was supposed to wet her finger first.
Jack gasped and bent forward, both hands grasping her shoulders. Her finger slid deeper with his movement.
“Imogene,” he gasped again. His cock surged into her and once again the warmth of his semen coated the back of her throat.
She thought he was done until his h
and reached behind her and forced her finger deeper. His chest heaved and he pulled his cock from her mouth. “Lie back,” he whispered.
Imo frowned. It was only a short step to penetration. He could do it with her under him. She couldn’t fight him, but wasn’t sure she wanted to. One hand cupped under her arm. He both forced and lowered her to her back, all the while her finger still intruded into his body. Jack straddled her high and his thick cock landed between her breasts.
“Don’t move. Put another finger in if you can.” As the second digit eased in, he took several small breaths. He let her hand go and reached for her breasts, pressing them together around his cock before he started a fast surge between the fleshy globes. It seemed natural for her to mimic his movements. She was surprised by the tight clenching over her finger. His eyes rolled back. He cursed.
Then he spilled copious amounts of messy fluid all over her breasts. He braced his hands on the dirty floor. He gasped and jerked again as she eased her fingers from his body.
His eyes were closed. “Imogene, let me teach you. Let me keep you for a month. I’ll take care of you. I can give you the same kind of pleasure you’ve given me.”
When his eyes opened, he stared down at her, his hair tumbled over his forehead, his nostrils still flared from erratic breathing that only now seemed to slow as he spoke.
“These coins are nothing compared to what I can give you.”
She didn’t know why she hesitated. All Danny had said about her secret dreams was true. Only none of that was what she really wanted. She wanted Mam. She wanted the safety and security she knew as a child. She wanted to marry and have pink-cheeked children.
She didn’t want to be used, even if it meant pleasure and money.
She didn’t want to be discarded afterward without a second thought. For once she let go of what little innocence she had left, her life would be one long misery wrapped up into a few cruel years before she died.
“No. You got what you paid for.”
“I’m willing to pay for more.”
He regained control and his face had returned to the stoic, serious demeanor. There was no reason for him to be angry with her. He’d been well pleasured. Very well, she knew, even with her limited experience.
