Tender Torment

by Jane Archer

  "Jarmon," Alexandra said softly.

  Madame LeBlanc's eyes widened, showing more emotion over this one word than anything else Alexandra had said. "Jarmon! Did you say Jarmon?"

  "Yes, that's the family name. I believe they have a plantation, or did before the war."

  Madame LaBlanc smiled, a gleam in her eyes, and said, "Oh yes, they did and still do. I know the Jarmons well, quite well, especially the two sons."

  "Really?" Alexandra asked, feeling relief flood through her, the mention of two sons not registering. "Are they in New Orleans? Could I see them soon?"

  Madame LeBlanc raised her hand to stop the flood of questions. "They live on their plantation now. I do not see the Jarmon boys as much now as I once did, but that is as it all is. The war has left nothing the same," she said sadly. "We all do what we must to survive."

  Alexandra looked into her eyes, now dark liquid pools of sadness, and said, "I'm sorry. I-"

  "No, mademoiselle. It is all over now. Our wounds will heal, or we will die, as our South has died."

  Alexandra did not know what to say. She had never thought much of the South after the end of the war. It obviously was dreadful for the Southerners and she only now began to realize it. They really hadn't been affected in the North, except that business had boomed, especially her shipping firm. There was no end to the North's need of ships, and her fortune had increased greatly during that time. But these poor people had been left with little when it was all over. She dreaded to see the once magnificent plantation. Would it be in ruins? But at least she knew the Jarmons were still alive.

  "Now, do you want to rejoin your companions here in New Orleans—those from whom you were lost last night?"

  Alexandra knew the madame hadn't believed her and it was a weak story anyway, so she said, "I came alone. I lost all my trunks in a storm near the Bahamas."

  This time Alexandra saw a sparkle of deep interest in Madame LeBlanc's eyes instead of disbelief. She said, "Wanda mentioned that your name was Lannie, but it is not, is it?"

  "No, it's Alexandra, or Alex if you prefer."

  Madame LeBlanc smiled like a contented cat, and Alexandra began to feel alarmed.

  "Alexandra, of course. This grows more interesting all the time, mademoiselle. You say you want to visit the Jarmons, but they are not your kin?"

  Alexandra did not want to tell her more, but she felt that the woman would not help her if she didn't give her some type of story. "As I said, they are related to an old friend of mine who died recently. I decided to come here to visit them and tell them of his death."

  "Just which of the Jarmons did you plan to visit?"

  Madame LeBlanc was making this difficult, Alexandra thought, but surely the woman had no way of learning her true identity by this little bit of information. "Well, I'm planning to visit Eleanor Jarmon and her son, Jacob Jarmon."

  Madame LeBlanc smiled, a self-satisfied movement of her lips. "So you are Alexandra who appeared in New Orleans last evening on your way to visit Eleanor and Jacob Jarmon. Ma chère, you positively have made my day, my week, my lifetime." Her eyes glowed with something Alexandra could not define, and she grew more apprehensive.

  Would a woman like this help her? Had she ever helped anyone except herself? She must get to the Jarmon plantation with or without Madame LeBlanc's assistance.

  "Yes, that is all true. I must see them soon. I will be fine if you will tell me where their plantation is."

  Madame LeBlanc laughed, a tinkling sound that chilled Alexandra. "Ma chère, you obviously have lived in a city all your life. You have no idea of the acres and acres that a plantation can cover and the miles that you must travel to get there. Also, there are all kinds of riffraff roaming the area. You could not possibly walk that distance by foot, even if you were properly attired, and you could not hope to arrive there unmolested, if alive."

  Alexandra blanched, having been unaware of the facts. Was it really so bad in the South? If only she could send for money, then all her problems would be solved.

  "I had no idea."

  "Obviously. Now what will you do for me if I help you get to the Jarmon plantation?"

  Alexandra's face turned even paler, her eyes grew wide, but not in fright. She hadn't realized that she must pay this woman for her help, but of course, she would want that.

  "I have no money now, but when I get some I could repay you."

  Madame LeBlanc sniffed. "That will never do, ma chère. I will not have you in my debt—that would not be profitable."

  "I'm sorry, but I have nothing, absolutely nothing now."

  "You are no virgin, are you?"

  "No. I've been raped," Alexandra said slowly, afraid of what she would hear next.

  "Wanda told me that you were very popular at the dance-house last night, but that you sold yourself to no one later. That's really not smart, cherie, but you obviously have much to learn."

  "I'm not a harlot."

  Madame LeBlanc smiled, then said, "Don't be absurd, chérie. All women are, even if they are married. Women sell their bodies for many things, they have no choice, but we professionals sell our wares for cash. It is an infinitely better situation, I believe."

  Alexandra tried to keep her surprise to herself, but she could see that Madame LeBlanc had read her expressive face. It was a viewpoint she had never thought of before, but perhaps this woman was right. If she had married Stan Lewis, he would have taken her body and in exchange she would have had security, children, no worries. But she didn't want a marriage like that, although she knew that a lot of women did, indeed, marry men for their money, their position, what they could do for them. But did they have a choice? She was lucky to have a fortune that allowed her freedom from necessity. She wanted to marry for love, and if she couldn't, she would never marry at all. In love, there was only giving and receiving, and that was the way it should be.

  "I'd never thought of it like that," Alexandra said finally.

  "You're not married?"

  "No."

  "Good. I don't propose that you play the harlot while in my house unless you want to, only come there, stay a few days, and entertain. Nothing lewd, of course, but surely you sing, play the piano. We are very discreet in my house. You would have no troubles with the men. They would simply admire you and word of your extreme beauty and unusual hair would quickly pass through New Orleans. It would bring more business my way. That would pay me, and then we could see that you had a decent gown and underthings to wear when you go to the Jarmons. I would send you in my personal carriage.

  "Now, that is a good deal. You would be foolish to turn it down. After all, you've been raped already, spent the night dancing in Gallatin Street. You would only end up there again tonight and perhaps worse would befall you. And the church? They would not even let a woman who looked like you past the doors. The government? You would be raped there most likely. You see, cherie, my offer is very good, even if I asked you to work one of the rooms for a few nights. What do you say?"

  Alexandra did not have to think long on it. Singing in a brothel was unbelievable to her, but it was infinitely better than another night on Gallatin Street. And she believed Madame LeBlanc about the church and government. Besides, how could she possibly arrive at the Jarmon plantation in her condition? The decision was out of her hands.

  "I accept your offer. I do sing and play the piano, but unfortunately the songs I know will be Yankee songs."

  Madame LeBlanc laughed. Her dark, intelligent eyes roamed over Alexandra, considering the possibilities as she said, "Perfect. You don't really think Southern gentlemen, what there are left of them, could afford LeBlanc's girls? Hardly. We cater to Yankees, cherie, and are well paid for it."

  "Oh, I hadn't realized."

  "The Yankees have been here a long time. We are used to their ways, although they will never be accepted."

  Alexandra nodded, lowering her eyes as she realized that she was one of the hated Yankees. When she looked up there was a large black man dre
ssed in livery standing beside their table. He bowed briefly to both women.

  Madame LeBlanc glanced at him, then said to Alexandra, "This is my driver, Jonah. He will escort you to my carriage. Wait there for me. I will be with you shortly."

  Alexandra stood up, feeling completely lost, and walked ahead of the huge, dark man with as much dignity as her clothing would allow. The carriage was sumptuous, expensive, and surprisingly not garish. The driver held the door open for her to enter and she sank gratefully down into the cushions.

  Chapter 11

  Relaxing in a hot, steaming bath, Alexandra felt as if she might really be alive after all. She made no attempt to wash herself yet. She had no desire to move any part of her body. All she wanted to do was rest and let the water erase all the pain and memories of her recent past. Of course, she knew the memories would still be with her, but the hot bath was helping to ease the pain of them.

  She let her eyes roam around the sumptuously appointed bedroom. The fireplace and mantel were of white marble, and the furniture, upholstered in rep and damask, was of highly polished solid black walnut, as was all of the woodwork. The floors were covered by richly colored Oriental carpets. The hangings of the huge bed, even the mosquito bar, were of lace, and an exquisite basket of flowers hung suspended from the tester of the bed. Around the walls were suspended chaste and costly oil paintings. It was a magnificent, although gaudy, room. Alexandra had never seen its like before, but was well aware that it must have cost a small fortune.

  She sighed, hardly able to believe that she was actually in a brothel, a bordello, an assignation house, whatever one wanted to call it. She was actually in a place where women sold their bodies for money. Of course, they had done the same in the dance house, but there, it had been a different atmosphere entirely. Madame LeBlanc had explained on the way from the coffee house that she ran an expensive brothel of extreme elegance and formality. She encouraged only high-class trade and rowdies who occasionally invaded the house were promptly ejected. Her girls wore evening dresses, and bawdy talk and behavior were not allowed. Her girls were all ladies and they were treated as such. She also explained that she depended principally on the carpetbag politicians for her business, and while they bled the city, she was making her money from them. It was the only way to survive the aftermath of the Civil War.

  Alexandra had never before realized that such a life for women really existed, or at least it had never seemed so real before, and when explained from Madame LeBlanc's viewpoint, she could understand why some women had turned to this trade to survive. Had many of them really been given another choice? With so many of the men dead after the war, and probably a lot of the women raped, the women were left with no way to survive without a man to support them. Some Lad been forced to turn to the oldest profession. Alexandra realized that in her own case, if she had not had her own money, after being raped, she might have made the same choice. If a woman was not a virgin, she had no chance to marry.

  As the water began to cool, Alexandra ran the scented soap over her body, reveling in the simplicity of being clean once more. She had never realized what a luxury it could be. As she washed her arms and legs, she noticed scratches and bruises turning purple on her pale skin. Gallatin Street had left its mark on her both emotionally and physically, and it would be some time before she was free of its reminders.

  She washed her hair thoroughly, lingering over the marvelous feeling of suds in her hair. Finally, when she felt clean, she rinsed, then picked up the soft linen and wrapped it around herself as she stepped from the gilded tub. As she began to rub herself dry, the door opened and Madame LeBlance walked into the room. Alexandra hurriedly covered her body, embarrassed by her own nakedness.

  Madame LeBlanc stopped a short distance from her, smiling as she said, "You shouldn't be so shy, Alexandra. A body is a beautiful work of art. You should be willing and happy to share what is your gift to the world."

  Alexandra smiled back, amazed that this woman's viewpoint could be so different from everything she had been led to believe and yet still make sense. "I'm just not used to being naked with others."

  "Well, you must grow up. Now, remove that cloth so I can see your body."

  Alexandra timidly removed the fabric and held it away from her, embarrassed as the madame's experienced eyes looked her over as one might check a horse for sale. She felt a sudden stab of apprehension, but pushed it from her mind.

  "Lovely, truly lovely, chérie. You could make a fortune if you decided to work here. You could command the highest price—at least twenty dollars an hour. You have so much class, so much style. You are a rare beauty all over, Alexandra. It's a pity that you're ashamed of the idea of using your body, but perhaps you'll change your mind," she said, her eyes hard as bits of coal.

  "I, I don't think so, Madame LeBlanc, although I thank you for the compliments."

  "Hmm, yes, well, we'll see. Now, I must find you something to wear tonight. The men will begin arriving soon and I would like you to entertain them later. You are in my suite, but I will find you a small room later where you may sleep—alone."

  Alexandra began rubbing her hair dry as the madame threw open the doors to her wardrobe, revealing rows of expensive evening gowns. Alexandra thought back to Captain Sully's words that an expensive whore must have a fine ward- robe. At the time she did not understand his reasoning, but it was all painfully clear now. And although she might try to understand this business, she could never become a part of it, she knew.

  Flipping through the gowns, Madame LeBlanc pulled out a soft green one. "I believe this will fit," she said. "I keep gowns in several sizes in case a girl arrives just as you have. One must always be prepared." She laid the gown on her bed, then went over to pull out sheer silk underthings, hose, and finally a pair of green slippers. Placing everything on the bed, she turned back to Alexandra and said, "Would you like me to help you dress, or shall I send in a maid?"

  "I believe I can do it myself," Alexandra said, wanting to be alone.

  "All right, chérie. I will send a small tray of food up to you. You will be drinking later and I don't wish you to become sick or tipsy. When you have eaten and dressed, please join us below. And don't be afraid. It should be an interesting experience for you."

  Alexandra lifted her chin, determined to make the best of the situation and determined not to act like a child again. Smiling, she nodded at Madame LeBlanc and said, "I appreciate your hospitality and I will enjoy the evening, I'm sure."

  Madame LeBlanc laughed shortly. "I believe you would make a renowned lady of the night, Alexandra, if you would unbend some. One must take their pleasures where one can and inhibitions only prevent this. I'll look forward to seeing you later," she said softly in her emotionless voice, then shut the door tightly behind her, leaving Alexandra alone.

  Shivering in the cool air, Alexandra began to dress. The undergarments were very risque and the chemise was cut low, barely covering her nipples. Alexandra walked over to the full length mirror and looked at herself. Her thick, curling hair fell all around her in disarray and with the transparent chemise, she looked too sensual to be a lady, yet her bearing demanded respect. Alexandra sighed as thoughts of Jake suddenly came to mind. What would he do if he saw her dressed like this, in a room like this? She laughed, a soft low sound. There was no doubt what he would do. Shivers ran over her body as she recalled Jake's hands on her, his mouth, his hard body pressed to hers. He had awakened something in her that she had not known existed and now, now she wanted more.

  Thrusting these thoughts from mind, she walked hastily back to the bed and pulled the soft, green silk gown down over her body, pulling it into place. It fit like a second skin, clinging to her soft curves. Fastening the bodice, she walked back to the mirror. She was amazed at what she saw.

  There was no young, innocent girl looking back at her, but a woman, with a woman's hips and breasts, full and soft and inviting. Madame LeBlanc certainly knew what she was about, Alexandra decided as she
put on the soft slippers.

  A timid knock came at the door, and a young, tawny-colored Negro girl walked in, carrying a tray. Her eyes grew large at the sight of Alexandra in her clinging green dress. She hesitated, then said as she set the tray down, "You're sure the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

  Alexandra laughed. "Thank you. Do you, uh, work here, too?"

  The girl's eyes grew wider. "No, ma'am. White women and dark women can't work in the same house. Madame LeBlanc says that soon I'll be able to work the men at one of the other houses. I think she'll teach me when it's time."

  And before Alexandra could say another word, the young girl was gone.

  A mere child and already she plans to become a whore, Alexandra thought in amazement. And the girl was pleased, proud. But then, what kind of life would she have otherwise? Alexandra shook her head, very much aware of the different world she had entered.

  Looking at the food, she realized that the coffee and pastries had long since left her and she was ravenous again. Raising the silver covers on the expensive dishes, Alexandra saw a feast that would have delighted even the most snobbish of women. Madame LeBlanc must have a very fine French chef indeed. As she ate, savoring the delicious French cuisine, Alexandra knew she was really very well off—her surroundings, the food, her clothing—were better than anything she had known of late. If she hadn't been in a brothel, she would be perfectly content until she could reach the Jarmon plantation.

  Finishing the delicious meal, Alexandra leaned back in the delicate chair, thinking that now she had no excuse not to join the others below. Standing up, she smoothed out her gown, and left the room. She entered a long, carpeted hall and followed it in the direction of low laughter, voices, and soft music. Stopping briefly on the landing, she gazed in wonder down into the foyer. There were two statues representing some obscure divinities holding lighted flambeaux. She continued down the stairs, her eyes roaming over the sumptuous interior of the house. She paused in the entrance to the drawing room, noting the expensive paintings in gilded frames, the plated mirrors, the delicately-tinted furniture.