by Sarah Lark
Most of the men were already lightly swaying when Daphne finally reappeared and invited the company upstairs. But none of them were drunk enough not to notice Lucas’s absence if doubts were raised about him. And then Daphne kept resting her eyes on him.
The girl led the men into a salon decorated with plush furniture and diminutive tables that would have looked vulgar in any setting. Four girls clad in elaborate negligees were awaiting them there, as well as Madame Jolanda, of course—a short, fat woman with cold eyes who, before anything else, took a dollar from every man. “Then at least no one will run away before he’s paid,” she explained calmly.
Lucas paid his dollar, gnashing his teeth. Soon there would be nothing left of his week’s pay.
Daphne led him to one of the red seats and pushed another glass of whiskey into his hand.
“All right, stranger, how can I make you happy?” she said breathily. She had been the only girl not wearing a negligee, but now undid her bodice as though unintentionally. “Do you like me? But I’ll warn you: I glow red like fire! I’ve already set fire to a few.” As she spoke, she brushed her long strands of hair across his face.
Lucas did not react.
“No?” whispered Daphne. “Afraid? Tsk, tsk. Well, fine, maybe the other elements are more your thing. We have something for everyone. Fire, air, water, earth…” One after the other, she gestured to three of the girls, who were busy at work on the other men at the moment. The first was a pale, almost ethereal-looking creature with straight, pale blonde hair. Her limbs were petite, she was almost skin and bones, but he could detect big breasts beneath her thin shirt. Lucas found that repulsive. He would never be able to overcome his distaste and make love to this girl. A blonde dressed in blue with topaz-colored eyes embodied the element “water.” She appeared quite lively and was joking with the obviously enthusiastic Norman. “Earth” was a brown-skinned girl with black tresses, without a doubt the most exotic creature in Madame Jolanda’s collection, if not exactly pretty. Her facial features made her look tough, and her body was stocky. She nevertheless appeared to be charming the man she was flirting with just then. As he so often did, Lucas marveled at the criteria other men used to select their partners. Daphne was the prettiest of the girls, and Lucas knew he should have felt flattered that she had chosen him. If only she aroused him even a tiny bit, perhaps if she…
“Tell me, don’t you have anything younger to offer?” Lucas asked finally. He did not like the way that came out, but if he wanted to save face tonight, he had the best chance with a slender, boyish girl.
“Even younger than me?” Daphne asked, blown away. She was right; she was a mere child herself. Lucas guessed she was nineteen at most. Before he could answer, though, she looked him over with a careful eye.
“Now I know where I’ve seen you before! You’re the fellow who ran away from the whaler. While the fat queer, that Copper, was ordering a bath for you and him. I could have laughed myself half to death—there’s no way that guy had ever come into contact with soap before! So the love was unrequited, eh…but you do prefer boys, right?”
Lucas’s blushing saved him from having to answer her half question, half assertion.
Daphne smiled—a little deviously but also with understanding. “Your fine friends don’t know it, is that it? And you don’t want to stand out. Pay attention, my friend, I have something for you. No, not a boy, we don’t have any of those. But something special—but for looking only, the girls aren’t for sale. Interested?”
“In…what?” Lucas stammered. Daphne’s offer seemed to be giving him a way out. Something special, prestigious, that did not require him to sleep with anyone? Lucas’s only misgiving was that the rest of his pay would likely disappear for this.
“It’s a sort of…well, erotic dance. Two very young girls, barely fifteen. Twins. I promise you: you’ve never seen anything like it.”
Lucas gave himself over to fate. “How much?” he forced himself to ask.
“Two dollars,” Daphne declared quickly. “One for each of the girls. And the one you’ve already paid for me. I don’t leave the girls alone with the men, you see.”
Lucas cleared his throat. “They…ahem, they’re not in any danger with me.”
Daphne laughed. Lucas was amazed at how young and tinkling it sounded. “I believe you there. Fine, I’ll make an exception. Don’t have any money, is that right? Left everything on the Pretty Peg? You’re a real hero! But now off you go, room one. I’ll send for the girls. And I’ll see to it myself that I make Uncle Norman a happy man.”
She sauntered over to Norman and made the blonde-haired “water” girl look instantly shabby. Daphne was, without question, radiant—but what was more, she had something approaching style.
Lucas entered room one, which confirmed his expectations. The room was furnished like a third-rate hotel with a great deal of plush, a wide bed…was he supposed to stretch himself out on it? Or would that scare the girls? Lucas ultimately settled in a plush chair, partly because the bed did not look very trustworthy to him. After all, he had only just gotten rid of the fleas from the Pretty Peg.
The arrival of the twins announced itself with murmuring and admiring calls from the “salon,” which the girls had to cross to reach his room. Apparently, it was considered a luxury—and no doubt a special honor—when one was allowed to order the twins. Then again, Daphne had left no doubt that the girls were under her protection.
The twins seemed to find the attention embarrassing, though an additional mantle hid their bodies from the men’s prurient gazes. They slipped into the room, cleaving to one another, and lifted the giant hood beneath which they had hidden their heads until they felt they were safe. As safe as this place got.
They kept their blonde heads lowered; presumably they usually remained that way until Daphne entered to introduce them. Since that was not the case today, one of them looked up. Lucas found himself looking into a narrow face with mistrustful light-blue eyes.
“Good evening, sir. We feel honored that you’ve requested us,” she said, obviously reciting a well-rehearsed speech. “I’m Mary.”
“And I’m Laurie,” the second one explained. “Daphne told us you…”
“I’ll only watch you, no need to worry,” Lucas said kindly. He would never have touched these children, though in one respect they certainly met his expectations: as Mary and Laurie let their mantle fall to the floor, standing there naked as God made them, he saw how boyishly slender they were.
“I hope you enjoy our presentation,” Laurie said politely, taking her sister’s hand. It was a reassuring gesture, more of a search for protection than the beginning of a sexual show. Lucas wondered how these girls had fallen into this line of work.
The girls moved to the bed but did not slip between the sheets. Instead, they knelt before each other and began to embrace and kiss each other. Over the next half hour, Lucas saw gestures and positions that alternatingly made him blush and made his blood run cold. The things the girls did with each other were the height of impropriety. But Lucas did not find it revolting. It reminded him too much of his own dreams of uniting with a body that mirrored his own—a loving union of dignity and mutual respect. Lucas did not know whether the girls derived any pleasure from their obscene acts but could not imagine that they did. Yet there was undoubtedly love in the looks the sisters gave each other, and tenderness inherent in their touches. Their erotic performance had a confusing effect on the observer—as time went on, the boundaries between their bodies seemed to blur; the girls looked so similar that at one point they gave rise to the illusion they were a single dancing goddess with four arms and two heads. Lucas remembered seeing pictures of such a thing from the Crown Colony of India. Though he preferred drawing girls to making love to them, he found the sight strangely alluring. There was something almost artistic about their dance. The two of them finally froze in a tight embrace on the bed and did not release one another until Lucas applauded.
Laurie cas
t a searching gaze at the fly of his pants when she came out of her trance.
“Did you enjoy it?” she asked anxiously when she noticed that Lucas’s fly was still done and that his face showed no sign of his having masturbated. “We…we could touch you too, but…”
The girl’s expression showed that she would not be enthusiastic about it, but there must have been men who asked for their money back if they did not reach climax.
“Though Daphne usually does that,” Mary added.
Lucas shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. I very much enjoyed your dance. Like Daphne said—it was something very special. But how did you end up doing this? One doesn’t expect to see something like that in establishments like this.”
The girls sighed with relief as they wrapped themselves up in their mantle again, but they remained seated on the edge of the bed. Apparently, they no longer viewed Lucas as a threat.
“Oh it was Daphne’s idea,” Laurie informed him freely. The two girls had sweet, twittering voices—another sign that they had hardly grown out of adolescence.
“We had to earn money,” Mary continued. “But we didn’t want to…we couldn’t…it is sinful to lie with a man for money, you know.”
Lucas wondered if they had also learned that from Daphne. However, they did not seem to actually subscribe to this belief themselves.
“Though it is necessary sometimes,” Laurie defended her colleague. “But Daphne says you have to be grown up for that. Only—Madame Jolanda didn’t think so, and so…”
“So Daphne found something in one of her books. A weird book full of…dirty things. But Madame Jolanda says that where the book comes from it’s not sinful if you…”
“And what we do isn’t sinful anyway!” Mary said with conviction.
“You are good girls,” Lucas agreed. He suddenly wanted to know more about them. “Where are you from? Daphne isn’t your sister, is she?”
Laurie was about to answer, but the door opened just then and Daphne entered. She looked visibly relieved when she saw that the girls were covered and having a relaxed conversation with their strange customer.
“Were you happy with it?” she asked, likewise with the apparently unavoidable look at Lucas’s fly.
Lucas nodded. “Your wards have done a fine job of entertaining me,” he said. “And they were just about to tell me where they were from. You all ran away from somewhere, isn’t that right? Or do your parents know what you’re doing here?”
Daphne shrugged. “Depends on what you believe. If my mom and theirs are sitting on a cloud in heaven playing the harp, I suppose they should be able to see us. But if they ended up where our kind usually ends up, then they’re only looking at the radishes from below.”
“Your parents are all dead,” Lucas said, ignoring her cynicism. “I’m sorry about that. But how exactly did you end up here?”
Daphne straightened herself up confidently before him. “Now listen, Luke, or whatever your name is. If there’s one thing we don’t like, it’s prying questions. Understood?”
Lucas wanted to reply that he meant no harm. On the contrary, he had been considering how he might be able to help them out of the miserable situation they had landed themselves in. Laurie and Mary were not whores yet, and for a capable and obviously smart girl like Daphne, there had to be alternatives. But at the moment, he was as penniless as the three girls—perhaps more so since Daphne and the twins had earned three dollars—and he imagined that the greedy Jolanda would probably leave them no more than one.
So Lucas merely said, “Sorry. I did not mean to offend you. Listen, I…I need a place to sleep tonight. I can’t stay here. As inviting as the rooms are.” With a broad sweep of his hand, he indicated Madame Jolanda’s hourly hotel, at which Daphne laughed her bell-like laugh and the twins giggled cautiously. “But that would be out of my price range. Is there a place in the stables or something else along those lines?”
“You don’t want to return to the seal banks?” Daphne asked, surprised.
Lucas shook his head. “I’m looking for a less bloody job. Someone told me the carpenters are hiring.”
Daphne cast a glance at Lucas’s slender hands, which, it’s true, were less manicured than the month before, but were still less callused and rough than Norman’s or Copper’s.
“Then just be careful you don’t hit yourself too often on the finger,” she said. “Hammers draw more blood from fingers than clubs from seals—your pelt just happens to be less valuable, my friend.”
Lucas had to laugh. “I’ll look after myself, thank you. As long as the fleas don’t suck out what’s left of my blood. Am I mistaken or is this place crawling with them too?” He scratched himself unabashedly on the shoulder—which, naturally, a gentleman would never do, but gentlemen also did not spend so much time grappling with insects.
Daphne shrugged. “Must be from the salon. Room one is clean since we clean it. After all, it would be distracting if the twins left their show covered in pustules. That’s why we don’t let any of the filthy fellows sleep here, regardless of what they pay. Your best bet would be to try the rental stables. That’s where a lot of the boys who are passing through sleep. And David keeps it neat. I think you’ll like him. But don’t pervert him!”
With those words, Daphne left her guest and shooed the twins from the room. Lucas stayed a little longer. After all, the men outside were expecting him to have been busy with girls and he would need some time to get dressed now. When he finally reentered the salon, a few cheers issued from several drunken throats. Norman raised his glass and drank to him.
“There you have it. Our Luke! Does it with the three best girls and comes out looking like he just hatched from the egg. Did I hear some something going on in there? Pardon yourselves right quick, boys, before he steals your girls too.”
10
Lucas let them cheer a little longer before leaving the pub for the rental stables. Daphne had not oversold the place. The business made a tidy impression. Naturally, it smelled of horses, but the path between the stalls had been swept clean, the horses stood in boxes generously strewn with hay, and the saddles and bridles in the tack room were old but well maintained. A single stable lantern bathed the interior in weak light—enough to orient himself by and to see to the horses at night, but not bright enough to bother the animals.
Lucas looked around for a place to sleep, but he seemed to be the only overnight guest. He was considering making camp without asking around. But then a high-pitched voice, more fearful than authoritative, sounded through the dark stables: “Who’s there? State your name and what you want, stranger!”
Lucas raised his arms nervously. “Luke…uh…Denward. I have no bad intentions, I’m just looking for a place to sleep. And this girl, Miss Daphne, said…”
“We let people sleep here who have put up their horses here,” the voice answered, coming closer. Its owner finally appeared. A blond boy, perhaps sixteen years old, stretched his neck over the wall of one of the stalls. “But you don’t have a horse.”
Lucas nodded. “That’s right. But I could still pay a few cents. And I don’t need a whole stall either. A corner would do.”
The boy nodded. “How’d you get here without a horse, sir?” he asked curiously, stepping around to reveal himself entirely. He was tall but gangly, and his face still looked childlike. Lucas gazed into the boy’s bright round eyes, whose color he could not make out in the dim light. The boy seemed open and friendly.
“I came from the seal banks,” Lucas said, as though this were an explanation for how someone had crossed the mountains without a mount. But maybe the boy could figure out for himself that his guest must have arrived by ship. Lucas hoped that this did not make him think right away of the Pretty Peg’s deserter.
“Were you hunting seals? I tried to do that once; you earn a lot of money for it. But I couldn’t do it…the way the things look at a guy…”
Lucas’s heart warmed.
“That’s
exactly why I’m looking for another job,” he explained.
The young boy nodded. “You can help the carpenters or the lumberjacks. There’s certainly enough work. I’ll take you along on Monday. I’m also working construction.”
“I thought you were the stable boy here.” Lucas was surprised. “What’s your name? David?”
The boy shrugged. “That’s what they call me. My name is actually Steinbjörn. Steinbjörn Sigleifson. But no one here can pronounce it. So that girl, Daphne, just started calling me David. After David Copperfield. I think he wrote a book or something.”
Lucas smiled, once more astonished by Daphne. A barmaid who read Dickens?
“And where do people name their children ‘Steinbjörn Sigleifson’?” Lucas inquired. David had been leading him to a shed, which he had made habitable. Straw bales served as tables and chairs, and hay had been piled into a sort of shelf. More hay lay in a corner, and David indicated to Lucas that he should use it for a bed.
“In Iceland,” he replied, helping Lucas energetically. “That’s where I come from. My father was a whaler. But my mother, who was Irish, always wanted to leave. She would have liked nothing more than to return to her island, but then her family immigrated to New Zealand. So she wanted to come here because she couldn’t stand the weather in Iceland anymore; it’s always dark, always cold…she got sick and died on the boat on the way here. On a sunny day. That was important to her, I think.” David wiped his eyes furtively.
“But your father was still around?” Lucas asked amiably, spreading out his sleeping bag.
David nodded. “But not for long. When he heard that there was whaling here too, it lit a fire under him. We left Christchurch for the West Coast, and he signed on straightaway with the next whaler. He wanted to take me along as a half-deck boy, but they didn’t need one. So that was that.”
