by Joanna Shupe
Pleasure built as he continued to work that one spot. He didn’t let up, kissing her fiercely and rubbing between her legs until she whimpered, her muscles tightening. Then he slipped a finger inside her channel, filling her, his palm now pressing against the tiny nub begging for attention. She broke off from his mouth and sucked in air. It was all too much. Too strong, too fierce. Too glorious to resist. The orgasm overtook her then, starting at her toes and rushing up to sweep her away. Light burst behind her lids as her limbs shook, and her cries rang in her own ears.
When the trembling stopped, Frank withdrew his hand and returned to kissing her, but sweetly. He sipped at her lips and nipped gently with his teeth. “You are so beautiful right now,” he said. “And I’m not nearly done with you yet.”
Before she could inquire what he planned, he moved between her legs and dropped to his knees. He pushed her skirts higher and studied her sex like a starving man staring at cake. Was he . . . with his mouth? It should’ve been embarrassing but she felt incredibly powerful in that moment. This beautiful man desired her. Wished to please her. How had she gotten so lucky?
His hands glided over her thighs as he leaned in. “Have you changed your mind?”
He was close enough for his breath to tease her sensitive flesh. Tingles erupted under her skin and she clutched the edge of the table. She had no idea what was ahead but she didn’t wish to turn back now, not until she experienced all this entailed. “No.”
“Thank God.”
His mouth descended and his tongue swiped through the folds. He closed his eyes and groaned, almost as if he were in pain. “Fuck, that’s good.”
The profanity hardly registered, not when she was still reeling from that one lick. Good heavens, that was intense. She barely had time to recover before he did it again, the bliss stealing her breath. Leaning back, she braced herself on the table. Frank shifted slightly, settling in, and his hands slid under her bottom to hold her. Then he used his lips and mouth to taste her, the flat of his tongue scraping across the swollen tissues. She lost the ability to speak. Instead, she moaned and panted, barely able to focus under the onslaught of pleasure. At times, she wasn’t sure she would survive it.
When he sucked on the hard button at the top of her folds, she nearly came off the table. He held on to her, not letting her go as he continued to play her body masterfully. The buzz inside grew and grew, rising and expanding, more rapid than before, and soon she screamed out, another climax dragging her under.
She floated, unaware of her surroundings, wrapped in white-hot bliss, for what seemed an eternity. After returning to earth, she found herself lying on her back, the tin ceiling above her. Mercy, that had been unlike anything she imagined. I had been right to trust him.
Frank rose stiffly, his eyes screwed shut. His lips had compressed into a flat, white line. Was he all right? Concerned, she levered herself up. “Are you hurt?”
He grimaced. “Fine. I just . . .” He waved a hand in the direction of his groin and she understood. A large bulge pushed insistently against the cloth of his trousers. “Give me a moment.”
“Should I . . . ?” She hadn’t the first idea what to do, but shouldn’t he enjoy this encounter as well?
“No, absolutely not. Tonight was for your pleasure. I hope I was successful.”
Successful? She was a boneless mess, barely able to form words. “Yes, I quite enjoyed it.”
He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to wipe the inside of her thighs. Embarrassed, she tried to cover her legs with her skirts. “That’s not necessary.”
“Perhaps I’m not ready to do away with the view quite yet.”
The comment made her smile. “You may see it again. This needn’t be our only billiards game.”
He kissed her forehead. “Let me get you a hansom.”
They walked to the front entrance, Frank strangely silent. Was he struggling with his . . . frustration? She missed his teasing and sniping at her. Had their relationship changed for the worse after the evening’s intimacies? She hoped not. They should remain friends, at least.
After she’d donned her cloak, he left her in the vestibule to hail a hack on the street. She folded her hands and waited, the glow from their earlier encounter fading rapidly. Had something gone wrong? Had her inexperience offended him? Any previous rendezvous had been limited to kissing. Perhaps Frank had expected more from her?
No, he said tonight was about her. So what happened?
Perhaps she was imagining things.
He returned, not meeting her gaze as he held open the door. “Come on.”
A sleek black hansom waited at the curb. He escorted her along the walk and assisted her up the steps. When she settled inside, he picked up her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Thank you for tonight. There can be no further billiards games, however. Let’s consider this one a draw.”
Before she could speak, he closed the door with a snap and knocked on the side to signal the driver. The wheels began rolling, taking her away from his home and leaving Mamie to wonder just what she’d done wrong.
Frank rushed through the entrance of police headquarters. Barely thirty minutes ago he’d received a tip that Byrnes planned to interrogate Mrs. Porter. Based on previous experience, Frank knew Byrnes wouldn’t wait for Mrs. Porter’s attorney to be present for questioning, so he’d dropped everything and hurried downtown. He had to stop this before Mrs. Porter said something she’d later regret—or was physically harmed.
He darted by the front desk, ignoring the calls of the desk attendant, and went straight to the rooms where interrogations were conducted. After a few wrong doors, he finally found Mrs. Porter waiting in a room alone, her wrists chained to the table.
She looked up, her eyes wild and terrified, her hair mussed. When she recognized him, she slumped over the table. How long had she been here?
Closing the door, he crossed the room and knelt by her side. “Are you all right? Have they hurt you?”
“No,” she whispered, her forehead resting on the smooth wood. “But I’ve been here a long time.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. They brought me over from the prison this morning.”
Christ, it was afternoon. “And no one has been in to check on you?”
She shook her head. “They told me I had to wait until Byrnes arrives. Who is he, another lawyer?”
Anger tore through Frank with lightning speed. “He is the superintendent. He hopes to intimidate you, no doubt. Leaving you here to scare you into making a confession.”
“I didn’t say a word. I swear, Mr. Tripp.”
“I believe you. Now, let me retrieve a matron who can at least bring you food and take you to the facilities.”
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. “Thank you, Mr. Tripp.”
Frank went into the corridor and grabbed the first officer he found. “Bring a matron here now, before I—”
“Mr. Tripp, how nice of you to visit headquarters today.”
Superintendent Byrnes had rounded the corner and was flanked by several policemen. His cronies, no doubt, cops so corrupt they made Boss Tweed look angelic.
Frank pointed directly at Byrnes. “You are violating my client’s rights. I want a matron to see to Mrs. Porter in less than two minutes, or I will get a judge down here—an honest one.”
“Now, there’s no need for that. They were merely waiting on me. Due to some urgent police matters I was unable to arrive until now.”
What a fucking lie. Byrnes had come running the instant he heard Frank was in the building.
“Matron, Byrnes. Right now.”
The silence stretched as Byrnes studied Frank with flat, hard eyes. Frank didn’t back down, however. He was right—and Byrnes knew it.
Byrnes broke first. The superintendent looked away and jerked his chin at one of the junior officers. The officer hurried in the direction of the women’s wing. “There, I’ve summoned your matron. Let me speak wit
h your client and we’ll get her back to the Tombs.”
“You’re not going in there until she’s eaten and used the facilities.”
“We’re not runnin’ a hotel.” The officers surrounding Byrnes snickered at this. “She’s a murderer, Tripp, not the Queen of England.”
“Accused, Byrnes. And even so, you have no right to treat her worse than an animal.”
Byrnes took a few steps closer, so near that Frank could smell his foul breath. “Must be why all the ladies love you. Sneakin’ in and out of your big house at all hours. Wonder if their fancy fathers would approve?”
Frank froze, though he tried to not reveal his shock. Was Byrnes referencing . . . Mamie? Were the police watching Frank’s house?
Damn it. If they had witnessed Mamie leaving last night, there was no end to the destruction that information would cause. Even if he never allowed her to visit again he had to protect her reputation. An unmarried lady visiting his house after hours? If it were made public, she’d be ruined, her father furious. Chauncey would beg off the marriage, no doubt, leaving Mamie’s future in peril. At that point Frank could certainly bid adieu to his law practice. He’d probably have to move to Colorado or California to avoid retribution from her father. Change his name once more and start over.
The thought made him sick. I won’t back down. New York has always been my home and I’ll be damned before I’m run out of town.
He had to brazen it out. Admit nothing. No one could know her identity for certain. Rolling his shoulders, he said, “I’d be careful about throwing accusations around. Things are often not what they seem.”
“And other times they are precisely what one suspects.”
Movement behind the superintendent caught Frank’s eye. A matron had arrived, her keys jangling as she hurried along the corridor. He stepped away from Byrnes. “Second door on the right,” he told her. “Food and facilities, now.”
She gave him a nod then continued to Mrs. Porter’s room.
Frank addressed the wall of blue uniforms in front of him. “Once Mrs. Porter has been readied, I’ll let you know. Then, and only then, may you interview her.”
Without waiting for comment, he spun on his heel and went to see his client. The matron was helping her stand, as Mrs. Porter’s legs had cramped from sitting for so long.
Thirty minutes later Mrs. Porter was properly attended to and fed. Frank had given her an idea of what to expect from Byrnes while she ate. When she finished, they called for the superintendent. The matron departed, leaving Frank and Mrs. Porter alone.
“I’m nervous,” Mrs. Porter said while they waited.
“I won’t let anything happen. I’ll do my best to protect you, and we don’t have to answer every question. Trust me, all right?”
“I do trust you. Miss Greene wouldn’t have recommended you if you were not trustworthy. She is so smart.”
Yes, she was. He admired the friendship Mamie had developed with Mrs. Porter. Had she befriended the other women she helped as well? For her prickly exterior, Mamie Greene certainly had a soft and generous heart.
The door opened and Byrnes barreled in. Another policeman, a sergeant named Hamm, joined them. Mrs. Porter straightened, her back stiff, but Frank tried to remain relaxed. A nervous lawyer made for skittish clients and overly confident policemen.
“Are we allowed to speak with her now, Tripp?” Byrnes folded his arms over his chest. “Or should we come back?”
“Now is fine.” He gestured to the seats on the other side of the table. “We’re happy to cooperate.”
The other two sat. “Mrs. Porter, I am Superintendent Byrnes. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your husband’s murder. Would that be acceptable, madam?” She nodded. For the next thirty minutes, he inquired into every second of the day her husband had been murdered. Mrs. Porter answered clearly and carefully, all of her answers matching her previous statements. She maintained she acted in defense of herself and her children.
“Have you ever met Edward Porter?” Sergeant Hamm asked.
“My husband’s cousin?”
“Late husband, but yes, his cousin. Have you met him?”
“A few times.”
“Do you know what he told us? That according to your late husband you were angry that he went out and spent money at the gin shops. That you two fought quite often over it.”
“That’s hearsay,” Frank said. “Nor is it a question. If you have one, ask it.”
Byrnes drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know what Edward Porter does for a living, Mrs. Porter?”
She glanced at Frank then back to Byrnes. “He is a police detective.”
“That’s true. And he is ready to testify to what he knows at your trial. Do you really think a jury will believe your word over that of a Metropolitan police detective?” He paused. “They won’t. Not for a minute. Now, would you like to rethink your story? Tell us what really happened with your husband.”
“Don’t answer that,” Frank told her then stared down Byrnes. “If all you’re doing is threatening her with the testimony of her husband’s cousin, then we’re done here. Our plea hasn’t changed and Mrs. Porter’s version of events has been well documented.”
Byrnes’s gaze narrowed on Frank. “Perhaps the lady would like to speak for herself, Tripp.”
“She already has, on multiple occasions. Unless there’s a new line of inquiry, this interview is concluded.”
Byrnes stood and summoned the matron, who quickly arrived to lead Mrs. Porter out of the room. Frank waited until his client had been safely removed before he started to leave as well.
Byrnes stepped in front of him, blocking Frank’s path. “You aren’t doin’ your client any favors by not letting her talk to us. She’s nothing but Five Points trash who’s going to lose in court.”
He ground his teeth together. Mrs. Porter was not trash. She was a decent woman who’d been forced to inflict violence to protect herself and her family. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
Byrnes leaned over to spit on the floor right by Frank’s shoe. “Yes, I suppose we will. I’d say the next few weeks should prove very interesting for all involved. Very interesting, indeed.”
The two men brushed by him and disappeared, leaving Frank to wonder over the meaning of those parting words.
Mamie stifled a yawn even as her feet moved across the dance floor. Mercy, this ball was never-ending. She’d tried to stay home but her mother had insisted Mamie attend, saying she and Chauncey must be seen together at all the important social events.
Being an almost-fiancée was exhausting.
“What’s wrong?” Chauncey asked as they executed a perfect turn. “I thought you loved a rousing waltz.”
Normally, she did. But not after staying up late the previous evening to engage in illicit activities. A shiver went through her as she remembered all that had transpired in that billiards room.
Discounting Frank’s strange behavior at the end, the night had been astounding. Life altering. Unlike anything she could have imagined. No wonder men and women were constantly sneaking off from these parties to find stolen moments of pleasure. Now, she finally understood.
“Mamie?”
She shook herself and addressed her partner. “My apologies. I didn’t sleep well last night. May we get some fresh air instead of dancing?”
“Of course.” Ever the gentleman, Chauncey led her to the set of French doors at the edge of the ballroom. Brisk spring air met them on the terrace, and goose bumps broke out on her exposed skin. “There, is that better?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.” She strolled toward the railing. “I wasn’t quite in the mood for dancing.”
He leaned to rest his elbows on the stone beside her. “I cannot blame you. It’s awfully hot in there. Besides, I wished to speak with you privately.”
“Oh? What about?”
He glanced around, presumably to ascertain they were alone. Deciding they were, he said quietly, “The agreement.
Your father is unwilling to strike the clause we discussed. He said I would thank him one day for insisting on it. Have you any idea what he’s talking about?”
Mamie frowned. Was her father so convinced she would be unfaithful, then? “I intend to honor our marriage vows,” she said. Before the wedding is another matter altogether.
“Yes, but what about me? The situation from the other day?”
Right. His mistress. “I asked, Chauncey, but he sees no reason to delete the stipulation. Really, I tried.”
“I cannot pay the penalty, Mamie. Not until after I come into my inheritance. You must do something.”
Why was this her problem to solve? “You are welcome to not sign the agreement.”
He looked at her as if a horn had sprouted in the middle of her forehead. “Are you saying you don’t wish to get married?”
“I haven’t said that. But it’s clear your priorities lie elsewhere. Why should we make each other miserable?”
“You think I’ll make you miserable?” He was aghast now, brows climbing to his hairline. “Mamie, I had no idea you felt this way.”
She hadn’t, not until last night. Before her “billiards game” with Frank she’d mostly been resigned to marriage with Chauncey. Now, she wasn’t certain. Chauncey didn’t excite her. He was boring and childish. Justine and Florence wouldn’t wish for her to sacrifice her happiness for theirs, would they? And perhaps her father could be made to see reason with all three marriages. He’d forbidden her to pursue Frank, but there were plenty of other men in New York City who might excite her.
My brave Mamie. You are a gift from heaven.
Would she ever forget the way Frank had looked at her last night, with glowing hot eyes full of reverence and heat? As if she were the most beautiful, sensual creature in the world. And the things he’d done . . . No other man would ever excite her as much.
Unfortunately, Frank didn’t want her. He’d made that quite clear at their parting.
Thank you for tonight. There can be no further billiards games, however.
That dimmed her spirits a bit. Had he hated the experience? She could have sworn he’d been excited. Dash that complicated and confusing man.
