Night Storm

by Catherine Coulter

  That shut her up. The wistful look vanished from her eyes and he knew she wanted to scream at him that a female can’t go to your touted male colleges.

  He continued smoothly, harking back. “Unless the man is a pederast, he has no choice but to find himself a woman to relieve him.”

  “What’s a pederast?”

  “A man who prefers other men, or boys, to women.”

  The look she gave him was so wonderfully horrified that he very nearly gave all away. He managed to swallow down his laugh as she shook her head, looking away from him. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. “You don’t mean we’re going to a brothel? No, of course not. You wouldn’t consider taking—”

  She looked ready to crack, so he pushed a bit more, saying earnestly, “Only the best brothel Baltimore has to offer. Madam Lorraine’s. You’re looking a bit green, Eugene. Haven’t I got it right? Isn’t it the best? Am I misinformed? Mr. Gwenn told me that he wouldn’t go to—”

  “Mr. Gwenn? Mr. David Gwenn?”

  “Yes.”

  Genny wished there were a sidewalk so it could split beneath her feet and swallow her. David Gwenn was a friend of her father’s and she’d been dangled on his knee as a child. His wife was a sweet, motherly woman who always had a kind word for Genny. The idea was disgusting. “It’s the best,” she said between gritted teeth. She truthfully had no idea at all who Madam Lorraine was.

  “Good,” Alec said, and resumed his brisk pace. “Your education begins with Madam Lorraine. I did consider how I would go about improving matters for you, Eugene. And this is the place to start. If you like, I can watch you, er, perform and perhaps give you pointers on your technique—What’s the matter? No, don’t say it. Oh, hell. You’re a damned virgin, aren’t you, Eugene? You don’t yet have a technique.”

  Genny knew she had to stop it. Now, before it was too late. Before she made a complete and utter fool of herself in a damned brothel. More than that, it was quite possible that a gentleman there would recognize her, despite her garb, for many men of Baltimore would have seen her thus clothed many times before if they’d visited the Paxton shipyard. Then her reputation, whatever that was at present, would be well and truly gone to hell. She opened her mouth. She had to stop it—now. She turned to face Alec, only to find that her blood was boiling in an instant at his look—his baiting, eyebrow-arched, patronizing look. She wanted to howl at the moon and kick him, so that Madam Lorraine’s brothel would only be an academic exercise.

  But what came out of her mouth was, “Of course I have a technique. I’m not a virgin. Just because I’m not hairy doesn’t mean I’m not experienced.”

  Still not enough, Alec thought. God, she was stubborn. He shook his head, grinning down at her. “Odd, I would have thought you’d never even kissed a girl. Well, I suppose you Americans handle things differently than we English.”

  “Yes, we do.” Actually, she was thinking, he was so handsome, his body so wonderfully constructed, that he couldn’t possibly have need of a technique, whatever that was. He’d probably tell a woman he wanted to kiss her and she’d stand on her tiptoes and purse her lips without hesitation. “What do you English do?”

  Alec gave two passing men a nod and slowed his pace. “My father, my sainted father, gave me a wonderful present for my fourteenth birthday. He took me to his mistress in London and she, my dear Eugene, taught me all about men and women and what they can do to each other to bring pleasure. Her name was Lolly, as I recall. A wonderful woman, younger than you are, dear boy, but then, of course, she was definitely an older woman to my tender fourteen years.”

  “What happened?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Of course.” The instant the words were out of her mouth, Genny realized she’d horrified herself yet again. Alec was giving her an odd look, but she was thinking about her education and what she’d expected from him.

  How far should he go in this? Alec wondered yet again. Why wouldn’t the damned chit just give it up now? Would she let him get inside the brothel? Would she run the risk of being recognized? He had a feeling that her men’s clothes were an everyday occurrence and that most of the people of Baltimore were familiar with the eccentric Miss Paxton. But discovery at a brothel could ruin her. Damn, he didn’t know what to do. He’d been certain she would have folded her tent a good ten minutes ago, and he could have scolded her, put her soundly in her place, and seen her back home, to her virginal bed. Should he tell her about Lolly and his night with her? A youngish lady who aped men? He decided he’d let her do the stopping. He felt outrageous. So be it. “Well,” he said with lazy remembrance, “she first taught me all about my body. I, being a randy young boy, couldn’t contain myself, but she didn’t mind. She let me explode without recrimination—three times, as I recall. Then she began my education. Would you care for specifics, Eugene?”

  “I believe that is sufficient. Thank you. You were fourteen years old?” What did he mean that he’d exploded three times?

  The horror in her voice made him laugh. “Yes, my father apologized to me for waiting so long. He was a diplomat and traveled quite a bit, you see. He hadn’t realized that his son was so sexually, er, advanced. But it all worked out. I still see Lolly occasionally. A wonderful woman. Ah, here we are. Madam Lorraine’s.”

  Genny stopped and stared at the drab three-story red brick building with its modest brown trimming. It was wide and tall, the fourth floor a mansard roof with dormer windows. There was discreet lighting from the shuttered windows. There was no raucous laughter or loud music. It looked like a preacher’s house. Genny had walked past it many times in the past, never even wondering who lived there, never questioning anything. She closed her eyes for a moment, knowing she should speak now and get it over with. She should tell him that Eugene was Eugenia and watch him look at her with new eyes. But the new eyes, she was certain, would be filled with disgust at the very least and with full-blown abhorrence at the most. Or, even worse, he might think her as loose as the girls inside that house.

  What to do?

  The decision was taken out of her hands, at least for the moment. A small opening appeared at eye level on the front door. “Yes?”

  A man’s voice, low and quiet.

  “Alec Carrick and party.”

  “Ah, Baron Sherard. Welcome, sir. Come in, come in.”

  Alec turned to her. He said very seriously, “Would you like to, Eugene? Do you want to go inside?”

  Genny didn’t hear the underlying concern in his voice, the seriousness. She heard only the challenge.

  What if she were recognized?

  What was she supposed to do if one of Madam Lorraine’s girls came over to her? She closed her eyes, knowing she’d gone too far, knowing that she was the biggest imbecile in Baltimore, knowing that the very arrogant man standing next to her saw too much, yet not enough, knew too much, yet not enough. What to do?

  “You know, my dear boy,” Alec said after watching her facial maneuvers for several moments, “Madam Lorraine has this observation room, from what I understand.”

  Genny looked at him blankly.

  He continued patiently. “A man doesn’t necessarily have to participate, you know. Some men prefer to watch others, for example. They gain their pleasure that way. Or in your case, it could be a preliminary, er, introduction. You could pick up a few pointers on things.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Alec had never heard such a reed-thin little voice. Dammit, he wanted her to end her ludicrous performance. His eyes narrowed. Did she want this? Did she really want to see men having sex with whores? Was she tired of being a youngish lady, with all the restrictions that entailed? Was she using him?

  The door opened and a large, muscular, blond-haired giant stood there towering over both of them, his thick arms crossed over his chest.

  “Just a moment,” Alec said. He put his hand on Genny’s arm and pulled her into the shadows beside the walkway. “Well? What will it be?”


  Genny drew herself up. He was pushing, damn him. Well, she could push, too. “I want to see your technique.” Take that, you bounder! He wouldn’t strip knowing she was looking at him, not this proud, arrogant man.

  Alec stared at her. “You what?”

  “I want to see you and your touted technique. I’ll watch you from this observation room of yours.”

  For some odd reason, Alec felt a spurt of lust so powerful he very nearly pulled off her ridiculous hat and jerked her against him, wanting to press her hard against his suddenly swollen member.

  “You win,” he said at last.

  “I win what?”

  “Come along and you’ll see soon enough.”

  Oh, God, Genny thought. He wasn’t backing down. She would have sworn that—It hadn’t worked.

  Alec left her to speak quietly to the giant. The man nodded, not the least surprised by his words. What had he said? Her palms were sweating. Her heart was pounding. She was more terrified and excited than she’d been in her entire life. The thought of seeing him naked, seeing all of him, kissing him—No, he would be kissing another woman, a whore. She didn’t want to see him naked with another woman. She’d kill the other woman first.

  “Eugene, come along.”

  Genny stared at him. Slowly, she walked to him. Neither of them said another word. They didn’t enter the main salon but bypassed it down a long, narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor were stairs that wound back toward the front of the house. They followed the blond giant up the stairs. Genny heard music; she heard both men’s and women’s laughter. She didn’t look at the closed doors.

  The giant stopped. Genny saw money change hands, saw the huge man nod. He looked at her for a very long moment, then left. Alec said easily, “You, my dear boy, go in there. It is the observation room. I will be beyond the glass, doing my damnedest to show you an excellent technique.”

  He sounded curt, angry. She looked up at him, saw that his brilliant blue eyes were blazing and yet, strangely enough, quite cold. She shivered. “You don’t want to do this, do you?”

  “Why not? I haven’t had a woman in over a month. I might have to take her twice, however, to give you an idea of how one should treat a woman.” He was speaking quickly, making jerking slashing motions with his hands. His anger flowed from him and she felt herself drawing back. Was he angry with her, Eugene? That made no sense. The brothel was his idea, not hers. Well, it was too bad. She turned away, opened the door, and slipped inside.

  Alec stood there in that damned dim corridor. This was absurd. He had no intention of going into the room beyond, stripping off his clothes, parading about naked, then plowing a whore for Miss Eugenia’s edification. He saw another man, older, slender, gray-haired, leading one of Madam Lorraine’s girls, a petite blonde with large breasts and hips. He pulled back. Let this man give Eugenia her education. He’d provide the commentary. Yes, that was what he would do. Alec quietly slipped into the observation room. It was lit by a small branch of candles, nothing more. There was a comfortable settee and three chairs, all facing a curtained wall, opposite the door. On a sideboard were drinks and various edibles. Eugenia was sitting stiff as a statue on the settee, her legs together, her hat still firmly on her head, staring like a lackwit at the curtained wall.

  Alec said nothing, simply waited. Several minutes passed. Enough time, he thought, for the man to begin his performance.

  He walked to the curtain and pulled the cord. He heard a gasp from behind him but didn’t acknowledge her. Once the curtain was open, he turned and strode to the settee and sat down beside Eugenia.

  “I changed my mind,” he said, not looking at her. “Watch now and learn.”

  The large window gave into another bedchamber, complete with a huge red-canopied bed, a red velvet settee, and a commode with a pitcher and basin atop it. There was even a scarlet carpet on the floor. It was ghastly, laughable, and like an alien world to Genny.

  Genny stared at the man. He was just standing there, a very young girl standing in front of him. He was slowly stroking her breasts, pulling her gown down until her breasts popped out. He leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth.

  Genny stared.

  “Her breasts are quite large for so small a girl. Too large, I think. However, they’re well shaped, don’t you think? A pity they’ll hang down to her waist in a couple of years. This kind of work is hard on a woman’s body. Now, her nipples are the largest I’ve seen in a long time. Do you like large nipples on a woman?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “The color is nice. A very dark pink.”

  Genny was staring at those breasts, mute.

  “Ah, now our gentleman wants the attention. After all, he’s the one paying the money. She’ll undress him. She does it quite well, don’t you think? You’ll notice how her hands touch him continuously. Would you like a drink?”

  Genny shook her head, not moving. She couldn’t believe she was sitting here, beside a man, watching two people do such intimate things to each other. She saw the blond girl’s hand stroke the man’s stomach, then move downward until she was gripping him, and Genny saw the swollen flesh pushing against his breeches, against the girl’s hand.

  “I did promise a commentary, didn’t I? All right, men like to have women hold them and caress them with their hands. And their mouths. I’m certain our lady will show us all her pleasure tricks. Ah, now he wants to see her. I myself prefer a woman naked before I undress. Do you?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  Alec shot her a look but didn’t say anything.

  The man was now wearing only his breeches. He was pale-skinned, rather thin, his breastbone prominent. He wasn’t ill-looking, but he was old enough to be Genny’s father. The blond girl was younger than Genny.

  The man sat down on the bed and motioned to the girl to undress.

  Genny heard herself say in a faraway voice, “How can they do that in front of us? They don’t know we’re watching, do they?”

  “Certainly. Some men enjoy putting on a show. I am not one of them. Now watch. She’s freed her breasts completely. Ah, yes, her nipples are quite spectacular. I think I’ve changed my mind. I think her nipples are too dark. I really prefer a lighter color, more pink if you—”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  This had to stop, for God’s sake. But she sat there, frozen, pinned by her own curiosity.

  “Ah, she isn’t a natural blonde. I didn’t think she was, but still, her woman’s hair is nicely curved at the base of her belly, nearly a perfect triangle. Her legs are well shaped, but a bit short for my liking.”

  Genny watched the girl prance toward the sitting man, her hands on her hips, her look provocative. She came to a stop not two feet in front of him. She arched her back, brought her hands down to between her thighs. She began to move her hips, showing herself to him in a practiced manner.

  Genny sucked in her breath.

  Alec smiled mirthlessly. He was watching her profile. So you are shocked, are you, Eugenia? All you have to do is tell me to stop this and I will. Suddenly the man reached out his hand, grabbed the girl by her arm, and pulled her to him.

  “Oh, no.”

  Alec grabbed Genny’s arm and held her still. “Hush.”

  “He’s hurting her.”

  “He’s not. Be quiet.”

  Genny stared, horrified, as the man pushed his hand between the girl’s legs. He was working her, hard, but the girl didn’t look to be in pain. Indeed, she swayed and twisted, rocking her torso, playing with her breasts, pushing them upward, her eyes closed and her blond hair falling down her back like a waterfall.

  “That is for our benefit. He’s not hurting her. It’s an act, nothing more.”

  Then the man pushed her back. The girl dropped gracefully to her knees between his spread legs. She unfastened the buttons of his pants and he raised himself as she pulled his clothing down to his ankles.

  Genny saw his man’s flesh spring up, thin an
d red and bobbing up and down. It was awful. The girl’s hands were stroking up the man’s thighs, then between his legs. The man leaned back on the bed, his eyes closed, his hands on the girl’s head, pulling her forward. She lowered her head and took his member in her mouth, drawing him in deep.

  Genny jumped to her feet, her eyes fastened on the scene. “No,” she whispered, so horrified and repelled, she felt her stomach roil. “Oh, no.” She was clutching her throat, and Alec knew she was picturing the man’s sex in her own mouth. But before he could react, before he could call a halt to this very bad comedy, Genny was across the small room. He whirled about, saw her jerk open the door and dash through. He heard her boots on the stairs.

  “Genny!” He took one final look at the sex melodrama in the next room and saw the man open his mouth, his hands fisted tightly at his sides as he exploded in the girl’s mouth. “Oh, damn,” Alec said, and went after her. Even dressed as a man, she could get into trouble. Damn her silly eyes. Why had she dragged it out this far?

  Why had he?

  It wasn’t well done of him. He was a gentleman and he’d taken a lady to a brothel to watch nothing less than a lewd display—it was very badly done of him. Why had he pushed her so far?

  He didn’t know. He wasn’t certain he wanted to know.

  Had she never seen a man’s sex before? Evidently not.

  Well, she’d gotten her lesson and probably more of an education than she’d bargained for. Perhaps not the one she’d wanted, but Alec doubted that she would play the man with quite so much insouciant relish anymore. He saw again her mouth working silently, her hand on her throat.

  He ran up Howard Street. He saw her ahead of him and slowed. He saw her stop and lean against a brick column. Her shoulders were heaving. He saw her lean over and vomit. She dropped to her knees, and Alec, sighing, went to her.

  Genny felt his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. There was nothing more to come up. Dry heaves racked her. She wanted to die. More than that, she wanted to kill. Him.