Teena: A House of Ill Repute

by Jennifer Jane Pope

  Meanwhile, Carmen was humping her victim's face with evident enthusiasm, but there was one final act to come. Turning her head sideways towards the audience so the glint of triumph in her eyes was unmistakable even through the covering lenses, she then turned back to Anne-Marie's dildo, drew her face back several inches whilst arching her back, and guided her mouthpiece towards the waiting tip. Then, with a single thrust of her neck and head she impaled her own mouth, to the rapturous applause and ringing cheers of the entire audience, or at least that part of the audience able to clap and cheer.

  My heart sank. It was not only a defeat for Anne-Marie, but a conclusive one, and I had no doubt Carmen would exact her prize with as much enthusiasm as she had displayed in winning it. I looked around for Andrea, wondering if she was experiencing the same feeling of dreadful anticipation, only to see her already being escorted away by a featureless rubber figure. A moment later, I felt strong hands grasping my shoulders.

  Arundel again, only this time the transition through time was accompanied by violent feelings of nausea and a complete sense of having been detached from everything for several seconds. My head cleared slowly and I opened my eyes to find myself sitting on a padded sofa in the first sitting room. Then suddenly, and for several more seconds, I experienced a blinding headache and for a moment I thought I was going to black out. But then again, miraculously, my head cleared, except I found it now contained a set of crystal-clear memories I knew had not been there before.

  'Amazing!' I gasped, but there was no one else in the room to hear me. Slowly I stood up, not sure whether to trust to my balance yet, but I discovered there was absolutely nothing to worry about. I felt steady, focussed and, above all, I knew and remembered exactly what had been happening during the twenty-six days of my last absence from this time. Yes, I even knew I had been away and back in my own time only for an hour or two, and yet that I had been away from here, in this time, for four weeks, give or take a day or two.

  I swallowed, licked my lips, and quickly took stock of things, beginning with myself. I was wearing an emerald-green dress, tight at the waist as usual, the corset beneath reminding me of its efforts on behalf of my figure. The neckline was low, exposing the top inch or so of what passed as Angelina's bust, not a spectacular sight, even though my cruel undergarment was striving to make the most of my bosom. I saw also that I was wearing a ruby necklace, and remembered it was one of the pieces I had put aside not to be sold unless circumstances became extremely tight.

  I reached up and ran one hand over my head, my hair having now gone just beyond the stubbly stage to where it felt velvety to the touch, though it was still far too short not to draw attention to me should I venture out in public with it uncovered. As I was thinking this, my eyes caught sight of the two wigs standing on the dressing table by the window. I remembered the dressmaker and her second cousin who lived in Brighton, and how the wigs arrived a week after she wrote to her. I tottered uncertainly to the dressing table, studied the two hairpieces - one very dark, the other blondish with dark-red highlights, both carefully coiffed, the semi-buns beribboned, with teasing curls dangling on either side - and selected the darker and less ostentatious version.

  I raised it slowly, ducked my head slightly and lifted it into place, settling it carefully with both hands. It was a good fit, but with no way of fastening it and no modern elasticised base, I felt certain it would slip off if I made too violent a movement. I would need, I decided, to use some sort of bonnet with a ribbon fastening beneath the chin if I was going to risk wearing either of the wigs out of doors. Indoors I would either find a lighter version of the same, or else I would have to make sure I didn't toss my head about too much.

  Slowly, and with as much dignity as I could muster, I crossed the room and found the bell pull behind one of the heavy curtains covering the window alcove. I tugged it hard twice, and was rewarded with the sound of a distant bell ringing somewhere in the house. I turned again and regarded myself from across the length of the room, in the gilt-framed mirror now adorning the wall to the left of the fireplace. I made an impressive picture, if I do say so myself.

  'Right then, boys and girls,' I said, though there was still no one to listen to my announcement, 'it's time we went to work properly. Everything is more or less in place, so let's get this house of ours open.'

  I wasn't sure how it was that I could remember everything from those missing four weeks, but remember everything I could, and I did not intend to waste too much time in trying to figure out the whys and the wherefores. I suspected that in some way my mind now held part of what had once been Angelina's - possibly was still hers, for all I knew - but I had no way of proving my theory. Nevertheless, what was important was that I knew exactly what had been achieved in my absence, exactly how far my, our plan had progressed, and so also knew we were more or less ready to move on to the next and, for the moment, most important phase.

  The intention was, dear reader, in case you haven't worked it out for yourself, to use what I termed my House of Ill Repute as irresistible bait for Hacklebury and, with luck, for Mad Megan Crowthorne as well. However, in order for the bait to be successful and for them to enter the trap unsuspectingly, there was a lot of work to be done in order to establish a set of credentials that would not arouse suspicion in minds I knew were only too naturally suspicious by nature.

  Credentials. My House of Ill Repute, or bordello or brothel, call it what you will, my whorehouse, speciality whorehouse indeed, but whorehouse nonetheless, needed credentials. I already had my three whores, so now I needed to establish a clientele - and the right clientele especially.

  The sitting room door opened and Indira appeared. I say Indira because I had no way of knowing if Andrea had come back as before, but I also knew it hardly mattered at the moment. If Angelina was going along with my idea then so would her faithful lover, and besides, I had already caught sight of the figure standing out in the hallway behind her.

  'Mr Julian Corner-Browne, mistress,' she announced, bowing slightly. I noticed she was wearing a sari and immediately remembered ordering fabric from the dressmaker for her to make them, except it had been Angelina who had ordered the material, not I. Not that it mattered, I thought, and suppressed a smile.

  'Show him in, girl,' I ordered in my best 'lady of the manor' voice, and turned away to resume my position on the sofa, while at the same time adjusting the heavy veil obscuring my features attached to my wig.

  Julian Corner-Browne, eldest son of one of the two brothers who between them owned a very successful merchant bank in the city of London. Ex-Eton, ex-Harrow, sent down from both and forced to finish his education in one of the minor public schools, and only able to do that thanks to a generous bursary from his family, which the ailing establishment had been only too willing to accept in return for overlooking the young Corner-Browne's previous record of indiscretion and debauchery.

  I wondered how I knew all this, or rather I knew how I knew, but I wondered how Angelina had managed to find it out. Then I recalled the little man Marsh and the discreet service he offered to those with the ability to pay. Some things never change, regardless of the year or the century, and it was as amazing then as it is now what one can source through the personal advertisement columns of even the most respectable national newspapers. Simeon Marsh I paid, Julian Corner-Browne I hoped would pay me, and quite lavishly, unless I was much mistaken.

  I smiled, though whether the smile could be seen from behind the veil I had no idea, and gestured to one of the vacant armchairs opposite me. And as the first of my wannabe clients moved to take a seat, I forced my expression to remain totally impassive, trying even harder not to feel like a spider who is about to envelop an unfortunate and stupid fly in its web.

  Thanks to the efforts of Simeon Marsh, whose investigative powers and circle of contacts would have earned him a fortune with the tabloids a century or so later, we were now beginning to build up quite a dossier on Gregory Hacklebury, though even Marsh hadn't a
s yet been able to find out much about Megan Crowthorne, who remained very much a mystery woman. However, it was Hacklebury I wanted and needed to concentrate on, establishing a list of his closest associates and initially avoiding any direct contact with any name on that list when it came to building up our clientele. We needed to establish ourselves first and ensure our girls were capable of fulfilling the roles for which we had recruited them. After that, it would be time to infiltrate the Hacklebury network and finally snare the big buck rabbit himself.

  Milly, Molly and Mandy were a revelation, and Erik found himself much in demand as the only male currently in the household. Our 'guests', when they started arriving, would not be disappointed, I thought, although I conceded we had to do a little work on the trio in order to smooth out some of their rougher edges, especially in their vocabulary. I also resolved to put each of them through their paces with a member of their own sex, as I was sure we would have female clients, even if they formed a minority.

  Meanwhile, there was Indira, and for the moment it really was the Indian girl, for Andrea remained back in our own time, presumably alongside a temporarily vacant version of me as we awaited Carmen's dubious pleasure. I tried to put that scenario from my mind. I would find myself back in it soon enough, I knew, but for the moment there was plenty here to occupy me, including the regular nocturnal presence of my little brown-skinned lover.

  'You really would do anything for me, wouldn't you, Indy?' I whispered to her as we lay snuggled together after a languid session of lovemaking.

  She raised her head, leaned across me and kissed my right nipple.

  My hand trailed idly through her thick black tresses.

  'I would die for you, mistress,' she whispered. 'You know I would.' She peered up at me and I saw there was a depth of concern in her huge eyes.

  I kissed her forehead. 'No one is going to do any dying,' I assured her. 'Hacklebury and his witch-bitch aren't at all nice people, but now we're in the driving seat and as long as we're careful, that's the way it'll stay.'

  'Perhaps we should just kill them,' Indira suggested, and I knew she was being deadly serious.

  I shook my head. 'Murder is murder,' I said, 'no matter how justified it might seem. Besides, we'd only be descending to their level then, wouldn't we? No, I don't mind playing them at their own game if no one gets hurt, but we don't want to do anything that might end up with us getting an appointment with the hangman.

  'Besides,' I continued, 'I don't think Meg's ultimate punishment is destined to be a quick death.' I thought back to the story we had heard about the mad woman roaming the hills and humping a chunk of rock in the dead of night. 'No, I think fate has something else planned for our dear Miss Crowthorne.' I looked into Indira's eyes again and decided it was time I said something I had been avoiding during the four days since my latest return. 'Indy,' I began, 'do you remember everything that's happened since we escaped that night?'

  She lowered her eyelids. 'You mean the man I killed?'

  'No, not that, though that could become a problem. Megan saw you, so it's quite possible they've told the authorities, though I've got a funny feeling they may have changed their minds on that. They won't want the law too closely involved in their doings, so they'll be using other means of trying to find us. No, I mean all the things that have happened since? Do you remember them all?'

  'Mostly,' she replied. Her small hand began slowly stroking my stomach. 'Yes, I remember, mostly, though some of it has been like watching the world through the smoke of a cooking fire.'

  'A bit like you weren't really there at all, you mean?'

  'Yes, like a dream, like I was doing things and saying things, but that at the same time it was not I who was in control.' The hand reached my smooth mound and I drew in a deep breath.

  'And what about me?' I asked. 'Do I seem to have changed at all?'

  There was a silence of several seconds before Indira spoke again. 'I think you have,' she replied, 'but then so have we all, and those evil people did much to you that was very bad, so that would change you as it would change anyone.' She fell silent again.

  I did not speak, for I could sense she was trying to find the right way to say something more.

  'But there is something else, too,' she continued at last, 'something I cannot explain, as if there is a spirit with you now, perhaps a spirit from the past. I feel that, too, as if my ancestors are watching over me.'

  'Or as if one of them has perhaps come back to help you?' I suggested. 'Would that be so hard to explain? Or perhaps you are one of your ancestors reborn? You believe that in your religion, don't you?' I thought perhaps this was a better way of trying to deal with things than simply diving straight in and telling this probably uneducated girl that I had actually dropped back from the next century, and that a friend of mine was doing the same thing and taking over her body for days, and even weeks at a time. But the suggestion was based on two false premises and her reaction to it took me completely by surprise.

  'My religion?' she snapped, suddenly sitting up. Her brown eyes were now alight with a mixture of anger and suspicion. 'My religion is the same as yours!' she said. 'And your parents were my godparents and they were there when I was baptised a Christian as my parents were baptised and their parents before them!' She pushed herself along the bed until she was perched against the footboard, as far from me as she could be without getting down on the floor. 'Now,' she continued, looking me straight in the eyes, 'there are many things that one might forget, but I think that would not be one of them, and I believe in reincarnation about as much as you would believe in fairy folk.'

  'I... well... err...' I simply couldn't think of anything to say. In assuming Indira was a Hindu, I was guilty of a crass assumption, and in thinking of her as uneducated I was guilty of an even worse mistake.

  'I want to know who you really are,' she said quietly, but fervently. 'I mean, who you really are and why it is you act so strangely at times, and how you seem able to make me think and act strangely, too. Perhaps you are a demon, is that it?' Her expression was hard, but then it suddenly softened again. 'No, you are no demon, angel mistress, but I think you know something far more than you are telling me. I feel there is some power at work here, but I think it is not of the devil.'

  'I don't think it is, either,' I said, pulling myself up into a sitting position. 'Though for all I know it could be, because for the life of me I can't explain it.'

  'Then explain what you can,' Indira suggested. 'Tell me what it is you know and maybe I can shed a little light.'

  And so I sat there and told her everything, everything about Teena Thyme and the twentieth century and about my several times over great aunt who left me the cottage, money and trunks of what I assumed were her clothes, and about the pendant I found and how I initially believed it was responsible for my time hopping, but that I had not seen it here in eighteen thirty-nine since my first trip back.

  'I still have it back in my own time,' I said, 'but it's locked safely away. What happened to it here after Meg took it from me I have no idea, though.'

  'I have it,' Indira announced. 'I found it in the house when we were looking for clothing and money. Look, I will show you, and you should have it back, for it is yours after all.' She jumped down from the bed and padded across to where her clothing was piled on one of the bedroom chairs. After a few moments of rummaging in the folds, she turned and came back to me holding out her hand, which she opened to reveal the pendant.

  I took it from her as if I was handling the most delicate and precious object in the world.

  'The portraits are of your parents,' she explained, sitting alongside me. 'Or should I say that they were the real Angelina's parents, but then I think maybe you had guessed that yourself?'

  I nodded. 'I thought they had to be,' I agreed. 'Funny, even though Angelina has managed to make me aware of what's been happening here at the house, I still have no memories of her mother and father.'

  'Perhaps that is because she kn
ows you do not need to have any,' Indira suggested sagely. 'I do not pretend to understand any of this any more than you do, but there are some things that should always remain precious to the individual.'

  'Then you do believe everything I've told you?' I asked.

  She nodded. 'It would be too ridiculous a story to make up, and the Angelina I know, sweet as she is, well, let's just say her imaginative talents lay in other directions.' She grinned at me, and suddenly I just wanted to hug her. She must have sensed something, for she reached out a hand and traced a soft line around my left nipple. 'My talents lie in similar directions,' she whispered.

  'Yes,' I smiled, 'I had noticed. But now that you know, do you—?'

  'My Angelina is still a part of you,' she replied, 'as you are now a part of her. For whatever reason you have been brought back here, and whatever the outcome of all this, in the meantime there is no reason for other things to change.'

  Quite why Andrea was not making a reappearance this time I could only surmise, not that I was in particular need of her support, but I had to tread a little diplomatically where the real Indira was concerned, now it was time to start schooling our little troupe of girls in the different ways I envisaged we would need to employ in order to make our establishment unique. All the time Erik was sating himself with the girls and attending to their more base needs, Indira was quite content that this left the two of us free to enjoy one another, but I knew I would need to take a hand in their education, and how my brown-skinned lover would react to that, I had no idea.