The candle cast an eerie light in the small cubby area where Imo stood waiting for the first man. She flattened her palms against her legs and pressed down, trying to wipe away the sweat. How many would there be? How long would it take?
Danny had stayed with her. Frank and Charlie went looking for sailors and tradesmen and horny adolescents who might willingly part with a couple of pence. She heard Danny’s familiar voice and knew that he talked with men who would momentarily walk behind the screen and demand she service them.
Forty-seven. She’d had her hands wrapped around forty-seven cocks. Three of them were the same man who’d come back at different times. He supervised two warehouses for a wealthy gent from York. So forty-five different cocks. Another four, another six, another ten tonight would make no difference.
Every sound seemed magnified. Clicking metal resounded as coins passed from the buyer’s hand to the seller’s. The creak of the door as it opened to admit another man ready to be pleasured. Danny’s voice hushed and secretive as he confirmed, “Yes, she’s a pretty girl. And clean.”
Did either of those things really matter if, in the end, the white seed spilled and the urgent release was satisfied?
“No, she ain’t spreading her legs for nobody tonight.”
“What if I pay more?”
“Then find yourself a brothel. Here? You get what you pay for. Nothing else.”
Imo feared the building would add a sense of significance to the act. A seriousness that implied a professional rather than an immature girl who’d never been kissed or had her tits fondled or lay down in front of a man. A girl who’d never been naked.
When it happened, and Imo knew the day would eventually arrive, she wanted to be prepared. She wanted to be experienced enough not to fear and innocent enough to demand the price of her freedom.
In the darkened room, waiting for the first man of the night, she didn’t know what the price would be, but the charge would be high enough to buy a set of wings and a flight to a permanent haven in the sunniest part of England. Wherever that was. Or to Paris, the home of beautiful women and fine gentlemen.
“Imo!”
She glanced up at the ceiling and hoped Charlie’s angels were looking down on her.
The curtain swept back. The broad face and leering smile were much as she’d seen on the street. His hands already worked at his trousers.
“Stand there,” she said.
“Can I touch your tits too?”
Danny’s voice sounded near. “It’s extra and you can’t afford the cost.” Danny forgot the part about her being unwilling to have them touched.
“How much?”
“Do you want your turn or not?” he demanded at the same moment he threw back the sheeting. “There’s other men waiting.”
When he nodded, his hands reached inside the slit in his trousers and pulled out his cock. Imo’s response was automatic. She didn’t look at their faces, only down at her hands—the sight of the protruding flesh as important as the feel when the time came to finish.
Close enough to smell the fried fish and potatoes of his supper, she cupped the hanging balls. Her thumb and index finger circled the tip and then slid downward in a strong, smooth motion. His hips jerked in response and a groan ripped up his throat. He’d be less than a minute. He hadn’t had a woman in a while.
She pulled two long, slow strokes outward. The odd, raspy draws of breath combined with the firm and elongated flesh were the first indication of completion. The familiar hardening in her palm suggested the business was at an end. She squeezed, then thumbed the tip with a flourish, stepping back.
His hips jerked once and again before he leaned toward her and then stood upright as he tucked the fading member in his pants and headed around the curtain without a word. Imo had seen him around. She didn’t know his name and now she didn’t care to ever know.
The palpable relief almost caused a smile. Now that the first one was over, the act would be a job, a routine, a way to make money. Somehow this night was meant to be a turning point. It wasn’t. It was more of the same. She was idiotic to believe it would be any different.
A man argued with Danny outside the curtain. “I want to go last.”
“You’ll go when I tell you to go.”
“I want to watch first.”
“Watching costs extra. Now, all of you turn around,” Danny barked.
She heard the shuffle of feet and a few odd grumbles, but in no time a man came around the curtain and the act was repeated.
Six times in all. Twelve pence.
When the door closed behind the last man, she was glad to see him go. Her hands, her shoulders ached from standing in the slightly awkward position and the continual push-pull movement of the fleshy man parts.
The water bucket stood waiting. None of them had thought to clean themselves and her hands reeked of musky man scent and urine and unwashed, filthy bodies. She dipped her hand in, cupped a palm full of water and briskly scrubbed. Soap would have been nice, but she hadn’t seen a sliver of a bar in over two years.
Nasty smells had always disgusted her. It was part of the reason she wanted a new life out of London. Stories about country estates and seaside cottages seemed like fairytales to her, but every once in a while, she’d catch a faint, clean draft of air after the rain, or on the first spring day when it seemed like all the flowers bloomed at the same moment. Those teasing bits of purity made her long for something better.
Her hand sluiced the water again and she attempted another cleaning ritual, hoping the smell would go away. Growing immune, ignoring the stench would be best. This was what she could expect for the rest of her life. And worse.
It was hard only because she remembered being clean. Smelling the scent of soap and remembering her mam and that they were loved once.
She supposed for the right amount of money, she could force her will and subject her body to the foulness of her profession.
“Imo, look at this,” Danny said. He spread his palm wide. Coppers and more coppers.
“Twelve?” Imo questioned, thinking she had added correctly.
“Fifteen.”
Her tongue clucked against the roof of her mouth. “I hate adding.”
“We got extra. Frank! Stand on the other side of the curtain. Now.”
Imo laughed. “What’s he doing?”
“That’s what we got to see while you were jerking them off. A whole show! Like a real live opera, ’ceptin’ they were watching you with your hands wrapped around the cock of the guy in front of them. The ones who paid couldn’t keep their eyes off.”
“You charged more?”
“Shit, yes.” In the dark, his eyes had taken on a greedy glow. “Imo, if you do that for them every night, we’ll have you in a nicer place in no time at all, with all the customers you can handle.”
“You mean you want me to do something behind the screen? Amuse them?”
“They are going to pay for a woman behind the screen. A woman that can reveal womanly parts, get them more excited, so they pay more. You follow?”
Frank slapped back the curtain. “Can I stop now?”
“Tell her, Frank. Tell her what those men looked like while they watched.”
“Their tongues were on the floor. Craziest thing I ever saw. Most of them were already pulling on their wankers before they stepped around the curtain.”
“Go back behind the curtain, Imogene, and take off the binding thing you have wrapped around you.”
“Knife it! I’m not showing my titties. I won’t.”
“It’s just us. I want to see what they look like. And it ain’t like I don’t see them at home.”
“They ain’t Molly Smith’s tits, that’s for sure,” Frank added, not that that made her want to obey their lewd request.
“Then what?”
“Just stand there. Hell, I don’t know. Move around. Dance. Bend over. Whatever you women do to entice men.”
“This is stupid.”
“You’ll think it’s stupid when we go down the Honey Lane Market and pick out two ribbons for you.”
“Two? Really?”
“We don’t have all night.”
She tugged her shirt from the baggy trousers and reached underneath. She worked at the knots she kept in the front and after a few tugs, the bindings gave way. “Now what?”
She turned, then looked up at the ceiling.
Danny’s somber face appeared. “Imo, do as I tell you now, no arguing. A body can’t see nothing with that baggy rag you’re wearing. Take off your shirt. I just want to see what they’ll see. I’m not looking at you! Only your shadow. Do it now. Quick.”
He disappeared again. They had seen her a hundred times. Frank was the only one horny enough to leer. Still, in a dark, old building, alone with the candle, knowing what they saw would change the way they viewed her. It felt wrong, like they were really sinning.
She slipped the three buttons and lowered the shirt over her shoulders.
“Oh shit,” she heard Frank say.
Fiery embarrassment flooded up her body. She stuck straight out, with little points hard as a rock. They were big and ugly and floppy.
Danny cleared his throat. “Bend forward, slow-like.”
Then she heard Frank swear, “Saints above. We’re gonna be rich.”
Imo jerked upright and yanked at her shirt, buttoning quickly, ready to smack Frank in the face. “That’s it. I’m not doing anything else. If you think I’m going to be in a room with a bunch of horny bastards and take off my shirt, yer sorely mistaken.”
She hustled from behind the curtain, still jamming her shirt inside her trousers. Face-to-face with Frank, she said, “Don’t ever say nothing about me.” She balled up her fist and aimed perfectly, catching him right in the eye.
“You little bitch. Danny, I’m going to hit her. Not an angel in heaven would hold it against me.” His fingers gingerly touched the wounded eye.
“Don’t hit her,” Charlie said in a low whisper from the corner where he sat. His knees were drawn up and his cheek rested against the bony pillow.
Danny had gotten all serious. “Grab the bucket and candle.”
“What about the curtain?”
“It should slip right off. Charlie’s about to fall asleep in the corner. We need to get home.”
Imo had a hundred questions, but it came down to one. “What did you see?”
“Frank’s right. I think we could be rich.” He nodded toward the door, their signal the he was impatient and they were holding him up.
On the way to Old Fish Street, the boys were quiet. Imo went inside with Charlie while the boys spoke in subdued tones on the stairs. Charlie crawled to the shakedown bed and curled up. Rather than lay down beside him, she tiptoed to the door and eased it open. Their talk was about tonight and about her. She wanted to hear what they said and decide for herself if she liked their conclusions.
“Shit, Danny, I want a whore.”
“Whores cost money.”
“What about Molly? I know you’re sweet on her and all, but would she?”
“Frank, stay away from Molly. She ain’t for you and I’d be awful sore if you tried to use her. ’Sides, you’ll want your own girl someday.”
They were fighting over Molly? Molly Smith?
“Is it wrong to want something so bad?”
“Not wrong, but very, very uncomfortable.” They both laughed in kinship about something she would never understand. Men were a mystery to her. Why they needed women, why they wanted to be touched, why fucking was so all-fired important that they sometimes took instead of waiting to receive.
“Frank, we have to protect Imogene. She’s too pretty for her own good and someday some toad is going to try and take advantage. Imo doesn’t need to know about the things men really want from her. Not yet.”
“We can’t watch her every minute of every day.”
“I know, but we’ll do what we can. And if this works out, next month, I promise you’ll get your whore.”
“’Bout damn time. Every boy I know’s already shagged ten women.”
“They have not. Don’t you know they’re a bunch of liars?”
When she thought too deeply about what she was doing, her stomach knotted uncomfortably. A good lie-down sometimes helped restore her hope. A fairy godmother riding up in a fancy coach would do in a pinch.
The road to whoredom was well trod and Imogene Farrell seemed destined to travel down that path along with countless others.
She eased away from the door. A good lie-down was all she’d get since the fairy godmother only delivered wishes to those fancy houses up in Mayfair.
* * * * *
Sinister as it had seemed the first night, the small ramshackle building was more welcoming the second night. She knew what was expected and how to perform.
However, Danny hadn’t given in about showing the other things. He’d used the argument that it wouldn’t hurt her and any extra money would be like sugar cream frosting that Mrs. Bunton sometimes poured over her apple tarts.
Taking off her shirt with ten men in the room didn’t seem like such a good idea. She’d convinced Danny to allow only five until she got used to the idea.
What if they saw she was naked, and Danny and Frank couldn’t stop one from taking more?
Not all the men who frequented their dark little room wanted her to touch them—some just wanted to watch. Really, it wouldn’t take any extra effort on her part to prance around without her shirt. If they got a particular thrill out of seeing her pointed titties, why not make money from the show?
The first night was awkward, but it provided a perfect opportunity to remind Danny she needed a dress. Nakedness was odd enough in a cramped room with just her family. Exposure like this, out in the open, with a candle casting her shadow across the thin sheet while five men waited on the other side seemed almost funny. Imo worried she was close to hysteria and lowered her hands to her knees while she bent over and breathed deeply.
The men weren’t just waiting. They drooled, lusted and fantasized. They were different tonight. Lewd and coarse words were hollered back and forth between the men.
“I’d like to fuck that little girl with all of you watching.”
“You don’t have a shilling to scratch with.”
“Heard she’s ’ticular about who she lets between her legs.”
“You all just shut your mouth and watch,” Danny said. He’d always had an air of authority that she supposed came from being first born and knowing his letters and numbers. Mam taught him before she died, but she and Frank had been too young to learn.
Had Danny not stood at the edge of the curtain with his back to her, she didn’t know how she could have performed. Some men had no character. Could she trust the boys to protect her?
Danny signaled her to start, so she unfastened her shirt. She hadn’t bound up her tits today, knowing she’d take the tight bindings off tonight. The full roundness made her feel self-conscious and conspicuous all day.
Air leaked in from the cracks and fissures in the building. The cool draft caused her to harden and stick out more than usual. She licked at her dry lips and strolled the distance of the sheet before turning. Men were paying for this, she reminded herself. They wanted to see her titties? She’d show them her titties.
Danny had reminded her to make sure her shadow reflected against the sheet and not to turn full to the front or full to the back. She’d seen a moll on the docks fondle her tits when trying to entice customers. Imo mimicked her, cupping her breasts and lifting.
This was stupid. Men liked this?
Imo tried other ridiculous poses until she couldn’t think of anything else. When she lifted her shirt, she slipped her arms inside and fastened the ties. Danny understood the show was over and the murmur from the audience expressed a general disquiet the sight of her body had stirred.
A skinny young seaman, maybe no older than Frank, was the first to come around the corner. Lust burned in his gaze. He peeled back the dirty placket of his trousers and the stench of an unwashed body assailed her. How would she ever be a good whore if she couldn’t stand the sight or smell of the very thing she was to pleasure?
“Can I touch ’em?” he whispered. Imo glanced down to see she’d exposed her titties as she bent to fondle his penis.
“How much?” How often had she told herself this was a business and she had to get used to doing business?
“I have five more pence I could give you.”
“You got ten?” she asked. She knew it was a ridiculous price, but in the throes of lust, men seemed willing to part with their common sense as well as their coin.
He nodded and dug one hand inside his pocket. He pulled out a kerchief and plucked the coins from his palm before tucking his money away.
Imo hadn’t forgotten about the shadow she cast on the other side of the room, so she licked her fingers then pinched the candle. She turned her back and then gently loosed her shirt. The round slopes were visible through the shirt material.
He licked his lips and reached one hand toward her. Imo refused to glance at him. Lust could not only be seen; it could be heard. Ragged breathing and tense muscles were an indication that he wouldn’t last once she touched his cock.
She slipped her hand around the thickening flesh in all ways familiar to her now. The young man gasped. “It’s my first time,” he whispered.
Never had she wanted to prolong the act, but he sounded so forlorn and needy, she loosed her hold and slid with a long, slow stroke to the thick root. His fingers pinched her nipple hard and she flinched.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Soft-like,” Imo said when she would rather have given him his money back.
Heat sprang from his loins like a warm fire. He cupped one hand over her and squeezed with much more gentleness. Imo’s heart sped and a spike of ache built between her legs, where the men always wanted to poke.
She slid her fingers up the shaft and squeezed the tip. Her palm clutched his balls and the familiar tightening came quick.
“Oh, shit. I don’t want it to stop,” he said. His free hand reached for her other tit and he squeezed hard again. She didn’t have time to turn away as his spunk squirted on the side of her face and between her tits. His hips jerked uncontrollably, his head thrown back in lustful ecstasy she’d recognized as the final release. She could have put a gun to his head and he wouldn’t have even known.
He opened his eyes. They were still glazed and unseeing. “I want to come back.”
She reached for the long shirttail and wiped at her face. She’d bring rags along next time. “As long as you got money.”
One thing would never change. She might accept that this was her lot in life, but she’d never get used to how dirty it made her feel.
* * * * *
Their days were spent in leisure now that they had a reliable source of income. Danny didn’t allow them to completely abandon other moneymaking schemes, if an opportunity came along. Imo suspected he didn’t want Frank to become lazy and greedy. The ever-present lure of a whore kept Frank happily bringing in more coin for their coffer.
Men had heard she provided a modest entertainment if not an outright shag, but for the few coppers they paid, they seemed satisfied. They settled into a nightly routine involving the walk to Cable Street, two of the boys searching for paying clients and Imo setting up her stage.
Imo learned that the more she provided behind the security of the screen, the faster and quicker she brought them off afterward. The young sailor came back three times, but she didn’t make the mistake of thinking he should be allowed to touch her again. His gaze was both greedy and needy and Imo wasn’t going to give him anything more. And Danny had given her a hard look when she told him about it the first time.
Nine men had packed into the small building. Her hands and arms had grown used to the movement and were no longer sore afterward. Tonight, the sailor was the last to emerge from behind the curtain.
“Hallo, Imogene,” he said.
Never. Not once had anyone called her by name. Being anonymous and protected had been part of the charade.
She smiled. His hands fumbled at his pants, loosening them and dragging his erect cock into sight. Her fingers slid along his skin.
“I love you, Imogene,” he whispered. “Can you meet me later?”
She backed away, nearly stumbling on her oversized, floppy shoes. “No, I—”
The boys were jawing together on the other side and probably hadn’t heard the conversation. Frank let out a loud whoop and the others joined in.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re just so beautiful. I know you don’t want to do this.”
“You don’t know nothing. Now, do you want me to stroke your wanker or not?”
His arms gripped her shoulders and his mouth swooped down on hers, engulfing her lips. He forced his tongue inside her mouth and ground his mouth against hers.
She shoved. She wasn’t a sissy, but her strong arms couldn’t budge the gangly sea-hardened youth. She had a hard time with Frank too. Only surprise ever worked with him.
Quick reflexes had been honed on the street. Jerking her knee upward she connected with his groin. She had intimate knowledge about that part of a man and how it responded to pain and pleasure.
He grunted and leaned over. He sucked in a lung full of air and hissed, “You bitch.”
Before she could yell, his hand clutched her throat.
“Keep yer mouth shut and I won’t hurt you.”
He pushed her toward the wall and shoved one hand into her pants. His fingers searched through the hair between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together and turned her body away. He bent and bit at her tit, right through the material of her shirt. His hand searched upward, skimming underneath the protective material until his calloused hand gripped her hard.
Her vision blackened and her lungs burned from lack of air.
She lifted one foot and braced against the wall, pushing with every ounce of strength she had. Their weight shifted backwards. Just as his hand loosened its grip, she screamed.
“Danny. Help me!”
They fell to the dirt floor in a tangle of limbs. Imo rolled away, but the boy’s hand grabbed a handful of her hair.
“Imo?”
Her three brothers came around the curtain just as the sailor sat up and, seeing the larger two, he let Imo loose. Charlie hung back wide-eyed. Danny dived for the attacker. Frank followed, his fists making quick, hard contact with the sailor’s face. The meaty thwack of fist to face, and fist to nose and fist to belly sounded along with the repeated grunts from the three of them.
Imo crawled away. She used the beams inside the building for support and slowly got to her feet. Charlie was beside her in a moment, his arms around her waist. “I’m all right, Charlie.” She ruffled his hair to assure him and then turned her attention to the fight. “Danny! Frank! I’m not hurt. Danny! Stop, I’m not hurt.”
The tangle of limbs slowly parted and the sailor lay on the floor bloodied and turned on his side. Frank kicked him low and hard in the back. “Don’t never come back.”
“Frank, help me get him out of here,” Danny said. They each grabbed an arm and dragged him toward the back door. “Charlie, get the door.”
He ran, grabbed the inside wooded brace and pushed the door open for his brothers. They threw him in a heap outside and pulled the door behind him. Charlie lowered the brace.
Frank bent over and laughed. “He didn’t stand a chance. What was he thinking?”
“I don’t know. I thought he had a good right. Had he started on his feet he might have given us a run for our money.”
Imo seethed. Danny was the closest. She marched up to him and kicked him in the leg. He squawked and turned, looking at her with an incredulous expression. “What was that for?”
“You idiots. Did either of you think to check on me? I could have been hurt. Or worse.”
“We stopped him, didn’t we?”
“If you weren’t both yapping about nothing, you could have heard what was going on back there.”
She crumbled in a heap and put her face in her hands. Anger and fear welled up and the tears sprang to her eyes without warning. She swiped the back of her hand against her face. “How do you think I can do this night after night, always afraid something bad is going to happen? I trust you two. I trust you to protect me, not let me alone with some stranger who wants more than those two coppers is going to buy. Don’t you know every single one of them would take whatever they want the moment your back is turned? You numbskulls. You jobber knots. You...idiots,” she said again.
Charlie had walked up behind her and wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sorry, Imo. I should be watching too.”
“It ain’t your fault, Charlie. Don’t you be fretting, but if these two can’t do their jobs, you’d do a darn sight better.”
Frank for once kept his yapper shut. He knew she would vent her anger on him if he so much as said a word. Danny reached out for her and she slipped her hand in his. He hoisted her to her feet and she swiped at the sawdust griming her clothes.
“You’re right. We should have been paying more attention. I won’t let it happen again.”
“Damn right.”
Imo’s insides quivered. She’d never felt so helpless and she’d grown up on the streets of London. They didn’t know how bad it was to be a woman.