The Harlot’s Pen (13 page)

“And you’re young enough to keep her all night!” Jake said.

“I could keep all four of Spanish Kitty’s girls all night,” Caleb replied.

“You want to bet that? Say, pretty lady, you want to take on Cal all night? You and, say, Rose?”

Violet shook her head. Caleb raised his eyebrow, and for a moment Violet felt a chill. “No,” she said quickly, “if I get Caleb, I get him all to myself.” The round of laughs that got allowed her a sigh of relief, as well as a glance from Sharon, who was entertaining another table of gamblers. She winked at Violet.

“Done. Let me talk to Kitty.” Caleb stood up.

“Hell, Caleb. Don’t keep her all night! Let some us have a round with her—it’s her first night, after all. She should have a chance to sample all the fellas!”

“We’ll see,” Caleb said. “You wait right here, Violet. Let’s see if Miss Kitty can spare you.”

Well, he knows the protocol, anyway.
Violet sat nervously awaiting Caleb’s return. She felt herself perspiring. She felt a warm hand on her arm and looked up. Rose, her long, red hair only loosely tied back, was by her side. She leaned in and whispered, “Tease the others a bit, ask Jake if he’s from around here, anything to get him to bid for you, too. Don’t let Caleb keep you all night. Once is enough with him. Now giggle, and wink at me.”

Violet took a breath, and as it rasped she let it out as a giggle. It wasn’t terribly convincing, but she quickly followed it up with a smile at Jake. “Guess I need another cordial. All this excitement is getting me thirsty. How about you? You look like you could use a drink!”

Jake grinned back, his wrinkled brow creasing more deeply. “Sure, young lady. Why don’t we get ourselves another cordial while we wait for Caleb to come and get you.”

“Thanks, Jake. You from Sonoma? You sound like there’s a bit the Scotsman in your voice.”

“Very good! I’ve been out in California for twenty years, and twenty years all over the West before that, but I spent my first ten years in Glasgow, and the burr never left me. But how did you pick it out? Most folks can’t tell an Irishman from a Welshman from a Scotsman out here.”

“But in Scotland, you can tell within a mile what village a man’s from, isn’t that so?” Violet asked.

“Well, if you ain’t the smart one! And comely, too,” he added, with a long glance down the front of her dress.

“You’re not bad yourself,” Violet answered.

Jake laughed a loud, hoarse laugh. “You’ll do well in Spanish Kitty’s Resort,” he said. “Let me go make sure Cal doesn’t take you for the whole night. I want my turn with you, too. Wait right here, missy. I’m going to go talk to Kitty.”

Caleb came swinging through the doors a minute later, his eyes flashing. “Come on, Violet. Let’s head upstairs. Damn that Jake. Kitty insisted he get a go with you, too. But I’ve got you first. Up we go, honey,” he said, giving her a sharp swat on her rump. She squawked, there was no other word for it, and every single man in the room laughed. Her face burning, she led the way out of the gambling room towards the stairs to her room.

“Well done,” Rose said as she walked by. “You’ll be glad. You’ll see.”

I hope so
, Violet thought as she turned to mount the steps.
I wanted to write about them, I didn’t want to be them.
She felt Caleb lift her hem as she walked up the stairs in front of him, and his hand slid up her stocking to the top of her hose. Then his hand was on her thigh, and then between her legs.

“Wait until we’re in my room,” she said hoarsely.

“Hey. Don’t tell me what to do,” he replied. “You may be new here, but I’m the customer, you’re the whore.” And keeping his hand between her thighs, he pushed her up the stairs to her room.

* * * *

She wants to write about prostitutes. Well, now she’ll know about prostitutes. And she has no idea how easy she’s got it
. Kate ruminated on Violet’s first customer as she poured a glass of whiskey for herself from the gentleman’s bottle. He’s a rough one, that Caleb, but I have a feeling that won’t be the last time she gets a hiding before she turns the trick. There’s something about some girls, you can tell which ones attract the rough trade and which ones don’t. Posie, for instance. She’d come down crying so often that Kitty had been tempted to fire her. Tiny Rose, raucous Sharon, the rough ones never singled them out, unless there was no one else available. Rose scared them, for some reason. And Lily, it would be like spanking a cherub. But she could tell from the moment she met Violet that, like Posie, she would attract all the boys who liked to swing their belts a bit first.

She thought of her nights at the Marsicania, on Grant Street in San Francisco, where she had landed after running away. It was built like a stable, with sometimes five whores to a stall. At only fifteen, she was young and pretty, and her black hair and lush lips drove the customers wild. They were stinking ruffians, and she had to earn her five dollars every night to pay her share of the crib before she could keep a dime, but she made steady money. Sometimes she was so sore and bruised she could barely walk at the end of a night, but she always had plenty of cash.

The girl she usually shared with, Jen, was a thin, tired-looking waif from way up in the mountains, near Sonora. She used to go to the nickel dance halls, the Thalia, the Odeon, where for a nickel a man could get a beer, and for another nickel he could dance with a girl. From there, it was whatever she could negotiate, unless she had a pimp do her business for her. Jen was already sixteen and had also been in the trade since she was twelve, but without a mama to watch over her, she had sunk lower and lower, until she had found herself in competition with the lowest of the low, the Chinese prostitutes in Maiden Lane. For a dollar, they would do such depravities that even Kitty’s stomach turned. Jen had escaped to the Marsicania as a step up and had vowed that as soon as she had fifty dollars saved, she was going back to Sonora and setting up a millinery shop.

Both girls knew that was just a dream, but for Jen it was not a dream for long. Before the end of the year, she was dead under a bridge near the docks, bled out from the abortionist’s knife.

Kate shook her head to chase away the memories. She had lived to follow her own dream, she thought, looking around the room at the prosperous men and the laughing, plump girls in her care. Violet would find her way, but she would never know the real story of the whores without at least living part of their lives. Kate would tell her the rest. She took another big sip of whiskey, enjoyed the warmth as it traveled down her throat, and smiled at the gentleman whose fine liquor it was.

“Penny for your thoughts, Kitty,” he said.

“Not even worth that, Clancy,” she replied. “How are things in the governor’s office?”

* * * *

Violet turned the knob to her room. “Oh, that’s good,” Caleb said. “You got Posie’s room, didn’t you? Perfect.”

“Why’s that perfect?”

“Because I liked Posie, and I like you. Besides, it’s haunted.”

“Nonsense,” Violet said, feeling a surge of superiority. “Ghosts are figments of an overactive imagination.”

“Figments? That’s some vocabulary you’ve got there, Violet. Aren’t you superstitious? I thought all whores were superstitious.”

“Nope. My imagination is literary, and I can tell the difference between reality and fiction. Ghosts are just a convenient fiction to scare the credulous. You don’t believe in ghosts, now, do you, Caleb?” She grinned at him. Maybe he would just want to talk.

“Not since you just said they were just for the gullible.” He smiled back at her, but his eyes were narrowing. “I’m not gullible. And speaking of not gullible, I can tell you ain’t a whore, either. What’s your game?”

Violet stood very still.
How do I answer?
“No game, Caleb. Tonight, I’m your whore.”

“Good, since I just paid good money for you. Now, get over here.” He sat down on the bed. She took a step towards him. Impatiently, he reached for her hand and closed the gap between them. Then, with a single move, he swung her across his knees, and lifted her skirt over her head. He stroked the back of her thighs above her stockings. “You’re pretty cool, aren’t you? I know how to heat a girl up.” Violet shut her eyes tight as his hand came down hard across her naked rump.

After each blow he rubbed her bottom and slipped his hand between her thighs to keep them spread. As he struck, she could hear his breath come hoarser, and could feel his erection under her stiffening and growing. At last he released her, and she struggled to her feet. She was breathing hard, blinking back tears.

“On the bed.” She lay down immediately. He pushed her legs apart, knelt between her knees, and loosened his trousers. “You’re nice and warm now. Tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you,” Violet said.

Caleb clenched his teeth, and she saw the muscles move in his jaw. “Tell me, Violet.”

“I want you, Caleb. I want you now!” He released his erection from his pants, and Violet’s eyes widened. He was bigger than Sam, far more erect than Grayson, her first lover and runaway groom, and a drop of liquid at the end of the shaft glared at her in readiness.

“Beg,” he whispered.

Violet heard herself whimper, but she had dissociated herself from her body and had not sobbed volitionally. “Please, Caleb, please take me now.”

“How do you want it, Violet?” His voice was low.

She knew the answer, just as she had known it with Sam. “I want it hard, Caleb, hard and fast, and I want it now.”

She shut her eyes as he drove inside her. Far above her, she saw herself arch in pain, then buck in pleasure as she cried out her own release. She grasped Caleb by the back of his shirt and moved against him, begging and urging him on.

When he was finished he lay upon her, breathing raggedly.

“Oh, my God, Violet. You’ll never last here.” He pushed up on his elbows and looked down at her, the boyishness and sparkle back in his eyes. “A whore’s supposed to fake it, Violet. Not actually like it!” He stroked the side of her face. “You’ve got a room full of men downstairs to please. If word gets out about this, you’ll be used up in a week. There’ll be a line out the door!”

Violet looked up at his blue eyes. “No, Caleb, I don’t think it will be like this with everyone. Just you.”

Caleb grinned at her. “You’re a real bearcat!” He got up and adjusted his pants. “See you downstairs,” he said with a wink. He tossed a handful of coins on her bureau. “A real bearcat, yessiree.”

A convenient fiction to snare the credulous
.

Violet poured water from the pitcher into the basin and washed herself. Then, taking the squeeze bottle full of vinegar, she pushed the little hose up inside herself and squirted. The vinegar rushed up, soothing and refreshing her. After rinsing, she dried herself, and remembering Lily’s instructions, made sure her veil was still in place. Then she fixed her hair again in the mirror, sprayed some more flower water between her legs, and looked herself over once more. No need for rouge now, she thought, her cheeks still rosy. Her other cheeks were plenty rosy too, she thought, and she blushed redder. Then, taking a deep breath, she walked downstairs to fetch Jake.

* * * *

Kate watched Caleb swagger across the room and pour himself a drink. She made a note on her bill pad, keeping tabs on all the drinks sold. Depending on the gentleman, she either charged him as he went, let him run a tab to the end of the evening, or took a monthly retainer. Caleb was a nightly payer, a regular, but just not rich enough to pay a retainer.

He looked mighty pleased with himself. If Violet didn’t come down in a few minutes, she would send Rose to fetch her. Depending on how devastated Violet was by her first paid encounter, Kate would delay Jake until she was ready. But Kate did not have to wait, as she saw Violet appear almost immediately. And she looked, Kate thought, happy. Kate shook her head.
Oh sweet Mary, happy is almost worse than miserable.

She signaled to Violet, who came quickly to Kate’s side. “Did he tip you?” she asked quietly. Violet nodded. “Good. Take the entire amount and give it to me.”

Violet looked surprised. “I thought we kept that.”

“Not you. Not from Caleb Houston. Go get it.”

Violet frowned, and Kate hardened her face. Violet turned and remounted the stairs, returning moments later with five dollars in coins. ‘Is that all of it?” Kate said curtly.

“Yes.” Violet’s voice was firm with anger.

Kate relaxed internally. Good. Make it a little rough on her. “Now take Jake upstairs, and make it snappy.” Some girls needed a gentle hand, but Violet was going to have to learn the hard way. This was a business, not the Ritz.

Violet turned away and walked back to the swinging doors. As she passed Caleb at the bar, he winked. She looked past him, and he flushed.
Excellent
, Kate thought.
Attagirl
.

Violet returned with Jake, smiling and chatting with him as they passed. Jake nodded politely to Kate and followed Violet upstairs. Kate glanced over at Caleb. He was finishing his drink and pouring another. She made another mark on her pad and watched as he went back through the swinging doors to the gambling den.

“You were saying, Clancy?” She turned back to the lieutenant governor.

“Yeah, Hiram’s got his hands full with the legislature this term,” he answered. “Who’s the new girl?”

“Oh, Violet? She’s just started. From San Francisco.”

“She looks vaguely familiar. Pretty, though. Too tall for a girl, and a little blue-nosed looking, but pretty. Nice hair, too. A real Sheba.”

“You’ve got a good eye, Clancy. She’s a bright one, that Violet.” Kate carefully laid her trap, knowing her clients all too well. “Maybe next time you come she won’t be so busy.”

“I’ll be back in a week or so. I’ve got commission meetings coming up, and those men will beat their gums till the end of days.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Clancy. I’ll save Violet for you if I know you’re coming.”

“You’re a doll, Kitty. But I don’t want you losing dough, so don’t go saving her too much!” He bent and gave her a kiss. “You’re still the finest business woman in all of the Sonoma Valley.” He picked up his hat, laid a ten dollar bill on her counter, and headed out into the warm evening.