Belle - Lesley Pearse [91]
Belle could hardly believe what she was seeing, for it was quite clear that the girls had the upper hand, not the man. She watched their faces. Polly was trying hard not to laugh, yet at the same time stroking him and gyrating her hips to make it as erotic as possible so he would ejaculate quickly. Anna-Maria did in fact seem to be really enjoying being licked by the man; she was telling him it was thrilling and sexy and that she was coming. She certainly looked as if it was for real, her face was flushed, eyes half closed and mouth partially open.
The Texan bellowed like a bull when he came, and Polly put her hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing. Anna-Maria was still undulating against the man’s big tongue; she caught hold of his head at the point when she said she was coming, and sweat was glistening on her forehead and running down her breasts.
Belle sat back in her chair as the two girls said their goodbyes to their client. He was grinning from ear to ear, insisting they’d taken him to the ends of the world and back.
‘I sure would like you two little fire crackers in my bed every night at home,’ he said, putting his arms around them both and squeezing them hard. ‘I reckon I’ll be taking my cock in hand every night and thinking of you both.’
After they’d let the man out and closed the door, Belle came out from behind the screen. Polly started to giggle. ‘How was that, sugar? You like it?’
Anna-Maria was sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling to put her chemise back on. She looked a bit stunned.
‘That sounded as though you really liked it,’ Belle said to her.
‘I did,’ she said in her faint French accent, and she giggled and blushed. ‘That ees the first time that ever happened to me, I really did come.’
Belle had heard that expression many times since arriving at Martha’s. She understood it in the male sense, but she hadn’t until now known it could happen for women too. However, it obviously struck a chord with Polly as she went off into a fit of giggles. ‘Imagine him cock in hand thinking of us,’ she chortled.
Belle went off up to her room to let the other two girls get washed and dressed again. She sat on her bed and realized she was confused. Not about what she’d just seen, but all the things life had thrown at her, for surely there had to be some plan behind it, if she could just work it out.
She’d grown up in a brothel but hadn’t known what that meant. She’d seen a girl murdered and her mother had lied about who did it. Then there was her abduction and the horrible events in Paris. But then she met Etienne, by whom she’d been terrified at first, only to get to like him, maybe even love him a little. She ought to have been horrified at being brought here to be a whore, yet she wasn’t. She ought to be appalled by New Orleans, yet she liked it. She didn’t feel even the slightest resentment that Martha was going to push her into the work she’d bought her for.
Was this because she was born to be a whore? Was it possible you could inherit the disposition for such a job in the same way you inherited your mother’s nose or colouring?
Part of her believed that it was bad for any woman to sell her body, yet the other part denied it. She’d seen the delight on that man’s face tonight, the girls had made him happy, so how could it really be bad?
But there were other things which puzzled her too. She missed Mog, and would always have a special place for her in her heart, but she felt more at home here with Martha and her girls than she had back in London. Why was that? Didn’t that make her disloyal?
If Etienne had tried to have his way with her she suspected she wouldn’t have resisted him. That was surely further proof of a loose nature. In fact it seemed to her that she couldn’t define what was good or bad any more, for everything had become mixed up and blurred around the edges.
A soft rap on her door startled Belle, and she was even more surprised when Martha put her head around