The Tender Days of May (The Belle House Book 1)

by Vlad Kahany

  The afternoon air was filled with warmth and the scent of lilacs they had just passed. Lord Ashbee liked this time of the year—the late days of spring, especially those of May, when the coldness of the winter was gone, so were the timidness and the uncertainty of the first spring months that often brought rain and occasional frost.

  But May! The blossoming of life, the force that threw the nature into full bloom before it turned into summer, too hot and suffocating, clenching your body with its exhausting heat! May—that was the month of the perfection of nature as he knew it and the time of the year he felt most nostalgic.

  But not this very moment.

  He looked at the entrance to the Belle House, excited about his young cousin’s initiation.

  Something tickled his mind, some distant memory, sparked by the spring scents and the freshness of the afternoon.

  And suddenly he remembered.

  The girl in the hallway from the other day!

  Of course!

  He should ask Salome about her.

  Suddenly, his body tingled with anticipation. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, dissecting the smells. Daffodils. Warm roads. Hawthorn tree blooming just a short distance away. And something else. It wasn’t an actual smell, but it triggered his brain in the same enticing way, for it caressed Lord Ashbee’s curiosity. The scent of new beginnings. Somehow, it had to do with the mysterious beauty behind the doors. His lips stretched in a sly smile, and he opened his eyes.

  “Walter, shall we?” He opened the door letting the young man in.

  —————

  The conversation in Mrs. Sharke’s boudoir was one of the several few that May had had since they made their acquaintance. It’s been two weeks since May’s arrival, and Mrs. Sharke wanted to make sure the young woman found her lodging situation acceptable.

  “I am thankful for your help,” May said, sitting on the armchair opposite Mrs. Sharke, who was studying the young woman with great attention.

  “I was told very little,” the madam said. “And I would prefer not to know more than what I already do. Taking into account the man we both know that vouched for you and for providing the necessary sum for your accommodation, I am more than willing to meet your every need, my dear.”

  That, of course, was a lie. Salome Sharke didn’t just run the finest brothel on Piccadilly—she ran the virtual news column, as well as a gossip one. To ensure her business ran successfully—and that was her main concern—she learned to be in control. Control meant information on all parties involved. She wanted to please Lord Baillie, who, sometime in the past, had been one of her most generous clients, and still would have been if not for his relocation. In fact, he was the person to vow for the pretty creature that sat in front of her. The young woman could as well be one of his current little passions and nothing more to it. Nevertheless, Mrs. Sharke had the feeling that she should give the woman proper attention. Just in case. The plain middle-class dress could be hiding something much more valuable than she was led to believe. Her intuition was telling her so, and Salome Sharke knew from years of experience that her intuition rarely let her down.

  “Let me be honest with you, Miss May,” she said, pausing for a second. Her most dishonest lectures usually started this way, but right now, she tried to set things straight. “You are a beautiful woman. And any other time, I would try to recruit you to be part of my business in the Belle House.”

  At this, May flinched, which didn’t escape Mrs. Sharke’s eye.

  “But taking into account the arrangement,” the madam continued, “I think I should warn you to stay out of sight as much as possible. You know what I mean. Gentlemen, of course, who, taking into account the love for beauty such as yours, would start asking questions and talking to each other. Next thing you know—you will be the most known person on Piccadilly.”

  She paused for exaggeration, and May shifted uneasily in the armchair.

  “The ladies of the House—don’t underestimate them. They like to talk. More than anything, they hate competition and the mere existence of beauty such as yours next to them. I suggest you don’t make friends. There can’t be any in your situation. Krissy and Martha are the only ones you should interact with, and as per the instructions I received, you should not leave the Belle House. I am paid generously for your safety, and I would like to keep it that way. But I need your cooperation.”

  May nodded, looking directly at Mrs. Sharke. She liked the woman in charge of the House. Mrs. Sharke wasn’t just an average madam. The way she ran things and the reputation she had were admirable. May had never been a supporter of such establishments, nor did she want to have anything to do with them, but as long as she stayed in her room, she could pretend she lived in just a regular house in the city. God, was it hard to pretend, but she had no choice.

  “On a brighter side”—Mrs. Sharke smiled cunningly at May—“we have plenty of literature, should you get bored. Occasionally, I like to have company. So if you would like to join me, you are more than welcome. If you do need to leave the House for any reason, I would like you to tell me, so I’m not left in the dark.”

  Just then, they got interrupted by a knock on the door, and Krissy walked in to announce Lord Ashbee’s arrival.

  Uneasiness swept across Mrs. Sharke’s face.

  “Tell Lord Ashbee I will meet him downstairs in just a minute,” she said, but before Krissy could close the door, it was pushed open again, and the deep low voice announced the man’s presence.

  “Oh, I thought I wouldn’t make you come all the way downstairs just for me.” Lord Ashbee walked in with a sly smile, and both women rose abruptly from their chairs. “I just wanted to see you for a brief chat.” He strode gallantly to Mrs. Sharke and kissed her outstretched hand. Then, his eyes shifted quickly to May, and he greeted her with a nod. “You have company, I see.” His eyes, accompanied by a curled smile, stayed fixed on May, looked her up and down in the most brazen fashion, then shifted back to Mrs. Sharke.

  She glared at him.

  “A new arrival?” He gave her an inquiring look, failing to conceal a smile, and his eyes went back to May again.

  This woman! The beauty! Her eyes! Light gray of the spring waters! They gazed back at him as if transfixed for a second and quickly moved away.

  He could now see the mysterious girl in full glory and was immensely pleased by the view.

  Young.

  Timid.

  Delicate.

  “I must go,” May said meekly, blushed, trying to avoid the man’s eyes, and thanked Mrs. Sharke.

  The madam caught up with her in the hallway. “You see what I mean by saying you should be careful to avoid any encounters, Miss May? Especially with men like Lord Ashbee.”

  When she returned to her chambers, Lord Ashbee already made himself comfortable in an armchair with a glass of brandy and a cigar.

  “Who is she?” He grinned shamelessly at Mrs. Sharke, who gave him a reproachful look and shook her head.

  “You are such a weasel, Ray! None of your business. She just stopped by.” She picked up a glass of brandy and downed it.

  Lord Ashbee hooked one of his arms behind the chair back and cocked his head to the side.

  “Oh, come, now, Sally. You can’t keep things from me! Not something as charming as this creature!” He stared at her with a dangerous glint in his eyes that she knew too well.

  “Leave it alone, Ray.” She shook her head and took a seat across from him.

  “Oh, for old friendship’s sake, Sally, don’t be ridiculous. What’s the scoop?”

  Mrs. Sharke knew very well that Lord Ashbee was good at keeping secrets. The problem was that he tended to invest himself too much in them, especially if it had anything to do with beautiful women.

  She shook her head again.

  “Not happening, my dear,” she said, giving him a sharp stare.

  He stared back with a sly smile. “I can find out elsewhere.”

  “Don’t you dare, Ray!” She
glared at him.

  His grin grew bigger, eyes staring at her mockingly through the smoke of his cigar. “I’ll ask around.”

  “You will not!”

  “So then tell me! Your secrets are safe with me. Cross my heart!” His eyes glinted with something wicked.

  “You are a devil, Ashbee!” She exclaimed and rolled her eyes.

  Lord Ashbee laughed and got ready for a good story.

  —————

  Back in her room, May paced back and forth.

  That man!

  Those eyes!

  She’d seen him before! It was the man fondling Eliza in the hallway the other day!

  She had barely been here for two weeks and already ran into someone who expressed too much interest.

  It wouldn’t matter if it weren’t for Mrs. Sharke’s word.

  Especially men like Lord Ashbee.

  He was taller than May. A strong body, broad shoulders. Probably ten or so years older than her. He wasn’t exactly a handsome man, but his facial features and expression radiated strength and superiority. His eyes looked at one as if he observed the world and the people with sardonic amusement. May had only seen him twice, and already she had a feeling that he knew too much about her. As if as soon as his eyes locked with hers, he could read her thoughts, dig out her secrets. Those eyes seemed to haunt her even when he wasn’t around. It made her feel uncomfortable, frightened, yet…

  She shook off the thought.

  Cautious. She should be cautious.

  —————

  The conversation with Mrs. Sharke left Lord Ashbee puzzled and intrigued.

  How could it be that even the madam of the house didn’t have much information? Or the real name of the girl? Or where she came from? He wasn’t acquainted with Lord Baillie, nor would he go to a trouble of sending inquiries across the country trying to find out the girl’s story. But so much mystery and…

  So.

  Much.

  Beauty.

  Lord Ashbee was swept away, which wasn’t common with him since beauty and ugliness were his specialties.

  He was on the way downstairs to see how Walter was doing when he saw one of the young maids dusting the paintings in the hallway. He paused and studied her for a minute. When she noticed him watching her, he signaled with his finger for her to come over.

  “You’ve worked here for a while, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, sir, almost a year. My name is Krissy.” The maid smiled at Lord Ashbee.

  “Krissy…” He paused, thinking. “I need a favor, Krissy.” He smiled his signature smile at which the maid puckered her lips, trying to suppress a giggle, and lowered her eyes.

  “Not that kind of favor, my dear,” he added. The girl seemed more than willing to oblige, and that was a good sign. “What room does Miss May stay in?”

  Krissy’s smile disappeared. “Um. I’m not sure, sir.”

  Lord rolled his eyes. “Now, Krissy. Let’s not play games here. It’s not a complicated question.”

  “Sir, the madam doesn’t like it when we talk about things with people from outside the house. I can get in trou—“

  “Krissy,” he interrupted her softly, leaning against the wall. “I am about to make you an offer. It does not involve any danger or anything that will jeopardize your current job. But you will make some money. And all it requires from you is to be smart. You are, right?”

  Krissy nodded vigorously, her eyes still glued to the floor.

  “You don’t want to scrub the floor all your life, do you? I see a lot of potential in you.” Lord Ashbee smiled. That smile worked wonders on the elite as well as servants, and Krissy already heard the golden words. ‘Potential’ was the only winning card she had in this life, so she looked up at the man with the readiness and determination of an international spy.

  Lord Ashbee checked the surroundings to make sure no one else was around, then turned back to Krissy.

  “This is what I need you to do.”

  And that’s how Krissy got a side job, an additional income, and the first chance to use her potential.

  —————

  The air was full of laughter and talk, the clinking of plates and glasses, the heavy smell of perfume, powder, and alcohol.

  Walter’s mind was a whirlwind as he sat in the front parlor of the Belle House in the company of several ladies. He was telling them about the quiet life of the country estate. The young women were bored to death but laughed and giggled in pretend excitement as if he was telling them the most exotic tale.

  The parlor certainly did not lack decoration. Plush carpets, floral wallpaper, an upright rosewood piano, armchairs, coffee tables, paintings of the most scandalous subject but so amusing. And mirrors! There were mirrors everywhere! They multiplied the number of ladies as well as their beauty.

  Walter glanced at the fine men that were scattered around in the company of females. Some played cards; some drank and enjoyed the appetizers; some chatted. He couldn’t get his head around the fact that he was in a brothel. He’d never been to one, and this was certainly not what he had expected. If anything, it reminded him of an elegant gathering in one of the country estates, if it wasn’t for the occasional touches of women, intimate, quite inappropriate. And maybe over-the-top furnishings. This display of money and luxury lifted his spirits and eased his nervousness.

  When Lord Ashbee entered the room, Walter wanted to run to him immediately and stay nearby, as if having Lord Ashbee by his side enforced his confidence.

  As soon as an older woman in her forties with an air of being in charge entered the room, Lord Ashbee came over and introduced them.

  “This is Mrs. Sharke,” Lord Ashbee said, and Walter knew who she was at once.

  “Sir Bentley, I am very pleased you chose the Belle House out of all the fine establishments in this city,” she said with a sleek smile, too foxy for her age.

  Walter smiled shyly.

  “I am afraid, I follow Lord Ashbee in his choices as he seems to be quite an expert,” he answered, blushing.

  “You don’t say!” Mrs. Sharke looked at Lord Ashbee wide-eyed as if in utmost surprise, to which Lord Ashbee chuckled.

  They continued the conversation in the same manner for some time, when at last, Mrs. Sharke, with an astute smile, fixed her eyes on the young man.

  “Well, Sir Bentley. We intend to make the best impression on you.”

  She summoned Odaley and Bonny and introduced them to Walter, whose cheeks were flushed at all the excitement and novelty of the experience. He leaned closer to Lord Ashbee.

  “Do I chose whichever one I like?” he whispered.

  “No.” Lord Ashbee chuckled. “You don’t have to choose. You are going to have both of them.” He winked, and Walter’s jaw dropped in astonishment.

  Earlier, in Mrs. Sharke’s chamber, Lord Ashbee explained to her what he wanted.

  “Walter needs to learn the way with women. He is not a layman. So if he wants to be popular with the females, or make the chosen one happy, he needs to know how to please. No woman can be satisfied with a pushing stick. If she respects herself and cherishes her welfare, that is.”

  “Very ambitious, Ray,” Mrs. Sharke answered.

  “You know that better than anyone, Sally. We chose women for attitude, and they chose us for aptitude. That is true for the bedroom pleasures. A woman doesn’t just get attracted to masculinity but to how one uses it. The boy needs to learn the ways of a man.”

  “If you want him to be like you, it’s impossible, Ray.” She chuckled. “One needs natural-born curiosity to explore and learn the craft.”

  “Natural-born curiosity and craft can be lost if not sustained by proper education.”

  “Ah, your rhetorics. Fine! Fine!”

  It was agreed, and that was how Walter ended up with Odaley and Bonny in one of the bedrooms upstairs. The girls undressed and then stripped Walter down to nothing, kissing him and laughing merrily. As soon as Walter was on the bed, their kisse
s assumed a different manner. They lay on both sides of him, stroking his body. One mouth sucked on his nipples, while another kissed his belly. One hand stroked his torso, while another—his erect cock. He wrapped his arms around the girls and kept his eyes open, absorbing everything that the two minxes were doing to him. Then Odaley set to kissing him, her tongue quivering in his mouth while Bonny’s lips wrapped around his erection. He moaned as her warm lips started moving up and down his length, the tongue inside her mouth playing with the tip like it was the most delicious dessert that one ate hands-free. It took less than a minute, and Walter exploded in orgasm, his semen disappearing in Bonny’s mouth to his great astonishment.

  As soon as he finished, he felt ashamed. Again, he didn’t last! But the girls seemed not to worry. For a moment, they were changing their positions and readjusting themselves.

  “Would you like to try me?” Bonny, the more attractive of the two, with the skin white like porcelain, glanced seductively at the young man.

  “I am not sure what…” he paused, hesitating.

  “No need to worry, you can’t go wrong. And I will guide you,” she said, stretching her naked body on the sheets, and spread her legs wide. Odaley instructed him to lie belly down, his head lodged between Bonny’s legs as the latter smiled and bit her lip.

  Oh, how awkward he felt but how strangely normal the girls behaved, tutoring him!

  He stared at the intricate design of Bonny’s private parts in front of him. It hypnotized him. It looked alive, like something out of the sea, in a shell. After a second of hesitation, he planted a soft kiss on the intimate part, not sure what else to do. The flesh felt moist and raw, like an inside of a girl’s mouth.

  Bonny giggled in delight and threw an amused glance at him.

  “Don’t be afraid, Sir Bentley. Your lips feel wonderful. And your tongue! Don’t forget your tongue!”

  Walter, encouraged by this compliment, kissed his new acquaintance a couple more times, more sensually this time, using his tongue, heard Bonny’s satisfied sighs, and set out on the mission to please the girl. He placed his hands on her bare legs splayed open in front of him, and set to work. She smelled wonderful! Aromatic oils, he assumed. And as his lips and tongue started playing with the folds and her clitoris, first with hesitation, then with more confidence, the girl began to moan at every stroke.