Imogene

by Eliza Lloyd

  “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 arou
nd 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.

  Chapter Five

  Danny declared the next day a holiday and they all tromped off in the late afternoon toward Vauxhall Gardens. When she found out about his plans, Imo fetched a bucket of clean water and scrubbed herself spotless. She’d never been to the gardens before, but she’d heard plenty about the fancy ladies and gentlemen of quality who frequented the place.

  They headed through the borough via London Bridge and kept to the high streets until they got to the Obelisk and then angled off toward Lambeth Palace.

  Boats were anchored along the entrance and dislodged the nobility and peers. The Farrells found a perch and watched the procession, commenting on the nattily dressed dandies and the elegant finery of the women.

  Such a fierce longing pierced Imo’s chest.

  Imo yearned to touch the silk of just one of those pretty gowns. Just one of those ribbons adorning her own hair would have satisfied her for the rest of her life. Just one.

  Danny made them stay together. Any one of them alone could come to trouble without trying too hard. They passed statues of Diana and another with Neptune, standing in a basin of water, holding a spear. A trident, Danny called it. They admired performances of ballet dancers and tightrope walkers. Imo barely blinked, fearful she’d miss something. And in the background, over the sound of chatter, was the most heavenly music Imo had ever heard.

  After they watched an exhibition of horses where they stood crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with every level of London society, they returned to the well-lit area with the brightly colored colonnades.

  A brotherly promise had been exacted from Danny regarding Frank’s whore. A whole shilling would be spent for the momentous occasion and Frank hadn’t stopped talking about the day.

  They both seemed to forget Imo was well on her way toward that same dismal end, but no one ever spoke of the coming event. Imo planned to put it off as long as possible and she planned on asking the most ridiculous price when the time came. Maybe fifty pounds. Not that Danny knew her plan or approved.

  Imo didn’t want to watch Frank select his strumpet for she had no doubt that was what they were doing, sneaking off, whispering and pointing. Like she didn’t know the one thing in the world Frank wanted more than food and sleep, was a whore.

  The brightly colored birds of paradise made Imo look like a plain old wren. She thought longingly of the dress she seemed destined to live without.

  There would be no dress. Not now.

  Charlie stood between her and the boys. She should march over and pull him away from the group, but since he was a young man, she supposed he would be lured the way of all men. In a couple of years, he’d be whining about his turn, which seemed a shame. Charlie seemed destined for a life of innocence after they’d rescued him from the darkness.

  Imo shoved her hands in her breeches and walked away in spite of Danny’s warning to stay together. The crowds were thick, the one place in London where nob and nobody could meet and rub shoulders without a care. They’d agreed to be back at the entrance to the garden after the fireworks for the long walk home.

  She didn’t feel tired. She wanted to spend the whole night in the garden and look at every single thing, from the ordinary to the spectacular. She had one copper for food—whatever she wanted.

  The hanging lights led into a grove of trees with winding paths. A fancy woman and her partner headed into the dense growth. Imo followed, enjoying the happy laughter and quiet sounds of the night. The smell of clean permeated the air inside the lighted forest.

  Inside the path split in three directions. She went to the right; the couple she followed had disappeared into the night.

  She heard the distant sound of music. She couldn’t help but smile. It was like getting something for free. She bowed to a fake partner and made a quick twirl on the path, nearly falling when she tripped on a tree root.

  Somehow she had to get away from London. There was nothing here except the boys, and they would all find women soon. None would want her around. Overwhelming sadness descended. The dark suddenly seemed less friendly. Little treasures like tonight were few and far between, but they left a bitter taste and a longing for things best left unthought and unsaid.

  Mam would have understood. She would have found a way for Imo to be a girl, to grow into a woman and maybe marry a shopkeeper’s son or a minister. There were suitable men for a girl of inadequate means and decent looks as long as she could work hard and drop babes every year. But Mam was gone and there was no one to sympathize with her.

  Only Danny’s limited learning and Mary FitzPatrick watching over them from a distance had kept them from the workhouse and a life of destitution and disease in the dust-yards.

  Last night was another reminder that her life wasn’t her own. With a quick toss, the young sailor might have stolen her maidenhead and then she would have had nothing.

  Imo glanced around when she realized she had t
raveled well into the dark recesses of the forested area. Footfalls crunched along the path. Imo fortified her resolve and straightened her shoulders. She had brothers who’d taught her well. She stayed near the hanging lantern so as not to frighten the other person either.

  A tall man appeared in the light.

  “Hallo, little boy. I thought it was you.”

  Her mouth watered as if a hot apple tart was waved in front of her nose and she fought keep her balance. The stranger was no stranger. How much of a stranger could a man be who had had his cock in her mouth?

  “Good evenin’, sir.” She reached for her hat and then realized she wasn’t wearing one. Her chest heaved as she tried to get air.

  Even in the dark, his eyes seemed to sparkle. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You remember me?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “You are scared? I’m sorry. Would you rather I leave?”

  “Why are ya here?” she murmured. Her hand rubbed at her chest, partly because a sharp pain dug into her and partly because her titties suddenly seemed hard and large and in the way.

  “I saw your brothers first and then you. I followed.”

  “Why?”

  “You are a pretty girl, you know.”

  Imo bristled at the sudden implication. “I ain’t sucking your cock just ’cause it’s dark and you think I’m a whore.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I gotta go.” She glanced around for a quick way to escape—around him or farther into the darkness of the surrounding trees. She didn’t dare leave the path.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  Imo pressed her lips together and tried not to look at him.

  “You do have a name?”

  “Imogene.”

  “Imogene,” he repeated. “Are you here looking for someone? Are you meeting a man?”

  “No...I-I just want to see the lights in the trees and the path was longer than I thought and I should get back. My brothers are probably looking for me.”

  “They seemed greatly interested in one of those colorful birds out front. I don’t think they’ll be missing you just yet.”