“Why? Another audition?” He set a hand on the door jamb.
“No. No more of that for a while. I want to practice so my mama in Heaven can hear me and know I am still true to her teachings. For now, I intend to secure work as a prop maker, seamstress and perhaps a laundry woman for the various theaters. Maybe then I can make as much as I am now, and we will not need to keep buying that cheap wood.”
He kicked his leg out, his boot scraping across the floor. His head dropped down. “I didn’t buy this wood.”
“You didn’t. Do not tell me you stole it!”
“No, I . . .” His gaze lifted, then dropped back down. “I found it.”
She snorted and rolled her head back. It was so stiff from watching Ferrismore at odd angles. “No one leaves wood out. At least, not around here. It will be stolen. So, where did you get it?”
“I can’t tell you.” His cheeks reddened.
“You will sing twice as long, then, as your penance.” She growled. “We do not keep secrets from each other.”
“I know. I know.” He hunched his shoulders up, then left.
“Leave me a little soup. I shall eat later when I am hungry,” she called out.
All she heard was the sound of his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl a moment later.
“All the day I melt and pray—pray that God will make you look this way,” she began singing to herself. A new tune came to her.
When she closed her eyes, all she saw was Ferrismore’s rakish smirk and mossy green eyes.
That vision filled her better than any soup ever could.
Chapter 4
“Did you leave the wood for her?” William asked, voice tighter than his fists.
“Yes, sir. I left it with the man residing with her.” The short, skinny man said with his dark red, curly hair flopping as unruly as could be while he bobbed his head. His slight street accent came through for a moment, more noticeable than his freckles. It never seemed to matter how much pomade he used on his head—his thick curls never stayed put.
“You what?” William got in his face. “Who is this man? Tell me at once!”
The man winced and ducked down, as if expecting fisticuffs to ensue. “I do not know, please . . .”
“Did he speak like someone from the stage with proper diction?”
“I am uncertain. He sounded more like a servant—like me.” The man apologized again.
“You better be correct, Samuel,” he told his new driver, then pointed at his car. “Take me home this instant!”
Samuel bowed, opened the car door for William and they rode back to William’s mansion in silence.
“May I ask, sir, how often you plan to do this?”
“Do what?” William’s jaw ticked as the facial muscles tightened and spasmed.
“Follow this woman home. She must realize by now—”
“She realizes nothing, and you may not ask me another thing for the duration of this trip.” William stared out at the street ahead of them.
“Yes, sir.” Samuel’s fists twisted on the wheel.
William’s teeth were grinding as he wondered who this man was that came to her door.
When they arrived at his driveway, he said through his teeth, “You will find out who this man is tomorrow that took the gifted wood. Find out where he lives, and you are to report straight to me as soon as you discover it.”
Samuel sniffed. “Beg your pardon, sir, but how am I supposed to find these things out?”
“Hire someone to help you if you wish!” He thrust some money at him.
Samuel grinned. “Yes, sir, I can do that.”
“I know you can.” William stepped out of the motorcar and roamed through the back garden before stepping inside.
He turned back to Samuel. “Go fetch me one of my whores.” Then he mumbled to himself, “I am restless,” as he began to cut a switch.
The motorcar started back up again, rumbled in spot for a moment and then left.
William tossed his coat onto a nearby bush. The day had been warm, but now it was very frosty. Snow had been absent for a week now, so whatever woman Samuel fetched him would be warm enough.
William would ensure her skin was lashed to a nice red, until it was burning and on fire.
He set his cuff links in his pocket, rolled up his sleeves and pulled out the knife he always kept hidden out in the garden.
His fingers were steady as he whittled the branch, stripping it of the wood he didn’t want or need.
He stroked the willow switch, his heart pounding as he imagined binding Cherry girl to it.
With his eyes closed and his cock engorging, he could almost see her before him, feel her breath on his hand as he stroked her cheek, gripped her jaw and then kissed her.
Why did he want to kiss her?
He didn’t enjoy such actions.
The longer he waited, the more tense he became.
The car finally pulled back into the parking spot where it always resided.
“Pauline,” he whispered.
She was the skittish one.
Perfect.
Samuel helped her out, and William frowned right away.
Her stockings were torn at the knees.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, pointing at her disheveled appearance.
She approached him with a look of resignation. “Some men like to get rough.”
“But you? Did he harm you?”
“No more than you will,” she said, her look fading away into nothingness.
Did she feel anything?
Did it matter, really?
“Samuel, you may take your leave,” he told his driver.
Samuel nodded and disappeared around the side of the house.
William walked through the garden to his favorite willow tree.
She followed like she always did.
“Tomorrow I get a large shipment of new implements and furniture for this type of erotic pleasure,” he explained.
She said nothing but kept pace behind him.
“That is when you say, ‘Yes, sir. I will await for you to send for me.’” He cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck from shoulder to shoulder.
She knew what to do. Her fingers were quick as she removed her clothing and then stepped over to the tree.
“Sssssssoooo cold,” she hissed as her backside touched the bark of the tree.
“That should not matter,” he said, pressing his shoulders back.
He grabbed the switch he’d set aside, and she clutched the trunk of the tree as he prowled around her, assessing her.
“I do not like having you after another man has spilled his vile seed inside you,” he growled.
“He used a sheath,” she replied.
“I do not care. His filthy hands were on you. Was he rich?”
“Yes.” Her voice was shaky.
“Did he pay you well for your services?”
“Yes—upfront.” She cocked her head at him and an eyebrow cinched up at the lines of her brow as it creased.
“Are you challenging me? Are you saying this man is better than I because he pays you before he is satisfied?”
She clucked her tongue. “Sir, you are well aware—you are the only client of mine I trust to pay me afterward.”
He stepped right up to her, keeping his body off hers, his mouth right before hers. “That is right! Because I will not pay until I am fully satisfied. And if you are a good little whore and follow my instructions, I pay you more than you can imagine.”
She sniffed. “That is exactly why I am here.”
“Then take it like a whore being paid more than any other woman of her kind.” She flinched when he backed up, brandishing the switch.
But instead of striking her with it, he dragged it up and down her thin body.
She was tanned from the sun on her arms and legs, but the center of her was ghostly white, and she was skinnier than the last time he’d seen her a month ago.
“You will
use the money I give you to get new stockings and to eat more. You must be strong to take what I give you,” he said, his voice stiff.
He, however, was not stiff. Not at all.
She was not what he wanted.
Why was his body refusing to give in to his lusts—to his cravings for debauchery?
It always had before.
He dropped the switch, frustrated. His legs were coiling—waiting for what should be happening—raw, uninhibited fucking.
Why was his cock unresponsive?
He wanted to have her. In his head, he was ready, but his body was refusing to cooperate.
He snapped his jaws shut, grabbed some rope he had nearby for these types of sessions.
She remained motionless as he tied her around the trunk and made sure she was comfortable but secured.
He left her ankles free in case that man had pushed her down and hurt her knees and ankles.
“Stay there,” he said, backing up.
He sat down and simply watched her.
She failed to squirm.
Was she asleep?
“What does this do to you when I have you bound and at my mercy?” he asked, fishing out a cigarette.
“What should it do to me?”
“Excite you, ma putain.” He lit his cigarette and kept his eyes on her, watching for a reaction.
“There are things you pay me for, and excitement is not one of them. I am here so you can do with me as you wish, but you cannot tell me what to feel.”
“I certainly can, and you will not get paid until this excites you.” He pulled hard on his cigarette, enjoying the red glow at the end of it in the dark night.
He could make out the glowing white skin of her navel, her facial expressions for the most part, but the majority of the details were muted in the dim light.
She huffed, dropped her head and just stayed there.
It was silent.
His eyes traveled over her, and still, he was flaccid.
“What does excite you?”
“Nothing,” she said so quiet and low, he almost missed it.
“Nothing at all? Not the thrill of a man chasing you?” His heart dropped. What if Cherry girl was the same way? What if he managed to get her here and do this to her, and it did nothing for her? Why must he want this madness?
“No! Especially not that. I do not care for men.” Her bottom lip jutted out, and her jaw twitched.
He chuckled. “At all?”
“Why would I? They treat me awfully.”
“But that is what you want, yes? You do it as a profession.”
“We all have to bring in money, and this was my only skill. Even if I can master bringing a man to his release, it does not mean I enjoy the filthy act of doing it.”
“Fine. You are absolved of me. Release yourself of these bands, and I will pay, then you go back to your miserable existence.”
He sat there, offering no help.
She struggled to get out of the ropes. He felt completely drained and was numb inside this husk he called skin.
“Please . . .” She whimpered.
Now he was grinning.
Why was her suffering comical to him? Was it because now she was experiencing some type of emotion, even if it wasn’t the one he aimed for?
Maybe it was because he knew she did not want to be here. She never enjoyed his spankings, his hard fuckings or whispers of future rendezvous.
Maybe he smiled at how ludicrous he was, ever chasing something that would never be.
She did what he said with no real reaction. It was all false.
“Let me go—I cannot do it myself.” Her legs flailed around as she tried to wiggle downward and out of the ties.
“You are probably skinning your back. I do not think that the best way to get out of there.”
She sniffed.
Oh hell. Was she crying?
He bolted up, untied her and pulled her away from the tree at once, his heart pinching. He truly was a low, filthy bastard.
“You will not be back here since you have displeased me,” he told her, disgusted with himself and unable to look in her eyes and see what he really was reflected in her pupils.
She nodded, and oh hell . . . He had to know she was all right, so he bent his knees to get a better look at her face.
No tears.
“Here.” He pressed a wad of cash into her palm.
She set it down and got dressed without his help.
“Pauline—I mean it. Eat more. You will get sick if you keep losing weight like this. If you lack the funds, even though I no longer want you this way, you can always turn to me. I will help you get some food into your dwelling.”
“Thank you.” She pulled the last of her clothing on—her ripped stockings as well, and then she had her cash in-hand.
William drove her home himself, rather than call for Samuel.
“What does a woman want—I cannot figure your species out,” he asked, but it was rhetorical.
“I lack any notion of what women want. I cannot fathom why they think there is more than this.”
He bit the tip of his tongue before he yelled at her for being so backward and heartless.
But wasn’t that what he used to admire about her?
She did not want more from him.
Of course she doesn’t—she doesn’t want you at all.
“You have no notion, yet you are one yourself.”
She shrugged. “I’ve always lacked understanding in regard to the female mind.”
He stopped the car at her corner to drop her off.
“I no longer live here,” she replied.
“You have moved?”
“Yes, two blocks down.”
“Is that why you have no food? Your expenses are higher?” He twisted at the waist to face her better.
She dropped her head into the beginnings of a bow. “I will be able to afford it soon. I was pregnant, and I had to get rid of it, but I got a bad fever from doing it myself, and I had to see a doctor. It took all of my money.”
“Oh God. Pauline . . .”
His eyes twitched, and his palms flattened out on the steering wheel.
She tensed at his side, then got out here anyway, even if it was not her stop.
Was she afraid he was going to slap her?
He would not do that.
He only spanked for fun. And when he spanked her before, it was never more than she could handle.
“Good God, woman.” He dropped his head and shook it.
No wonder she was so thin and wan—trying to take care of these matters herself.
Her life was hell. Even worse than his.
At least he had funds to take care of himself.
He got out of the car, ran after her, and she picked up her pace.
“Pauline—stop!”
She finally did, her shoulders drooping and her head sagging.
“You need this. Take care to get a fine doctor, get some food, and for the love of God, do not allow a man to penetrate you without a sheath. Do not get with child if you can help it.”
“You think I allowed that to happen? It wasn’t a paying customer! I was raped by two men late one night. They beat me, took my money and had their fun with me,” she yelled in his face.
He thrust the money in her hand. “Take this.”
“It will not save me!”
“It will help a little. Please . . .” His eyes stung, and his throat closed off.
“Where do you think this will take me? To Pearl Street? I lived on Cherry Street like so many others do of my caliber. I moved away so I would be safer. Now I cannot eat. Probably never will again!”
“Be my wash woman. Do something to make more money without doing something you loathe so much,” he offered.
“You mean that?” Her voice broke, and her eyes softened.
“I do. I will not touch you in any sexual manner again since now I know you truly despise it. I can help you. Stay where you live, but come work
for me.”
“But I . . .” Her chin lifted. “You mean this?”
“I do.” He patted her hand with his money in it.
“I will be there, then, sir.” She smiled, but it was stiff and forced.
“Be there in the morning, and I will make sure there is work for you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Goodnight.” He dodged a hug, since he could see she was emotional and about to lunge at him.
If he accepted this, he might not be able to stop from holding her tight and spilling his secrets. And he did not want to be that close to someone so cold and uncaring.
* * *
“Sir, there is a woman here to see you. She said you invited her to be in your employ?” his servant, Carter, said.
“Yes, yes, show Pauline in.” William hesitated. “Actually, take her straight to the kitchen. Give her something to eat, and then bring her to me along with Mrs. Garrity. I want them to get acquainted. They shall be in need of each other’s help.”
Carter nodded and left.
William leafed through the paper.
It seemed there was some drama last night with the protesters outside of Bial’s.
“What now?” He read on. Lenora had been grabbed and kissed by one of them, and she smacked his face with her handbag repeatedly.
The police arrived, and she was taken away and put in prison.
He laughed.
Lenora. Oh, what a lark she was when she got mad.
That temper of hers.
If only she enjoyed a good hard spanking, followed by sinful, black activities.
She did not.
She did not enjoy much at all as far as he could gather.
Was she exactly like Pauline, only with more connections and money?
He sighed.
Women were not another species—they were another planet he did not seem to exist on.
He finished breakfast, found Pauline in the kitchen, eating, smiling and eyeing Mrs. Garrity, his widowed housekeeper who was probably younger than Pauline.
This was what Pauline meant about not enjoying men?
She wanted attentions from Mrs. Garrity, and it was obvious his housekeeper was flustered by it.
He cleared his throat, and they all froze at his entrance.
Even Pauline recognized his authority.
Good.
Pearl on Cherry Page 5