The Harlot’s Pen

by Claudia H Long

  “No, Maud Younger shall lead the delegation. She and Frances Joliffe and two Swedish girls who are ardent suffragists shall drive across the United States. But it is my prediction that Mrs. Joliffe will drop out at the last moment, as is her wont. So please, if you would write to Maud Younger, and tell her of your writing credentials—your poem publication may stand you in good stead—and tell her you will go, that would be ideal.

  “Here in Washington, we are certain of the ratification of the amendment and eagerly await the final votes. The drive will be in late August, so you have ample time to prepare.

  “All the best to you and Sam, I remain,

  “Yours truly, Valeska Bary”

  The letter had been sent to her former address, and so it was several days in arriving at the inn. A drive across America. With Maud Younger. For women’s suffrage. It was an opportunity beyond belief. She felt her breath come quickly. Yes, yes she would go. Tomorrow morning first thing she would write to Miss Bary, and to Miss Younger as well, offering her help with the great suffrage ride. By then, she mused, she would have an enormous block-busting article published by Fremont Older and would have jumped from some-time stringer and small-time poet to a renowned, influential journalist.

  But for now, she poured cold water from the pitcher into the basin, again thinking of the hot bath she would have tomorrow, and washed herself as well as she could. She was too tired to even review the events of the day, and tomorrow would be just as important. A twinge of nerves jangled her as she considered the next steps in becoming part of Spanish Kitty’s household. Then the twinge was replaced by a different feeling, one she hadn’t had in a year—and she closed her eyes, a small smile on her lips. Once again, demon sex was luring her to perdition of a deep and permanent sort. And yet, at the very thought her thighs quivered slightly and her breath quickened with unfocussed desire. Tomorrow would be a very interesting day.

  * * * *

  At noon, Kate went to the parlor for her breakfast. Just as Samantha put a hot cup of coffee before her along with a plate of sliced pound cake, Kate’s favorite breakfast, Lily and Sharon came in with their own steaming mugs. Rose, as usual, was still asleep, and would be until just before four. She was the resident night owl, and dawn for her meant as close to sunset as she could manage.

  Sharon put her cup down and stretched out on the sofa. Lily, her blond hair loose down her sides and her fair skin flushed from a cold water wash, curled up in a big easy chair, her hands wrapped around her mug, looking for all the world like a Botticelli angel. Kate sighed. Her girls, her kittens.

  “So, what’s the story with Miss Strone? Or Violet? Or whatever she calls herself?” Lily asked, looking up from her comfortable position.

  “Story how?” Kate replied, knowing full well what Lily meant, but having not formulated an answer for herself, she was not yet willing to put one forth for her girls.

  “Is she a new girl?”

  Sharon laughed and sat up. “Not possible, Kitty. She’s a town miss, a lady. She’s no cunt.”

  Kate bristled slightly, but didn’t chide Sharon for her coarseness. No matter what word she used, Sharon was right.

  “I wasn’t too pleased with her horning in on my time with Mr. Hearst,” Lily said. “If she wants Posie’s old regulars, fine, but she can’t be poaching on mine.”

  “She couldn’t if she tried,” Sharon said. “That girl don’t know the first thing about working. She thinks she’s Miss Strone, but if she’s going to work, she ain’t Miss No One. Pretty enough, though, for a tall girl.”

  “You’re prettier,” Lily said to Sharon, and Sharon stuck her tongue out at Lily. Pulling her curly, light brown hair on top of her head, she struck a pose, her blue eyes sparkling. “Mmmm, definitely prettier than that black-haired giant.”

  Then they both looked over at Kate and laughed. “The other black-haired giant,” Lily clarified, bringing giggles from Sharon. “But seriously, Kitty. What is she?”

  Kate sat back in her chair, wiping a pound cake crumb from her lip. Troy had wandered in and took a piece of cake from her fingertips, then curled at her feet. “That’s a damn good question. She wants a month trial. She’s never worked, and she’s a writer. And she…” Kate paused. She didn’t mind keeping secrets from the girls. The business was her business, and they knew it. But dissention was another matter, and she certainly wouldn’t tell Sharon and Lily that Violetta was going to write about the conditions of the working girls or try to influence the powerful men who were their customers. “She needs the money,” she amended.

  “Not with those clothes, she don’t,” Sharon said. “Her dress costs a month’s take in the Emporium catalog. And she almost fainted from the heat yesterday. I think she’s up to something. Maybe a spy for the lawyers that brought the case against Sadie McClain and The Chicken Coop up in Sonoma that time. I was working for Mrs. Lowery’s back then, and that meddling school teacher Louise Farmer brought a lawsuit against old Mr. Belmer, the owner of the house, as a public nuisance for renting to a whore house. Shut her down right quick, they did. I’ll bet she’s a spy for that lawyer. Or for the sheriff’s office, though he comes in so regular he won’t need a spy, now will he?”

  Kate smiled benignly. Sharon was her favorite, bubbly and forthright, except when Lily, looking angelic, was her favorite. And sometimes, late at night, when she couldn’t sleep, Rose was her favorite, always ready to take a nightcap with her and to read aloud from whatever Rose was reading then. No one missed Posie, and she did need a new girl.

  “She’s up to something, but I don’t think it’s something bad. Let’s give her a month’s trial, shall we? Though you’re right, Sharon. She’s never been a working girl, and we’re going to have to teach her.”

  Lily smiled sweetly. “That will be nice. I’ve never taught a brand new girl to work a man before, but I remember when I was taught. I had such wonderful mamas, all kindly and teacher-y. I know some girls had pretty rough starts, but I had it easy and wouldn’t mind showing her the ropes. She ain’t a virgin, is she?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, and miss-ish as she is, something tells me she’s no stranger to some of the rougher stuff. And I can always tell.”

  “Well, if she likes the rougher stuff, I’ve got a couple of gents I wouldn’t mind passing on to her!” Sharon said.

  “I didn’t say she liked it,” Kate corrected.

  “Well, I don’t either, and I inherited them from Posie. So will she take Posie’s room?”

  Kate raised her eyebrows. Uncharacteristically, she had not even thought about the fact that Violetta would take one of the rooms. But of course, she would have to. The girls used their own rooms for entertaining their clients, and no girl had ever ‘lived out.’

  “I guess so. Unless either of you wants Posie’s, in which case, you would get first pick.” She grinned at them. No, neither one wanted Posie’s old room, way in the back of the house, where the trees swayed in the night and the eaves creaked eerily. Posie had sworn it was haunted and had left one morning, shivering despite the heat, after swearing that the ghost of an old sea captain had chased her all night, threatening her with his hook. Sharon and Lily had laughed at her, but no one wanted her room. Whores are a superstitious lot.

  “And one more thing, girls. Violetta likes to talk politics. As long as it doesn’t hurt your business, you can pass all your old bores off to her. Let them bend her ear about their commissions and their trade bills, as long as you’re still making your coin where you want it.”

  “Now that’s a change,” Sharon said. “A girl who won’t have to fight a yawn while the gent gasses on about some candidate. Still, I don’t think she’ll last a week, never mind a month, even if she gets the hang of lifting her skirts.”

  “Well, let’s see how a month goes,” Kate said, pleased with the way the kittens were taking the news of this strange addition to their litter. And Violetta would have all the access to the political men she craved,
as long as she remembered to pleasure them, too. Lily would be a good teacher, but Kate knew she’d have to take a strong hand, too. No matter how smart or charming a girl was, in this household, she was first and foremost a whore.

  * * * *

  Her letters written and posted, Violetta returned to her room and surveyed her wardrobe. Yesterday had been exhilarating in retrospect, conversing with the famous William Randolph Hearst, though the reality of her research was going to be harder than she had originally expected. Miss Lombard, or Spanish Kitty, rather, was not going to let her start interviewing a client, much less lecturing one. On the other hand, playing gin rummy with the boys was a pleasant way to spend an evening.

  But the prospect of actually letting those men have their way with her, and perhaps having several in one night, was terrifying. She tried to imagine Mr. Hearst removing his trousers, and the chuckle it gave her was only half nervousness. But then she thought of Gold, of the unpronounceable first name, and the image was less funny, and far more exciting. But what if he was then followed by the other fellow, whose name she had already forgotten, and she would have to lie with each of them, or, she thought suddenly, both of them.

  She shut her eyes against the images. But opened them again, quickly, as what little memory she had of that night in the cell with the federal agents flashed in her mind. Though she couldn’t remember anything after she had hit her head on the floor, what came before was vivid enough, and her imagination had supplied the rest. She was crazy to take this job on.

  Perhaps she should write to Mr. Older, tell him that this task was beyond her. A quick message to Miss Kitty, letting her know that another engagement had come up, she was so sorry. She could tell her that she planned to join the cross-country suffragists’ ride and could not devote herself… A knock on her door interrupted her chaotic thoughts, and the smart-mouthed boy from the day before stood there with another note. This time, she gave him a penny, and though he looked at it with disdain, he didn’t insult her before leaving, which she considered an improvement. Another note from Miss Lombard.

  “I have thought it over and talked with my other girls. I have decided to take you on for a month’s time. I am taking this risk only because of your lofty goal to help the plight of women. Please come to the house before three this afternoon, and bring all of your personal effects. You will begin work at four, so be prompt.—KL”

  Violetta read the note four times. She was to begin work as a prostitute at four. Her lofty goal. To write to Miss Kitty now and back out would be consummate cowardice. To back out of her commitment to Fremont Older, when he had rescued her and given her this chance to prove herself as a writer and make a change in the ills of society, would be the height of ingratitude. She had put her plan into play and play it out she must.

  She turned back to the clothes hanging in the armoire of the room. Gathering all of them at once, before she could stop and think, she dumped them all into her trunk and slammed it shut. Then she went downstairs to pay her room bill and order a cart to move her trunk and bag to Spanish Kitty’s El Verano Salon and Resort. Violet Strone, prostitute, women’s rights advocate, and writer, was going to work.

  * * * *

  “We dress by four, especially on Fridays, which are our biggest commerce day. Put on a skirt, hose with garters, heeled shoes, and a blouse that is cut low enough to show your bosom but not so low they can see your nipples. No drawers. Spray some flower water between your legs before you go into the parlor. Now, you know how not to get fat, don’t you?” Lily asked as she fingered the fine clothing Violet Strone had hung up in Posie’s old room.

  “Fat?’

  “You know. Pregnant.”

  Violet smiled, remembering an old joke with Jacqueline. “A half lemon hollowed out and put up inside me?”

  Lily stared at her. “A half lemon… oh! That’s too much!” She started to laugh, and Violet laughed with her. Lily gave a deep breath of relief. Maybe this Violet wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all. “Wait ‘till I tell Sharon. No, silly. Douche yourself with vinegar before, and then take a handful of melted candle wax, make a cup, and put it up your pussy. It’ll melt out, and you douche again with vinegar after. A half a lemon! Well, now that you mention it, that could work. Except when your gent says, ‘What am I hitting up against in there!’ But then, he’d think he’s so big, he’s hit the end of you. So, maybe you’ve got something there.”

  Kate came in at that moment, and Lily told her about the lemon. Kate nodded. “An old method. Not a bad one, either. If we could get the gents to use a French letter, we’d be safer, but we can’t, so we do what we must.”

  “In New York you can buy a womb veil at Bloomingdales, and douches through the Sears catalog. I still do have my womb veil,” Violetta said.

  “Well, this ain’t New York, but use it,” Kate said. “Now, if we were in San Francisco you would need a doctor’s check. Up here, the doc claims to check the girls once a month, right after their monthly periods, but if that’s a doctor’s check-up, we’re a medical school. You aren’t bleeding right now, are you?” Violet shook her head, her eyes wide. Clearly, even with her friends she had never had such frank talk. She had better get used to it, Kate thought.

  “In a clothing store, a girl learns about dresses, shoes, whatever they sell. In a grocery, she learns about dry goods. Here, you had better learn to talk about what you’re selling. You’re selling entertainment, diversion, and sex. And don’t forget it. So, the word for your privates is pussy, twat, cunt, or doll. Black hole, tight rose, or bum hole is your anus. You know what tits are.” Kate got a malicious sense of satisfaction from the look on Violet’s face. “No sex before eight o’clock or after eleven. Except Rose, who sets her own hours. I handle prices, and you get forty percent of your customer’s fee, plus tips. Tips you can keep yourself after three customers, though you’d be wise to share some with Samantha and Moses.”

  “Moses?”

  “Moses keeps the peace” Lily interjected.” If you want him to watch out for you, and believe me, you do, you’ll share with him.”

  “Does he need to help out often?” Violet asked.

  Kate suppressed the urge to tease. “No. But it’s best to be safe. Now get yourself dressed, and come downstairs to eat. You need to have supper before the callers arrive.” She turned to walk away, then stopped. “Lily, be sure to give Violet some pointers on encouraging the clients. We don’t want Violet to be without any customers.” She winked at Lily and closed the door softly behind her. Lily would be a good teacher. She knew what men wanted and how to please them, but her true love was women. Girls like that made the best whores.

  * * * *

  Violetta, or Violet as she now would call herself, could barely eat. Samantha put a plate of rice and pinto beans in front of her, along with some cornbread. A chili sauce and a dish of stewed pork sat in the middle of the kitchen table, and the girls spooned some of both on their plates. She knew she must eat, remembering how ravenous she was the night before, but the reality of the evening ahead made her queasy.

  “Come on, Violet,” Sharon said. “You don’t want to have your stomach gurgling when you’re entertaining a guest. He’ll think Miss Kitty doesn’t feed us, and that won’t be good for the house.” She reached across and broke another chunk of cornbread from the pan on the table, and mopped up the pork with it.

  Rose had appeared finally. Violet hadn’t seen her last night and was surprised that Kitty let her come and go as she pleased, but when she entered the kitchen the answer was clear. Rose was an ethereal beauty, the likes of which would have stopped traffic in San Francisco. She was tiny, not quite up to Violet’s chin in height, perfectly proportioned, with a mane of red-gold hair that flowed in waves to her hips. Her skin was perfectly white, and her large, grey eyes glowed as if light came from inside them. Her mouth curled slightly up at the corners, giving her an air of pleasant amusement.

  At her neck, a grotesque scar ra
n crosswise, lumpy and jagged, from one side to the other, as if someone had carelessly and viciously tried to decapitate her. The other girls moved to make room for her. She took her seat and smiled at Violet. “The new girl?”

  Violet nodded. “Violetta Strone, but I am called Violet here.”

  “Rose. It’s a pleasure. I understand it’s your first night in the business.” Again Violet nodded, mesmerized by her soft voice with the honey of the South in it. “You’ll get used to it. No one likes it the first time, but as soon as you turn your mind off it’s fine. Just think of it as revenge.”

  Violet narrowed her eyes. Did Rose know anything about her past? Then she realized it had little to do with her, and everything to do with the way Rose had to think about it. “Thank you. I will remember to do so.” She tried not to look at the scar. She couldn’t imagine someone doing something so cruel.

  “Kitty takes chances with all of us,” Rose said, still with that soft voice. “She’s got her reasons, she does. Whatever your story is, she’ll understand.” Rose bent her head to her meal.

  “Come on now, Violet. Time to go sit on the porch,” Lily said. “Remember, conversation and cards until eight, then if a gent wants to go to your room with you, you smile and say, ‘Oh of course, let’s just make sure Miss Kitty will excuse me now,’ and he’ll know just what to do. If he wants to go upstairs before eight, it means he don’t know the rules, and he’s new here. You just tell him you promised Miss Kitty you wouldn’t run off with a fellow no matter how attractive he was until then, and if he gives you any trouble, just give me the eye, and I’ll step in.”

  “I’ll remember,” Violet said. If she was lucky, no one would ask her tonight.