Harlot

by Victoria Dahl

  She’d find out soon. Find out if those gentle, careful hands would squeeze and twist and bruise.

  Jessica forced one foot forward and then the other. She unlatched the door and opened it.

  It was him, at least. Not someone else. Not his stepfather.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, the eastern sky behind him dark enough that the light from the parlor lamp made his face glow. He’d shaved, and he suddenly seemed more like the boy she’d loved, but he’d never looked at her like this before. His jaw hewn from rock, his eyes cool and steady.

  “How much do you want?” he asked.

  Grief tightened her throat. She swallowed hard, but the sensation wouldn’t go away, so she simply opened the door wider and let him in. She smelled soap and leather as he passed. He’d bathed for this, and somehow that made her feel a little better.

  He stood awkwardly in the parlor as she closed the door. She left it unlatched. Not something she’d normally do at night, but she was aware that whoring was dangerous. Bill was within screaming distance, if Caleb decided to work out some of his hurt pride with his fists.

  She glanced down at his hands. If he hit her, would she bother to stop him?

  They stood in silence. She wasn’t sure how this was supposed to proceed. She wasn’t even sure how much she should ask for.

  When she couldn’t bear it a moment longer, Jessica lurched toward the small table near the window. A whiskey bottle had sat there half empty since her last visitor.

  She didn’t ask if he wanted a drink. She needed one too much herself to be polite.

  She poured whiskey into the last two pieces of crystal she owned. Both glasses were chipped, which was why they hadn’t sold. She handed him one without looking at him, then carefully turned her glass so the chipped rim wouldn’t cut her mouth. She downed her whiskey in one swallow.

  When she finally risked a glance, he was watching her in disbelief, as if shocked that she’d drink hard liquor. A terrible laugh welled up inside her at the thought that she was a genteel whore who would never touch whiskey. She managed to cover her hysterical reaction in a cough.

  Caleb shook his head and downed his own drink. His hand looked too large around the glass. “How much?” he asked again as he set it down with a thunk.

  Jessica nodded. Best to get on with it. “For a night?”

  “What else?”

  “I don’t… I just… Yes. A night. Of course.”

  “Unless you have a specialty,” he sneered.

  She blanched. Her only specialty had been virginity, and that had been quickly done away with. She didn’t even have enough general skills at whoring to know what a specialty might be.

  “Tell me what you offer.” His voice was rough and cool, a hard winter wind that wrapped around her.

  Jessica felt her lips part, but she couldn’t make her throat work. She couldn’t get any words out or take a breath in. She didn’t want to participate in this negotiation. She only wanted it to be done. She’d lie down and let him plow his body into hers, and then she’d have the money. Only a little, but more than she’d had before.

  She was a coward. Yet another nasty name to tack on to the others.

  “Five dollars,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Five dollars. For the night.”

  Caleb huffed. “I’d heard you were pricey. That’s something to be proud of, I suppose. No lowly dirt farmers allowed between those legs?”

  She tried to make her squeak of shock sound like an agreement.

  “What makes you think I have five dollars?”

  “I don’t know,” she managed. “That’s my price.” She couldn’t do it for less. In fact, five dollars would only put a dent in what she needed, but right now she had just seventy-five cents in the can she kept buried in the root cellar. The only other option for paying the taxes was selling the cow, and then they’d have to survive winter without milk or butter.

  Caleb stepped closer to her, and Jessica flinched away, but he reached past her for the whiskey and poured them both another drink. She took her glass so quickly that whiskey sloshed onto the floor. Ignoring it, she gratefully downed the nasty liquid.

  He set his empty glass down more softly this time. He walked toward the window, despite that it was full dark now. His fingers touched the faded blue calico shielding them from view, and then he twitched the two panels tighter together. “I’ll give you twenty,” he said.

  Jessica froze, waiting for some explanation. But he stared ahead at his own hands as they smoothed the thin fabric. “Pardon?” she finally asked.

  “Twenty dollars, but I want everything.”

  She shook her head. “Everything what?”

  His boot heel ground unforgivingly against the wood floor when he turned toward her. “I want everything you’ve ever done with other men. Everything you’ve been paid for. I want you to do it all with me.”

  “Tonight?” she whispered, her mind sifting through images.

  “No. For as long as it takes. A few days, maybe a week. But you won’t see anyone else, understand? Not while I’m here. I’m your only customer now.”

  Everything she’d ever done would take two nights at the most, but she didn’t tell him that. Instead of arguing semantics, she argued money. “Twenty-five,” she countered.

  “Done.”

  She nearly gasped in shock. She hadn’t anticipated that the deal would be struck so quickly. Twenty-five dollars. It was far more than she’d dared expect. Even five dollars had seemed a stretch. Twenty-five would not only pay the taxes but also get her through the next full year. She should have been thrilled, but instead she was horribly aware that they’d worked out the deal and now it was time. Time to give Caleb what he’d paid for.

  He tugged a small sack from his coat pocket. “I trust you’ll honor our agreement if I pay in advance.” Coins clinked into his hand and glinted deep gold in the lamplight. He counted out a stack and set it on the table. Jessica nodded.

  “Well then,” he said. “Your room.”

  The whiskey had burned its way into her veins, thank God, because otherwise she might have fallen to her knees and wept. Instead, she reached for the lamp.

  She’d loved this man for so long. He’d treated her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. As if she were too lovely for his rough hands. She’d never felt that was true, but she missed the sweet reverence. He’d spent years watching her as if it broke his heart not to touch her. But that had been before. Now she was a transaction. A service.

  Jessica led the way to the stairs and started up. His footsteps followed.

  Halfway up, she realized she was waiting for him to stop her. To change his mind and apologize for degrading her. To ask what had happened and offer his forgiveness, his love, his promise to take her away.

  Jessica pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop the sob that wanted to escape. Even after all these hard months, she was still trying to retreat to the fantasy that her old life would somehow return, that she wasn’t a penniless whore, and this wasn’t her reality.

  But Caleb didn’t tell her to stop. They walked down the short hallway to her bedroom door, he followed her in, and she was his whore now. For the week.

  Chapter 6

  ‡

  He sat on the bed while Jessica stayed near the doorway, clutching the lamp in numb fingers.

  “More light,” Caleb said as he shrugged off his coat. “I want to see you.”

  Of course. She set the lamp on the dresser and went to light the second one on the wobbly table next to her bed. Despite the way the match shook in her hands, the lamp flared to life quickly, blazing with light that she wanted to snuff out. Once they were in bed, she could close her eyes, at least. He wanted to look, but she didn’t want to see any of this.

  His eyes were on her as he tugged off his boots. Not wanting to hear him order her to strip, Jessica reached for the buttons at the collar of her dress. His gaze followed her hand. She
opened only one before she balked.

  “What about California?” she asked, not sure why she was trying to shame him. She needed the money. If he walked away and took his coin with him, she’d have to beg him to stay.

  “California?” His chin pulled back a little at that, and he paused with his boot in his hand.

  “Don’t you have someone waiting? A sweetheart?”

  “What the devil are you talking about? You were my sweetheart. Before you decided to do this.”

  “There’s no one else?” The knowledge was only a tiny ripple in the vast, dark ocean of her regrets. She’d known at some point how meticulously she’d been set up. Being told Caleb had a new woman in California was only one more lie, but it had been the lie. The one that had made it easier to succumb to her fears. She’d thought he’d abandoned her. She’d thought she had no one. But Jessica couldn’t explain it to Caleb or she’d have to explain everything.

  “Why would you think that?” he demanded.

  “I just… It’s been so long. I assumed you’d settled down out there.”

  Caleb’s jaw hardened. “You never believed I was coming back for you. Not from the start.”

  No. That was wrong. She’d believed it for so long. “You never wrote,” she said by way of explanation.

  “You knew I wouldn’t write,” he growled. “But I said I’d come back. I made you a promise. You clearly don’t understand what promises mean.”

  She didn’t. Not anymore. She thought she’d been betrayed by Caleb, but she’d been the one who’d lost faith. She should’ve known better. If Caleb’s loyalty hadn’t kept him true, his stubbornness would have.

  Jessica had ruined everything.

  She wanted to damp the lanterns and hide beneath her covers and weep for what she’d done. But she’d made a deal with him, and now, she realized, she owed him this. Revenge. Whatever comfort he wanted to take.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  His jaw clenched at that. “Just take off your dress,” he muttered, finally looking away from her.

  Without the burn of his gaze, it was easier for her to undo her buttons, though her fingers fumbled at the task. Even without a dress, she was nowhere close to naked, she told herself as she freed the buttons at her wrists and began to slide her dress off. She still wore petticoats and a corset and drawers. Really, the only things revealed as her dress fell to the floor were her bare arms, and he’d seen those often enough on easy summer days when they’d walked near the creek or dined at a church picnic.

  His eyes returned to her then, and his gaze rose immediately to the tops of her breasts. She’d forgotten about that bit of skin, and Jessica felt her face heat with a blush. A blushing harlot. Perhaps she’d found her specialty.

  But Caleb didn’t look angry anymore, at least. As she reached for her petticoat strings, his brow furrowed as if he were slightly puzzled by something and needed to pay close attention. She untied the strings, struggling with the knot for a moment, but assuring herself she would still be covered when the petticoats fell to the floor.

  They dropped with a rustle that seemed far louder than normal. She knew Caleb was looking at her, but she could no longer look at him. She pressed the two sides of her corset together to free the first few hooks. It took no time. She’d lost weight and never bothered to tighten her corset, so now it opened easily.

  She hadn’t done this before. She’d been pawed at and stripped, but she’d never taken off her own clothing in front of a man, letting him watch. She didn’t know what to do now. Her shift covered her to her knees, and her drawers peeked out underneath, but below that, it was only her black stockings and brown boots, and—

  “My boots,” she murmured in confusion. Did he want her boots and stockings off too, or only her underthings? The boots wouldn’t be in the way, after all.

  “Let me,” Caleb said, the tone of his voice more reminiscent of how he’d once spoken to her. And then he knelt at her feet.

  His movement so startled her that her arms jumped up to fend him off, but he didn’t attack her. He only reached for her bootlace. The boot began to loosen, and Jessica stared down at the top of his head, at the tousled waves of his brown hair. The scruff on his face before he’d shaved it had been darker than she remembered, but his hair was the same color it had been two years before. Dark and golden at the same time. Her hands hovered over him, fingers spread.

  When he brushed her ankle, she lifted her foot automatically so he could pull her boot off. His strong fingers were warm around her bones. The lamplight shifted in his hair.

  Jessica touched him.

  He froze in the act of setting her foot back on the floor. His hand stayed wrapped tight around her ankle as Jessica slipped her fingers into his hair. It was warm and soft, a contrast to the cruelty he meant to show her.

  She’d never been free to feel him before, but she was a whore now, and she could act like one, so she twisted her fingers lightly into the strands, then smoothed them down. He sighed as she petted him, a deep, quiet exhalation that bent his head a little farther forward. His forehead touched her belly. He let it rest there as she stroked down to his neck.

  Perhaps being his wife would have been like this. Touching him whenever she wanted. Feeling him relax into her. Knowing she was his, not because he’d bought her, but because she’d said yes to it all.

  This would’ve been what it was like to get ready for bed after a long day. He’d kneel to help with her boots as he always did. He’d kiss her next, gently, and she’d melt into his arms and open for him. Her mouth, her legs, her heart. He would make it good and sweet and sacred.

  Her hand cupped the back of his head. “Caleb,” she whispered.

  He sighed again, his fingers sliding softly up the back of her calf to rest behind her knee. Then he raised his head to look at her. The lamplight caught so fiercely in his eyes that she thought they might have been wet with tears, but a moment later they narrowed with anger. He took another deep breath and bent his head to unlace her other boot. His movements were rougher now, jerking her foot forward an inch on the floor as he tugged at the knot.

  She lifted her hands and didn’t touch him again. He rose and let her toe the second boot off herself.

  “Now the rest of it,” he said tersely, sitting back on the bed as he slipped off his suspenders and began to unbutton his shirt.

  Hurt twisted inside her, winding around her gut, her lungs, her heart.

  She’d remembered for a moment what it had been like to love him. To know he’d never hurt her. But she’d made him hate her. She’d done that.

  Jessica dipped her chin in acknowledgment, and she removed the rest of her underclothes as quickly as she could. First her shift, then her drawers, then she tugged her stockings down. The air of the room was cold on the warmest parts of her body. Her nipples hardened into painful buds. She covered them with one arm and shielded her private parts as best she could with the other.

  She’d never been quite this nude before. Not with a man. But Caleb didn’t want protestation. He wanted her naked. Bare. She’d give him that.

  She couldn’t look at him, but her ears strained for some sound. He was quiet for a long while as the hurt twisted tighter inside her. What was he thinking? Had he seen this before, or was it new? Had he visited whores? Should she be hurt if he had?

  She didn’t even know if she wanted him to think her beautiful or if she wanted him as ashamed of her nudity as she was. Her body was no longer her temple. It was only a used vessel that could not be cleaned.

  Just as the silence began to buzz in her ears, she heard the rustle of fabric. She dared a glance and saw that he’d removed his shirt. His wide shoulders looked startlingly large. The muscles in his arms bulged as he shifted. Hair covered his chest. He gestured her closer.

  She knew this part, at least. She stepped into his reach and forced her rigid arms to give up some tension. She let one hand fall to her side and slid the other down to press against her stomach
instead of her breasts.

  He touched her, just as she’d expected. His fingertips moved over the side of her breast, and she cringed. But he didn’t grab her. He didn’t squeeze her or pinch her nipple. His fingers traced a slow circle over her skin, trailing goose bumps. He cupped the underside of her breast. Then his thumb feathered over her nipple. Once, then twice, the strange, soft feeling making her shiver.

  He did the same with her other breast, his breath quickening, even as she held hers. His touch made her feel too…uncertain. She was filled up with fear and expectation and the horrible awareness that the parts of her body she’d kept hidden nearly her whole life were exposed. She wished the lamps were low. Wished it were pitch-black. Wished he weren’t watching as his tanned fingers spread over her white skin, the contrast a secret message that he should not be here. That she should not let him.

  She finally inhaled, and his hands slid down, over her ribs to the softer curve of her hips. He’d shaped her hips just like that the last time he’d kissed her. Her whole body had tingled with excitement at the stolen touch. But there was nothing stolen about it now. She’d been bought and paid for.

  His hands moved down to cup her backside. He made a noise, a soft moan as he squeezed her flesh and pulled her closer. She stumbled into him. His mouth caught her nipple. She cringed, waiting for it to hurt. And then…then it didn’t hurt. His mouth was warm and careful, his tongue circling her nipple lightly at first, then more firmly.

  Jessica blinked rapidly, confused that this act could feel so different with him. Her hands, raised in alarm yet again, hovered over his head. When his mouth drew at her, she gasped. Then she fisted her hands in his hair and moaned.

  * * *

  Caleb was stunned by how beautiful she was. He’d tried to picture her many times, of course. He’d jerked off to thoughts of her countless nights over the years, imagining the pink of her nipples or the dark hair between her legs. He’d wondered what she would let him do when they were married. If she’d let him see everything or she’d be too shy.