The Pleasure Merchant (35 page)

It was thrilling—exhilarating. And during these lessons I believe he taught me to rely on myself, as well. After all, Mr. Blythe told me in no uncertain terms that if I fell through a roof or was spotted in a garden he would not come to my aid. I would have to talk my way out, if I could, or face any charges on my own.

Whether or not this was true, I cannot say, for I was never caught. But suffice it to say, those warnings made me treat these lessons with extraordinary care and attention…

It took perhaps half a year before I became interested in the more risqué aspect of Mr. Blythe’s business—the sort of physical arts that so scandalized Tom Dawne. How could it be otherwise? I was becoming a young woman, and almost daily read some tantalizing thing, or watched my master go out or retreat into some room for the purposes of pleasuring, or helping facilitate the pleasure of, one of his clients. Most girls of that age are possessed of a healthy interest in such matters, even without such provocations, so given my admittedly unique situation, I was madly curious to learn all he would teach me.

Thanks to my education, and the frankness of my master, I already knew the mechanics of the act of love, and I was aware of its more common variations. But I had no
experience
in that area. I could not help him with those sorts of requests from his clients, and I dearly wished to be useful in all ways.

In spite of my desire it took me several months to enquire when I might be initiated into such mysteries, for even at that tender age I hoped it would be Mr. Blythe who would usher me through that door. Alas, when I finally worked up the nerve to ask, none of what I’d imagined came to pass—he did not take me in his arms and seduce me, nor did he tell me I was not yet old enough to learn. Instead, he nodded, and began to muse aloud on how my indoctrination should be conducted.

“What do you want to learn?”

“I suppose… everything?”

“Good, good. But you mustn’t feel as if you have to do anything you don’t want. My mistress, for example, simply
hated
cunt-fucking. She was a virtuoso when it came to sucking cock, and bottom-fucking, and fucking others with a dildo. But she disliked cunt-fucking, and never engaged in it herself. That’s why I’ve always stressed the importance of making trustworthy allies in this profession… that way, we can always farm out whatever we don’t want to do to those who really enjoy it.”

“All right,” I said, reassured by his speech—bottom-fucking in particular always seemed rather terrifying to me, though I took to it eventually. “But… as I don’t know if I like anything or not, yet, I might as well try everything.”

“A fine attitude indeed,” said he, warmly. “Well then, first things first. Are you in love with anyone?”

“I…”

“I suppose that is a rather personal question,” he said, seeing my discomfort. “Keep your secrets, Miss Rasa, they are your own; I shall not pry. But please do tell me if you have an opinion on who you’d like to begin your lessons with?”

“I rather thought
you
—”

“Oh good God no,” he said, shaking his head and holding up his hands as if to prevent me from throwing myself upon him. “I fear deflowering innocents lost its charm for me decades ago—and more importantly, it might queer things between us if you didn’t like what I did to you. I could never allow it.” He tapped his chin. “Do you prefer a man or a woman? For your first, I mean—if you enjoy this sort of thing, you can go back and forth, or stick to whatever you like. I truck with everyone, as you know, but I’ve always enjoyed variety. You mustn’t feel pressured to be the same way, though having broad taste is no detriment to those in our profession.”

“A… man, I think,” I stammered, still hoping he might reconsider, but too shy to make the request a second time. “Though I don’t object to women…”

“It’s your choice, so we’ll go with a man. What about Reed? We could ask him if he’d like to do the honors. He’s about your age, but he has the advantage on other lads by being a gentle soul and knowing his business, thanks in no small part to yours truly. Then again, we run the same risk of things being queered. I’ve trained up Reed to be a shockingly good valet and I shouldn’t like to lose either of you over a lover’s quarrel, so you must both agree to be friends no matter what.”

Mr. Blythe waited for me to respond. I thought about it… Mr. Blythe’s handsome young valet was certainly pleasant and friendly. I liked him very much, actually. If he would do it, then I had no objections.

I did not mention that I could just as easily agree to be friends with Mr. Blythe, no matter what.
That
seemed settled.

“Reed, then. That will make matters far simpler, if he’s willing. I think he will be; he’s helped me before, which is good—he won’t be embarrassed by my instruction.”

“Your what?”

“My instruction. My dear Miss Rasa, you didn’t think I’d just shut you up in a room with a boy and wait in my office for you to report back on the experience?” He laughed, as if this was the silliest thing I’d ever said. “No no, I’ll be there the whole time.” I must have looked perturbed, for he smiled kindly and patted my knee. “I want you to have a good time, of course I do! But it’s not all fun and games—this is work, too. Remember that. If you were in love with someone, we’d be going about this a bit differently, but as this will be just about showing you the ropes, well, it’s a good opportunity to instruct you in the fine, fine arts of prick-sucking and fanny-spreading, and the most efficient way to apply such unguents that make things a bit easier, especially for inexperienced young ladies such as yourself.”

My first experience with a man was therefore both more and less nerve-wracking than it might have been. Reed was surprised but gratified to be asked, as well as being devilish handsome, as nice as he could be about it all, and very eager that I should enjoy myself. It was hardly the most romantic experience I’ve ever had, fellating him as Mr. Blythe looked on, suggesting a certain technique or showing me the proper way to pleasure a man’s balls as well as his cock, but it was loads of fun. I enjoyed the experience thoroughly, and found I enjoyed watching, as well—such as when Mr. Blythe, dissatisfied with my attempts at taking the whole of Reed in one go, stepped in for a moment to show me how it was done.

That first night, Mr. Blythe wouldn’t hear of things progressing further than Reed returning the favor, eagerly burying his face between my thighs to bring me to my first climax with a partner. No, my master had other ideas, involving a set of antique stretching-dildos that I was to use by myself or with Louisa, our French cook, until I could take the largest without pain. Then, and
only
then, was I permitted to try it with a man. Mr. Blythe attended that lesson too, when it occurred—and by following his instructions I managed to achieve three occasions, and dear Reed came twice without uncunting. We all had a fine time, but future frolics with Reed, and Louisa, and then such clients as I chose to serve, were conducted in private.

Mr. Blythe was prurient, but he was no voyeur.

Upon deeper reflection, I was forced to conclude I did not want for initiative. I had been taught independence and self-reliance, and naturally exhibited those skills. Perhaps my failure to realize I was perfectly capable of arranging a meeting with my cousin was merely confusion resulting from learning so late in life that I possessed one. For as long as I could remember—quite literally—I had been an orphan, alone in the world but for the family I had chosen and been chosen by. That it shocked and confounded me to learn I had relations who were alive and well not two miles from my home is, I think, understandable.

What finally convinced me of this was recalling that while Mr. Blythe did oversee and direct so much of my intellectual and physical education, he did little to help me hone my most unusual skill—my ability to entrance and bamboozle with the aid of my pocket watch. That was my responsibility alone, for he knew nothing about it. He did not even know such a thing was possible until he discovered my knowledge of the art.

Of course, once he saw the power of it, he made good use of my craft. I had no objection to it—it pleased me to no end to be able to do something he could not, to know something he knew nothing of. I enjoyed being his apprentice—I respected to his superior understanding of the world—but it was delightful to be the authority in at least one regard.

I will relate to you how he came to know of my talent, for I believe I have presented myself as an ideal student, when that is not really the truth of the matter. I could be difficult, and unwilling, and stubborn—I ‘had my moments,’ as Mr. Blythe put it. And this was one of them.

It was early in my apprenticeship, when everything I was learning was strictly theoretical. I was cross, staring out the window and not attending to my master. It was a lovely day, the finest we’d yet had that year. I had wanted to go out and play in the sunshine; he, to stay in and teach me the theory of
sneaking
. Thus, my ill-temper.

“Slipping past some sorts of guards is relatively easy,” he said. “But what of a footman posted at the front door? Sometimes one must enter through the front door, you know.”

“I’d put him to sleep,” I said, not really heeding what I was saying.

“You’d put a footman to sleep, would you?” He raised his eyebrows. “How? A draught? Are you a chemist? And if you are, how would you get this footman to drink your concoction?”

“He wouldn’t have to drink anything. I’d put him to sleep by tricking him.”

“Tricking him! Of course—forgive me, Miss Rasa. I’ve been doing this for years, and I need thought of tricking a footman! The student becomes the master! Pray, enlighten me—how would you trick him, Mistress Rasa?”

I produced my pocket watch. “It’s easy enough to do, with this.”

In spite of himself, Mr. Blythe had become intrigued. “How?”

“Well…” I held it in the palm of my hand, and opened the face toward him. “I… catch the light with it,” I said, doing so, “reflecting it in someone’s eyes. Then I open and shut it, and tell whoever it is to focus on the sound of the click, the way the light moves. I speak slowly… and deliberately… and eventually—”

“Stop that!” Mr. Blythe looked away, pale and alarmed. It was the first time I’d seen him lose his composure. “I’m sorry, I see now what you mean. That’s… very interesting, Miss Rasa. I wonder, would you give me a more complete demonstration? I’ll just ring for Louisa… she’s usually amenable to the unusual.”

Louisa was indeed amenable, and after we had gotten over our attack of the giggles, sitting before our mutual master for the purposes of the demonstration, I bid her relax. Then I began my
trick
, as I called it, opening and shutting the pocket watch, telling her to watch the light carefully, and think of nothing but how relaxed she was, how sleepy she was. It didn’t take long for her to doze off. I instructed her to sleep until I clapped twice.

“How long… will she stay like that?” whispered Mr. Blythe, as Louisa sat there, completely still.

“I don’t know, really,” I said. “You can speak normally, she won’t wake until I command her.”

“Is that so?” He waved his hand before her eyes, but Louisa showed no signs of stirring. “I say. That’s quite a talent. Who taught you?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I… suppose I must have learned before I lost my memory. I’ve always just…
known
how to do it.”

“Tell her to wake up. I don’t like to see her like this, it’s unsettling.”

I clapped twice. Louisa awoke, not at all groggy.

“Did it work?” she asked, confused. “What happened?”

“Extraordinary!” exclaimed Mr. Blythe. “Miss Rasa, you are a wonder. An absolute darling. You too, Louisa, of course,” he said, with a bow.

“Did I…”

“You just took a brief nap, nothing unusual. Don’t look unhappy, that was the point of the exercise. Miss Rasa just…
suggested
… you sleep for a bit. And you listened to her.”

“I’ll tell you more later,” I promised, and after kissing me on the cheek, she departed.

“I suppose I don’t need to instruct you on how to sneak into houses, then,” said Mr. Blythe thoughtfully. “Why bother? You can just do your little trick, and…
voilà
.”

I put away my keepsake, in a much better mood than before. Impressing him had mollified me substantially. “Not everyone sits still, or is amenable to suggestion. I still need to learn what you want to teach me.”

“True. Still… with that display, you’ve earned a reward. What say you we take a turn around Kensington Gardens and revisit this topic after dinner?”

I smiled at the memory as I changed out of my gown and into my most convincing gentlemen’s clothes—a plum coat trimmed with silver braid, coffee-colored trousers, and a wine-red waistcoat. Tying back my hair with a ribbon and lightly powdering my face completed the effect, once I darkened the area under my cheekbones to get rid of some of the womanly fullness there.

Then I secreted everything I thought I would need on my person—a length of rope, a lock-pick, a small bottle of oil with a brush in the stopper, for door-hinges, a few other odds and ends, and of course, my pocket watch.

By then, Mr. Blythe had departed, and I was free to enter his study, to put my inheritance in his safe, yes, but also to go through his files and find what I needed: Mr. Bewit’s address. Or rather, Hallux Dryden’s address.

I passed Reed on the stair; with Mr. Blythe gone, he was off to bed. Like me, he had his own bedroom on the upper floor, of course.

“Going out?” he asked, surprised.

“After that dreadful dinner—the company, I mean, not the food—I feel a bit too antsy to sleep.”

“I have the night off, as Mr. Blythe is entertaining Mrs. Knoyll, if you’re… too antsy to sleep…”

Reed always liked it when I dressed as a boy; it was very tempting to put off what might well prove a disagreeable errand, and instead spend my night in more pleasurable company. But I could not.

“I’ll see if your light’s on once I’m back.” It occurred to me I should tell someone where I was going. “Reed, I’m going to 12 Bloomsbury Square. I have recently learned my… cousin lives there, as well as my younger brother. But my cousin is the one I’m going to see. I wanted you to know. Just in case.”