Authors: John R. Maxim
Tags: #Horror, #General, #Psychological, #Suspense, #Memory, #Thrillers, #Fiction, #Time Travel
Time Out of Mind (41 page)
a promise of having independent means and the freedom
from relying upon the whims of any man in return for two
years of selling a body which a husband, whether chosen
well or recklessly, could use as he sees fit anyway. That,
Tilden was sure, was the hub of Georgiana’s argument. She
doubtless told Margaret of the many who've retired to re
spectable lives but not of those who have been unmasked
by a chance encounter with a former patron or an anonymous letter to a husband. Or of those who retire not soon
enough, who waste their money or are cheated of it and
who, as age overtakes them, desperately seek employment
in an ever-more-disreputable sort of house until at last they
are like those pathetic disease-ridden hags who prowl past
hotels, smiling through rotted teeth at every passerby.
I will undress now if you wish.” Margaret folded her
napkin and placed it on the tray.
to leave this place with me at once and then I wish you to
learn to care for me and I wish you to love me and only
me because you are, by heaven, every beautiful thing I could have hoped for in Ella but have been denied.
“
Yes,” he choked. “If you are quite ready.”
He watched as Margaret rose from the table and walked slowly to the side of the canopied bed, her back to him and
her fingers working the buttons of her bodice. He saw her
shiver but she did not pause. One bare shoulder appeared, then another. Her back was wonderfully straight and its unmarked skin was naturally tan like that of some French women he'd seen. She stepped out of the bottle-green dress
she wore and folded it neatly over a bedside chair. Her fingers moved to the straps of a lacy chemise.
Might we turn down the lamps?” she asked, her face
still turned from him.
“
If that pleases you,” he answered hoarsely. He reached
under one Tiffany shade and extinguished it altogether. On
the other he left only a tiny crescent of blue flame. When
he looked at her again, the chemise and other silken things had fallen. She stood naked in the semidarkness, her arms folded across her breasts. She looked small. Tilden crossed
to her and placed his hands upon her shoulders, turning her,
feeling the thrill of her skin as he held her. Slowly, she
made herself relax, allowing her head to lean against his
lapel and bringing her hands tentatively to his hips. He could smell the scent of almonds in her hair.
“
Margaret...”
draping his jacket across her gown. She unbuttoned his
waistcoat and then her fingers worked to solve the knot of
his cravat. It both pleased and saddened him that she was
inexpert at loosing it. Tilden did it for her, then quickly
removed his shoes and trousers and held up the comforter
for Margaret to slip beneath it.
“
Margaret...”
She kissed him and put her fingers to his lips.
and stomach and, pausing only for a heartbeat, lowered
them further until they took .him and caressed him in a way
that Ella had done only when the wine was in her. Tilden
shuddered and his breath came more quickly. Her free hand
reached to his neck and she gently guided his body over
hers and in the same motion eased him into her. He could
feel that she was tight, yet he entered smoothly. She must
have prepared herself, he realized. Georgiana must have shown her how.
“
Margaret, you are so tender. So beautiful.” His body
began its slow and delicious motion. His hands sank deep
into the soft down mattress on either side of her. Even
holding his elbows straight, he feared that he was pressing
too hard against her. He raised himself up further.
“
Is that better?” he whispered.
In answer, she placed both arms around him and drew him down to her.
“
That is better, Tilden,” she said gently. “Enjoy me
now. Just enjoy me.”
He tried.
He did.
The end, when it came, was too soon. But he stayed
inside her, moving with a rhythm that matched her own as
long as he was able.
“
You have honored me,” he said at last. The words,
though odd in choice, seemed appropriate.
“
And you have pleased me greatly,” Margaret told him.
Tilden frowned. “There is no need to tell me that. I had
almost forgotten that I am a patron here.”
Margaret took his hand and kissed it. “It is true, Tilden.”
Then, more sadly, ”I suppose I too had forgotten.”
was not yet artful at this trade. Tilden was glad that she
was pleased. He remembered a time when it would have
shocked him to learn that a woman took any satisfaction
from this act beyond that of performing her duty to her
man. After all, everyone knew of Dr. Otis Willard's state
ment that to suppose that a woman takes animal pleasure
in the performance of the reproductive act is the most dam
nable calumny upon the soul of this noble creature.
But some of his friends had told him of women who
actually invited the act and who laughed and talked during
it and to whom it seemed great fun, but he had supposed
such women must be whores at heart. And he'd heard that there were other women who cried out, not in pain but in
pleasure, and some who moaned in the same
way he did
when his back was being scratched. These too, he felt, must
be depraved at heart. A friend, at last, had given him a book written for women by a woman doctor and there it
all was, in cold print: the affirmation that nature's design
had made the act pleasurable for the females of all species and especially pleasurable for the one species possessed of an imagination, and to deny this any longer could lead to
nervousness and even madness.
”
I wish I could stay here with you,” he told her. ”I
wish I could stay here always.”
“
Stay a while, Tilden. Hold me a while.” Margaret
closed her eyes. It was done at last. After all the urging
from the other girls.
Just once, Margaret dearie, to show
your appreciation to Georgiana.
She did not know whether
the urging was done at Georgiana’ s request, but it did not
truly matter. She had to know whether she could do this.
They all wash off, dear. After they leave you're as good as new and a little richer.
Could she do it for the two years
Georgiana promised in a place where she would be pro
tected and where all the men were well behaved and where
she would have companions who were, after all, not unlike
herself? She still did not know. Not all would be as tender
as this battered warrior who knew Bach when he heard it
and who tried, at least, to make love slowly, and who lin
gered with her when other men she'd heard about would
turn and snore or even begin to smoke. She did know, how
ever, how much she'd wanted to be held by a man she
trusted.
“
Margaret,” he asked softly, “what happens now? After
tonight?”
”
I don't know.”
“
Perhaps ...” He searched for the words. “Perhaps, un
til you've made a decision, that is if I can arrange it, you
would care to see only me.”
She raised her head.
”
I mean, not just this way. Not at all if that's what you'd
like. We can visit. And talk. And you can play the piano.
And perhaps we could slip away and hear one of those
operettas by Herbert and Sullivan.”
“
Gilbert.”
“
Exactly, yes. Do you play cards? We could play cards
as well.”
“
That would be lovely, Tilden.”
“
What? Which part?”
“
All of it, Tilden. If you mean it, it would all be lovely.” Yes, it would, she thought. But Margaret could not allow herself to hope that the ardor he felt tonight would survive
into tomorrow, let alone to days beyond.
“
Of course I mean it.”
“
Dear Tilden.”
“
You say ‘dear Tilden' as if I am a little boy who
doesn't know his mind.”
“
No, Tilden,” she told him, ”I say it as if I am a woman
who would rather not be hurt if I can help it.”
”
I will not hurt you, Margaret.”
She kissed him.
”
I would die first.”
After a while, they made love again.
“
This
is
a business, Tilden,” Georgiana Hastings reminded
him as she poured his brandy. ”I charge three times the normal rate for the exclusive use of a girl. Seventy-five
dollars a night, every night, would put a considerable strain
upon your pocket.”
”
I too am a businessman,” he answered. “And Margaret
is not yet one of your girls. Let us negotiate seriously,
Georgiana.”
“
Make your offer.”
“
Make yours.” :
“
I'm afraid it's a seller's market, Tilden. Whether we reach agreement or not is all the same to me.”
Nonsense. At the moment, you have no income from
her at all. I'll pay you twenty-five, but you must keep pay
ing her the salary she earns as your secretary.”
“
How is your brandy, Tilden?”
“
Not good enough to derail me.”
“
Seventy-five.”
“
Georgiana, we both know that you are fully prepared
to split the difference at fifty dollars and still be satisfied
that you have bested me. Let us get on with it.”
Fifty then,” she agreed, “plus five hundred for to
night.”
“
Ridiculous.”
Most of the five hundred is for Margaret. I'll keep less
than a hundred of it.”
“
Fair enough. What is her share of the fifty?”
“
None. I'd make more than that on the average girl.”
' 'Georgiana—''
“
It's true, Tilden.”
'Then I will pay you seventy-five on condition that you
bank twenty-five of it for Margaret. Can I rely on you for
that?”
It is we whores”—Georgiana winked—“who are sup
posed to have hearts of gold, Tilden.”
“
Do we have a bargain, you barracuda?”
Pay me fifty, Tilden. I shall bank half of it for Mar
garet.”
“
Of course,” Tilden said, “some barracudas are quite
nice.”
And I'd like you to look over my investments. Your
advice will be without charge, naturally.”