Chapter 31
Darkness greets my eyes as I wake. For a moment, I think I’ve gone blind, then realise there’s something soft covering them.
Tearing at a silken strip, I sit up to find I’m naked, alone, and lying on a bed that isn’t mine.
If I’m not at the brothel, then where in God’s good name am I?
This room, with its dark-green wallpaper and walnut furniture, is wholly unfamiliar.
Crawling to the edge of the wide bed, I’m about to step down when I glimpse a pair of large bare feet poking out from under it. I lean over further to find that the feet are connected to muscular pale calves, neither of which is moving. Darius seems to be under the bed, and I hope he’s sleeping.
Trepidation rolls through me. Sadie, what did you do?
I rack my brain, but I can’t remember anything after Anya told me I was going to be her supper, which I’m sure she was teasing me about. But where is she now?
Her tower of silver coin is stacked on the sideboard next to the bed. So the sequence of events seems clear: Anya ate her bread and cheese, watched Darius and me fuck, and then we all drank ourselves into oblivion ...?
No, that doesn’t seem right. It’s no good. I can’t remember. But there’s no point sticking around until Darius wakes up. He’ll just have to sleep it off but I don’t envy him his raging hangover.
I, on the other hand, have no hangover and feel absolutely chipper.
Better than chipper, I feel positively radiant.
I stand and stretch, catching sight of myself in the full-length oval mirror on the back of the door.
My skin is glowing, my golden hair lustrous, and my burnt fingers are healed!
I also seem ... taller. But as I get off the bed and walk closer to the mirror, the image wavers and goes transparent.
I rub my eyes. But ghostly Sadie is still there.
How peculiar. It must be a trick of the light.
Tiptoeing across the floor so as not to wake Darius, I find my stays and yellow dress behind a changing screen, along with a bowl of water and soap.
Might as well have a wash while I’m here.
When I dip the washcloth into the water after running soap over my body, it turns a murky reddish brown.
I suppose it’s from some wine I spilled on myself.
I’m not normally a big drinker, but if Darius was plying me with glass after glass, then it may have turned into a drinking frenzy.
I smile to myself. Sadie Smith is not a girl to turn down free wine!
Fortunately, I seem to have handled the excess admirably.
Shrugging into my stays, I give them a cursory tug to contain my bosom and slip my dress over my head.
My hair I leave mostly loose, apart from a few pins I stick randomly in it.
I can’t seem to bring myself to care about looking respectable for the walk of shame back to the brothel.
Everyone in the vicinity knows I’m a prostitute, so why try and make out I’m a lady?
I stuff my feet into my shoes, which I also find neatly placed side by side.
And there’s my velvet drawstring purse. After I swipe in the coin from the sideboard, it’s difficult to close it.
Last night’s takings were the most I’ve ever earned.
Good on me! With this haul, I’m going to buy myself a new dress, some rouge, and a pair of silk stockings.
Thinking I might buy some jewellery as well, I pause by the bed, staring at Darius’s feet. It’s a bit strange that he’s lying under the bed. I know I should check to see if he’s all right, but I feel fearful about that for some reason.
Letting myself out of his house, I squint in the glare of the morning light and can barely see as I stumble down the front path.
Strange, I must have a hangover after all, even though I felt perfectly fine inside.
Sticking to the narrow alleyways, where it’s darker and easier on my eyes, I weave through the London streets like a rat in a maze, operating purely on instinct.
If a street ‘feels’ right, I’ll go that way.
Somehow, I end up at the back entrance to the brothel without incident.
A feat that astonishes me somewhat as I don’t particularly have a good sense of direction.
Mother Swift never sends me out for her gin rations as I always get lost.
No matter. I’m here now. But thirsty. So thirsty.
I haul myself up the secret stairway, my legs barely able to function and my mouth on fire.
I. Must. Drink. Now. Several girls are milling around, chatting, when I burst out of the doorway and flop against the hallway banister.
They crowd around me, exclaiming in surprise, and help me to my room, burning my ears with a million questions.
‘We thought you’d run away.’
‘What happened to you?’
‘Are you hurt?’
I’m pleased at their concern but unable to give them any sensible answers. All I can rasp is ‘Drink’ and ‘Thirsty’. One of them runs off to her room for a jug of water, and I sit on my bed and gulp it greedily while they all stand around and watch.
But I’m still as thirsty as ever when I finish, and now I feel nauseous. With a heaving retch, I vomit the water violently back into the jug. The girls all take a step back.
‘She’s ill,’ whispers one.
‘She’s caught something,’ says another.
I feel so odd. So cold. I need to sleep.
The jug is taken from my hands, my shoes removed, and I curl under the covers with a shivery sigh as the door closes.
Blessedly alone at last.
A cool hand brushes my forehead, and something pours down my throat in a smooth sweet river. But it’s not real. It feels like I’m remembering something from a dream.
Sleep now, little one. And you will drink again.
***
A sharp rap on my door rouses me, and my eyes snap open to find a purple glow decorating my room.
‘Sadie, are you decent?’
I mumble something in the affirmative and sit up as the door opens. Mother Swift enters with a candle.
‘Are you well or poorly?’ she asks, peering at me. I note she keeps her distance.
I flex my fingers and roll my shoulders.
‘I feel ... quite well,’ I tell her. And it’s the truth, apart from still being terribly thirsty.
Mother Swift breathes a sigh of relief, her large bosom swelling in her red satin dress. Her strong perfume wafts to my nose, making me flinch. Pooh! She’s not usually so heavy-handed with it!
‘Thank goodness! I thought you may have caught the pox,’ she says. ‘But it must have been one of those quick passing illnesses. That’s why I let you sleep so late. I know it was a difficult night, after the raid, for all you girls ...’
I nod. ‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’
‘But if you’re feeling chipper again, there’s a gentleman downstairs.’
‘Oh?’ I massage my lower back, easing out the sleep kinks.
‘Yes, he’s not one of your regulars. But he asked for you by name and said he saw you last night. You must’ve made quite an impression on him.’
She winks at me, and my upper gums throb. I run my tongue over my teeth. They feel a bit too big for my mouth.
Mother Swift is looking at me. ‘So should I send him up? He said he’d pay double.’
I remember the gentleman. The handsome one with the lengthy rod. My cunny starts twitching.
I lick my lips. All of a sudden, I can’t wait to have him pounding inside me. Or maybe he can go on the bottom this time and lie there while I fuck him and ... bite him. Yes, that seems like an excellent idea.
Slowly, I tilt my neck one way, then the other—the bones cracking.
‘Yes, I’m ready to work,’ I tell Mother Swift, fumbling eagerly with the buttons on my dress.
Mother Swift gives a pleased chuckle, no doubt thinking of the nice lot of coin coming her way since she takes a percentage of my earnings. ‘That’s my girl! Back in the saddle. It’s always the best way. I’ll tell him to come up now.’
She bustles off, and I lie back naked on the bed, licking my lips and smiling to myself.
Oh yes, Sadie Smith is going to give her well-paying customer the best rogering of his life.