CHAPTER 6
PERCY
I paused in the doorway between the dining and music room and leaned against the doorjamb. I watched her as she sang, urging her to look in my direction so I could catch her eye. To my utter astonishment she did so, and when our gazes collided sparks flew in my heart, the likes of which I’d never felt before. I was at once, smitten. She gave me a saucy smile and after a familiar piano accompaniment, the songbird launched into a bawdy song I recognized about a lady of the night. This song had decidedly saucy lyrics.
“A man of high society
In search of some variety,
The kind of cove to catch my eye
In pubs and clubs and in the streets
A gentleman will prowl, you see,
Looking for a girl like I!
I find my man and he finds me
I’ll take him to a dark alley
And in the throes, he says to me?“
The club members then joined in and heartily sang along with the chorus.
“I hope the Peelers don’t pass by, girl,
I hope the Peelers don’t pass by.
Let me whet me whistle,
Before they blows their own.
Oh, I hope the Peelers don’t pass by—”
We all howled with laughter at the songbird’s performance filled with lewd gestures. I couldn’t help nodding my head and tapping my foot as I was pulled along by the melody. Gentlemen danced together to the jaunty tune, clutching one another in the same way men danced with women, which, in any other setting would be scandalous and lead to social banishment, even arrest. I’d never even dared imagining I could dance with a fellow in that way and decided that it was something I would like to try. But, as the song came to an end and I vigorously applauded, it was time for a drink and to see what other fun could be had at Wychwood.
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The gaming room was my next port of call. On the way down the corridor I heard moaning and whimpering noises, and then happened upon a couple in an alcove. An older man was on his knees with a younger man who was pressed to the wall. His eyes were closed as the other gamahuched him. I’d never seen the act up close like this before. My initial reaction was to be scandalized. But no, this was a space where men could be themselves with one another. This, I came to see, was the point of a house like Wychwood. I paused for a second and watched as the younger man’s stiff prick slipped effortlessly in and out of his partner’s wet puffy lips. By the whimpering and groaning I understood that there was mutual pleasure to be had in the experience and again, my bollocks ached with desire. I licked my lips and then moved on, desperately needing something else to steal my attention.
In the games room I joined a game of poker with three other fellows, sadly, none of whom were attractive to me. They introduced themselves by their numbers, 14, 9, 22 and I told them I was 36. Feeling bold, I fished a twenty-pound note from my wallet which was exchanged with Mr. Joshua for twenty gold sovereigns to use as gaming counters. Then I settled in to the first game.
We’d played several hands and I hadn’t done too badly so far. The clock struck half-past-eight and I kept my features emotionless as I shielded my cards. It was only Mr. 22 and I left now. He was one of the more comely, boyish members of Club Fifty-Five, appearing even younger than my twenty-six years. He eyeballed me, and I could see he was trying to make my measure. His tongue popped out and he licked a sultry path to moisten his lips. I wondered if he fancied his chances with me in one of the bedrooms upstairs or if the lip-licking was a purposeful distraction to put me off my game. It was then that I truly was distracted. I looked up to see other gents had crowded around the table, and among the crowd was the songbird. Our eyes met and she beamed at me. Fireworks exploded in my chest. That smile gave me joy and confidence. Again, I glanced at the hand I was dealt. I knew I could not lose, and so pushed my remaining coins into the pile matching my opponent’s wager. He sent me a sly smile and laid his cards out. He had a Straight Flush of diamonds 6,7,8,9. He grinned self-satisfied and made to reach for his winnings but then I laid down my cards, ace, king, queen, jack, and ten of hearts, an unbeatable Royal Flush. The room was in uproar and I was slapped on the back and told what a jolly good job I’d done. I felt warm and accepted by these new friends, apart from by my opponent. His once sultry mouth took on a waspish moue. He rose and stalked away from the table. I gathered my winnings and began to stack them. I still could not help but be distracted by the songbird. I tossed a coin to her and she plucked it from the air showing impressive dexterity, then in return she blew me a kiss. This was already one of the best nights-out I’d had in a long time.
Mr. Joshua then came back into the gaming room and I swapped out my gold sovereigns for a stack of notes. “I can put this in the safe for you. And you can collect it before you leave,” he offered. I was happy with that arrangement as I didn’t want to spend the evening with an overfilled wallet.
Music and song drew me in again like a moth to a flame. I was now sure that there was a thread connected from my soul to the songbird. I returned to the dining room, loaded a plate with bread; meats, cheese, and fruit, and then poured myself a glass of claret. I took a seat in the music room and watched with delight as the songbird sang and danced.
The more I watched her, the more I became enchanted. I wanted to know her name and who she was. And so, it shocked me when, later in the evening, she came over and asked to sit beside me and converse.
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