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Clara: Summer Rose

By: caprine



[This is a work of fiction. The story is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male fantasies and perhaps some female fantasies as well. As such, the story may or may not totally conform to reality. With some occasional historical exceptions, all other locations, events, and characters are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]

******

My Christian name is Clara, Clara Klackenbush, but for most of my life I was called Summer Rose, or just simply, Rose. 'Tis hard, hard indeed to believe that tomorrow, January 30, I will be ninety-six years old. But then, I'm a survivor, always have been. Still, ninety-six is something. I wonder how much longer I'll continue to "survive."

Not much remains of the looks I once had. My flaming red hair is red no more. My once very well endowed chest--well, let's just say it went south and flat. My green eyes are still green, but the sparkle has dulled. Skin that once was compared to the creamy white soft skin of a baby is now loose and wrinkled, including my once beautiful face. And my waspish waist? Let's just say it's no longer waspish by any stretch of the imagination. My drab house dress is a far cry from the outfits I wore seventy and more years ago.

Ah, but I do remember--almost all of it. Life began for me in January of 1854 in Peoria, Illinois. My thirty year old father worked in a brewery and my twenty-five year old mother was, of course, a housewife. Life was good. Good that is until 1867, when mother died of consumption.

The next five years were bad. Father always had been a drinker of sorts, but after the death of my mother, he really hit the bottle hard. Beer on the job at the brewery, beer in one or more saloons on the way home, and then beer at home. I tried to keep things together at home, but it was a losing, downhill battle. But, I survived.

Father died of alcohol induced liver disease in 1872 and I found myself to be an eighteen year old orphan. The authorities had been threatening Father to place me in foster care for some time before he died. Now, I was sure they would do so.

I had another strike against me as well. I did not think the way society said girls my age, or of any age for that matter, should think. Unrestrained by lack of a mother and an indifferent father, I was a free thinker. My independence and willfulness to break convention or anything else, was boundless. I was "unrestrained,' to say the least.

One saving grace Father had was to aid my escape now. He spent most of his wages on beer and women, but he unfailingly saved one dollar a week for me. Over five years, after skimping on the household, I had a small nest egg of two-hundred-thirty-five dollars and fifty cents. That may not sound like much to you now, but let me tell you, in 1872, that was quite a sum of money.

I packed what few belongings I had in an old carpet bag and headed for the train station. For those who needed to know what a young lady of my tender age was doing alone, I told the story of going to see a spinster aunt in Wyoming. The aunt was, of course, nonexistent. What I would do when I got there, was still up in the air. I didn't have the slightest idea.

"Where in Wyoming?" asked the ticket agent.

"Cheyenne."

It was the only place in Wyoming I could think of quickly enough to answer his question without arousing suspicion. It was also a place I knew the transcontinental railroad went through.

"Well, young lady, this ticket will get you a ride on the Burlington to Iowa. There, you get a ticket on the Union Pacific at Council Bluffs and that will take you to Cheyenne."

"Thank you, sir."

After paying for the ticket, I had some money left over, but not a lot. I'd have to hoard it carefully. There was no food available on the train, so I'd have to buy some along the way. I knew there were places that served train passengers, but I couldn't afford to buy very much.

"Train leaves in thirty minutes, Missy, noon sharp," the ticket agent told me.

"Thank you, sir."

As I said earlier, I'd no idea what I'd do once I reached my destination, but I knew I did have to get out of Peoria and the clutches of those who would put me in foster care. I wouldn't be considered "legally of age" until I reached my twenty-first birthday. I was far too independent in nature and had been more or less on my own with Father far too long to put up with that.

Only after the train was on its way to did I begin to relax and think that I'd once again survived. I was lightly dozing when I felt a tap on my shoulder

******

"Pardon me, Ma'am, my name is Abner. I couldn't help but see you are traveling alone and wondered if I might invite you to join me for lunch?"

I was groggy, but not that groggy. I was well aware no eating facilities existed on the train. "Lunch, where?"

"Why in my private car, of course. I'd gone back to the observation car for a cigar and was returning to my own car when I saw you again."

Only then did I really look at him. He was ten or fifteen years older than I, extremely well dressed, and quite handsome. It must have been that old survival instinct cutting in again and overriding other concerns, because, without much hesitation, I said, "Yes."

We didn't speak as we threaded our way through two more cars to his private, Pullman built palace car. I was stunned. The car contained a huge, guilt parlor, sleeping quarters, and a small galley for fixing meals. It truly was a palace on wheels.

"My home away from home. My father owns two railroads and several manufacturing plants. I use this car to shuttle between those businesses. But right now, I'm on a holiday/business trip to California."

"It's just gorgeous." 

I said that out loud, but I was thinking that I could come to like such luxurious surroundings quite easily. How to obtain them was the still unanswered question.

"Let's sit and eat. Jaffey will serve."

A Negro servant placed a tasty lunch before us and we fell to with gusto. I was starved. However, two minutes into lunch, I was faced with a decision. With a hand lingering on mine on the table top, with verbal innuendo, and with eyes all but undressing me, the message was clear--I want you. Sleep with me.

It only took me seconds to respond--my survival instincts again, I suppose. I spontaneously raised his other hand off my knee where he had just placed it and replaced it higher up on my inner thigh. Of course the clothing of the time was quite an impediment, but he got the message. I wasn't even embarrassed enough to blush.

I had never experienced intimate sex with another person to that point, but I wasn't ignorant of "the birds and the bees." I'd seen the dirty French pictures and stories that Father had hidden away and I'd pleasured myself in private quite a lot for some time. Now, lonely and emotionally vulnerable, I wanted to experience what I'd seen and read about. And, who knows, maybe this guy would make it worth my while in some way beyond just pleasure.

We finished lunch in a leisurely fashion. My thigh was quite warm by that time. At the conclusion of lunch, Abner rose, took both my hands in his and drew me up into a tight embrace. I could easily see the circle of light skin on his finger where his wedding ring should have been.

"Naughty, naughty, Abner!" 

I said that as I held his left hand up before his eyes.

Ignoring my gesture, Abner said, "You are so very lovely, Clara. Your beauty takes my breath away."

"I bet you say that to all your girls, Abner."

"Yes, I do as a matter of fact," he said with a knowing smile, "but you are far and away the most beauteous of them all. With your flaming red hair and green eyes, you remind me of a summer rose."

"And your wife..."

"My wife has her lovers; I have mine."

His hands rested on my back side cheeks and he dug in hard to pull me tight against himself. I felt his hardness crush into my woman parts and lower belly. He was really big and really hard.

"And is your lance always ready to pierce such beauty?"

"Yes, always, my pet."

Our mouths met in a passionate kiss. I felt his tongue probe my lips. I didn't know what he wanted, but he managed to force my mouth open and show me when his tongue found mine. I just did what came naturally as I followed his lead.

His hands came around to caress my more than ample bosom. I flinched at first, revealing my inexperience, but warmed to his touch. I grew bolder and slipped my hand down to his crotch. What did a real man spear feel like? 

I quickly found out. And, I liked what I could feel through his clothes. I wondered what that man flesh would feel like, skin to skin, without the clothes. You may notice I had not yet acquired the vocabulary of a slut.

Of a sudden, I started just a bit again when Abner began to unbutton my blouse. I guess he knew I wasn't quite as experienced as I was trying to make him think. My chest was heaving in both arousal and in some trepidation of what was happening.

As Abner finished with my blouse buttons, I hesitantly at first and then with growing confidence, removed his jacket, tie, and collar. We kept at it until I was left with only my light summer shift and Abner in his waist to knee length BVD's.

To me, the bulge at his crotch looked monstrous, but I had nothing to compare it to. My curiosity almost overrode my timidity as I again hesitantly reached for the waistband of his BVD's. Abner took my hand in mid air and guided it to his bulge. God, but it was long and hard. I squeezed and he groaned.

Then I reached for his waistband and pulled his BVDs down slowly, exposing his erect male flesh inch by inch from the point of its helmet on down the shaft. That it was both hard and velvety soft at the same time surprised me. I petted and rubbed it in awe. I ran a finger over and around the tip. Abner shuddered. Clear liquid was pearling from the orifice. I spread it around the tip of his spear with my thumb.

"That's called precum and you're driving me wild with what you are doing."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Good heavens, no, woman!"

"Your member is so, so, uh, fascinating."

"It's called a 'cock' dear, or peter, dick, prick and more."

"Yes, your c, c, cock."

"Take it in your mouth, Clara."

"In, in m, my m, mouth?"

I had seen pictures of this, yes, but I was still hesitant. It seemed such a dirty, unclean thing to do.

"Yes, in your mouth."

He did not give me a choice. He took advantage of my hesitancy and open mouth to put his cock in it himself. I gagged, but recovered quickly.

The hard/soft, velvety feel, the pulsing and quivering quickly converted me to an avid cocksucker. I liked sucking it. He wanted me to swallow all of it, but I gagged too hard. It was just too long for me to take it all in. Taking a cock that long was just something I couldn't yet accomplish.

"Enough. I don't want to cum yet."

Abner removed his cock from my mouth, pulled me upright, and dropped the straps of my shift off my shoulders, allowing it to slide slowly down my arms.

"Ah, such beautiful tits, boobs if you prefer," he said as they were slowly exposed.

The shift was supposed to come off over my head. It was pulled clear of my, ah, boobs, only with difficulty. My hips were far too big for it to clear them without ripping.

Abner leaned down to lick one boob and nipple and then the other. My nipples tingled with a fire I'd never felt before. I could also feel a fiery itch building in my crotch. Abner then did rip my shift apart as he yanked it down past my hips. Now we were both naked.

I blushed. I was already red in the face from the building sexual tension, so I don't know how much my blushing was evident. After all, this was the first time in my adult life I was totally naked in front of anyone, let alone a man. My crotch burned like fire. Abner's hand dropped to it and was met by a very wet slit.

"Ahhh, woman. What a lovely pussy bush, fire red just as your top hair. And what luscious pussy lips you have. Slippery wet with anticipation and desire. Gorgeous."

"My woman parts have never been touched by anyone but me until now, Abner. I'm sorry if I'm shy."

"It's called a pussy, Clara, or a cunt, snatch, box, twat, or what have you. And your shyness is part of your virgin allure, dear. I so dearly do love your fire red bush."

"Well, now you're driving me wild with what you are doing to it with your hand. Don't stop."

"Oh, I don't intend to."

Abner had parted my now swollen cunt lips with his fingers and was rubbing up and down my crevice, rubbing the lips with his outside fingers and coursing up and down inside my slit with his middle finger. He had me really on fire.

When his middle finger found my opening, he plunged it in all the way and I climaxed. A gush of fluid drenched his hand.

"Ah, a squirter," Abner cried. "I knew I'd found a treasure in you."

I already knew my maidenhead had a natural opening in it from when I had pleasured myself with small items such as carrots. His finger had found its way through that opening.

But now as he pulled me in close and we were still standing, he replaced his fingers with his cock at my opening. I was fearful of taking him in. His cock looked so big to me. But, as it were, I was sufficiently wet to take it in about helmet deep or so before he met the obstruction. Then with a swift, hard lunge, his sword, ah, his cock broke through and sunk in to the hilt, so to speak.

I cried out in pain and whimpered, but Abner stopped only briefly. He was too intent on his own pleasure at that moment and he resumed pumping again, vigorously. Eventually the pain eased and I began to feel the pleasure of a good coupling. Soon, I would call it what it really was, a damned good fuck. Talking like a slut came slowly for me, a supposedly "good" girl, but I was learning.

Abner had by now backed me into an interior wall and picked me up by my butt. My legs went around his waist as he pounded into me harder and harder. A picture fell from the wall with a crash. A wall sconce covering an unlit candle fell and also crashed to the floor.

I exploded in the most powerful orgasm of my short life. Abner let out a roar as his cock expanded yet more and then exploded, pumping out his seed deep into my insides. My pleasure was so intense that I briefly fainted.

Both of us were sweating from the early spring warmth, but I suspect our exertions had much more to do with that sweat than the weather. Abner calmed down and withdrew his cock with a squishy plop.

"Lick me clean, Clara."

"Whaaat?"

"I said, lick me clean. Now do it."

I wasn't a bit happy with that command. But after I got started, I really liked the taste of his seed, mixed with my juices. Cum, or spunk, Abner called it. When I finished, he was hard again.

"It's too soon to make use of this boner, Clara, if...

"Boner?"

"Hardon, erection, stiff one, and so on, dear."

"Oh." 

"Now, as I started to say, if you want to freshen up, the washroom has running water although it's cold."

"Running water?"

"Yes, there's a special built, overhead tank and gravity brings the water down to the tap."

"Where are we?" I asked as I looked out the window.

"We're just outside Quincy. This car will be coupled onto the train going west, the one you would be on anyway. It's already arranged, we don't have to do anything and can just stay put here inside. You go ahead and freshen up. you'll find a robe in the closet and I'll go get one of mine from my bedroom."

While I got cleaned up, I also got thinking. So, Clara, how does it feel to no longer be a virgin? Do you feel like a slut? What's more, did you get pregnant? Too late now for recriminations, the dirty deed is done. Where do you go from here?

As I saw it then, I had four choices: get married, own or clerk in a small women's shop, teach, or become a prostitute. I had no prospects for marriage and it with all it's restriction on a woman, really didn't appeal to me anyway.

I nowhere near had the means for the second choice. The third choice was just as restrictive as the other two and I had no training. 

Ah, but the fourth choice. I'd never considered prostitution in my daydreaming about running away. But now? I'd suddenly discovered sex and at the same time, I discovered that I liked sex very, very much. As a prostitute, I could get all I could ever manage and be free of society's restrictions on women that I would have in the other roles. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of prostitution.

We were coupled on to the westbound train. I rode with Abner in his private car as far as Council Bluffs, Iowa. We fucked ourselves silly most of the way. I learned that I really did enjoy, even grew to require, lots of sex. The gates had been opened. We were naked all the time except at meals when we donned our robes in deference to the Negro servant, Jaffey. At our stop in Council Bluffs, Abner gave me the news.

"I got a telegram at our last stop that causes me to make a change of plans. I have to make a detour and can't take you with me. The car will be uncoupled from this train now and recoupled to another."

"Then this is good-bye, Abner?"

"I'm afraid so. I'll really miss your company, not to mention your sweet little pussy, Clara. But please allow me to give you this."

He handed me one-thousand dollars--in cash. Now, in 1872, that was a very tidy sum of money. very tidy indeed.

"You have pleased me very, very much, Clara. A woman in a high class bordello or parlor house would cost me at least that much in short order. The pleasure of deflowering such a beautiful young woman as yourself is worth every penny of that money. In fact, you might consider that as a career in your options of where you go from here."

"Thank you, Abner." 

That was said with a big smile. If you only knew, was what I was thinking.

After a brief pause in which he seemed to be considering something, Abner pulled a card from the nearby desk and handed it to me.

"In fact, Clara, if you should decide to take that road, you should look up this woman in Cheyenne and tell her I recommended you.

The card read, "Suzzette's Gentleman's Palace." I just stood there, mouth agape, money in my hand. I told you, I was a survivor. But at that moment, I just couldn't think straight in any direction.

"You'd best hurry a bit, Clara, your westbound train leaves in less than twenty minutes."

Quickly, I snapped out of my daze and quickly dressed, minus my ripped shift of course. My worn carpetbag of sparse belongings was quickly packed. The platform was milling with people when I detrained after a passionate kiss good-bye. I mingled easily with them.

Abner and I had been feasting on sex so much, we'd not eaten recently and I was starved. If I got lucky, there was time for a quick bite of food, even if I had to bring it back with me to the train. I went into the the track-side Harvey House restaurant and managed to buy some food. But someone yelled the train was about to get underway and I had to run for it and worry about eating once I got back aboard.

Jeeze, I just made it, just, but I lost my coffee in the reach for the grab iron on the entrance step to the car. Once seated, I took out my food and slowly ate my precious bits of sustenance.

I had read of the Harvey House restaurants along the tracks and the famous Harvey girls who served as waitress in them. The first one had just opened in Topeka two years earlier. That would be a very good job indeed and a way to meet a husband, but the job did not appeal to me.

Somehow, I imagined my now soiled dove status was visible to any who looked at me and thus would probably deny me that job opportunity. Besides, I thought that I'd already found my calling.

The rest of the ride along the North Platte River was very pleasant, but uneventful. But it did give me the time to think further about and sort out my options. I might succeed in obtaining a job as a Harvey girl, but I knew that to be a strictly regulated, dormitory style life. I now enjoyed sex too much to be tied to that.


Clara: Summer Rose Conquers All



[This is a work of fiction. The story is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male fantasies and perhaps some female fantasies as well. As such, the story may or may not totally conform to reality. With some occasional historical exceptions, all other locations, events, and characters are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]

NOTE: This is a continuation of CLARA: SUMMER ROSE. It can be read as a stand alone story, but fuller enjoyment may be achieved by reading the other story first.

******

The midnight chiming, actually near booming, of the grandfather clock at the top landing of the stairway, in concert with the one in the fancy parlor downstairs, awakened me. I was very groggy and, at first, completely lost as to my whereabouts.

Then it all came back in a flash. I was in "my" room in Suzzette's Gentleman's Palace, otherwise known as a whorehouse. Actually, bordello would be a better term for that period of time. I would learn the difference before the night was through. I was sprawled on my back, bare ass naked, across a bed of white satin.

I sat up, turned up the low burning lamp on the bedside table, and took stock of my surroundings. My carpetbag, my only piece of luggage, sat on the floor beside the vanity. Igor had followed his mistress' bidding and brought it to my room while I slept. He must of gotten a real eyeful of me, out cold and stretched out the way I had been.

The room was a mirror image of Suzzette's, but opposite in colors. Where hers was all white trimmed in red and gold, my room was all red, trimmed in white and gold. The difference in the decor and level of luxury between this room and the tiny, dingy three rooms back home in Peoria was like the difference between night and day.

I wasn't sleepy anymore, so I found the back stairway Suzzette had mentioned and descended to the kitchen. A giant of a man, who had to be Igor, sat at the big table, drinking coffee. With a slight smile, he looked up as I entered.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, that would be great, ah, Igor?"

"Yes, I'm Igor and you are the new girl, Clara."

"Yes, glad to meet you, Igor. Suzzette said you're our bouncer?"

"That's right, bouncer to keep the ruffians in line and general gofer for the house. Not that we get many ruffians in this house, but some of the clients can get drunk and then unruly."

"I didn't hear too much going on tonight."

"No, Clara, it's Wednesday night and business is slow tonight. Not many appointments. The girls on duty are required to be in the front parlor anyway during business hours. They may drift back here from time to time for a cup of coffee or just to break the boredom of a slow night. If any do, I'll introduce you."

"Suzzette said you might have time to tell me some about a whore house and what goes on behind the scenes. I mean I do know that the main thing is fucking customers, but that's about all I know about the business."

"Yes, I can do that. And, I see you need to know a few things. For one, this is a bordello, not a common whore house."

"I didn't know there was a difference."

"Yes, indeed there is. You see..."

Igor went on to tell me quite a story over the course of the next six hours or so. There were some interruptions for one reason or another, but with the slow night, we had a long time to talk. 

Igor had been around a long time and worked in one type of whore house or another since the age of six or seven. He lived with his mother who was, "one of the girls." He was also an astute observer of human behavior. Despite his looks, his demeanor, and his job, he was an extremely intelligent man. I liked him from first sight.

From Igor that night and from my own long working experience that would follow, I learned a number of "truisms" about society and the relationship between men and women. All of them contributed to my understanding and thus to improving my work performance. In other words, it all made me a better whore.

I could write a book or two about what I learned, but in short version, this is some of what enlightened me. One of the things I learned was, in this age of Victoria, there were only two kinds of women--so called "good women," and so called "bad women." There were, however, several kinds of "bad women."

There was, for example, the "Painted Lady." Every Midwestern town of the day had one or two of these ladies. who were the source of much gossip and apparently an available source of sex for men who dared risk being seen entering or leaving her premises. Sometimes she was a lusty, somewhat slatternly widow who ostensibly supported herself by taking in laundry. Then again, she might be the daughter of a third-class hotel keeper.

Railroad towns, mining towns, cattle towns, and towns near military installations--all were notable for the presence of plenty of loose cash and a floating male population. Invariably such towns also had a sufficient number of girls to warrant a "line," a "maiden lane," a "boarding house" or two, or a local hotel in a declining section of the business district that was known all around as the local whorehouse. Frequently, such a building might contain some combination thereof.

What made the Western towns like Cheyenne different from their Eastern counterparts was the presence of girls in the saloons. That was a phenomena unknown east of the Mississippi River except in German beer halls.

About an hour into our little "talk," a commotion arose in the front parlor that got quickly louder. For a really big man, Igor moved very fast and silently as he excused himself and stepped into the hall. At that point, a loud crash echoed from the parlor. The sound of a short scuffle ended quickly and in the silence that ensued, only a quiet sobbing could be heard.

The sobbing drew nearer. I looked expectantly at the door as Texas Jane brought Squirrel Alice into the kitchen, blood dripping from the side of her face. I didn't hesitate.

"Sit her down here at the table and get me hot water, rags, needle, and thread, silk thread if possible."

A moment later, Suzzette came in as I was using the water and a rag to wash Squirrel Alice's face. She had a long, but shallow cut from her ear on down the side of her cheek. I got it clean and held a compress on it while I waited for the needle and thread.

"What happened?" I asked while I waited.

Suzzette answered, "A young regular here came in already heavily drunk. When the girls tried to politely dissuade him from drinking more, he grew belligerent and pushed Alice here. When she stepped back in his face, he flashed a small stiletto. She almost got clear, that's why the cut's so shallow. He all but missed her."

By that time, needle and thread appeared on the table. I motioned to the girl who brought Alice into the kitchen, "You, help me."

"The name's Texas Jane, Clara. What can I do to help?"

"Keep the wound cleaned as I stitch it up, please."

I deftly threaded the needle with the fine silk thread and just as deftly, sewed in fifteen stitches without blinking an eye. As I was carrying out the stitching, I asked, "What happened to the young man?"

Suzzette again, answered, "He was given enough laudanum to keep him sleeping the rest of the night. I've several rooms in the basement for just that purpose. He meant no real harm and we don't want to embarrass him or his family any more than is necessary. He'll be sent home to his wife in the morning when he wakes up. We don't involve the police unless absolutely necessary."

I finished the stitching and sat back to examine my work. I didn't think there would be more than the finest hairline of a scar.

Hi Tan Szu, known as "Tan Sue" for obvious reasons, introduced herself and asked in her cute, accented voice, "Where ever did you learn to do that?"

"I had lots of practice stitching up my father after he'd come home from a bar fight after work. He'd get cut up pretty bad sometimes and we'd no money for doctors."

"Well," said Suzzette, "Alice can see a doctor tomorrow, though I doubt she'll need much attention from him, other than pain relief and we have plenty of things for pain right here."

Igor returned from putting the young man to bed. He smiled at me as Suzzette showed him what I'd just done for Squirrel Alice.

"I do believe," Suzzette continued, "that we'll find Clara a welcome addition to our family."

"If I might interrupt, my working name is Summer Rose. Please call me by that name. Clara no longer really exists."

None of the girls was productively engaged during this little interlude and most had gathered in the Kitchen before all was said and done. Suzzette introduced me to the rest of them. Besides Squirrel Alice and Texas Jane, I met Fat Ass Phyllis, French Sally, Queenie, Short Sue, Dusty Jemimma, and Gundred. I was officially christened Summer Rose in these introductions.

"Alright, girls, fun's over, back to the parlor and to work. That's provided all your appointments show up tonight."

Igor and I remained in the kitchen to continue our talk. As I said before, some of my knowledge came from such discussions with Igor and the rest from my long experience "in the life." 

Back to the kinds of "bad girls." "Basically, Miss Cl--ah, Rose, there are two kinds--those women who made their living primarily by offering paid sex and those who don't. As a rule, the saloon or dance hall girl is member of the second class."

"Why is that, Igor?"

"Because their job is to brighten the evenings of lonely men starved for female companionship. Such women dance with the men, entertain them, sing to them, talk to them, flirt with them, dance with them."

"But they don't fuck them, right?"

"Yes, Miss Rose. Above all, such bargirls or dance-hall girls attempt to keep the men at the bar or otherwise buying liquor from the establishment, for the both of them. The girls, of course, actually drink cold tea, pink lemonade, or colored sugar water kept in a prominently labeled bottle and served in a shot glass." 

"The drinks are purchased by the 'gentleman' at the full price of whiskey. The gents got the cheap, rot got whiskey. The full price for whiskey ranges from ten to seventy-five cents a shot or two to eight dollars per quart bottle. The quality of the whiskey determines the price. Champagne goes for five dollars a magnum."

"Nice profit for the owner, eh, Igor?"

"Quite right, Miss Rose."

"What about those of us who sell our sex for money, Igor." 

"Well, Miss Rose, proper ladies pretend to ignore the existence of prostitution. But those same ladies secretly talk and gossip about it in private with one another. The rest of society, however, doesn't ignore prostitution."

"Why not, Igor?"

"Because, Miss Rose, inevitably, in a country where men routinely outnumber women by two or three to one--sometimes more, and in a culture that tends to consider sexual urges shameful, a need arises."

"And that need is for someplace for all those men to vent their sexual urges somewhere other than on the proper ladies of society."

"Yes, Miss Rose." 

"And, Igor, are there not enterprising persons ready, willing, and able to satisfy that need?"

"Exactly so, Miss Rose."

"Interesting world, Igor. So now, what of the 'ladies of the night'."

"Well, Miss Rose, as in all occupations, there is a pecking order. The women who live in "good houses," the fancy bordellos such as this one, consider themselves the cream of the crop. These women scorn those who work in (or out) of saloons, dance halls, and theaters." 

"At the bottom of the scale are the girls who operate independently, without the backing of madams or the luxury of parlor houses."

"Who are those girls, Igor?" 

"Such bottom of the barrel working girls, Miss Rose, are in the towns and mining camps. These girls tend to live in segregated districts where their little cabins or "cribs" line the back alleys of saloon row or very close by. Each tiny, poorly constructed shack usually consists of a front bedroom and a little back kitchen and are illuminated by red lamps and curtains. In place of street numbers, the names of the girls are posted in the window or or glass door fronts."

"Sounds like and awfully grubby and dangerous way to live, Igor."

"Yes." 

"However, Miss Rose, the vast majority of prostitutes work out of bordellos. The polite term for such is, 'parlor house'. In the upscale kind, like Suzzette's, only wine and champagne are served. The ladies of the house wear evening gowns and can only be seen by appointment. Between assignations, the ladies and their callers are quite frequently entertained by musicians, dancers, singers, jugglers, and the like."

"And the Madam of the house provides the support and protection of the girls."

"Again, correct, Miss Rose."

"Each girl pays Suzzette fifty dollars a week for board and room and up to that much again each week for laundry and incidentals. The less 'fancy' the establishment, the lower the fees the girls pay to the Madam and the lower the fees they can charge patrons."

"On the other hand, here at Suzzette's, you could earn twenty dollars for a quickie and fifty or more dollars for an all nighter. Costs and fees depended upon age, popularity, and overall earning ability, and just how fancy the parlor house pretends to be."

"In other words, Rose, if you're good, you can expect to earn $120 to $350 or more a week and expect to keep from $60 to $250 or more a week for yourself. Of course, any tips are all yours. Suzzette will take a percentage of your total income above the stated fees, as her profit."

"How much?"

"At the moment, I don't know. Depends on too many things. But It will be a minimum of five per cent."

"Tell me about the 'other' parlor houses, Igor."

"Well, by contrast, the less pretentious bordellos are called a "honky-tonks" or just plain whorehouse, or worse. In those places, there is little subtlety about the whores, their patrons, or what the purpose of the visit is."

"Interesting, Igor. Tell me more." 

"The straight on approach in such houses is pretty much standard--'Hello, Toots', or whatever, a five minute dalliance at the bar, hearty laughter, and then an arm-in-arm promenade to her upstairs personal room or crib out back."

But, one thing I found out quickly and was indelible in my mind. From the classiest whore to the lowliest crib girl, one fact stood paramount. Though they might be scorned by the "proper ladies" of society, such bad girls could still count on the respect of males. 

The age of chivalry still existed. At least in the West, if a man failed to treat a woman of any kind with deference, he was likely to find himself flat on his back with a bloody nose, while a pale, furious avenger stood over him, reading him a brief but potent lecture on how to treat a lady. 

Any man who mistreated a woman became a social outcast. A man who insulted a lady was, sooner or later, was set upon by a group and badly beaten, or worse. There were few things considered as bad as a woman-killer no matter under what circumstances he killed. Such men were often hunted down and themselves viciously killed.

******

Sometime in the late wee hours, Suzzette came into the kitchen and declared, "We're closing up. Time to turn in. Rose, come with me, please."

I followed Suzzette to her room. It was obvious to me and everyone else, for that matter, that from the first contact the afternoon before, I had become Suzzette's pet fancy. I didn't know if this would be a good thing or a bad thing, but I knew it would likely cause trouble with at least some of the other girls. No one really like the new kid on the block floating to the top right off the bat.

"I fancy you more than than I should, Rose. I've a few, very select men customers, but you do something else for me. A lot else as a matter of fact."

Suzzette pulled me into a tight embrace as she spoke. "Does my nibbling on your ear excite you, Rose? How 'bout kissing your jaw and your neck, like this?"

Her caresses were beguiling. Our lips touched, opened. Tongues entwined. "Mmmm," was all either of us could say. 

My clothes seemed to melt away as Suzzette caressed her way down my body, down, down...

"Oh my God, Suzzette, your tongue does wonders on my clit. Don't stop." 

She didn't. My arousal was jumping up the scale faster than a galloping horse. She added first one, then two, then three fingers into my cunt hole as she continued to work my clit with her tongue.

Then, BANG! I more than climaxed with heaving shudders, pants, and groans as Suzzette kept her face buried in my bush. I lay still, gasping for breath.

Suzzette rose from her knees. "Now, undress me, Rose."

I did. Now it was I who kissed my way down from neck to boobs.

"Do you like my tongue on your neck? How 'bout here on your nipple. My, Suzzette, what long firm nipples you have."

"The better for you to kiss, my little dove."

"You mean your 'soiled' little dove, yes?"

"Doesn't matter, Rose, just suck them."

I spent a long time licking, kissing and sucking on those nipples and mouthing her boobs along with the valley between them. Her nipples erected more than I'd ever seen on a woman before, not that I'd really seen that many erect nipples yet.

Once side-by-side on the bed, our fingers delved into the pussy of the other. We were both humping against those fingers in record time. Both of us were releasing sufficient pussy fluid to coat our crotches. 

"I've a little surprise for you, Rose."

That's when Suzzette leaned away from me for a second and brought out her little toy--a dildo.

"It's imported from France, Rose. If you like it, I can get one for you as well."

I liked it. 

That damned dildo felt so real, so lifelike as its bulbous head split my pussy folds and entered my love gate. Then, to my utter pleasure, the rest of that pseudo, very long and thick fuck stick disappeared from sight to my ecstatic moans of pleasure. That time, my climaxed was even stronger than the first one. The orgasm just kept rolling over me as I curled into a fetal ball.

After I calmed some and was once again able to fully stretch out, Suzzette's face returned to my love nest to lovingly lick me clean.

Then it was my turn to reciprocate. As I slowly pushed the dildo in and out of her pussy, Suzzette pushed back into my hand.

"You like that, do you, Suzzette?"

She emitted a continuous low growl of pleasure from her throat as my answer. I could feel her climax building just before it burst over her and my hand. She went rigid with release and then collapsed with a contented sigh.

"Stay with me tonight, Rose. Sleep with me."

How could I refuse the lady's request, especially as she was my boss on top of it all?

In the morning, the very late morning, Suzzette sat up in bed and told me her plans for the day.

"You and I will go shopping today to get you some proper gowns. After all, we're not a honky-tonk. Then we are going to advertise you as a sixteen year old virgin. You look young enough. We can easily disguise the fact that you're not really a virgin."

"Really?" 

"Yes. And decked out in the gown I've got in mind from Lou's Millenary, you'll look like the Queen of Hearts and more. Then we'll charge a tidy little sum for the privilege of 'taking your cherry'. I'll pay for the clothes and accessories for now, but I'll put it on your house tab." 

"And afterwards?"

"Afterwards, Rose, you won't be able to charge that one time fee again, but I think you're special enough to charge above average because of your age and looks. Get it while you can. Girls age fast in this business. And, unless they're very very lucky, they end up in the cribs when their looks are gone."

"I'll never end up there. I'd die first, Suzzette."




Clara: Summer Rose Conquers All



"Good girl. Just keep that in mind. But this does mean you won't be available for a few days until we get the word out about you and get some interest stirred up."

So, Over the next five nights, I was on display in the parlor all evening, all decked out in my finery. I really did look astounding--like royalty. I felt like it as well. 

I flirted atrociously, engaged in intellectual discussions, told bawdy jokes, and generally titillated the male customers, awaiting their appointments, from Monday through Friday night. My cherry would be given up Saturday night.

The quest for my cherry picker turned into a bidding war. It seemed every knowlegable male in town wanted the job, especially after they got a look at me, face to face.

Suzzette finally accepted the bid from one of the local lawyers--a bid of $1000 for the night! She could hardly believe the final amount and neither could any of the other girl--or me for that matter.

Saturday morning, Suzzette went shopping. She returned with the latest town gossip. It seems I was the talk of the town. Not all knew my name, but everyone knew there was a new girl at Suzzette's and that her virginity was going for $1000 that very night. 

Even the socially redeemed ladies of town were talking, in private of course. The millinery shop owner, Lou, was Suzzette's close friend and pipeline of information for that part of society.

My appointment with the prominent lawyer, Alfred, was for ten p.m. that evening. Of course, a man of his standing had to have supper and an evening with the good wife while servants cleaned up the kitchen. Then he'd be free to "go back to the office" or whatever. We never spoke of last names, though of course all the girls knew them. It was always: lawyer Alfred, Doctor Ben, farmer Sam, and so on.

The grandfather clocks were striking ten when lawyer Alfred dropped the brass balls of the figure that was the door knocker. Of course, I'd met him during the previous week, but we spent an amiable half hour of conversation, as was the usual practice, and imbibed of the champagne (for which he was charged), We also enjoyed the songs of the ballad singer of the evening. 

Then it was time

Alfred escorted me up the stairs to my room. He was in his mid thirties or shade beyond. He had partially graying and thinning hair, but his mustache and beard were coal black still. His face was strong and handsome. He carried himself well and looked to be in pretty good shape. He took the stairs without any sign of respiratory distress. Another good sign.

"Ah, Rose, you've been given the room next to Suzzette's. I might of known. You're off to a good start, young lady." 

He said that with a slight lisp. Good, he's already somewhat under the influence and with some more to drink from the second magnum of champagne in the room, he'll never discover that I'm not really a virgin. A drop or two of pig's blood will clinch the illusion.

"I want to undress you, Rose."

He did. The gown was the easiest part. The under things were more difficult, but Alfred seemed to know what to do and had very little trouble getting me naked.

"My God, girl, those are the most gorgeous set of boobs I've seen in a long time. I adore that pretty trimmed bush you have as well."

His growing erection was tenting his trousers quite well as he pulled me close and dropped his mouth onto the first nipple he found. He was good, I'll say that for him. He had my boobs on fire in record time. One hand played with the other boob as the other rubbed my belly.

The hand on my belly dropped lower. The hand found my bush and the treasure within and below. Those treasures were more than moist by the time he found them. My clit burned from the pressure of his thumb. He upped the ante considerably as his middle finger followed the line of my crevice and then slowly sank into my gate of heaven.

"Oh my God." That was all he could manage.

"You are so good, Alfred."

"Oh my God, Elvina was never this nubile. She'd never get naked for me nor would she allow me to be naked. All she'd do was open a tiny bit of clothing in order to get my dick into her once a month, if I was lucky. Oh, damn me girl, but you are one lovely piece of feminine glory."

I orgasmed to the tune he was playing with his fingers and my pussy. The tune of his handling of my boobs was no small contribution to that orgasm. In the process, I more than drenched Alfred's hand. He immediately pushed me onto my back on the bed with my legs hanging over the end and dived headfirst between my legs to lick and suck me clean. 

I orgasmed again, so he had to start all over.

As I lay panting on the bed attempting to recover my breath, Alfred quickly got out of his clothes. He presented an athletic and trim body for his age. He also sported a solid erection. His stiff cock wasn't gigantic, but neither was it especially small. It also glistened in the lamplight as beads of precum bubbled to the surface.

He stepped back to the bed, lifted me to my feet and sat in my place. "Now, you can suck my candy cane for me, Rose."

It didn't take me long to get him to climax. My tongue and lips made sucking and slurping sounds as I worked on his uncut flesh pole. Tonguing his cockhead, especially around the underside of its ridge, brought him to climax quite easily. He shot an uncomfortable amount of cum into my mouth and throat, but I got it down with only a little choking.

"My God, you've been worth every penny already. The rest is just icing on the cake, Rose. Why don't we have some more champagne while I recharge."

Drinking champagne was a novelty for me. Drinking it while naked in the presence of a naked man was really heady stuff, incredible. My arousal was growing again without help from Alfred. I reached over, grabbed hold of his cock, and slowly stroked it as I sipped more bubbly. He was paying five dollars a bottle for it, and I intended to drink my share. I'd discovered a taste for the stuff.

By the time we'd got down to the real business of fucking, Alfred had enough bubbly in him that I knew there'd be no trouble convincing him he'd indeed picked my cherry that night. I had been a little worried about pulling off that ruse, especially when he was giving me head. I needn't have worried as Suzzette was correct and did know what she was talking about.

Anyway, I primed Alfred's pump again with my hand and a little help from my mouth. He was just a little too woozy to remember my needs, but I was still more than wet enough and ready. So, when he mounted me and spread my legs, his cock at the door, so to speak, I aimed his spear for him and he slowly filled my pussy, wall to wall.

He was in balls deep, but not all the way into me. As I said, he wasn't gigantic. But he was adequate to fire my arousal as I humped up to meet his frantic thrusting. Luckily, I was able to get off before he shot his load. Otherwise, he'd of left me behind. When he'd drained his balls, he collapsed on my chest.

When I realized he was almost instantly asleep, I barely managed to roll him off me onto his back beside me. His cock cock had deflated and dropped free of my pussy before I got him moved. I decided to let our combined cum do what it would and just stretched out to get some sleep myself. I did remember the pig's blood though and dropped a bit on Alfred's cock, on me, and some on the bed. I carefully re-hid the container.

Alfred only awoke once during the night. We fucked again. There was no foreplay. He just wanted to sock it to me again, which he did. I didn't come that second time, but he shot a big load of cum into me again. We slept 'til morning. That was a lot of money for two fucks and a suck or two, but he was paying for the privilege of sleeping with me in my bed whether he fucked me all night or not.

The next morning, I was awake when Alfred opened his eyes. He looked at the bed and me and then smiled. He bought it. He got out of bed and ambled naked to the wash stand. I heard the water splash as he poured from the pitcher into the bowl for his wash. The water of course, was cold. 

Alfred dressed, gave me a smoldering kiss, and went down for his free breakfast, another perk of fancy houses that all overnighters received. Since he had money, he'd pay his own cab fare home. If he'd spent all his money the night before, the house would've paid his cab fare. It was just another example of the difference between a high class bordello and a honky-tonk.

For me, I got a hot bath in my private, adjoining bathroom. Igor and another servant brought hot water from the kitchen stove to each girl's room for the morning baths. I threw on a totally sheer wrapper, but I might just as well of left it off. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, was left to the imagination.

While I waited for the tub to be filled, I stood by the window, looking out into our beautiful back yard. I noticed that the little cocoon in the trim outside my window was empty. The metamorphosis had been completed.

After the tub was filled, Igor remained behind and asked, "Miss Rose, might I stay and help with your bath?"

"Is that really allowed, Igor?"

"Yes, Miss Rose, it is in special circumstances with Miss Suzzette's permission."

"I'm a special circumstance and Suzzette gave her permission?"

"Yes, Miss Rose."

"Why am I special? Do you get your pick of us girls to dally with, Igor?"

"You're special because I've taken a fancy to you and want to protect and serve you. I don't "dally" with any of the girls in the house because I'm a Eunuch."

"You're a what?"

"A eunuch, Miss Rose. That's a man whose been castrated."

"Castrated?"

"Yes, Miss Rose. I was castrated as a very young boy in the royal court of Constantinople."

"What, exactly does 'castrated' mean, Igor?"

"It means my balls were removed. The sac remained, but it dried up to almost nothing."

"That's horrible. Why on earth was it done?"

"So I could serve in the Sultan's harem and not be a sexual threat. Since my balls were removed before puberty, I have no sexual urges or needs."

"Oh."

I served in the Sultan's harem there until I was twelve and escaped on a ship. I ended up here."

"But I thought you said you grew up with your mother in a whore house."

"A foster mother who took pity on me and took me in to raise me."

"So you served her and the house with no sexual interest?"

"Yes."

"Oh! Igor, you saw all of me the day I came and you brought my carpet bag into my room while I slept naked on the bed, didn't you. But you had no lust for my body?"

"Yes, Miss Rose that is correct"

"Is that why I'm special?

"Yes, in part, but I just like you, the way you act, not way above everybody else. You are a real and caring person.

"Thank you, Igor."

"May I stay and serve you?"

"Yes, Igor, you may stay."

"Thank you, Miss Rose."

As a matter of fact, Igor did all the bathing. He washed all of me, and I do mean ALL of me. Whether he knew how much he aroused me, washing my boobs and pussy as well as other erotic places, I don't know. But I 'd be a while coming down. I may need that dildo Suzzette offered to get me after all.

Igor also dried me. More maddening sexual arousal and frustration although I loved every minute of both the bath and the drying off session. Wile drying me with a soft towel, Igor spoke again.

"Miss Rose, do you have any means of personal protection?"

"Personal protection, Igor? Do you mean protection against getting pregnant?"

"No, Miss Rose. I mean protection against a patron who won't take no for an answer for whatever it is he's trying to do to you."

"No, I don't Igor."

"I suggest a Remmington, .41 caliber over and under derringer. It's only good close up within a foot or two, but that's just where you might need it. If you fire it directly into a mouth, eye, or forehead, it will kill. It wouldn't hurt to also have a "T" handled push knife as well. Keep one or both on your person or within easy reach at ALL times."

"How do I do that, Igor?"

"The little derringer is small enough to hide in your bosom, your boot top, your purse, or even in a holster strapped to your thigh. The knife is a little larger, but would fit in most purses."

"Is that really necessary, Igor?"

"Yes, Miss Rose, it is. Even in this place, the odd character sometimes gets in or becomes rowdy with too much drink. Even more so, outside this house, because of your profession, you need to be able to protect yourself."

"I see."

"I can get them for you at a local gunsmith I know. He's a friend of mine and he won't overcharge you for them either."

"Alright, Igor, please do that for me."

"Monday, Miss Rose, Monday I'll get it done."

Sunday was a day of rest for everyone, even whores. Everyone just lolled around the house. That meant none of those constricting fancy gowns. In fact, most of the girls wore damned little for clothes at all. I followed suit.

Monday I rested some more and got my personal hardware from Igor. He got permission from Suzzette to drive me out of town to learn to use the knife and gun. He got a buggy and horse from the livery and picked me up at the house. He drove us out into the lush countryside to a secluded spot in the woods well off the main road.

I found I liked shooting the derringer. The muzzle flip on such a small gun with the larger caliber was considerable. But, after two hours of shooting, I could handle the weapon quite well. The pistol would heat up with constant firing, so we had to lay it aside from time to time to cool. That's when I'd practice with the knife and a sand bag Igor brought along.

"I'll have to re-sharpen the knife when we get back, Miss Rose, the sand will of dulled it considerable."

By the end of our session, Igor pronounced me sufficiently proficient with both weapons to defend myself. I went back to the house quite pleased with myself.

******

That was my introduction to the life of an upscale bordello whore, classy, but at bottom, still a whore. I spent the next ten years as the highest draw, highest earner, and most envied resident in Suzzette's stable. I remained her lover and favorite the entire time. If the other girls resented my position, they learned to keep the resentment hidden. Those who didn't, weren't around very long. They were sent on their way not by me, but by Suzzette.

In those years, I only had to make use of my weapons a couple of times. Part of it was that I was a member of an upscale establishment and we normally didn't get the rowdy types that frequented the downscale places and cribs. The worst time was totally unpredictable, as were any of the incidents.

The man paid a lot of money for me for an overnight. He was average looking, clean cut, apparently not drunk or anything. In fact, he appeared quite normal for a house of our repute. We got into my room and trouble wasn't far behind.

"Undress for me, good lookin'. Do it slow and easy."

When I was naked, the rant began.

"You Jezebel. You slut. You dirty, stinking whore. You spawn of hell"

He was foaming spittle out of his mouth before he finished that first sentence. He also pulled an Arkansas toothpick out of its scabbard down his back inside of his shirt. He made a swipe at me that made a nasty cut in my left forearm. I reacted on instinct.

Before he could swing again, I reached under the pillow with my right hand, grabbed my derringer, and cocked it. Still in that same efficient and swift motion, I raised the pistol up just inches from his face and fired into his left eye.

The second shot followed immediately into the other eye. At that range, the .41 caliber slug blew out both eyeballs and a lot of brains and skull pieces from the back of his head. He was dead before he hit the floor. I was lucky that I'd been standing right beside the bed and the pillow under which lay the derringer.

Igor came through the door, primed for bear. Suzzette was next. The man was not prominent in town. That was a plus. John Law was called and with a short discussion, the exchange of some money, the case was closed. 

Igor helped the undertaker remove the body out the back way. A doctor cleaned my wound and stitched it up. Surprisingly, I felt little but anger at the man who lost control, was deranged, or both and forced me to shoot him. I certainly didn't feel any remorse. The man came at me with murderous intent and he paid the price.

After about five years of experience at turning out more than satisfied customers at Suzzette's, I'd confined the granting of my favors to a only a half dozen or so very rich citizens of Cheyenne. I also charged far more than the going price and only one on any given night for an all nighter only. I normally only entertained on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday nights. My looks had held and my reputation as a fabulously proficient whore made this possible. 

One Saturday night in the first week of July, 1876, one of those regulars was overdue for his appointment. Not worried, I'd momentarily dozed off in the kitchen over a cup of coffee. Igor's tap on my shoulder roused me.

"What is it, Igor?"

"Hizz Honor is in the parlor, Miss Rose."

"Alright, Igor, tell him I'll be right out."

"Yes, Miss Rose."

Judge Alphonse was normally quite punctual. He was a widower of seven years, though he'd been a patron of Suzzette's for more than fifteen years. After he spent his first night with me, I was his only choice from then on. Like most patrons of his status, he'd normally leave well before daylight. It just wouldn't be seemly for a man of his rank to be seen leaving a bordello.

Fluffing my hair and checking my face in the purposely handy wall mirror, I sashayed from the kitchen to the reception parlor in another of my imported Paris gowns that left me bare from the top of my nipples on up. My more than ample boobs threatened to pop free entirely. Unless I was very careful, they actually would burst loose.

I smiled sweetly as I said, "Good evening, Judge, how are you tonight?"

"Oh, I'm quite well, Rose, quite well. And you?"

"The same, your honor, the same. Shall we enjoy the entertainment for a spell, Judge?"

"By all means, Rose, by all means."

The judge appeared quite taken by the Egyptian belly dancer's performance and seemed quite content to sit and watch her dance. While sipping my champagne, I surreptitiously observed the judge as I did most times when he came to visit me. 

He was sixty-five, though he looked much younger. He was quite tall, very broad shouldered, and most amazingly, still unstooped. He was also still lean with no beer belly. His hair was snow white as was his Van Dyke beard and mustache. His libido, however, was waning.

But he tried. He could muster but a weak erection once for the night and he could fuck me with it, but only just. He needed a lot of help from me to do the job. He spent most of his time simply caressing my body with his hands and mouth instead. He was very good at that and it gave him immense pleasure.

The belly dancer completed a dance and took a break. The judge had consumed a fair amount of the bubbly and was already showing it.

"Judge, I think it's time we depart this parlor for my room."

"In a moment, my dear, in a moment."

"Judge, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, dear, what's on your mind?"

"Well, I've been reading in the paper about Custer's defeat on the Little Bighorn River last month. I just wondered what you thought about that."

The Judge turned a very deep shade of red and blustered his answer.

"Damn, woman, don't get me started on that damned fool. A lot of good men died in his vainglorious search for immortality. He found it, but not, I suspect in the way he'd of wished. My mind's on something else tonight."

"Yes, I understand. No talk of Custer tonight."

"Let's go to your room, Rose."

The Judge wobbled slightly as he rose to his feet and "helped" me to my feet. I linked my arm in his, more to hold him up than visa versa, and we walked him up the stairs. His arm kept brushing my left boob, on purpose of course, and managed to work my gown down enough to pop that boob free.




Clara: Summer Rose Conquers All



"Just lovely, darling Rose, just divine."

I made no effort to cover up. Before we reached the top, the other boob had succumbed to the lopsided strain and had also popped free of restraint. The Judge stopped, turned slightly toward me, and filled his free hand with my right boob. He more or less gently squeezed and caressed my fleshy globe.

"Oh my, Rose, these feel just delightful tonight. They look good enough to eat, dear."

"Oh, I hope you do before the night's over, Judge."

We went on to my room. Behind the closed door, he pulled me into a tight embrace, crushing my boobs into his chest. Our lips met in a passionate kiss. Unlike the common belief that whores don't kiss patrons on the mouth, I did with my few and select patrons. They loved me for it.

Both his hands were on my ass, pulling me tight into his rather weak erection. I ground my pussy hard into his weak flesh, hopping to aid its arousal. That helped some as I felt his pole stiffen a bit more. There was a long way to go yet, but my mouth and hands would be of help shortly.

When he broke the embrace, the Judge pulled six, fifty dollar gold pieces from his pocket and laid them on the dresser. As I said earlier, I charged far above the going price for my overnight services. Even at those inflated prices, I had far more requests for my favors than I chose to accept into my boudoir.

I slowly, sensuously, undressed the Judge until he was naked. I licked and caressed various parts of his anatomy as I unveiled it, but I didn't dwell any one place for long. I tickled his balls and petted his cock when they were exposed, but quickly left his cock twitching and only half erect. Once he was naked, I rose back to stand before him.

With my help, he then undressed me, layer by layer. My dress was already top down, so it didn't take much to get the garment completely off. The Judge took a long time getting me undressed. He kept going back to my boobs for a return engagement with his mouth and tongue.

But the Judge finally got me bare assed naked with his hand in my crotch. He led me to my bed, his fingers working my pussy the whole way there. He sat me down, legs dangling and got his mouth to my pussy to join his fingers. 

He may have had to have help to get anything resembling an erection, but he certainly didn't lack for talent with his fingers and mouth. Working hard on my throbbing little bud and in my love channel, he produced my first orgasm quite easily and quickly.

"Your turn now, Judge."

I swapped places with him and quickly had his cock in my mouth. It took some doing, but I eventually got him at least hard enough to fuck me. I used some rubber-like tubing from a doctor patron to tie a tourniquet at the base of his cock. Perhaps it would keep him rigid long enough to fuck me so he could feel he got his money's worth.

He helped me onto the bed on my back. I grabbed my legs under my knees and brought my knees to my chest. That present the Judge with my naked, glistening, and wide open pussy for his pleasure. He crawled into position and nudged his cock into place, sinking it slowly into my folds. He got it all the way in and stroked for a while. With the tight tourniquet, there was no way he could climax.

The pain caused him to pull out after a few minutes and release the tourniquet. His cock immediately deflated to a dripping, two inch has been. But the Judge seemed quite content. He had fucked me, even if he hadn't ejaculated.

I kept him busy the rest of the night, at least when he was awake and interested, allowing him to pet, stroke, lick, and suck any part of my body he desired. I also did whatever he wanted to his body Around four in the morning, Igor knocked quietly on my door.

"Time for Hizz Honor to go, Miss Rose. It's gettin' on toward sunrise afor long."

"Thank you, Igor."

Yes, I had a job I loved. That job might be as a whore, but the job had variety, paid extremely well, and, contrary to my Victorian sisters, I got all the sex I wanted and in any form I wanted with men, women, or both, no holds barred. And I had more fun and pleasure doing my job than those prissy society women--I'd lay odds on it. No man controlled my life--I did.

******

It was just past my eleventh anniversary as the star whore at Suzzette's and my twenty-ninth birthday that Suzzette died after a short illness. 

For a week until the funeral, the entire house was draped with black inside and we were all in mourning. Of course, business as usual went on uninterrupted. Most of the patrons dutifully expressed their condolences before going off to fuck their favorite whore. Many left a contribution to the house. 

Suzzette's funeral was lavish. The service was held in the house of course. Even though she contributed regularly and liberally to a local church, it would have been unthinkable to have the funeral in the church. It would have even been difficult to hold the service in the funeral parlor for that matter. Conventional society simply wouldn't stand for a whore, even a rich one, to be in such places.

More of our patrons than I'd imagined came for the service. More than a few, however, chose not to participate in the procession to the burying ground after the service. Even there, her status dictated burial in the pauper section with only the simplest of headstones.

The next day, Suzzette's lawyer came to the house for the reading of the will. It was a short and simple will. She left some cash to the church to which she'd long contributed, some cash to be sent to an elderly, surviving foster mother, and everything else--the remaining cash and bank account, her personal belongings, and the house and business--to ME!

I'd suddenly gone from high priced resident whore to Madam with the stroke of a pen on a will. I didn't know what to say. At twenty-nine, I was saved the eventual degradation of the cribs in my declining years, I was rich, and I was the owner of a very profitable business. As I've often said, I'm a survivor.

The stable now consisted of ten whores. Besides myself, there was: Squirrel Alice, Texas Jane, Hi Tan Szu (Sue), Fat Ass Phyllis, French Sally, Queenie, Sweet Short Sue, Dusty Jemimma, and Gundred. That same day, I lost Queenie.

"Damn you, Rose, I've had to smolder in silence at your exhalted position in this house from the first day you came. Now you own it. I can't work for you, I'm done here."

"it's your choice, Queenie, but you need to settle your house bill with me before you leave. Igor will help you get your things together if you don't change your mind."

"Don't worry about that, I'm not about to change my mind, you stuck up bitch."

Less than two hours later, Queenie was gone. With that kind of animosity built up in her head, her leaving was good riddance as far as I was concerned. 

For the next seven years, until 1890, and my thirty-sixth birthday, I continued to run Suzzette's Gentlemen's Palace at a considerable profit. I kept my stable on the young side, but retained Texas Jane, Hi Tan Szu (Sue), and Gundred.

The business ran smoothly for the most part. Expenses rose, especially payoffs to John Law, but so did other things. I had to raise our prices accordingly. I kept my personal involvement with patrons to an even fewer select group. I only saw three men and that eventually dropped to two. 

I hadn't lost interest in sex, but I was just too busy overseeing the business and keeping things under control to take nights off in bed. My girls were earning me enough money. My contacts were purely for my own sexual gratification, though I did, of course, charge for my sexual favors.

Unfortunately, Igor was killed in a bar fight one night about five years after I took over as the Madam. He was free on Sunday and I sometimes gave him a night off if we had few appointments scheduled.

The man I hired to fill the vacancy did the job well enough, but there just was no replacing the old Igor. I loved that man dearly. Up until the day he died, he continued to give me my bath just as he did my first day in the house. I missed him dearly. 

In 1890, I sold the house and business for a great deal of money. I'd developed a lust for the big city and had found a place for sale in Denver.

Finis

To be continued?

******

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Clara: Summer Rose



Any other clerking job I could think of, I considered to be far too tame for my tastes and I would be unable to maintain any "good" girl status if I intended to continue my newfound enjoyment of sex. And I certainly did so intend. What did that leave?

Abner had talked some of the ugly life of the lowest whores in their vermin infested cribs in the western cow towns. That didn't appeal either. A high class bordello such as Suzzette's, on the other hand, had a great deal of appeal to me.

By the time the train reached Cheyenne, my attitude was, why the hell not? I might as well go see if Suzzette would even be interested in me.

******

Cheyenne was a booming cow town in 1872. The sights and sounds as I stepped down unto the train platform were as loud as Peoria's ever were, but Peoria lacked the gunfire of the hard playing cowboys in the open streets and saloons.

As I only had my none too heavy carpetbag to carry, I decided to find Suzzette's right off. I was aware that Bordellos were usually off by themselves on the opposite side of the train tracks from the "better" part of town, but I still needed some directions.

"Sir," I asked of the ticket agent when he was momentarily alone, "can you direct me to Suzzette's Gentleman's Palace?" I was blushing furiously as I did so.

"Oh, a new girl are you?"

"Oh, heavens no!" I blushed even more furiously. "She's a black sheep in the family," I lied, "but I just had to stop and see her on my way through."

"Oh, I see," the agent replied, none too convinced of my story. It was evident from his face that he believed not a word of what I just told him.

"The red light district..." and he went on to give me directions.

In a matter of minutes I found myself at the foot of the walk leading up to the porch of Suzzette's. I hesitated a moment, It's now or never, Clara, before I took a deep breath and started up the boardwalk to the porch. An unlit, red glassed lantern hung from a hook in the wooden beam above the porch railing.

I stood before the door and stared at the brass knocker. It was the large figure of a satyr in a circle. A pair of monstrous brass balls hung free from their attachment point on the body. The balls, of course, served as the door knocker. For the more timid, I noticed a brass bell turn by the side of the door knob. 

"What the hell!"

I came out of my funk and reached for the balls. I pulled them up and let them drop with a resounding crash. I did it two more times, giggling the whole time.

"Damn!"

Time passed. This time, I was reaching for the bell knob handle when the door cracked open.

"Yes?" asked a feminine voice.

"I wish to see Suzzette, please."

"Honey, it's only nine o'clock in the morning, none of the girls, let alone Miss Suzzette, are up at this time of the day."

Getting more confident, not to mention brazen, I replied, "Please, just give Suzzette this card for me?"

"All right, step in a moment."

It was the business card that Abner had given me.

I stepped into a fair size reception room, every bit as sumptuous as Abner's private car, likely more so. The feminine voice belonged to a black maid.

"You wait right here, Missy, I fetch your card to miss Suzzette."

Time passed again as I slowly surveyed the room. Bold red damask curtains, drawn, covered the porch facing windows. Several tables with large, aladdin lamps, sat by the windows and would backlight the curtains at night. Several straight back chairs and a large coat rack were the other accessories in the room. Off to the side, I could see part of an even grander parlor.

The maid returned.

"Please follow me, Missy."

She led me through that grander parlor. Gold and red flocked wallpaper. Red velvet drapes. Antimacassars and other victorian accessories in spades. Overstuffed chairs, and sofas arranged around the edges of the room. A couple of fringed alcoves, all lavishly decorated. Such were the impressions I got on the quick trip through the room.

The maid led me up a stairway off to the inside wall of the room. At the top, she led down the hall to left all the way to the end. She knocked lightly on the door.

"Come."

The maid opened the door and ushered me in. The door closed behind me. Another sumptuous room. A bedroom. White and gold flocked wallpaper. White carpeting. A blood red satin bed--sheets and coverlet as well as the canopied top. White and gold trimmed bureau, chest, mirror table, and chair. A pure white fluffy sofa sat along a wall. I stood in open mouthed wonder.

"I'm Suzzette."

She was completely naked with just a gossamer, fully sheer, peignoir with long sleeves. It was fully open in front, gathered about her sides. She was sitting on the bed, leaning up against the headboard with her legs splayed wide open.

Suzzette was absolutely beautiful. Her skin was alabaster white and flawless. Except for her nipples, that is. The aureola were more pink than brown and topped with slightly more brownish nipples that jutted way out, fully erect.

Her pussy was fairly glistening with her sex juices through and on her bush. A glass dildo, a French import I believe, thanks to Daddy's magazines, lay between her legs at her knees. There was no question as to what she had just been doing. She made no effort to cover herself or to hide the dildo. I was mesmerized as she continued.

"Who are you and where did you get this card?" This was asked in a very businesslike tone of voice.

"My name is Clara, but I work under the name, Summer Rose and I..."

"You WORK under the name Summer Rose. What kind of work?"

"This kind of work."

"Really!"

"Yes, I..."

"Come now, I bet you're even still a virgin!"

"There, you're wrong. Ok, so I'm looking for work and I have never worked as a, a, uh..."

"Whore?"

"Well, yes, that's correct. But I'm not quite as green as I may look."

"Explain, and tell me about the card, too, please."

The explanation of my home circumstances and my flight by train were divulged. I didn't spare any punches. I included my self-pleasurings of the recent past. Then I got to the train bit.

"I met the man on that card, Abner on the train. He invited me to lunch in his private car. The next thing I knew, I was in bed and he deflowered me."

"He took your cherry?"

"Yes."

"And you were a willing participant in this?"

"Yes, shy and hesitant at first, but willing."

"Believe it or not, I can imagine the shy and hesitant part. Did you enjoy the sex?"

"Oh my God, yes! We uh, f,fucked ourselves silly until Council Bluffs. I've a particular liking for the act and the play that goes with it."

"Ah. Have you ever been with a woman?"

"N, n, no."

"Come here, dear."

I visibly shivered. Goose bumps broke out all over my arms and shoulders as I slowly walked to the bed. Again, I wasn't totally ignorant. I knew what was about to happen, or at least what I thought was going to happen.

"Afraid, Clara?"

"No, just anticipating."

"Very good repost, dear, even if only a half truth."

Suzzette took my left hand and placed it on her boob.

"Do you like my skin? My boobs?"

The one I was touching felt like velvet. It was also warm and growing warmer to my touch.

"Oh my God, yes!"

"Lick the other nipple, dear."

"Now bite it, gently."

"Harder."

My own pussy was now rapidly dampening with my own arousal.

"Feel my cunt, Clara. Finger it."

I did. Her pussy was releasing even more fluid and my fingers slipped and slid around on her puffy nether lips. 

"Ah, yes, just like that."

I moved my fingers up and down her cunt lips, my middle finger traversing her crevice from rosebud to clit on each pass. I jerked and groaned. I orgasmed and soaked my underclothes.

"Get undressed and join me on the bed, dear."

I swiftly complied. I wanted some of what I was giving Suzzette, wanted it very badly. I climbed, naked, unto the big bed.

"Put your pussy over my head. You can do me while I do you, dear."

Her tongue had barely touched my pussy and I climaxed again. Her touch was so much different, so much better than that of Abner. Only a woman really knows how to pleasure another woman. And Suzzette really did know how.

My laving of her pussy soon produced a strong orgasm in Suzzette. I turned around and lay beside her. We just lay there, caressing each other's bodies, licking and kissing in ecstasy. We kept each other rolling in orgasms off an on for several hours.

We were interrupted once by a discreet knock on the door. It was answered by Suzzette with a quiet, "Do not disturb me until further notice." No more knocks on the door occurred for a long time.

Once we finally came up for air, we dozed off. It seemed like only minutes, but it was actually several more hours before Suzzette jerked upright and awake to a knocking once more on the bedroom door. She woke me in the process.

"My God, what time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Miss Suzzette, are you alright?" asked a worried maid through the door. "I knows yo all tole me no mo knockin' but it's a gettin' late and the gentleman's will be acomin' soon."

"Yes, Althy, I'm coming. Go back to work."

"Yesum, Ma'am."

"God but it has been a very long time since anyone took my mind off business for as long as you just have, Clara. But I think we definitely have a place for you here."

"Oh, I am pleased, Suzzette. Very pleased."

"Yes, well, there is a room available for you. In fact, it's the one right next to mine and that door over there connects to it. I want you right beside me."

"I'm overwhelmed, Suzzette."

"I want you to stay in your room tonight. Or you can go down the back stairs to the kitchen. The kitchen is off limits to the customers--staff only. We need to talk again tomorrow before you actually go to work."

"Sounds good to me."

"Igor will be busy off and on through the night, but when he isn't I will have him explain how things work around here."

"Thank you so much, Suzzette. But who is Igor?"

"Igor is our bouncer. Now shoo! Off to your room for now. I have to get dressed. It's getting very late and we have to open for business very soon. Git, girl."

"Yes, Ma'am!" I retorted as I fled for the connecting door."

"I'll send Igor up with you carpet bag. Did you have anything else?"

"No," I managed to say before I closed the connecting door behind me."

Well. Indeed, I had survived again. I had a job.

to be continued?

******

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