The Confessions of Jenny Wright Ch. 03

3. Spring

Throughout January and February, Harold continued to write to Jenny at least once a week. Whenever a letter arrived, she felt a little pang of longing for her old life, and a little more guilt at having to be so deliberately vague about her circumstances. Every time she read of his conventional, decent life back in York, she felt torn, knowing that this was the life her parents had wanted for her. After reading, she always resolved to get herself a respectable job as a seamstress or a nanny, but somehow she never got around to it. In the end she had to admit to herself that she'd become very fond of the other girls, particularly Rose and Daisy and had also become accustomed to life at Madam Chloe's, quickly fitting into the weekly routine of the house.

Sundays were for church and unless they weren't well, Madam insisted all the girls attend. They sat in the back two rows, on their best behaviour and dressed in their most modest dresses, eyes cast meekly downwards towards their highly polished shoes, studiously ignoring any of the men in the congregation that they recognised.

All the other days of the week followed the same routine: after breakfast, the girls would get on with their chores: sweeping the floors or doing the laundry or helping in the kitchen. Some jobs were better than others and the better chores like going to the market for groceries were often claimed by more experienced women. As the new girl, Jenny often found herself doing the grubby jobs that no one else wanted: scrubbing the front steps, polishing the furniture or cleaning out the fireplaces.

Around noon, Cook would serve a simple lunch, perhaps a soup or broth made from the leftovers from last night's meal. Then afterwards, they'd have several hours to themselves before being called down for an early tea around five.

The girls were given one night off a week in addition to Sundays but if they were 'on duty' they'd get ready for the evening after tea. Regardless of whether they expected any regular clients, Madam insisted they were all downstairs by seven at the latest. She'd inspect them as closely as any sergeant-major, examining their make-up and hair, checking that their dresses were immaculate. Unless they were with someone upstairs, they had to gather in the lounge, looking their best for any customer who may drop by unannounced.

The afternoons were Jenny's favourite part of the day. When the weather was good, Jenny liked to go out for an afternoon walk through one of the parks, wistfully looking at all the finely dressed ladies and respectable gentlemen strolling arm-in-arm. Or she'd take the omnibus down to Westminster with Daisy and Rose to walk along the river to see the sights.

Sometimes they'd stroll down by the wharves, where the sight of the three young woman would draw plenty of attention from the navvies and stevedores unloading tea and spices from the orient. Jenny and Daisy would usually try and ignore the often crude language, blushing prettily as the men shouted, explaining exactly what they'd do if the girls joined them on board their ships. Only Rose was brave enough to stand up to them, matching their crude language, questioning whether they could live up to their claims, giving as good as she got.

Madam gave them a small allowance when business was good, and often they'd return with second-hand clothes from the market, or small luxuries like fresh flowers or costume jewellery.

However, today was a typical February day in the city, a thin drizzle leaking from the leaden skies. On days like this, when the rain pattered on the roof and gurgled in the lead gutters, Jenny had resolved to teach Rose and Daisy to read and write. It was quite a task; the girls were quick learners but all-too-easily distracted. But she was a patient young woman and she'd already taught them the alphabet and was moving onto putting the letters together to form simple words.

"So yesterday, we did some words beginning with B," Jenny said. "Now can you think of any words beginning with C?"

"Cat?" said Rose, hesitantly.

"Yes, 'Cat', very good. Now can you spell it?"

"Well, it begins with a C. Then aah, that's an A? Then a T?" she guessed.

"Yes, C-A-T. That's excellent, Rose. Now can you both write that down?"

Madam had lent them some writing pads and some quills, and Jenny stared at the raindrops tracing lines through the grime clinging to the windows as the girls started to write. She got off the bed and kneeling, stoked the bedroom fire with a small iron poker. Madam didn't like them lighting fires during the day, forever complaining about the cost of coal and firewood but she rarely ventured up here to the second floor these days so Jenny felt safe.

They were still writing when she got back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged on the floor on satin cushions, hunched low over their pads as they slowly and dipped their quills in the ink well that sat between them, and carefully formed the letters. Rose had a look of intense concentration on her face, the tip of her small pink tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she worked.

"Excellent, very good," Jenny said, smiling as her friends held their pads up, displaying their childlike writing. "Now do we know any other words that begin with C?"

"Cock!" Rose said with a mischievous grin.

"Or cunny!" Daisy giggled.

Jenny rolled her eyes: "How about a word that's more commonly used?" "Well it's commonly used round 'ere," Rose argued.

"I suppose it is," Jenny sighed, conceding the point. "So how would you spell cock?"

"Um, C-O-C?" Rose said.

"Close, it's C-O-C-K," Jenny corrected her. "And cunny, Daisy?"

"C-U-N-E-E?" Daisy guessed.

"No, it's like 'Bunny'. Do you remember spelling out 'Bunny' earlier when we were doing words beginning with B?"

"Ah, so it's cunny like bunny! So it's C-U-N-N-Y?" Daisy said, her pretty face lighting up with a broad, childlike grin as if she'd learnt the secret of a magic trick.

"Yes, perfect!"

"Can we 'ave a story soon?" she asked, as she hunched over the writing pad, slowly spelling out the two words.

"In a little while, let's do some more words first, hmm?" Jenny replied.

Soon after she relented, and the two girls joined her on the bed. When they paid attention and did well, Jenny would read to them from the periodicals and journals that Madam kept downstairs for when their gentlemen callers were kept waiting. They liked Charles Dickens and she began reading them their current favourite, 'Oliver Twist', as Rose and Daisy leaned in close, sliding their arms around her waist.

"Oliver's ailings were neither slight nor few. In addition to the pain and delay attendant on a broken limb, his exposure to the wet and cold had brought on fever and ague: which hung about him for many weeks, and reduced him sadly. ...." she read, carefully pronouncing each word as she traced her finger along the page.

"Poor Oliver," Daisy murmured, shaking her head, her blonde curls brushing her shoulders.

"So... I hear Jack's going to pay a call tonight," Rose said.

On her left, Jenny heard Daisy giggle.

"What if he is?" said, trying not to lose her place.

"Well, I 'ear he's taken quite a shine to you. I reckon he'll be after a private dance lesson," she teased.

"Yes, well maybe I'll be dancing with someone else again," Jenny said haughtily, although in truth even as she formed the words she knew she was bluffing. Her role was to please their customers and it was unheard of to refuse a client; Madam would not be pleased to hear of a girl turning business away.

"Now where was I?" Jenny said, finding her place and continuing to read, although she struggled to concentrate. Now that Rose had mentioned him she kept thinking of Jack. She'd lain with several men since she'd met him at the Christmas party, but although they'd always been well-behaved and perfectly competent, she hadn't felt anything for them. None of them had bothered to ask after her, or try to please her in any way. They'd all happily bounced up and down on her, wholly focussed on their own pleasure as she stared at the ceiling and forced herself to repeat some of the crude phrases Rose had taught her. "It's so big! Please Sir, fuck me, fuck me with that lovely big cock!"

Even though she'd only met him once, she'd discretely asked some of the other girls about Jack, and what they said convinced her that there was something different about him. Although she knew it was wrong, she sometimes found herself closing her eyes and thinking about him when she was with other men.

---

Madam had hired a pianist this evening, and Jenny stood and watched, appreciating the woman's dexterity as she played some classical pieces by Chopin and Liszt. The other girls were milling around, chatting to the clients, fetching wine from the kitchen, or like her, simply listening to the pianist.

She was aware of the man's presence, just before he slid an arm around her waist and she felt the solid warmth of his body pressing against her back. "Guess who?" he said, playfully sliding a hand over her eyes. She knew who it was immediately. She felt her heart quicken, her breath catching in her throat as she recognised his rich, cedar-scented aftershave and his distinctive voice: cultured and clear but undercut by a low, rumbling bass that made something deep inside her melt.

"It's Jack, isn't it?" she said, pulling his hand away and spinning around to face him, keeping her face neutral, not wanting to reveal that she already knew. His face was just as she remembered, lean with a strong jaw line, his dark eyes twinkling, his raven-black hair tied back neatly with a matching ribbon. His lips curled into a crooked smile as if he recognised the game she was playing.

"You know it is. I would have come back sooner, but some business abroad took longer than I anticipated."

"In France?" she asked, recalling their last conversation.

"Yes, in France, and in Italy. But now I'm back and eager to continue our dance. Shall we?" he said, offering his hand, his eyes looking upwards.

"If you wish, Sir," she said coolly, as she took his hand and led him towards the stairs.

---

Upstairs, Jenny stood in the centre of the room, unsure of what to do as Jack shrugged off his jacket from his broad shoulders, revealing a dark green waistcoat over a crisp white shirt. She clasped her hands tightly as he paced around the room, as if checking everything was to his satisfaction. She recalled what Rose had said about trying to determine what kind of man he was, what he was looking for in a woman, but she realised she had very little idea of what was going on behind those dark eyes as he turned towards her.

He was several inches taller and she was forced to tilt her head back as he stepped closer.

"I thought of you often whilst I was travelling," he murmured, grasping her chin in his long, slightly rough fingers and angling it upwards so that her pale skin glowed in the warm gas light.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could he pressed his lips against hers, drawing her into a surprisingly slow, tender kiss. She closed her eyes, sighing gently as he sucked at her soft, pink lips, and his hands caressed the smooth planes of her back then rested on the curve of her hips. When their lips parted, she felt his hand stroking her hair at tugging at the crimson ribbon that she'd so carefully selected to match her dress. She felt him tug it loose, and ran his hands through her hair till her dark tresses spilled over her bare shoulders.

She waited patiently as he unfastened the tiny pearl buttons of her dress, quietly concentrating on his work to the distant sound of the piano from downstairs. When she tried to help him, he brushed her hands away.

"No, let me," he insisted, as if he wanted the pleasure of undressing her all to himself, unwrapping her like an expensive present, one button at a time.

He gave a little triumphant grunt as he undid the last one, then stood up straight again as he slipped the dress over her shoulders and it slithered to the floor. He took her hand as she stepped out of it, his eyes sliding over her semi-naked body. She was wearing a tight black and crimson corset over her slip, which cinched her tiny waist, emphasising the feminine swell of her hips and the youthful pertness of her modest breasts. She found herself holding her breath as he tugged eagerly at the lacing, discretely letting out a sigh of relief when he pulled it free and tossed it aside.

She let him ease her slender arms upwards, stretching them above her head as he grasped the hem of her slip, pulling it up over her slim waist then up over her head before throwing it aside. Then he was kissing her once more, drawing her warm body tight against his, her bare breasts crushed against him, her taut nipples pressing against the solid muscle of his chest. He ignored her little moans of protest as he gently but firmly eased his tongue between her lips, probing between her ivory teeth.

She felt him run a hand through her hair, gently but firmly tugging at it so that her head was drawn back exposing the slender curve of her neck. She sighed as he planted a line of kisses along her jaw line, over the sensitive skin of her throat and along her shoulder. Now he eased her head back even further, her back arching as he slowly made his way down over her decolletage, feeling her skin tingle hotly as his lips brushed the gentle slope of her breasts. He closed his eyes as he kissed all around her soft mounds as if trying to map their pert, rounded shape with his lips alone.

"Oh!" she gasped as he cupped one of her breasts, her boob looking small and pale in his large, bronzed hands as he covered her swollen flesh with delicate kisses. His breath was warm and moist on her skin as he used his tongue to circle her aureole then flick back and forth across her nipple till it stiffened, throbbing a darker shade of pink as the blood rushed in.

Jenny's breathing became laboured and she found herself clutching at his broad shoulders as he bent his head, gorging herself on her yielding flesh, licking and nipping at her tight nipples and sending hot little sparks of pure pleasure racing around her body.

It felt so good that Jenny wished it would never stop, but after a short while he perched on the edge of the bed and taking her hand, drew her close. He looked up at her, his dark eyes unreadable as he grasped her drawers, easing them slowly down, an inch on the left, an inch on the right, pulling them over her hips as Jenny stood meekly before him, hands hanging limply at her sides.

"Such a natural, innocent beauty, you're worth waiting for, Jenny," he muttered as the white linen pooled around her ankles.

She'd been naked before men many times recently but as Jack's eyes lingered on her bare skin, she felt herself blush as if it were the first time. She shivered as he traced the curve of her hips as if he was assessing an expensive bottle of wine. Jenny sighed as he used his fingers to stroke the little silky triangle of hair nestling in the valley between her exposed thighs. She felt the urge to step back, to cover herself with her hands, but he slipped his hands around her waist then squeezed the pert roundness of her buttocks, holding her fast as he explored her softly yielding flesh.

She trembled as he kissed her stomach, feeling his tongue tracing the dip of her navel then moving lower, feeling the roughness of his stubble and his hot breath on her bare skin. He gently kissed and nuzzled that intimate place between her thighs until she felt her knees weaken and she had to rest her hands on the solid muscle of his shoulders.

"You taste so sweet," he said, his voice a deep contented rumble as he eased her legs apart and ran his tongue along her silky slit, spreading her swollen folds, exploring the little valley between her nether lips.

"Oh Sir, please," Jenny gasped, feeling herself melting, her hips undulating restlessly as he lapped hungrily at the sweet nectar that began to well from deep within her. "You are the customer. I beg you, let me do my job and pleasure you."

"It's my pleasure to hear you moan, to feel the heat of your bare skin, to feel you tremble. Your pleasure is my pleasure," he said and Jenny gasped as he suddenly grabbed her hips in his strong hands and tossed her onto the bed.

"Oh please Sir, please," she said, as he rolled over, his hands slid her beneath her knees, easing her legs back, her thighs spread shamefully wide. Jenny wriggled uncomfortably, twisting her head away, unable to meet his dark, piercing eyes.

Jenny had become accustomed to Rose seeing her most private parts, but it seemed so much more shameful for a man to see her like this. But Jack seemed to want to explore every inch of her nakedness, and she felt herself blush hotly as he eased her legs back, exposing the slick inner folds of her quim. She gasped, knowing that in this vulnerable position, he'd be able to see just how aroused he'd already made her.

"Such a delightful quim," he muttered, crouching between her warm thighs. He leaned close and delicately stroked the petals of her sex, easing them apart as if he were examining a rare orchid, exposing the moist, pink folds within, glistening with her nectar. He started licking her with long, leisurely strokes along the full length of her engorged labia, taking his time, evidently enjoying her helpless sighs of pleasure. Then he was twisting his head sideways, French kissing her sex as he had kissed her lips. Jenny gasped as she felt his tongue stiffen, probing between her slick lips like a miniature prick.

She felt herself growing hotter, her breath coming in shallow, breathless gasps as he used his fingers to spread her delicate folds wider, his tongue pressing deeper, using the tip to explore the tight little entrance. It felt so heavenly and Jenny ran a hand through her dark hair, surrendering to the decadent pleasure as she felt him ease first one, then two of his long slender fingers inside her, probing her molten depths as she felt the pressure beginning to build.

"Oh please Sir, please," she sobbed, feeling herself losing control as he eased his fingers in and out of her velvety wetness. At the same time, his devilish tongue sought the little pink jewel of her clit, swirling delicately around the throbbing bud till it ached for his touch, her body wriggling restlessly, her feet scrabbling for purchase on the damp sheets. She heard herself gasp loudly, as she felt his tongue on that sweet spot, flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth as she surrendered to the intense pleasure. She knew there was no going back now, his rhythm matching her quickening breath, gradually increasing until he was frigging her with, short, sharp thrusts, two wet fingers plunging deep inside her.

"Oh please, please!" she cried as she felt all her muscles tighten, bracing herself for the coming storm. And then she was there, her body consumed by the fiery heat of her orgasm, her hands clutching blindly at the sheets as her body shuddered feverishly. When the sublime pleasure finally began to subside, she felt breathless, her young body spent.

In truth, she'd begun to wonder if she could only achieve release with other women, she'd certainly never climaxed with any of the other men she'd lain with. Yet here she was feeling spent and completely satisfied, feeling the bed lurch as Jack climbed off. As the warm waves ebbed away, she sat up on her elbows, and combed her fingers through her dark hair, easing the damp strands away from her forehead. She watched through half-open eyes as Jack eagerly stripped off the rest of his clothes, pulling his white shirt up over his head to expose his lean, lightly muscled chest. He was quite hard, the solid bulge of his cock straining against his breeches. He grunted as he unfastened the first button, releasing the fierce pressure. As he quickly unfastened the rest and tugged his dark fabric down over his hips, she let out a soft gasp at the sight of his rampant cock, as long and hard as the poker that rested in the fireplace behind him.