Women of New York: Flora

He kept quiet because he had been well paid to turn a blind eye and felt duty bound to honor his word. Besides, he had no desire to become part of a police investigation, having had a less than squeaky-clean past. What's more, he was filled with envy of those people who could afford to stay in a classy hotel such as the one which employed him. It gave him pleasure to bring a little grief into their lives.

Thus, the police remained in ignorance of Flora's departure on the arm of Henri Dubois. At least, they would have done if it hadn't been for the report of the ferret detective, now in the possession of Charles Dunne. He gave it to the official investigators. A burly police detective questioned the ferret.

"You saw Miss Phipps come out with Count Henri Dubois?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're certain it was her."

"Not at the time she emerged. Wrapped in a cloak, you see. With a hood. I followed the couple as they walked along Broadway and somewhere along the way, he took her hood down. That's when I clearly saw her face."

"You recognised her?"

"Oh yes. Very pretty girl she is. Saw her quite a bit whilst I was following Dubois. Always in company with a parent."

"Except last night."

"Yes. No parent then. Just Dubois."

"Where did they go?"

The ferret handed over his notebook. "That's the address. House of assignation, it is."

The police detective nodded. "We know it. Did you see them leave?"

"Yes. About two hours later. Wrapped in her cloak she was."

"Where did they go?"

The ferret shook his head. "Sorry. They came out, jumped into a waiting cab and drove away. I was on foot."

"Ah. Pity."

"But I did hear what he said to the driver."

"Oh?"

"Headed for the docks they were."

The police detective frowned. "The docks? Now, why would they go there?"

The door-keeper at the hotel was questioned again, but insisted he saw nothing and no-one. He was at his post all the time except.....ah yes, of course....he did go away for just a few moments. The call of nature. About eleven o'clock, he thought.

The police detective's next port of call was the house of assignation. Mrs Petrie opened the door.

"Hello, Inspector."

"Can I come in?"

"Got a daytime assignation, have you?", the housekeeper cheekily asked.

"Happily married, Mrs Petrie."

She laughed. "Plenty of them come here, I can tell you. Both sexes."

"Yes, I'm sure they do. I'm pursuing enquiries. Last night. A young girl -- eighteen years old -- came here with Henri Dubois."

"Yes, that's right. Sweet looking girl. Innocent looking. I didn't like to see her with that Dubois man."

"Really?"

"He's visited before with other women. They looked as if they knew what they were doing, but this one...." Mrs Petrie shook her head. "She isn't the first young girl to be fooled and she won't be the last. Older women too. Should be older and wiser, but they're not. My visitors come from all classes in society. Married women meet their lovers here and young girls like her come when their parents think they're somewhere else. I see it all. Human lust. Provides a handsome income for me, I can tell you."

"I'm sure it does," the detective drily responded. "Did she stay the night?"

"This isn't a hotel or boarding house. Nor is it a brothel. I run a respectable house. I'm in the business of letting rooms for people to meet each other. I'm not to know what they get up to, am I?"

"Of course not. Did you see Dubois and the girl leave?"

"Yes. After a couple of hours or so."

"Any idea where they went?"

"I assume he took her back home, wherever that is."

"Um All right. Thank you. I'll probably want you to make a signed statement."

"Anything to help the police. By the way. Why are you looking for her?"

"She's disappeared, Mrs Petrie. Left your house and vanished into thin air."

"Well, would you credit it."

Enquiries were made at the docks and the police discovered that a ship had departed the previous night bound for Europe. The timing was exactly right and an entry in the passenger list revealed that a double cabin - second class - had been booked by Count Henri Dubois.

"So that's it, I'm afraid," the police detective informed the grieving parents. "Seems the young couple have eloped."

"But why?" Mrs Phipps tearfully asked. "There was no need to elope. We heartily approved of the marriage."

"I'll tell you why," said Charles Dunne grimly. "It's all here in the report. My private detective has been making enquiries. He found that Dubois was nothing but a scoundrel and a fraud. There's no estate, no fortune, no family name. He's a nothing and a nobody who scraped up a one way passage to New York. We've been taken for fools."

Mr Phipps looked puzzled. "I still don't understand why Dubois didn't stay and marry Flora. Once he'd done that we wouldn't have been able to do anything. The disgrace would have been intolerable."

"Obviously that's what he was banking on, but he had to alter his plans. He received a letter from France; probably tipping him off about our investigation."

"My poor little girl," cried Mrs Phipps. "Tricked into marriage by a charlatan."

"He's an expert in seducing women," said Charles grimly. "No doubt you'll receive a letter eventually, demanding money to support them. If you refuse to pay, God knows what will happen to poor Flora in France."

Mr Phipps looked shattered, whilst his wife collapsed onto the sofa in a flurry of wailing and crying.

Flora had been taken to a house not far from the hotel; a house much like any other fashionable residence for a well-to-do family. She was given a room, a surprisingly pleasant room, with good furnishings and a welcoming feel. It was where she would work and sleep. She was also provided with a wardrobe of dresses which were pretty and had one thing in common; they showed off her figure to its best advantage. There was not much in the way of undergarments.

The girls were not allowed out for the first month, she was informed, though they could sit in the garden at the rear of the house on a good day. After the month, they could walk out to the shops or park, but always in the company of another girl. There was also an ever-watchful male minder trailing behind.

This was a parlor-house, run by Mrs Greene, and there were ten 'lady boarders' as they were euphemistically called. It was a three-story brownstone house, furnished throughout with the most costly and newest improvements. There were French mirrors, English and Brussels carpets, rosewood furniture and rich wallpaper, creating an emporium of love and beauty.

"I receive the patronage of only the best," Mrs Greene told the new arrival. "Many of them are distinguished foreign gentlemen. I apologise for the way you have been snatched away from your life and your parents. I wish it wasn't necessary, but my gentlemen only want the very best girls. The second and third class houses can find enough willing girls for their purpose, but first class houses have a problem of supply. Beautiful, graceful, charming and educated girls like yourself are rarely prepared to enter a parlor-house of their own free will. How do you feel after your ordeal?"

"Sore," Flora murmured, eyes downcast.

"I'm sure you will be for a few days. You will not start work until you've recovered. Meanwhile, you'll be taught everything you need to know about pleasing a man."

Mrs Greene was as good as her word. Flora was shown how to masturbate a male penis, as well as suck it, her previous 'training' not being sufficient. She was also introduced to the 'French Male Safe', a perfect shield against disease or conception. A clay model of an erect penis was brought to her room and she was shown how to roll the 'safe' onto the distended member.

"Some men don't want to wear one," said Mrs Greene. "It is important they should do so, for their sake, as well as yours. You must insist. No penetration without protection. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

Flora was blushing at using the model and couldn't imagine how she would feel with the real thing. It seemed like a bad dream, from which she would soon wake. Perhaps, after making love with Henri, she had fallen asleep and guilt had given her a nightmare. For after all, she was unchaste; she had given herself to a man before marriage. But they were going to be married; surely that would lessen her crime.

"A doctor is coming to examine you this afternoon." The voice of Mrs Greene cut into her thoughts. "To make sure everything is all right. I believe you'll be ready for your first gentleman tomorrow."

The door closed after Mrs Greene and Flora sank onto the bed. It was a large comfortable bed with beautiful covers, worthy enough to grace the Fifth Avenue Hotel. She thought of her parents. Only a few days ago she had been with them, loved and loving. Now, she had lost them and they had lost her. What did they imagine had happened to her? Where did they think she had gone? She began to cry; for herself, but even more, for them.

The parlor was an elegant room with a glass chandelier, thick carpet, sofas and chairs. After a late breakfast, the 'lady boarders' assembled, ready to begin their day's work. Flora wore an elegant dress with a low cut bodice that perfectly showed off her trim figure.

The first gentleman arrived a little after midday, to be warmly welcomed by Mrs Greene, and charmingly greeted by the girls, who introduced themselves. Wine was produced and poured by a servant, who was always in attendance. Everybody sat around and chatted, the visitor, who was not known to the company, informing them that he was in New York on business.

"Banking. I'm from Boston."

"Is this your first visit to our great city?" enquired one of the girls.

"Not at all. I come two or three times a year. Always take the opportunity for a little relaxation with pleasant female company."

There were little coy giggles from some of the girls. Flora remained quiet, trying to imagine what it would be like to have him in her bed. And to put on the male safe. She shuddered at the thought, feeling herself tremble with nervousness.

Eventually -- there was never any hurry about this process -- the man stood up and offered his hand to a young blonde girl who had been several months in the house. They left the parlor together. There was no negotiation of price, as it was fixed by the house and applied to everyone.

As the afternoon wore on more gentlemen entered and departed with the girl of their choice. It was after five o'clock when a foreign man chose Flora.

"I am from Deutschland," he had proclaimed.

"Where's that?" a girl called Susie had asked.

"Germany," Flora murmured.

"Ah yes!" boomed the man. "As you call it -- Germany."

From that moment on he lavished all his attention on Flora and it was soon obvious that he would choose her. She began trembling even more. She would soon sell her body to this stranger. He would pay money to insert his....his....phallus into her. He was far from handsome and there were rolls of fat around his middle.

Suddenly he was on his feet, hand outstretched towards her. She tried to smile as she took hold of it, but felt it probably came out as more of a grimace. They went upstairs to her room.

Trying to remember what she was taught, Flora put her arms round him and held him close.

"You're a big man. Is everything big?"

"Ja. Maybe too big for die Scheide." He laughed.

"Die Scheide?" Flora queried.

He pointed down at her lower region. "What you say? Pussy."

"Oh." Flora attempted a laugh. "No, I don't think so."

"We will find out. Ja?"

"Yes. Take your coat off and I'll hang it up. Vest as well."

He did as he was told.

"Your turn."

"Um...yes."

Flora carefully hung up the coat and vest before turning towards him. She slowly began to unfasten the dress, slipped it off and was left standing in a chemise.

"Shirt and tie."

"Ja, ja."

The German eagerly complied, also removing his undervest. She was right about the rolls of fat. Gritting her teeth, she knelt down undid the buttons on his trousers and pulled them down around his ankles. Roaring with laughter he jumped around trying to extricate himself from the trousers, falling onto the bed in the process. After removing his shoes and much tugging and pulling, he finally succeeded. He was down to his long-johns.

"Stand up," Flora ordered.

"Jawohl, mein liebchen."

She pulled down his drawers and his cock sprang to attention. Gathering up her courage she took it in her hand and slowly masturbated it, running her hand up and down, gently squeezing and pulling. It grew even harder beneath her touch. She then ran her tongue over it and, after a moment's hesitancy, took it into her mouth.

A slight moan escaped his lips as she sucked and licked the distended penis. Trying to judge just the right moment -- not too soon and not too late -- she stopped her action, reached over to a bedside drawer and took out the male safe. Before he realised what was happening she was rolling the protector on. He grunted disapproval, but Flora shook her head.

"This way or not at all."

"Ja...ja, this way."

Flora took off her chemise and lay on the bed, her legs spread. She closed her eyes as he quickly pulled his long-johns off his ankles. He climbed on top of her, the mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight. She felt the penis searching for her opening; she guided it into her. He pushed all the way and then began to pump.

He had paid money for this, she thought. He had bought me like a whore. But why not? I am a whore. Oh, Henri, how could you do this to me? Didn't you love me one little bit? Maybe I could run away and return to my home in Chicago. Surely it was possible.

The German was pumping faster and faster, his gasps growing with the energy expended. He was also reaching his climax. He kneaded her breasts, pinching her nipples.

"Ow!"

He grinned, offering no apology, and continued grinding.

No. It was impossible. She had no money and was too ashamed. How could she face any of her friends or acquaintances now? This was her life now and she would just have to......

"Aaaaah!"

She felt the German disgorge his semen; luckily, not into her vagina. She was a prostitute now, bought and paid for; no mistake about that.

She had one more gentleman that night and three the following day. And so it went on. There was never a long queue waiting for her services -- or for any of the girls. This was a first-class house. Nothing was rushed. She didn't have to cope with fifteen or twenty men one after the other, mauling her and thrusting their cock into her, though she heard stories about some of the low-class places where such practices were common. When she stopped to think about it, that would eventually be her fate. Most prostitutes went down-hill, some faster than others. As they grew older, less attractive and more worn, they would leave for a second-class house then a third and then.......

But she preferred not to think about it.

Time passed. Her twentieth birthday had come and gone. When she first started she kept a count of all the men who had possessed her body in return for money, but she had long ago given up that fruitless exercise. She still looked remarkably fresh and pretty and was a popular 'lady boarder'. On one occasion she encountered a man of her acquaintance in the house. It took him a little while, but then it dawned on him who she was.

"Are you in New York for business or pleasure?" Flora politely enquired.

"Business earlier, pleasure now." He grinned laciviously.

Of course, he chose her.

"Have you seen my parents?" she asked him in the bedroom.

"Not often. Since you -- er -- disappeared, they've withdrawn from society. The story was that you eloped with a damned Frenchman."

"Damned indeed. He seduced me and then left me to the mercy of three thugs who brutalised and raped me before bringing me here. I was turned into a whore and whore I am. What do you want? In my cunt, in my ass or in my mouth."

"Yes, please." He grinned. "You've no idea how I fantasised about getting you naked and sticking my cock up you. A lot of my friends did. I can't believe that I'm actually going to do it."

"You didn't have a chance then, but now, if you pay me, I'm all yours."

He had her on her back, on her knees and astride him.

Whilst they were recovering their breath from an insertion, Flora asked him if he was married.

"Er -- yes," he reluctantly admitted.

"Anyone I knew?"

"Jane Sommers."

"Oh yes, I remember. Quite plain, if I recall. Or am I being bitchy?"

"No, you're right. She's not exactly a looker, but there's pots of money in the family."

"And that's important, isn't it?"

"My parents seem to think that."

"So you were sold off for marriage, whilst I was sold off for sex. Not much difference between us, is there?"

He shrugged.

"What would your wife say if she knew you were in a parlor-house with me?"

"There'd be hell to pay. For God's sake, don't tell her."

"I'm not likely to, am I? Likewise, I'd prefer it if you didn't speak about me."

"Of course."

"Should I hear any word of this coming from Chicago, your wife will be told exactly how you found out. Believe me, I can do it. I have friends."

She sounded convincingly threatening, though not really sure how she could do anything about it.

"I promise, I promise." He was thoroughly frightened.

She reached for his cock. "I think this requires a little work."

She began her ministrations and he began his moans. In a very short space of time he was hard enough for the male safe, which Flora expertly rolled on.

"Come on, I want all of it in my cunt." She had learned how to talk dirty as well. "Push in as far as you can and really make me feel it. Just imagine it's two years ago and we're at a party. We've sneaked into a bedroom and I'm a virgin who's about to lose it all to you. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes," he gasped.

"You didn't think you would ever have me. I wasn't a girl like that, but now you've found out that I have thoughts like that too and I want you to split me wide and fill me with your cock and your seed. And you do. I'm gasping, shrieking and writhing in my ecstasy. I've never experienced anything like it. You're so good. I can feel you all the way in pumping and......"

"Oooh, God!"

They lay still and Flora was aware of his cock deflating inside her.

"Withdraw before your seed escapes from the protector," she quietly said.

"What? Oh, yes....yes, of course."

He pulled out and she took the male safe off, dropping it into a chamber pot.

"That was....that was....."

"What?"

"Earth shattering."

She laughed. "Thank you, kind sir."

She didn't see him again.

Six months later there was another even more familar face in the parlor.

"Well, well, well, if it's not the upright pillar of society," Flora greeted him. "What are you doing in a parlor-house, Charles?"

"My God!" He looked astounded. "I might ask you the same question. I thought -- everyone thought....."

"That I'd eloped with Henri Dubois." She shook her head. "I'm afraid his intention was to sell me for as much as he could get. I don't know how much that was. He neglected to tell me."

"I can't believe it. You're only here. Why didn't you go home?"

"I couldn't have faced it. Disgraced and deflowered. No, here I was and here I've stayed. But what about you. No wife yet or are you here to forget her for a while?"

"She prefers that I obtain sexual gratification in someone else's bed."

"Ah." Flora nodded in understanding.

She looked around the parlor at the other girls who were sitting open-mouthed.

"An old friend. May I introduce Mr Charles Dunne."

"Good evening, ladies."

"You sit here in the parlor for a while," Flora explained. "Have some wine and a chat and when you've decided which of us you want, go upstairs."