Passion and Pleasure

Chapter 2

“He must be stupid. Or perhaps he was a virgin and did not know any better.”

“She barely knows what she’s doing. Given half a chance, I could do things to that lord that would make him beg for mercy!”

“Wish I only had to deal with one bastard every night like her, it would be a hell of a lot easier on my back.”

“And her so young, she could handle twenty of them before sunup if she had a mind to…”

“Have you noticed how sometimes it seems like she’s not doing anything at all in there? Too quiet, the bedsprings don’t make a sound. As if she’s not even trying to earn her fee.”

“There’s some sort of trickery afoot with that lord, I tell you…”

“Shhh, she’s coming!”

She kept her head held high as she walked into the lounge area to prepare for the evening. For a week now, Aurelia had been acutely aware that the whispers of the other girls had been dying quickly whenever she entered the room. Few would speak directly to her; those that did were cool and spoke only of the running of the brothel. Madam Claudette, on the other hand, was absolutely overflowing with praise, to the point where Aurelia felt slightly sickened every time the woman drew near. She knew the compliments were only because the madam’s purse was that much heavier thanks to her special client, and the extra attention certainly wasn’t doing anything to endear her to the other girls, either.

It had been nearly a month since Lord Tom Hiddleston had first made his appearance, and to everyone’s shock – Aurelia’s most of all – he had returned to the brothel every night at the same time. He would see only her, and his only request to the madam was that she was his for the entire night. They would usually fuck, sometimes raucously, with laughter and play wrestling; sometimes urgently, both seeking their release quickly; sometimes slowly and tenderly, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Then, spent, they would fall asleep.

But then, there were other nights, nights when he came to her and his eyes were tired and careworn. He would allow her to strip him before he returned the favor, and then, naked, he would take her to bed. She would whisper soothing words of comfort and he would hold her tightly to him, as though afraid of what would happen if he let go – and then he would sleep, and she would sleep, and that would be all that happened between them. On those nights, she allowed herself a small measure of wishful dreaming; then, she would remind herself she was a prostitute, with a client, lying on the worn-out mattress of a common brothel.

In the morning, she would wake when he did, and he would kiss her and tell her she would see him later. And she would.

Aurelia could not pretend she truly understood what there was between them. She still knew so little about him and felt it would be impudent to pry. All she knew was that she had walked into this life expecting the worst, to be used, abused, and discarded repeatedly night after night, and instead she was actually – although she dared not speak the word out loud – happy. Except for the needling fear that he would abandon her (and it was a very real fear, albeit one that she did not often acknowledge), she felt satisfied, desired, and hopeful for the future.

Yet she could not deny that the coldness of the other girls was distressing her. Most of them had been, if a bit abrasive, at least friendly when she first came to Madam Claudette’s seeking employment; one or two had even gone out of their way to offer her as many tips and tricks as they could before she started. They were the ones who now avoided her entirely, going so far as to ignore her even when she spoke directly to them.

The door creaked open and a bit of snow blew in as the first customers of the evening arrived, a group of regulars from the nearby pub. They had noticed Aurelia’s nightly caller as well, and had made a habit of harassing her until he arrived.