Il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé.
Marie had no love.
In her 18 years of life, she had yet to live up to her family's name, had yet to get a proper husband.
She was a prostitute living in 19th century France, she sold her body for money, and her family had long disowned her.
As she sat on a gravestone in the Cathedral's graveyard, winding a stand of her long curly hair around her finger, she waited for her next customer.
She was most popular with the men of Paris, and although she favored in the opposite gender, vingt dollars c'est vingt dollars. Woman fancied her as well.
It was a brisk evening, the rain had just fallen around supper, and most things were still wet from it.
Marie sighed impatiently.
She was cold, and tired, a long days work, but usually someone had shown up by now and she was leading then back to the maison de pute.
As she waited, she had thought that the tall silhouette moving through the Cathedral's garden and towards the gates of the graveyard would just be another customer, another face in the crowd, another pack of francs.
But she was wrong.
YOU ARE READING
Mr Clean Make Me Squeal
RomanceMarie is a French 19th century prostitute, very popular among the common peasents, and no for love. Until a certain customer calling himself Monsieur Clean comes around, and pulling Marie into the time of her life.
