Meet Me in St. Louis Ch. 05

The early morning traffic from the river front woke Charlotte first. She smiled as she looked down at Amanda who was nestling against her. Not the least of the advantages of the Soulard House was just this, that she could bed freely with another woman; she was not the only woman there waking up next to her female lover. A realist, as befitted someone who had lived the life she had, Charlotte could not but help wish, rather romantically, that the world would allow this openly. The realist in her told her to be glad that she had this opportunity, here, and now. Who knew what the world had in store?

Charlotte had lost her mother at birth, her father when she was fifteen, her husband when she was seventeen, and he had not even consummated their marriage, thanks to his horrible mother, Margaret, who had robbed her of her inheritance and thrown her onto the streets. Only Lady Emily had loved her; only she had shown faith in her; and now she, too, was gone. If that passing now also meant the loss of the Soulard House, then all would be gone. This too, Charlotte would have to bear. She was strong and brave. But what of Amanda, what of Grace and Deborah and the other women? What would the escorts do? Where would their clients find again what they found there?

Charlotte felt some bile rise. Why could Lady Emily not have bequeathed it all to her? Then all would have been well. She'd shown with Detective Kelly that she could see off threats from outside. She had plans for the future. Now all depended on this English aristocrat, who, like as not, would be disgusted and horrified to discover what went on in the House, and who would then sell it off. She held Amanda tight.

The sleeping blonde stirred from her slumbers.

"Everything alright my love?"

"Don't worry about it darling.'

Mandy trusted in Charlotte. She was amazed to be her lover, Though Charlotte was her employer, she seemed happy for Amanda to take charge of their lovemaking. She had heard enough from Grace and Deborah to know what women liked sexually, and she felt strong and confident when Charlotte yielded to her desires.

Sensing she was concerned, Amanda turned and kissed her, running her hands over her warm body. She kissed Charlotte's earlobes, then moved down her jawline until their lips met. Her lover's response told Mandy all she needed to know. She knew how to comfort and distract Charlotte.

At the first touch of Mandy's lips on her soft flesh, Charlotte relaxed, giving in to the desires kindled in her. She had always been so self-reliant, so strong, and as Diana the Huntress she had been the dominant one, but as her maid and lover ran her lips over her body, all Charlotte wanted to do was to please her by giving herself to her. This was not analogous to Margaret becoming her submissive and "pig," this was how she loved and wanted to be loved.

The bond that united her to Mandy worked both ways. Knowing of domination and submission only from what Grace (the dominant) and Deborah (the submissive) had told her, Amanda would have been horrified had any identified her with Grace and Charlotte with Deborah. This was the way their loved played itself out, it was consensual, natural - and all-consuming.

Easing herself up, Mandy parted Charlotte's thighs. It came to her to wonder what might happen if their sexes were to press against each other.

As Amanda positioned herself between her thighs and raised her right leg, Charlotte went with it. She had seen Grace take other women with a phallus, and she had seen Deborah adapt to whatever her lover had wanted, but all she could feel now was a desire for Amanda, her Mandy. That longing came out in the form of a long, low moan, her name on her lips like a lover's mantra: "Mandy, Mandy, Mandy, Mandy, I love you!"

Those words, Charlotte's yielding, her desire and needs, all fed into Amanda's instinctive response. Her hands adjusted them both until she could feel Charlotte's trimmed bush against her own. She wanted to feel her lover's lips, her wetness, her bud, so she slid her hand downwards, and pressing, she managed to move so that their lips pressed against each other; she pressed, grinding against her.

As she felt Amanda's sex touch hers, Charlotte gasped, moving, pressing, then, and oh with what exquisite pleasure, their buds touching. She rubbed, moving her hips to press against the grind from her lover. Was that her juices mingling with her own? What was this?

But the thoughts were driven out by a desire so intense that Charlotte felt she might melt in the crucible of its heat. The squelching sound, the smell of their wetness filling the compartment, the whimpers from her lover, all of these send waves of pleasure to Amanda's core. It was as though, no it was, their bodies and emotions existed in a continuum.

Mandy kissed her breasts, pulling her in and grinding on her opened sex. Sensing that Charlotte was already close to her climax made Mandy herself shake, and it was with the force of an earthquake that the came together. The whole house must have heard, but who cared? Neither woman even knew at that moment that the world exited, as they collapsed into each other's arms.

As they lay, glowing in the aftermath of their love, Amanda had every faith that the strong and business-like Charlotte would solve their problems, while Charlotte, basking in her lover's arms felt a surge of determination - and a strength that all would yet be well.

After a while, they rose, bathed, kissed, dressed, and prepared for the arrival of the noon train from New York.

On that train, as it approached the great rolling Mississippi, two other lovers were preparing for that meeting - but not alone.

Waking before Petra, Lady Cynthia had washed and dressed, and by the time her lover was awake, she was already prepared for the day. Petra grinned at her.

"Such an early bird, darling?"

"There could be a lot of worms to catch! Thank you for last night."

"You too, my love," said Petra.

There hung in the air, the question unspoken and unasked, and therefore unanswered, of what future their loving would have in a world where Petra was also sleeping with Fred. Neither asked it, because neither could face the answer.

For Petra the burgeoning relationship with Fred offered the possibility of a life she could never have had in England. She was grateful to Lady Cynthia for employing her, but it was not as though, given her proclivities, that she would ever become a nanny of governess. Fred offered her the chance of things she did want, a husband, marriage, children. But she loved Cynthia.

For Cynthia, Petra's happiness mattered most. She had a sense of some, at least, of the things Petra might want; she could offer none of them - except for love. But was love sufficient? Even if it was, would it be in a year or two? Most women wanted babies; she sensed Petra was one of them. No, she reflected in her moments of searing honesty, that would become the road not taken. But she smiled to herself, that was no reason to hurry the moment when a decision had to be taken.

"I'll see you in the dining car, darling," she told Petra.

Burke was already there, tucking into a hearty breakfast. He smiled when he saw her.

"I hope you and Petra slept well, Lady Cynthia?"

"We did, Fred, and you?"

"Not so well, my mind was running over business, can we talk?"

Ordering coffee and eggs over easy (whatever they were, Cynthia thought), she sat opposite Fred as they went over how to play the day.

Burke was confident that Lady Cynthia had all the cards: she owned the Soulard House and Emily's house; the income was hers; a sale could easily be arranged.

"Indeed, Lady Cynthia, though I know you are not so minded, I have to tell you that selling, albeit at a better price than my boss would offer in the first instance, would save you a world of grief."

At that moment, Petra joined them, so, outlining where they had gotten to, Cynthia asked Burke to continue.

"Well, ladies, the thing is this. Prohibition has created a situation where lawlessness has greater latitude than before. All sorts of respectable people like their booze, and are prepared to break the law to get it. The wine-growing area outside St Louis at Hermannhoff has been devastated by Prohibition, the vines grubbed up, the equipment sold, and folks made destitute. Some of that capacity has been taken over by the bootleggers who produce bathtub gin and beer. It's a big business, and now a criminal one. I'd lay money on the Soulard House being involved in some way. I can't see you ladies as bootleggers!"

"Well, Fred, I think you'd like my legs in boots," Petra joked, rather daringly. He blushed, which made both women smile at each other. "I do declare, Fred Burke, you've a naughty mind on you!"

Lady Cynthia grinned at Petra.

"Honi soit, qui mal y pense," she quipped. "That means evil to him who thinks evil, Fred," she added.

"I do declare you ladies is leading a poor man a merry dance with your fancy English ways." His laugh belied his attempts to sound like a victim, and they laughed with him.

As the train pulled into St. Louis Union Station, Cynthia took a deep breath. They had arranged to meet Charlotte at the hotel booked for them, but she was beginning to wonder whether she ought not to take the bull by the horns.

"Fred, how far is the Soulard House from here?"

"Just round the corner, Lady Cynthia. What are you thinking?"

"Just this Fred. I own the Soulard House and Emily's place, so rather than conceding that I meet them on neutral ground, we go there - to claim ownership."

"Mightn't they take that as a sign you are hostile to them?"

"If so, let them, Fred. I am not, but I am damned if I am going to give the impression of weakness."

Back at the Soulard House, Charlotte was supervising her girls as they got the place spick and span.

"What time are we meeting at their hotel, Amanda" Charlotte asked her.

"They said they would contact us when they were ready."

"Damn!" Charlotte thought. She just wanted this over, one way or the other. Even if this Lady Cynthia person wanted to keep the House, she'd be in charge. Though she had to keep her spirits up for the girls, Charlotte felt a sinking feeling. Was she about to lose everything?

"Well, let's prepare a good lunch for us all - tell the cook to pull out the stops."

"What's that, Charlotte?" Grace said. "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow...?"

"Mistress," Amanda said, maintaining proper decorum in front of the others, "there's a cab just drawn up outside - a man and a woman and a child just got out - they are coming here!"

Charlotte's heart was in her mouth. Silly phrase, she had thought, but now it was the only one that would do. Was Lady Cynthia married, with a child and a husband?

At Union Station, Fred had hailed a cab.

"Well, Petra, darling," Cynthia whispered, giving her hand a squeeze, "we are going straight there."

The house was imposing, overlooking the river front, a handsome building from the 1890s in the style of a New York brownstone.

For a moment Cynthia, Petra and Fred stood in front of the Soulard House. Then the door opened before they could even knock. A tall, pretty young blonde woman answered:

"Welcome to the Soulard House," she said, looking at Petra, "I take it you are Lady Cynthia. I am Amanda, Miss Charlotte's maid, she bids you welcome."

Charlotte was glad she had ordered lunch to be made - they could eat in the courtyard out back. She eyed the three visitors, trying to discern any signs that might help her out.

The couple, and she had no doubt that the tall woman and the man were a couple, seemed well-matched, but surely they could not be old enough to have had a teenage daughter? The younger woman did not look like either of them. Her fashionable "flapper" dress hugged her slight figure. She seemed very self-possessed. Then it hit Charlotte, she, the small one, that was Lady Cynthia, the tall woman and her partner were her companions. 'In for a nickel.' she thought.

"Lady Cynthia," she said, addressing the smaller woman directly, "do forgive Amanda, I am Charlotte, and these," she gestured to her companions, "are?"

Cynthia smiled inwardly as Amanda addressed Petra. It was hardly the first time that someone had assumed she was a child and Petra her nanny, and then, just as she was smiling to herself the other woman got it right!

"Charlotte, it is a pleasure to meet you. This is my companion, Petra, and this is Mr Burke from New York, our lawyer."

"Delighted to meet you all, now why don't you let Amanda take your coats, and we can get you a drink. Luncheon is being prepared. Deborah, will you show Lady Cynthia and her companions to the courtyard?"

Cynthia took in something of the decor. It was very much a house of its era, large windows, high ceilings, it gave the impression of solidity and wealth.

She also took in Caroline.

Cynthia was not sure what to expect, and as usual when that was the case, she had refused to speculate. What she saw was an attractive blonde woman, about five foot six, she thought, with an elegant figure which suited the body-hugging dress she was wearing. This, she thought, was a woman with style and confidence, but there was something else too. She'd been acute enough to see who the real Lady Cynthia was, but she had not humiliated the maid by correcting her. Then there was the way she looked at the maid, Amanda. Cynthia knew that look.

Lady Cynthia was not the only one whose mind was working overtime to connect with instinct. As Deborah showed the three guests to the courtyard, Charlotte went to get some drinks.

Charlotte was pleased that her instincts had played her true, That self-possession, that was what had given it away. The tall woman, Petra, she had looked to the small one for advice; that was the act of an underling. But what, then, was the relationship between them, and between Burke and Petra? Time would tell.

Charlotte and Grace joined them in the courtyard under the shade of the trees.

"As alcohol is prohibited, I hope you enjoy these non-alcoholic cocktails - just don't drink too many!"

Charlotte's wink gave the game away.

There was a moment of tension, then Lady Cynthia cut through it.

"Charlotte, I am sorry in many ways that my Aunt, who clearly loved you, and whom you loved, left this to me. I can't speculate on why, but I can say now that I respect your relationship with her and intend to act accordingly. By the way, this cocktail does taste remarkably like an "old fashioned!"

Charlotte smiled.

"Well who can tell what the bartenders here put in the drinks? I'll give you a tour after lunch. Thank you for what you say about Emily. I loved her dearly, and later if you like, we can visit the cemetery."

"I should very much like that. So, let me add this, that I am not selling this place, though as I shall tell you in a moment, pressure will come to do that. Secondly, if we are to continue, it has to be "we." You know what you are doing, I have not the foggiest idea. I am neither a businesswoman nor a madam, and I will need you by my side. If you don't want that, fine, I would then sell."

Charlotte, who liked a game of poker, had prepared to keep her cards close to her chest, but this Englishwoman had just put her cards face up on the table. She looked at her.

Cynthia was petite, close to being a dwarf. She could not have been more than four foot eight, if that, and she was fashionably flat up top, but for all the childlike appearance, there was nothing childish about her. She was making Charlotte the fairest offer possible. Charlotte was not greedy for money, and she was sure they could come to terms on that score, so, in the same spirit Cynthia had made her offer, Charlotte accepted it.

"That's mighty handsome of you Lady Cynthia. I accept. I hope you will not mind all my girls staying on too. That's my one condition."

Cynthia smiled, inwardly delighted that her bold gambit had worked.

"Mind? Why, I insist on it. And please, Charlotte, call me Cynthia. So, Mr Burke, what say you?"

"Well, Miss Charlotte, what Lady Cynthia said about the pressure to sell is true. Old Franklin, my boss, let me come with the ladies because he thought it would make buying this place at a profit easier. So, the first challenge y'all will be facing is one ornery old goat of a lawyer getting his dander up."

"Oh, Mr Burke, I can deal with men like that, whatever they get up. Why don't you invite the dear man to come to see us all? I take it he is married?"

"Sure is Miss, why?"

"That, my dear, will make life so much easier. Grace," she said turning to the attractive brunette with the ample bosom on her left, "one for you I think?"

Grace's smile would have frozen the man's blood had he seen it.

"You get him here 'Diana,' and I will handle him - personally!"

The reference to her professional name alerted Cynthia to the implications, but she simply said to Burke:

"Get a telegram off to him."

"Yes, Ma'am," Burke grinned, wondering quite what he was getting himself into, but thinking that Grace looked the sort of gal who knew how to deal with men, especially old goats like Franklin.

"Amanda, darling, can we have some fake fake champagne?"

"Of course, from the pre-1921 stash?"

"Naturally!"

"There is just one thing," Cynthia added as their glasses were filled.

"What's that?" Charlotte asked, worried lest Cynthia was about to add some impossible caveat.

"We need a collective noun for our establishment. Can I suggest we call it "Emily's Escorts?"

Charlotte grinned at her new partner.

"I'm seconding that."

And so it was they toasted their new partnership:

"Emily's Escorts!"