Chapter 8
Sally’s time at Ms. Beechtree’s boardinghouse expired. Sally lamented to herself that it must be because of her ghastly pale skin, red frizzy hair, and freckled face that no man would ever want to marry. On her first night at the brothel, Sally cried into her pillow heartbroken that her unappealing features had trapped her into a life she didn’t want. Chelsea, a patient friendly girl from Virginia, took pity on Sally and her open self-deprecation.
“That old hag sends half the girls on their way to husbands while the other half she keeps for herself,” Chelsea said quietly sitting on Sally’s bed.
“What?” Sally looked up. Her face was red and pained.
“Beechtree is a businesswoman. She makes more money keeping us girls on in the brothel than the money she makes for fixing marriages. It isn’t you,” Chelsea said patting Sally’s head. “You have gorgeous hair, and your freckles are adorable. You are beautiful. Do you think all the girls here are ugly?”
Sally’s face dropped into shame, “Oh, no! I didn’t mean that any of you were ugly. I just meant I was.” She wiped her tear-stained face with the back of her shaking hand.
Chelsea shook her head; her brown curls bobbing. “Beechtree likes to keep her most agreeable girls while sending away the plucky ones that might give her trouble than its worth. If anything, you are too agreeable and too pretty to be sent away. Beechtree thinks she can make a pretty penny from your face.”
Sally was incapable of believing Chelsea but said anyway, “Thank you for your kindness, but I can’t work here.”
Chelsea inquired, “Are you inexperienced?” Sally was embarrassed by the question and looked away. Chelsea cupped Sally’s chin in her hand and said, “Nothing to be embarrassed about. A lot of girls who end up here are virgins.”
Sally’s face reddened. “I always thought my first time would be with my husband.” Sally let out a small sob.
Chelsea nodded knowingly. “I thought that, too. I don’t know why you left your home and ventured out here to find a husband, but you are far from home now. If you have the means, you can go back home if you want or you can stay here, save some money, and then figure your life out.”
Sally thought of home, the small port town, Yarmouth, in Massachusetts. The town’s population was 323. Every available boy in town was either a cousin or a boy that she grew up with that she thought of as a brother. Yarmouth was a concentrated Irish Catholic town. Every resident was part of the same Catholic church.
Sally wanted to meet a man she hadn’t grown up with. Three other girls from her town moved out West and found husbands. Her parents weren’t thrilled that Sally wanted to do the same, but thanks to Gilly McDougal, Brenda Murphy, and Bridget Kelly, her parents softened to the idea. Her parents also feared that Sally’s gangly limbs and volatile emotions could interfere with her chances of marrying in their small town.
Being Irish Catholic meant sex was only reserved for marriage. Her mother warned her that intercourse was a wife’s duty and can be bearable if she thought of something pleasant during the ordeal. Sally feared lovemaking and the subsequent misery she thought went with it. She’d had never even kissed a boy before. Her mother gravely told her that there was no such thing as innocent kissing. In the end, kissing led to sin.
Sally cried, “It’s evil.”
Chelsea answered wiping the tears from her face, “No, it’s a beautiful thing.”
“How do you deal with the pain?” Sally asked.
“It isn’t painful. It might be, at first, but the pain quickly transforms to amazing pleasure.”
Sally’s eyes widened in confusion. “How is that possible?”
Chelsea showed her what the men might want. She sucked on Sally’s index finger, licking and tonguing Sally’s appendage as any working girl might do on a customer’s cock. Chelsea instructed her to close her eyes and suck hard. “The harder you suck, the faster they will come. Now you try on me,” Chelsea instructed.
Sally nodded her head gravely, but then dutifully took Chelsea’s thumb into her wet mouth sucking and slurping with professional adeptness. “You’re a fast learner,” Chelsea praised. Chelsea even showed Sally what customers wanted if a dick suck was not enough. This is what Sally feared the most. She had always heard that sex was brutally painful.
“You’ll be fine. Lie back,” Chelsea soothed her.
Sally laid on her back staring up at the ceiling cringing for what would happen next. Chelsea lifted Sally’s skirts. Sally’s legs tingled from the air hitting her bare legs. Chelsea marveled at Sally’s smooth creamy skin. She carefully shimmied Sally’s undergarments down. She lightly gasped at the stunning sight of Sally’s bright red pubic hair clustered above her lips.
“I’m just going to use one finger to give you the idea of what it will feel like,” Chelsea purred.
Sally held her breath and nodded. Chelsea sucked on her finger making it wet and slick before sliding it gently into Sally’s pussy. Sally released air from her lungs in a long sensuous pant.
“Let yourself feel how good it is,” Chelsea murmured as she pushed her finger in and out of Sally’s wet cavern. Sally moaned loudly; the new sensation thrilling her.
Sally opened her eyes and looked at Chelsea. “Do you think you could put two fingers? Just so I know what it’s like.”
Chelsea nodded. She pushed a second finger in a twisting motion making Sally writhe in bed. “It’s important to enjoy yourself with these men. There is nothing wrong in feeling pleasure too,” she told Sally pushing in deeper. “When you need to release, do it.”
Sally shut her eyes tightly wanting to stop the rumbling shudder inside her, but also not wanting to, because the tingle was too delicious. Sally let go, feeling her pussy contract around Chelsea’s fingers. Her body trembled vigorously. She felt renewed and victorious, feeling for the first time in her life that sex might possibly not be as loathsome as her mother once told her.