wit, not an athletic young man.
She groped for a response, something polite to answer her hostess. “Mrs. Smith, I am flattered that you think so highly of my potential. But I cannot imagine that your clients would be interested in a woman of my few feminine charms.”
“Mrs. Ross.” Mrs. Smith shook her head, smiling. “You are a mistress of the conversational arts, even under the most difficult circumstances. Men value that a great deal, especially here on the frontier where their world is so very rough and ready.”
Viola gaped at the compliment.
“And when the conversing is done by a woman of your unique coloring, who is most definitely female…” Mrs. Smith’s eyes rested for a moment on Viola’s bosom.
Viola closed her mouth and swallowed her disbelief at having this discussion. Still, other women had chosen this route when hard pressed by circumstances. It did offer a few benefits, such as avoiding an Apache’s attentions. But what did a courtesan do to make that much money? Probably very hard work, if Pearl could become so tired.
“Mrs. Smith, thank you for the offer, but your girls are famous for their, uh, proficiency in the boudoir. I’m afraid I lack those skills and would not be an asset to your business.” That should be a sufficient reason to decline.
“Did you know everything necessary when you entered the laundry business?”
“No, of course not.” Where was this leading?
“Were you willing to learn? Did you bend your every effort toward becoming the best laundry woman possible?”
“Certainly I did. How does that relate to your offer?”
“Carnal skills can be taught and learned like any other. It’s only necessary that the student be willing.”
An image of William Donovan soothing a stubborn mule flashed before Viola’s eyes. It had become very complaisant under his beautiful hands and was now one of his most reliable leaders. Was it possible for women to learn intimate skills in a similar fashion?
“An adventurous spirit, which you have, my dear.” Mrs. Smith leaned forward as she spoke earnestly to her guest. But Viola no longer heard her.
William Donovan was comfortably situated if Lily Mae thought him a good tipper. More to the point, his business depended on the Army and other mining towns, not on Lennox’s goodwill. He might be willing to accept a woman who’d be more convenient than this house’s denizens for slaking his lusts.
Could it work? Better to be his mistress than Lennox’s wife or an Apache’s squaw. She’d do her best to make him happy, performing any acts necessary. She was accustomed to hard work, after doing so much laundry and working Edward’s small claim before that. Perhaps she could please him enough that he’d give her a fresh start somewhere else. Maybe she could make it to San Francisco and give piano lessons.
Viola became aware that Mrs. Smith was waiting for an answer. Still too caught up in thoughts of Donovan to prepare a pretty response, she stumbled into speech. “Mrs. Smith, I’m very sorry but I must decline. Frankly, I don’t think I have the strength to welcome every man who seeks intimacy with me.” She blushed at hearing herself speak so bluntly.
Mrs. Smith studied her for a long minute. “Are you certain? I know I sprung this offer on you. Would you care for more time to think?”
“No! I thank you, but no. I am deeply appreciative of your confidence in me but I cannot accept.”
“Very well.” The madame settled back in her chair with a sigh. Sincerity was emblazoned on her face. “Please consider yourself welcome to resume this conversation at any time.”
“Thank you. I really must be going now; there is someone else I must see today.”
“Then I will not delay you. Good luck, Mrs. Ross.”
“The same to you, Mrs. Smith.”
Viola escaped to the sunshine with a faint sense of optimism. If Mrs. Smith sought so strongly to employ her, then hopefully Mr. Donovan would at least consider hiring
She groped for a response, something polite to answer her hostess. “Mrs. Smith, I am flattered that you think so highly of my potential. But I cannot imagine that your clients would be interested in a woman of my few feminine charms.”
“Mrs. Ross.” Mrs. Smith shook her head, smiling. “You are a mistress of the conversational arts, even under the most difficult circumstances. Men value that a great deal, especially here on the frontier where their world is so very rough and ready.”
Viola gaped at the compliment.
“And when the conversing is done by a woman of your unique coloring, who is most definitely female…” Mrs. Smith’s eyes rested for a moment on Viola’s bosom.
Viola closed her mouth and swallowed her disbelief at having this discussion. Still, other women had chosen this route when hard pressed by circumstances. It did offer a few benefits, such as avoiding an Apache’s attentions. But what did a courtesan do to make that much money? Probably very hard work, if Pearl could become so tired.
“Mrs. Smith, thank you for the offer, but your girls are famous for their, uh, proficiency in the boudoir. I’m afraid I lack those skills and would not be an asset to your business.” That should be a sufficient reason to decline.
“Did you know everything necessary when you entered the laundry business?”
“No, of course not.” Where was this leading?
“Were you willing to learn? Did you bend your every effort toward becoming the best laundry woman possible?”
“Certainly I did. How does that relate to your offer?”
“Carnal skills can be taught and learned like any other. It’s only necessary that the student be willing.”
An image of William Donovan soothing a stubborn mule flashed before Viola’s eyes. It had become very complaisant under his beautiful hands and was now one of his most reliable leaders. Was it possible for women to learn intimate skills in a similar fashion?
“An adventurous spirit, which you have, my dear.” Mrs. Smith leaned forward as she spoke earnestly to her guest. But Viola no longer heard her.
William Donovan was comfortably situated if Lily Mae thought him a good tipper. More to the point, his business depended on the Army and other mining towns, not on Lennox’s goodwill. He might be willing to accept a woman who’d be more convenient than this house’s denizens for slaking his lusts.
Could it work? Better to be his mistress than Lennox’s wife or an Apache’s squaw. She’d do her best to make him happy, performing any acts necessary. She was accustomed to hard work, after doing so much laundry and working Edward’s small claim before that. Perhaps she could please him enough that he’d give her a fresh start somewhere else. Maybe she could make it to San Francisco and give piano lessons.
Viola became aware that Mrs. Smith was waiting for an answer. Still too caught up in thoughts of Donovan to prepare a pretty response, she stumbled into speech. “Mrs. Smith, I’m very sorry but I must decline. Frankly, I don’t think I have the strength to welcome every man who seeks intimacy with me.” She blushed at hearing herself speak so bluntly.
Mrs. Smith studied her for a long minute. “Are you certain? I know I sprung this offer on you. Would you care for more time to think?”
“No! I thank you, but no. I am deeply appreciative of your confidence in me but I cannot accept.”
“Very well.” The madame settled back in her chair with a sigh. Sincerity was emblazoned on her face. “Please consider yourself welcome to resume this conversation at any time.”
“Thank you. I really must be going now; there is someone else I must see today.”
“Then I will not delay you. Good luck, Mrs. Ross.”
“The same to you, Mrs. Smith.”
Viola escaped to the sunshine with a faint sense of optimism. If Mrs. Smith sought so strongly to employ her, then hopefully Mr. Donovan would at least consider hiring
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