3.
“Well I, --- I am now!,” she screamed, her pretty slender neck thrust out like an angry goose.
“My time is not your concern. It so happens that I’ve been taking care of some major business dealings...”
“Your daddy’s import business, I suppose.”
Pierre’s long cat green eyes lit up, as if this idea would save him in Charlezza’s opinion. “Certainement, --- certainement!”
“Do you think I’m stupid, Pierre?”
“Why, no, ma petite, no, I don’t.”
“You’ve been spending time with that trashy Donnelle Forrester!”
Pierre’s face looked extremely innocent. “Vraiment, I have not.”
“You have too!” she, she, --- she had the nerve to tell me!"
Pierre handsome urbane face suddenly took on a vivid tigerish cast. Charlezza should definitely have been warned by this, but her blood was up and she continued recklessly. “You, you rotten cheating, lying son-of-a-bitch, you think because your family's rich and powerful that you can get away with anything! You spoiled slimy, you slimy little worm and that eager slimy little worm in, --- in your pants, and you don’t give a damn what hot nasty, diseased hole you put it in!”
Almost instantly Pierre backhanded Charlezza, knocking her to the floor. She looked up at him, fear now in her eyes. She blinked her long lashes as Pierre kicked her wickedly in the side. She rolled into a ball, whimpering; this wasn’t the first time Pierre had hit her and even kicked her and she figured it would be the start of a vicious beating.
It was. Pierre grabbed her by the sleeve of her fragile mauve silk dress to pull her up. It tore right out and Pierre flung the fabric away from him. Charlezza, now standing and shaking, backed into a corner of the room, grabbing at the long lace curtain that hung over the window as if it would shield her from the stalking Pierre. He slapped her repeatedly across the face, slugged her in the stomach and she groaned, doubled up, but she was still standing. Pierre pulled her by the back of her dress to the bed, threw her on it. He threw the dress' hem up, stripped off her pink panties. "Maintenant, ma douce, allons-y!"
"No, Honey, no...," Charlezza whimpered. "Please don't!"
Pierre chuckled. "But, ma cherie, after a while, you love it!"
"I don't! I just pretend I do! IT HURTS! IT HURTS SO BAD! PLEASE!"
Pierre grinned. "S' il te plait?... That's why I'm going to do it, and do it hard, harder than I've ever done it to you! I'll teach you, mi amor! I'll teach you good!"
"No, Sweetie, no! And, --- and, you, you haven't paid me yet. You're supposed to pay, before, before every time."
"SHUT UP!"
But, Charlezza wouldn't be quiet. "If , if, --- if you do me, --- and, and, I'm not willing... It's, --- it's r-rape... H-harvey Gilmore, told me! He, he told, t-told me!"
Pierre laughed, cruelly. "Mon Dieu, how ridiculous, it's impossible to rape a whore!" He snorted. "So, who the hell is Harvey Gilmore?," Pierre growled, one hand on Charlezza's nape holding her down on the bed, the other busy making himself ready.
"He's, he's an officer of the law!"
"Gendarme, --- a cop, --- he's a cop? You know a, a cop?," Pierre grunted. He was almost ready.
"Yes, he's a cop, and a friend! Harvey's nice!"
"Nice?... You know a nice cop? You two-timing me with a 'nice' cop?"
"I'm not two-timing you! You ---you haven't paid Madame Lulu for me to be your, your 'steady long-time'. You have to sign a contract with Madame Lulu to do that! You know that, Pierre! You do!"
"So, --- I thought you liked me enough to be faithful to me, Charlezza. Don't you trust me, ma migonne?"
"I, --- I..." She could hear Pierre spitting a lot into his hand to ease his way into her. Charly was getting really scared now. It wasn't the act she was so afraid of. It was what would probably, yes, --- was sure to come afterwards. Pierre wasn't like most other Johns who fell instantly asleep after his 'time'. He always had plenty of energy for later, --- for more "play," and, if he was in the mood, he could "play" very rough.
Charlezza screamed as he entered her. Any screams that loud were sure to bring Big Michel, the bouncer of Mahogany House. Big Michel had a "very good ear". He could tell screams of delight from screams of anguish, pain and fear. And, sure enough, the door opened and Big Michel stuck his large square head in. His warm brown eyes quickly surveyed the scene, --- Charlezza on her stomach, her face smashed into the bedcovers, dress up, Pierre's abdomen almost pushed against her little bare round rump.
"Go away,--- imbecile!," Pierre hissed.
Michel Valade, who was only twenty five, was quite intelligent and well educated, having been raised in the Garden District by his father's wealthy and loving family. But, because of his enormous six foot, six frame, he had found easy and very steady employment at Mahogany House. He looked to the helpless Charlezza, who had turned her tear stained swollen face to him.
"It's alright, Michel," she gasped, drooling a little. "You, --- you can, --- can leave."
"You absolutely sure about that, Miss Charlezza?"
"Yes, yes, --- I'm sure; I'm very sure!"
"GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT, YOU BIG LUMP OF LARD!," Pierre shouted.
*********
Delphine La Forte, Charlezza’s best friend at Mahogany House, pressed a cool wet cloth to Charlezza’s bruised and split lower lip. Delphine’s considerable claim to beauty was her big tilted and stunning almost delphinium deep blue eyes and her very abundant curly reddish hair which hung to her shoulders in spirals. Those midnight blue eyes were very concerned and sympathetic now. “Why do you provoke Pierre, Honey?"
"I, --- I can't, --- can't help it," Charlezza mumbled. Delphine scowled. “Maybe I deserved it, Delphie.”
Delphine’s laugh was harsh. “What? What? That’s really, really stupid, Honey! No woman ever deserves to be beat up!”
Charlezza hung her head. One of her eyes was blackened and almost swollen shut. “I know,” she whispered, sounding as if it was a shameful confession she’d told in court.
“I don’t know why the hell you stay here,” Delphine continued. “You’re so light skinned you could pass anywhere! Me, I’m just a little bit too cafe au lait, --- but you, Honey! You’re...!”
Charlezza looked up at her, tears in her eyes. “You know that about three fourths of the girls here are as light as me, and half of the rest are like you, and half are like, --- like Georgie Cummins and Rose Johnson and Su-su Stewart. I don't think there's even one all white girl here. That's why this is called "Mahogany House."
Delphine nodded. "Right."
"And, --- I, --- I know! I know!... I want to leave so bad I can TASTE it! But, but, that, that also would, would take!...”
Delphie rubbed her forefinger and thumb together. “Money, Charly, serious money, sure it would! But, you could get a rich old guy to be your 'steady long-time,” Delphine finished for her.
“You mean one of those mellow sweet, white haired old gents who live in the Garden District...”
“Sure, sure..." Charlezza ducked her head, sadly. "Those rich old guys are usually snapped up pretty quick." "You could try, Charly. At least an old man probably wouldn’t have the strength to beat you regularly. You need to dump Pierre Junot. He’s a sick, sadist bastard. You got bites and scratches and bruises everywhere.”
“I ache, Delphie, even inside. He, --- he put things in me too."
"Toys?'
Charlezza nodded. "You know he often brings his case of 'toys' with him when he comes here."
"And, Madame Lulu tolerates it because Pierre pays her plenty extra as long as he doesn't get too rough and crazy."
Charlezza smirked, one side of her face looking wonky when she did it because of the pain the grimace cost her. "Well, Pierre was extra rough this, --- this time..."
Delphine shook her head. "You really should have Doc Blake check you over. You could have something broken bad in you."
Charlezza sniffled. "I can't afford it!"
"I'll pay for it, Sweetie!"
"You're a good friend," Charlezza whispered. "And, you're right, --- right. I should dump Pierre, --- but, he'd just come back anyway, asking for me. And I, --- I, I l-love...” Charly looked at Delphine, shamefully, with tears in her eyes.
"I'll never understand the nature of love! I'm so glad I'm not in love!" Disgust showed on Delphine’s pretty heart shaped face. “You love him! You fucking love him! He ain’t worth your devotion, Baby! He ain't worth spit!”
Charlezza’s scalp even hurt where Pierrre had yanked out some of her hair when he was tossing her around. “I wish I had some money. It’s so hard to save up any amount of dough here. Madame Lulu charges big for everything, to, to, --- it seems like, to, to keep us all here, like bondage slaves to her! We got to have pretty lacy negligees, day dresses and evening gowns, and new ones all the time, and make-ups, soaps, powder and perfumes, all of them imported from Paris and Madrid, Spain, and, and even fresh flowers delivered here every day..."
"Well, I can see the 'why' in that! If we picked them for our hair and to pin on our dresses there would soon be none growing at all on this place!"
"And, then there's the fancy costume jewelry we're supposed to buy. I do like to wear purple eye shadow, Delphie.”
Delphine laughed, bitterly. “Rotten shitty scum-ball Pierre made sure you won’t need purple eye shadow on your one eye for a while!”
Chalezza moaned a bit. Still, she went on, doggedly. “Then, then, there’s our room rent, our hairdresser bills, our food, yeah, --- and our doctor bills...”
“Doc Blake ain’t cheap, even when he’s just treating us for a little bit of the clap or crabs.”
“Nope, he’s sure not cheap.”
“And, Madame Lulu charges us if we break a goblet or a plate, or if the clients ruin her sheets, or rugs, or furniture when they’re having a high old time with us...”
“She sure does, always. And, if our Johns give us jewelry with real gems in it, it's always her's..."
Delphine laughed. "Did you see that written in the contracts we all sign with her every year?"
"I did, good thing both you and me can read... Yeah, Madame Lulu charges us plenty! I hate that big old black ledger of her’s where she keeps all her accounts! I wish, I so wish I could get away, Delph, far, far away from here, maybe teach school in a little town someplace, maybe, --- like in South Carolina! My ma saw that I was educated fine. I went to high school...
“A real sweety of a dream, Charly.”
“I guess. Yeah, I guess... I ruined it when I ran away from Catfish Creek, where at least it was safe, to here, to big, fat, old dog fart sucking New Orleans with that stupid Rae Mae Placer! Who knows where she is now!”
“You were two naieve, really dumb kids looking for a big adventure.”
“Yeah, some big, big, sassy adventure, till all your money runs out...” She sighed. “What else can girls like us do? I don't want to be married Delph. Unless you can find a rare sweetheart of a man who'll respect you forever, it's just another kind of miserable slavery. This is a living of sorts, a sort of elegant, but low-life living of sorts, the only one we got, --- for now". Charlezza sighed and looked out the window at the gardenia tree in the courtyard, six feet tall and in full bloom. It's heavenly perfume wafted into the parlor on every warm breeze.
There was a timid knock at the door. “Laundry, --- my mama says I needs to pick up your laundry...” Gloriana Blodgett, the seamstress Selma’s nine year old daughter and Juliette Jo’s grand daughter, had a soft strange lisping voice and she entered as if she wanted to disappear into the pink rose wallpaper. She was shy skinny and long-legged like a young horse, her eyes very big and pale green. Glory had tightly twisted brown braids tied with discarded strips of the white rags the girls used for curlers and she was wearing a plaid pink, green and white pinafore. She gathered the heaped wicker basket of dirty clothes, towels and sheets and quickly left, skittering away like a June bug on the cobblestones, when water's thrown on it in the morning.
--- Copyright by Antoinette Beard/Sorelle Sucere 2021.
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