Adv of Miss Lilly's Tavern... 4

  Gemma peeked around the corner of the hall into the parlor and scanned the
waiting clientel.  There was that Denton fellow, who liked a fast screwing and
then spent an hour sucking on the girl's tits.  Then there was Tate Jackson.
Now that was a likely one.  He liked to pump away for as long as the girl
would allow (which was fine with Gemma, as long as she wasn't needing to work
the rest of the night) but it seemed like the man would never come.  And he
had no finesse.  He just climbed on and went at it.  The only other one was
that Tommy Dickens, who worked all week long just to come down to the whore
house for a fifteen minute fuck.  Wham, Bam and Gone.

  "Boring."  Gemma muttered under her breath.  She just =knew= that if she
walked through the room, one of them would grab her and she'd have to bite her
tongue not to say something deadly.  And Miss Lily didn't much appreciate her
girls getting nasty with the customers.

 She didn't know what was wrong with her lately.  She liked sex. Always had,
ever since she'd found out at nine years old that something down there sure
felt good when you rubbed it.  She was only twelve when she found out a man
could make you feel really good.  And she'd been at it ever since, one way and
another.  But the last couple of weeks she had been real choosey about her
customers.  Miss Lily had even asked her a couple of times if there was
something wrong.  She'd just shake her head and mumble some excuse about being
out of sorts and go up to her room.

 The front door swung open and a familiar voice called out, "who'd be hidin'
the whiskey from me this time?"  And Percy strode into the parlor.

 Now =there= was a man Gemma could bed with passion.  "Bloody well  right," she
said, and straightened her shoulders and swayed into the room.

 Percy smiled as he saw Gemma enter the parlour and walked up to her. She was
possibly one of the most beautiful women in Miss Lily's, if not the most
beautiful in the town. "Good evening lass." He said, kissing her hand lightly.
"Ello there Mr. MacLeod, 'ow might I 'elp ye?" Percy could barely control
himself from saying that he had wanted to ravish her right there, but clenched
his teeth and smiled. "Well Gemma, I can't help but remeber the last time we
uh...hehehe" He smiled, blushing. "Oh, I remember!" She said, blushing also.
"Maybe we can go upstairs?" He asked, feeling his cock stiffen a little as he
suggested it. "Anything you say luv." She said with a smile, a slid passed
him, putting her ass against his crotch as she went upstairs. He smiled and
followed her up as her rear swung back and forth as sheclimbed the stairs.

     Gemma smiled.  She could feel Percy's cock growing with every step as she
moved her ass against him.  He was so tall that the steps brought her ass into
just the right position when she took the step above his.

     She'd always liked him.  More than she'd ever tell him, o'course.  He was
always such a gentleman, even when they were rolling about on the bed.
Considerate, that was it.  And he was a handsome man, a right looker.  She
liked that he preferred to wear his kilt.  His legs were strong and lean, he'd
proved that a time or two.

     As they reached her room, Gemma turned around and leaned against the
door.  She knew she looked fetching in the pink lace trimmed corselet that
pressed her breasts up as though they were on a shelf, being offered for the
taking.  Her knickers had lace on them too.  She liked lacy things.  And from
Percy's eyes, she could tell that he liked 'em to.

     She reached up and grasped the lapels of Percy's coat and pulled him off
balance against her.  He looked a bit startled for a moment, then he settled
himself against her, pressing his hardness into her yielding belly.

     "Now, m'lord, d'ye think we might retire to me room, or per'aps ye'd
prefer to visit the baths."  She knew how much he liked cleanliness.  And it
was a treat to be able to play in the warm water.

     "Aye, lass, I think that be a grand idea."  His hands were warm on her
waist as he pulled her tighter to him.  Her breasts tingled where they were
mashed against his broad chest.  He  plunged his mouth down over hers and she
opened her lips to suck in his fiery tongue.  He tasted of whiskey and cigars.
She groaned and wriggled against him.  If he kept at this, she'd be wanting to
tumble them into the bed rather than the tub.  The heat and tugging in her
pussy was making her impatient and greedy.  She tangled her hands in his hair
and tried to reach deeper into his mouth with her tongue.

     Percy pulled back and grinned down at her.  "You seem a bit in a hurry,
sweet lass," he said softly.  He grasped one ample hip and squeezed hard,
thrusting his cock against her mound.  "I want the same.  And soon.  But your
baths, Gemma, are more pleasure even than this."

     She needn't be told twice.  Slipping out of his arms, she led him to the
bathing room.

     A huge wooden tub stood in the center of the room, already filled with
water.  She dipped her hand in it.  Not quite hot enough.  She opened the
spigot that led from the large boiler on the stove in the corner and watched
as the scalding water poured into the tub.  When the temperature of the water
in tub satisfied her, she turned off the flow and refilled the kettle.  The
room was very warm.

     Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Percy watching her as she moved
about the room.  He sat in a chair, leaned back, his eyes half closed as he
smoked a cigar.  His gaze was like a hot touch on her body.  When she bent
over to pull a couple of heated towels from the warming cabinet near the
stove, she heard him get up and walk over to her.

     When she turned to find him behind her, he took the large fluffy towels
from her hands and placed them over the back of a chair.  His eyes were
glowing as he let his gaze rove over her heavy curves.  "I dinna like me woman
to be a bag o' bones. I like a bit of meat to hold," he murmured. "And you
more than please me with your curves."  He dropped a breathy kiss on the mound
of one breast, and then turned his attention to the other. A soft moan escaped
Gemma as his tongue snaked out to lap at the salty trail between the pearly
mounds.

     Her head thrown back and her eyes closed in ecstacy at the nibbles and
licks that he bestowed on her sensitive flesh, she barely heard him when he
whispered, "How about that bath, me bonny?"

     He'd been holding her waist while he graced her flesh with his
attentions, and it was all she could do to stay on her feet when he released
her.  Her knees felt like water.

     "Aye, you cunning Scot, but first we must see what lies beneath that
kilt."  She giggled as the front of that self-same kilt moved over the shaft
that thrust up beneath it.

     Gemma dropped a little kiss on Percy's smiling lips and slipped his
jacket from his shoulders.  She divested him of the shirt as quickly as her
fingers could move.  She loved to run her hands over the solid beneath the
fine muslin.  Too many of the men who frequented Miss Lily's were stringy
specimens.  But this man was solid and muscular.  As far as Gemma was
concerned, a true *man.*

     Percy's hands fumbled at the laces and hooks of Gemma's corselet.  He had
been plying his tongue over the smooth globes of her breasts, but he wished to
feel the softness of her belly and hips as well.  To some men, he supposed,
she would appear fat.  But he liked the mounds of soft flesh that accepted his
maleness like a feather mattress.

     It took several minutes of slow exploration and unfastening of buttones
and laces before they both stood naked.  Percy's cock stood out proud and
hard, his balls tight and close underneath it.  Gemma giggled, and slipped a
teasing finger along the underside up to the tip.  He gave out a mock groan of
frustrated passion and slapped her lightly on her ample ass as he chided, "Get
on with it, woman, before you find out how surly a frustrated Scotsman can
be!"

     He lifted Gemma and set her on the stool that was immersed in the waist-
high tub.  She squealed at the heat of the water as she tried to gently lower
her backside into it.  Standing straight again, still perched on the stool,
she bent to reach for a bucket of cool water.  Her lovely ass was suddenly
presented to Percy and he grinned mischeviously as he leaned toward her,
pulled her hips toward him and pressed a kiss on each full cheek.  Another
squeal, this one of delight, graced his ears as he slid one hand up her inner
thigh and slipped it along the hot, moist crest of her cleft.  The squeal
turned to a sultry moan as she wriggled her hips to try and draw his fingers
deeper.

     In seconds he was in the water with her, sitting upon the stool with
Gemma seated on his knees.  "Now wash me, woman!"  He said with mock sternness
and handed her the cloth and the soap.  Meekly she bathed his shoulders and
chest, sliding the bar of soap and then the cloth luxuriously slow over his
skin.  As she rinsed him she planted little kisses and nibbles over his arms
and chest.  With a teasing glance up at him, she raised his hand to her lips
and drew the index finger into her soft hot mouth and suckled at it as a child
would at his mother's tit.  She drew its length deep, bathing it with her
tongue.  She could see his breathing quicken and his eyes grew dark as he
bacame more aroused.

     With a growl, he lifted her until she straddled his thighs, face to face
with him.  He buried his face in the long fall of auburn curls at her throat,
using his teeth to raise the loose skin a bit and then letting it go.  His big
hands grasped the soft flesh of her ass and he yanked her tight against him,
his hard cock between their bellies.

     A kittenish mew escaped her as she rocked her hips, rubbing her flaming
pussy against his hardness.  Her face was flushed from the heat of the water
and the heat in her groin.  He felt huge and rock hard as she rubbed herself
on him and she almost hurt deep inside from wanting him inside her.

     She had not long to wait.  With a quick move of his hands, he raised her
up and settled her over his length until there was not of inch of him that was
not buried in her fevered succulent flesh.  His nibbles moved down over her
shoulders and her breasts.  As she began to move against him again, sliding on
and off of his bursting cock, he fastened his mouth to her nipple and
alternately tugged and licked it.

     Gemma was in a frenzy of passion.  Her moans became cries as he assisted
her motion, holding her waist and raising and lowering her over him.  Her
heels tugged at his hips where her legs encircled him, desperate to take him
in even as she reached the apex of the stroke.

     Percy was gasping.  Her sheath hugged him so tightly, yet the snugness
was fluid hot and never resisted his thrusts.  She felt like flame and ice
around his cock, her flesh like sweet heather to his mouth and nose as he
trailed his tongue over her breasts and nipples to heighten her clenching
passion.  The more he suckled, the tighter she bacame, the hotter the fire.
And there was fire in his loins, too.  Fire that was burning for release, but
still he held back.  He would bring her to her heights and feel her explode
before he allowed his own release.

     And even as he spread his mind afar to take the urgency from his own
thrusts, he felt her stiffen and her molten pussy clutch at him again and
again and again.  Like exquisite torture, she spasmed around his cock, the
ripples sucking at him, and he could wait no longer.  With a deep, gutteral
roar of triumph his voice joined hers and the lava in his balls spurted deep
into her as he jerked her hard against him, pounding his groin against hers to
bury his seed in her, deep and deeper.

     Gemma flailed against Percy, her own hands pulling at his arms as he
rammed his cock deep inside her spasming walls.  In the instant of his release
he seemed to expand to huge proportions inside her and still she wanted more
as she thrust her pelvis hard into him.  The waves of her pleasure seemed to
roll through her like the pounding of an Atlantic storm until she fell,
exhausted, against the Scotsman's broad chest.  His heart beat loud against
her ear.

     Percy held the soft, warm woman close to him and felt a tenderness in his
soul that made him tighten the grip he had on her, even as the flush of
passion faded from his skin.  She was so much woman.  He always looked for her
when he came to Miss Lily's because she had the innocense of a child and the
fire of a courtisan.  He was not a man for marriage.  That much he knew.  But
if he ever thought of it ...

     Gemma snuggled into Percy's chest and smiled.  He was a love, was this
one.  She was a whore and she kept her heart and her work seperate, but this
man always cared as much for her pleasure as for his own.  That was rare
enough, but he seemed to like to hold her too, and that was something noone
else did.  Even now, when other men would be wanting to finish up and get on
with other things (or be trying to sneak in two times for the price of one)
this man was cuddling her like a child.  She could get to like this one too
much, if she wasn't careful ...

     "My wee lass," she heard him whisper against her hair.  The tone of it
made her smile.

        The afternoon found Frewling settled in at the boarding house and on
the steps of Miss Lilly's.  Considering MacTavish, he'd probably been
frequenting the place if he was still here in Rattlesnake Gorge.  Frewling
doffed his hat as he entered, and scanned the salon carefully.  Nice
furnishings, obviously brought from back East, none of this local axe-hewn
stuff from the local hackers.  Soft carpet, clean, well-kept.  And the burly
fellow lounging at the bar had to be the bouncer.
        Frewling approached the man.  "Good afternoon."
        "Afternoon," the man said around his toothpick.   "If ye're lookin'
for one'a th'ladies, ring that there bell over there."
        "I'd like a word with you first, if you've got the time," Frewling
replied.
        The bouncer scowled.  This looked like a complication in what had been
a quiet day thus far.  "Well, siddown.  And who d'I have th'pleasure of
adressin'?"
        Frewling took a seat at the bar.  "Whiskey, please," he told the
barkeep.  He reached into his jacket and flipped out his railway badge.  "John
Frewling, special agent for the Carnegie Lines.  I'm here looking for a man
who robbed one of our trains.  Made off with five thousand dollars in gold
from our payroll, an unknown amount of cash from the mail car, and killed two
mail clerks and our engineer."  He sipped his whiskey, controlling his
instinctive sneer at the low quality.  Obviously the public room here got the
cheap stuff.
        The bouncer's eyebrows drew together.  "If'n he robbed th'mail car,
how come the Federal Marshal ain't here 'stead a'you?"
        Frewling smiled a tight little smile.  "Because I know the man, sir.
I've looked into his past and know his habits.  The Federal Marshal's office
tends to post a reward and hope for an informant.  As well, they automatically
assume that all train robbers go to either Nevada or Mexico."  He gave the "x"
the proper throat-clearing pronunciation.  "They're searching in the wrong
Territories."
        "Hmph.  What makes you think he's run here?"  The bouncer folded his
arms and leaned back in his chair.
        In answer, Frewling took out a slip of paper, and carefully unfolded
it.  He handed it over wordlessly.
        The bouncer scowled.  Damn if this wasn't the spittin' image of Roger
Kyle, that new man out t'the ranch was workin' with McCall and his
horsebreakers.  Reward, huh?  Five hundred gold would do him well.  Best to
set this lawman on the slow trail, the better to collect that money hisself.
He handed the wanted poster back.
        "Yeah, I seen him."
        Frewling raised an eyebrow in interest as he folded the paper and
tucked it back away.
        The bouncer continued.  "He's been in here a couple'a dozxen times.
Usually goes to see Miss Tina.  She's right busy right now, though, with that
oil surveyor fella.  Miss Georgia's not doin' nothin' right now, though, and I
b'leive that feller's been to se her a time or two."
        Frewling nodded.  "And where would I find Miss Georgia?"
        "Third room on the right at th'top a'th'stairs."  Then, as Frewling
made to rise, "But it'll cost ya, same as if you went to see her for business
reasons.  Our girls' time ain't free, no matter what y'do with'em, talk or
not."
        "That's not a problem," Frewling said as he stood.  "Would you prefer
cash or a railroad voucher?"
        The bouncer snickered at the idea of one of the girls taking a check.
"That's b'tween you and Miss Georgia, although if I was you an'wanted t'keep
m'nuts, I wouldn't go offerin' her no paper."
        Frewling nodded, allowing himself a tiny smile at the jest. "I'll take
that under advisement," he said, and went up the stairs.

  Florabelle swept the upper hallway again, she never could manage to get all o
the sand out, it seemed to drift in overnight, of course ... that was their
busiest time of day.  Anyway, she needed to get this done before she began
tidying the rooms.  And then there was the playroom, she never could quite
figure out just what it was that these menfolk got out of that, when they
could have any of the pleasures of a dozen women.

  Sarah's carriage bumped along the rutted road.  She began wondering to hersel
if maybe she shouldn't have left school to come out and see Laura.  The gentle
rocking of the carriage began to lull her to sleep. Her last conscious thought
was of the day she had last seen Laura, the day Laura had left her at the
school.

  Sarah 's carriage hit a rather large bump as it rattled into         town.
She had asked the driver to take her to the address Laura had given her if she
ever needed help.  They pulled up to Miss Lilly's. Sarah stepped out of the
carriage a little confused about where she was.  She had never asked what her
sister did, and didn't really know what this place was.

  Never one to shirk at something unknown, Sarah straightened her shoulders and
went up the steps to the door.  She knocked on the door as she  straightened
her clothes.

Florabelle heard the knock on the door, thinking that it was early in the day
for any callers she went to the door.  Opening it, she looked at the young
lady outside and said, "May I help you miss?"

"Yes, I am looking for my sister Laura.  My name is Sarah.  Is she at home?"

"Well now, did you say Laura?  And you is her sister Sarah?  Well now. Won't
you come in?  Let me get you in outta the heat.  Laura? Well now, it sure has
been a long time since anyone has called her that. Come in Come in.

 Gemma made a strong effort to restrain the sway of her hips.  It  wouldn't do
to sashay into the cafe at Jake's as if she was strutting through the parlor
at Miss Lily's.  It was Sunday afternoon, after all. And she'd been requested
to join Mrs. Meghan Campbell for tes.

 It had been many years since she'd been for tea with anyone.  At least the
fancy kind of tea that Mrs. Campbell meant.  Tea at home had been the evening
meal, which her father wolfed down like a starving man before falling asleep
in his chair.  She could almost hear the snores ricocheting off the walls.
Well, she might not be a lady, but she could mind her manners, alright.
Especially at tea with the richest woman in town.

 Gemma stopped outside the door of Jake's All Night Place.  The sound of a
poorly tuned piano came through the door.  But this time, she wasn't going
into the saloon.  She straightened her bonnet and smoothed the wisps of hair
around her face back into place.  Running her hands down the front of her
shantung skirt, she smiled.  This dress had come to her by way of a wealthy
silk merchant who had come to Miss Lily's looking for a little distraction.
She'd provided what he needed for three days, and he had left her with this
cloth and a weary smile as reward.  She had hired the snotty town seamstress
to make her up this afternoon gown, in the height of fashion.  It, and the
lovely hat, had cost her nearly a month's wages, but it had been worth it.
She liked knowing she had a dress that was suitable for any occasion.  When
she went out like this, with her deep red-brown hair tucked up under the
bonnet, and no paint on her face, there weren't many in town who could
recognize her.  The men tipped their hats and wondered who the pretty new gal
in town was and where she stayed, and the lady's nodded to her and smiled.  It
was almost like being  respectable.  Which is how she had come to meet Mrs.
Campbell.

 Gemma strode past the door of Jake's and around the corner to the  entrance of
the cafe.  She stood in the doorway for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to
the dim interior.  Tables, covered with neat white cloths, were occupied by
some of the town's more respectable citizens.  Jake had had more foresight
than she gave him credit for when he opened this place. Now that the town had
grown up, there were more and more families moving in.  And not just farmers.
Bankers and lawyers (there was Mr. Latton now) and business men.  It was still
a small place, by Eastern standards, but fast growing.
 As she glided into the cafe, she caught sight of Mrs. Campbell seated at a
table in the far corner.  With a smile and a subtle wave of her  gloved hand,
Gemma made her way there.
 "Mrs. Campbell."  she struggled to subdue her natural Cockney lilt. "Good
afternoon to ya."
 Mrs. Campbell didn't speak, but she nodded and indicated with a wave of her
hand that Gemma should sit.  The waitress came to the table and Mrs. Campbell
quietly ordered tea and sandwiches.  WHen the waitress had gone, she daintily
cleared her throat and said, "Miss Darcy, I am glad you consented to meet with
me."  She seemed very nervous as she toyed with the fork at her place.
 "Think Nuthin' of it, Mizz Campbell.  You been so very kind ter me, what with
teachin' me ter read, an all."  Gemma leaned forward. "An' do call me Gemma.
Me mum was ever so proud o' that name."
 "Uh ..."  Mrs. Campbell paused as the waitress laid the tea before them. Gemma
admired the fine bone china pot with it's lovely picture of a tower along the
sea coast in delft blue.  Kind of made her homesick, seeing the little bit of
England depicted on it.  The lady seemed unaware and Gemma lifted the pot.
 "Mind if I am mother this time, madam?"  What was the matter with the lady,
Gemma thought.  She nodded, her eyes cast down at the table.  Gemma poured.
Putting a heaping spoon of sugar into the cup and a splash of milk she stirred
it and drank noisily.  Twas good tea, and she intended to get full enjoyment
of it.  But the woman across from her continued to sit quietly, her hands in
her lap.

 "Wouldn't you be enjoyin' your tea, ma'am?"  Gemma was puzzled.

 Suddenly, Mrs. Campbell lifted her eyes to Gemma and leaned toward her, her
eyes blazing with urgency.  "Miss Darcy, you must help me!"  In the next
second, a bright blush stained her cheeks.  "This was the only way I could
meet with you and not be indescreet.  But I can wait no longer!" The woman
reached out and grabbed Gemma's gloved hand in her own, and stared
beseechingly into her face.

 "My husband, Miss Darcy, will leave me and my two children if he ... Her voice
broke and she glanced nervously at the nearby tables.  Noone was paying them
any attention.  Her voice strengthened a bit as she said, "He will leave if I
do not accede to his wishes.  This I cannot do, Miss Darcy.  So I have come
here to procure your services.  I will pay you handsomely, Miss Darcy ...
Gemma ... if you will come and ply your  trade on the man who means my life to
me.  Do it well and you will be handsomely rewarded!"

     Gemma was stunned.  "Why don't he come to Miss Lily's, Mizz Campbell?
Any of the girls there could take care of him."  She was truly puzzled.  Most
of the men in the town found their way to Miss Lily's at one time or another.

     "He will not, Miss Darcy.  He has a position to uphold in the community.
I ... asked him."  Meghan Campbell blushed and dropped her gaze from Gemma's
curious stare.

     "`Ow will you do this, Madam?  Won't yer husband find it strange that you
bring another woman into the `ouse?"

     "He will not if he thinks you are ... someone other than you are."  Again
the woman's eyes pleaded with her.  "I have a plan.  You will come to the
house as a poor cousin of mine, newly arrived in this country.  I can tell him
that you came to me after ... an unfortunate liason.  If he believes that you
have been involved with a man before, he may not feel that he must resist your
charms."  The lady grimaced.  "He has pressed several perversions upon me when
we were ....  It astounds me that he finds the thought of a lady of the night
distasteful.  I could not yield to his wishes."  Her voice became urgent.  "He
must not know that you are an employee of Miss Lily's!"

     "But, ma'am, I can't stay with you for always.  I am contracted to Miss
Lily!  And I make good money when it gets busy."

     "I am hoping, Miss Darcy, that you can teach me what I need to know to
please my husband.  I find the whole business distasteful" --Gemma found this
astonishing-- "but I will do whatever I must to keep him with me."  The woman
shuddered.

     "You find it distasteful to lie with a man?  But it can be most
pleasureable!"  Gemma could not hide her surprise.  All the women that she
knew found sex as much fun as she.  Even her mother, poor dear, had wakened
Gemma many a night with her moans from the next room.  She had had ten
children before her death as a result.  "Per'aps it's because your husband is
ever in a hurry.  Men give little pleasure if they hump like a rabbit."  She
ducked her head in apology.  "Don't mean ter offend your sensibilities,
madam."

        Mrs. Campbell sat stiffly in her chair and stared at Gemma. Gemma
smiled ruefully at the woman.  "I have ter go ask Miss Lily if it'd be all
right for me ta do this.  An' she'll be settin' the price."

        "I have money, never fear.  But it must be soon.  My husband grows
more restless with each day and I fear he may either force himself upon me, or
leave me.  I do not know which I fear most."

        Gemma's mind was going round and round.  How was she to teach another
woman the secret of pleasuring a man, when the woman had no idea how to find
pleasure herself?  The two things seemed somehow dependent on each other.  The
idea of living in Mrs. Campbell's big house, even for a few days, was very
tempting.  But how was she supposed to get the man into her bed, when he
wouldn't even go to the place in town where nearly every man around relieved
his ache? She sorta liked the challenge of it.  But Miss Lily might find it
too much of a temptation for her to be around all that wealth. After all, Miss
Lily had paid for her to come here from New York, where she had lived when she
first arrived from England.  She had barely managed to feed herself, living on
the streets there.  She sure as hell didn't want to go back to that kind o'
life!  Not when Miss Lily took such good care of her.

        "I will send word when you are to arrive.  Simply have Miss Lily let
me know your fee for, say, two weeks.  I will arrange the rest."

  Meanwhile, back at Miss Lilly's, Rhett, the heretofore unnoticed piano
player was running his fingers up and down the keyboard.  But when she was
close enough he caught Miss Lilly's eye, and she sauntered over and stared
down at him.
  "What is it, Rhett?"  He usually just played all evening; not bothering
anyone, but he noticed things.
  "Look over there," he jerked his head in the direction of a sofa in the most
remote corner of the room.  Some pretty surprising things had happened on

the green upholstery, but usually with at least two participants.  Tonight a
lone figure sat huddled in the corner.  Lilly looked and then turned back to
Rhett.
  "So?  Maybe he's waiting for Irish.  She's been busy all night."
  "Look again.  'Mite young, wouldn't you say."
   "I see what you mean."  The boy sitting there didn't look more than about
fifteen or younger.  Smooth cheeks seemed to indicate younger, though it was
hard to tell in the over-sized trousers, shirt, jacket and cap he wore.
  "Well, we get them young." "Nice hands, too." Rhett said.
  "Oh.  Now I see. Know when he got here?"
  "Came in with a farmer about an hour ago.  He sat the kid down on the sofa
and went upstairs with Angie."
   "I'll go talk to him.  Hold on."
   Miss Lily floated over to the loveseat and sat down next to the boy, who
huddled even farther into it.  He blushed bright pink as Lily put her hand on
his thigh.
  "Are you lookin' for someone in particular?"  Lily asked.
  "I'm--I'm waitin' for my uncle to fin--come downstairs."
   "I see."  The boy's voice didn't seem to have changed yet either.
  "Well," Lily went on, "since your uncle's such a good customer we might
arrange something for you, if you'd like."  The boy was staring at his long,
white hands and squirming uncomfortably.
  "N--no, ma'am.  Thank you." he mumbled.
  Lily smiled and stood up.  "Well, you just let us know if there's anything
we can do for you."
  She went back to Rhett who was smiling to himself as he played.
  "I think you're right," she said.  "What do you want to do?"
  "Well, I'm about ready for a break," he said.  "I thought I'd get something
in the kitchen."  They smiled at each other.  Rhett's room was off the
kitchen.
  "Kid might be hungry, too."
  "Thought so.  Think his uncle will mind?"
  "If he's stupid enough to leave the kid here. . . Go ahead.  I won't tell."

   The piano player broke off in mid-chord and stood up.  Lily watched him go
over to the loveseat.  It took even the handsome black-haired man a couple of
minutes to coax the boy out of his corner, but eventually he accompanied Rhett
back into the kitchen.  Lily was beginning to think she craved something from
the kitchen, too.

 Gemma smiled as she lifted her spoon to her mouth, and watched Evan
 Campbell through her lashes.  In the week since she'd been at the
 Campbell's, he had been watching her -- and she had pretended not to
 notice.  It was interesting to play the demure, though slightly-tarnished,
 cousin Delia from Devonshire.  Theonly struggle had been to restrain her
 naturally exuberant spirit and cockney speech.  It was almost like being
 on stage, as she had been for a time in London (though the plays she had
 performed had been baudy rousts for the entertainment of the common
 people, not the kind of thing that required taste or dramatic skill.)

 She sipped her soup and cast another glance in Evan's direction.  Hmmm.
 There he was again, sneaking a look at her that took in more than just
 her face.  He surely must be contemplating what she would be like, should
 he find the courage to try her on.  He seemed little concerned that his
 wife might see the interest he was taking in Delia.  Actually, he had
 seemed little concerned for his wife at all, and Gemma wondered what
 the woman saw in this man.

 Oh, he was handsome enough.  His dark hair and blue-gray eyes were an
 interesting contrast and his figure was tall and well-proportioned, but
 there was a certain coldness to him that made Gemma a bit wary of what
 she might encounter should she go ahead with the plan.

 Ah well.  She had made her bargain.  The victim was primed.  Tonight she
 would play the part, and Mrs. Campbell would observe.  After that, it was
 only a matter of time before she could go back to Miss Lily's.

 As she took another spoonful of the excellent soup, Gemma was surprised
 to find that the prospect of resuming her old life wasn't as pleasant as
 it once was.

--