When a man griefs
James sat in his armchair, burring his head in his hands. Muffled sobs escaped his throat and tears fell from his eyes uncontrollably, as his body rocked back and forth with grief. Foregone was a letter he had received that day, a suicider's note composed by Zilpha, his sister, his one and only love, the one person he truly and utterly knew, the one person who had known him, who he shared secrets with, his friend, his family and insatiable lover…
He drowned his misery in a significant amount of alcohol and laudanum, a reddish-brown tincture of opium, just how she had forecasted to drown herself in the river Themes, to ease his pain and numb his mind. Yet she had not sang to him, like they all did… the dead. He awaited his visions to presage but they didn't come. Instead he was overwhelmed with restless anxiety. He wanted to leave, had to get out of chamber house, before it's dark emptiness swallowed him up, devoured him, only to spit out his remains, leaving him with indigestible memories of days gone by that he had shared with his beloved Zilpha. He needed to distract his scattered mind before insanity took over, an outlet to focus on. What he needed was a women.
He carried his drug fueled body to the nearest brothel. Tumbling across the streets and never to miss a puddle of mud he made it to Helga's.
Knackered bodies of scantily dressed women were slumped onto battered sofas in all corners of the semi-darkened room, arms and legs everywhere, caressing each other and brushing each others hair, when James staggered through the door. He took in the bitter sweet stench of sex, alcohol and other toxics, making his already unstable stomach contract. He put down his soaked hat, which he had pulled deep into his face, in order to shield it from the heavy rainstorm outside. A wave of concern sought through Helga's body as he revealed himself, for she knew first hand that there was always trouble to enroll when James Delaney chose you to call upon .
„What do you require?" Helga asked seductively displaying her crooked teeth in order to cover up her apprehension whilst his heavy figure staggered in front of her.
„A fuck, that's what I require." his deep voice growled.
„A fuck it is then." Helga announced cheerfully, expressly underlining this with an inviting gesture of her hand.
„I have girls a plenty, boys, virgins, boys in girl's clobber, anything your heart desires."
The room fell silent, the former idle figures now sat upright, alarmed at his dominating presence, the terror that had manifested in their expressions left no room for interpretation. They've all heard the whispers, even passing them on themselves, of the african devil, who had done terrible things to men… and women.
„If you give him a girl, you won't see her again.", they've all heard. The thought was enough to make them quiver inside and he sensed that, as his eyes darted across the room. Faces that were previously enhanced with thick brushstrokes of different shades of red and pink, now turned into a chalky-white. Cautious their gaze wouldn't meet up with his, they all quickly turned away pretending to be preoccupied….all but one. A women at the counter with her back turned to the crowd poured herself a tumbler of red wine. Her golden, sun kissed looking, locks nearly reached down to her cantilevered bottom, that merged into long, lean legs.
„I want her." he slurred whilst pointing his finger at the girl.
„Excellent choice!" the brothel-keeper said, snipping her finger at the girl, keeping her eyes fixed on James.
The blonde sheepishly smiled at her suitor, as she approached him. Helga put her arm around her slender waist in a guarding manner.
„This is Edie. She's brand-new to the trade. Isn't she precious?"she said inspecting her fondly from tip to toe.
He didn't even look at her properly but agreed to the trade with an unimpressed nod and put a small leather sachet of shillings into Helga's hand.
„You wanna drink Mr. Delaney, Sir?" Edie asked, her voice had a soft,maidenly ring to it, almost unfitting to her fully evolved physics.
„No."he said with a harsh tone, harsher than he wanted it to be.
„I'll show you to my room then." she said feeling slightly cowed by his coarseness.
They entered a sparsely furnished and dimly lit room, the focal point being a bed with rumpled sheets. A single burned down candle at the bedside had to suffice the matter of delicacy. It was one of the fancier rooms as it was equipped with a fire place, an alternative source of lighting, which didn't help much as the fire was almost as burned down as the candle. A plain old wooden chair. stood by the window which was draped with a former dust sheet, providing some privacy. She climbed on top of the mattress, salaciously pulling up her skirt a bit to reveal silky, smooth skin on her thigh.
James starred at her in devoid of passion but rather uncomfortably standing at the end of the bed. She wasn't what you'd call a beauty, there was nothing remarkable about her but she was still easier on the eye than most whores. Age hadn't gotten the better of her yet.
„Sit." she suggested as she leaned over, patting the linen invitingly. He did so sighing to himself. „You can put your clothes on the chair."
„Mmh." he acknowledged noticing a small pair of torn up boots underneath it. Then his gaze wandered to the tattered dress on a hook. All of the sudden he had sobered up, regretted ever coming to the dodgy place, where an unfortunate women pretended to make love to him, but he knew no other women would ever love him the way Zilpha did. Yet it wasn't enough for her. He wasn't enough for her and when he looked deep within himself he couldn't even blame her. She had learned to live without him, once she had gotten over the pain of losing him as he left London. Then he was proclaimed dead and she lost him again, grieving again. She got married to another man, a vile man and adapted to that. And when he finally came back , not well but alive, and rejected her love, it must have been too hard to bare. Now she had left him for good and it was all his fault and his fault alone.
James sat motionless at the end of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands, as he pondered over this.
„Are you alright? Am I not to your liking?" Edie asked concerned for the man.
„No." he replied in a whisper not facing her.
„Shall I call for another girl?"
„No. I'm mourning" he sniffled.
„I see."she paused. „Well let me comfort you." her soothing voice suggested.
Unsure and disconcerted with his behavior she slowly crawled up to him and ever so carefully wrapped her arms around his shoulders, which were soon embracing him in a tight hug. Reluctantly he responded to her touch but his breathing quickened as fresh tears started to well up in his eyes. Gently she brought a hand up to his unshaven face, brushing it lightly and letting it rest on her collarbone. He began to ease into her touch. Her maternal instincts took over as she continued to sooth him, lightly rocking him back and forth until he moaned into her skin. Her fingers wandered to the hem of shirt, lightly tugging on it as to ask for his permission. In response to that he drew up his arms to his head, letting her take off the pale blue fabric and revealing a vigorous, heavily tattooed torso. She pushed him onto the mattress as he tried to kick his boots off but failing at it. She slid off the bed herself, kneeled down to his feet, grabbed ahold of his boots and jerked them off. Edie let the sole of his foot sit in her hand and rubbed it devotedly from the heel to the toes, working on each one of them, circling them around between her thumb and fingers. She repeated her procedure on the other foot. She could feel the mans muscle relax to her touch. His exhausted feet never got any attention so he indulged into the calming sensation of her touch resulting in excitement to rise in his trousers, of which she freed him next as she noticed his manhood quivering inside, as it began to arose. She laid back down next to him, tracing small circles on his chest with her finger tips at first, then performing long strokes down to his abdominal V-Line, along his muscly thighs and back. He felt her rough, scarf-skinned hand, due to hard work, she must have endured in her past life, as it drew closer to his member, which was now throbbing with lust. With a swift motion he threw her onto her back, attacking her lips with his. He moaned into her slightly opened mouth as she finally grasped his fully aroused cock. He forced his tongue into her mouth, tasting the tangy remains of red wine in her breath as she jerked his veiny shaft skillfully. Without a warning he pushed up her skirt and intruded her groove fiercely causing her to flinch. He knew, she wasn't ready to take him all at once.
‚For a whore she had a tight fit' he thought, pulling himself out and bringing a lot of salvia together in his mouth. He then spat into his hand and brought it down to her blonde, full bush.
He rubbed the tip of his cock against her new moistness, engaged in another brutal kiss and penetrated her merciless again. As he fastened his pace she began writhing underneath his weighed, mingling groans could be he heard throughout the brothel, so James and Edie eagerly engaged. Punishingly he slammed into her folds with his balls slapping against her bottom. He then brought up his hands to her neck just as he did to Zilpha. He loosely strangled her as he got lost in his excitement, thrusting into her deeply. He was entirely ignorant to her response as he continued strangling her with one hand and pulling and twisting her long curls with the other. He titled his head back into his neck as he could feel his climax to mount. He drove into her with such a force one last time, making her scream in the process and spilled his seed inside her with a husky groan rising from deep within his chest.
Exhausted he rolled off of her, trying to catch his breath. She laid beside him with her legs still spread apart widely, letting his creamy goods drip out of her along with some blood from small fissures he had caused on her walls. She decided then and there that it was time to call it a night. There was no possible way she could take another punter. Her cunt needed rest and healing until tomorrow. James watched silently as she took off her work attire and slid into that tattered dress and tired shoes. He quietly put his own clothes on. Searching his trouser pockets with his hands, he suddenly surfaced two pound coins.
With lack of emotion he threw them onto the bed to tip her.
„For your trouble." he stated, put on his hat and brought the brim back down into his face again. He nodded at her before he exited the door from her room. James descended the stairs then left the establishment without further notice and breathed in the clean crisp air, once he was outside. It had stopped raining and quickly James absconded into the pitch black night.