Joy V. Sheridan writes

Charity Amour

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN part 1

Suffice it to say that apart from the girls who formed the main part of the fabric at the Château des Amourettes, there were frequently other feminine participants of more elevated and illustrious rank who took part in the entertainments.

The Countess de Gris had shown herself on several occasions to be a spiritual collaborator with Madame d’Esprit. They shared many of the same interests and these included trappings of an occult nature, and, naturally, their assured amatory interests in member of their own sex. The Countess, some years Madame Natalie’s senior, had been her magus in many and diverse areas. For some of these teachings, and they included the gathering of herbs and concoctions of various kinds of potions, Madame would reward her friend periodically by asking her to dally for a few hours within the joyous environs of the Château des Amourettes.

But Madame could be as possessive and jealous as any lover over that which she regarded as her domain. She had hinted to the Countess of a rare, voluptuously-endowed young girl who had recently been accommodated at the maison, but she had been willing to divulge little more than this tantalising titbit. Accordingly, on the occasion of Charity’s début appearance, the Countess had been invited along on the understanding that she help Madame Natalie produce a more persuasive drug - or rather, aphrodisiac, depending on the taker’s status and desires. 

Thus as the hands of the time-piece were approaching eleven of the clock, Madame stood amidst her costly-furnished apartments, fiddling nervously with her thumbs, whilst she stared long and earnestly at the brew she was in the process of finalising. 

The clock struck and Madame Natalie all but jumped from her velvet clad skin. At length she seemed satisfied with her work and quickly bottled the dark-looking fluid, placing it into a small glass bottle, overworked with a fine filigree of silverwork. 

Victoriously she pressed the stopper into the aperture, using the full weight of her thumbs. Turning to pull the domino she wore over her eyes, she let those pale blue orbs first survey her appearance. She had changed into an ice-blue concoction of velvet and lace, the neckline cut square but very low over her bosom.  

The skirt was full and edged with the same lace which dripped from the sleeves, where they ended at the elbow. The same lace also formed a band across the upper part of her mostly-exposed breasts.  

Adjusting the posy of flowers and sapphires in her elaborate coiffure - tonight the shade of a raven’s wing - she swung the pendants of sapphires hanging from her ears in appreciative acknowledgement of her beauty. Adeptly she moistened the sheen on her full lips, then, before placing the flask on a tray, she ran her right hand thoughtfully over the velvet-bound contours of her slender but erotically proportioned body. Snapping to one of her liveried maidservants, she gestured that the tray should precede her. 

She was on her way to fetch Charity, having earlier attended that young woman’s dressing for her début appearance at the Château that night. The clock was racing towards the appointed hour. She noticed, with an impatient gesture, that the servant had omitted to place goblets on the tray. With an angry retort, she elicited the woman back to fetch them, whilst she herself held the tray: all the time her foot tapping impatiently for the servant’s reappearance. Sharply she handed the tray back into the lackey’s hands and fondling the velvet pouch about her waist, which held the key to Charity’s suite of rooms, she hastened forward. Far below her in the house, she could hear the strings sawing animatedly, the bucking shouts of glee from gentlemen callers rising like dust kicked up by anxious, impatient young stallions. All this rising to her anticipatory ear. See-sawing her way around corners and through corridors, she smiled with greedy anticipation. They should all enjoy the show she was preparing for them! Evidently, the night promised to be a busy one, for from the courtyard she could discern the arrival of numerous coaches and mounts. The pickings would be richer than usual this midnight!  

She would stimulate her guests - her customers - so that they should be only too willing to enjoy her hospitable house, at a price, and should want to return for the next unfolding of her scheme. Like two whispers, mistress and maid ghosted their passage to Charity’s secluded rooms. “Wait outside!” Madame shouted the order at the servant. “Stand here with Aida.” She waved to a spot beside the Amazonian-type guard. “No,” Madame growled angrily, “Don’t give me the tray until I have unlocked the door, fool!” 

Quickly she thrust the key into the lock; then she turned and demanded the tray. She took it from the shaking servant girl and entered the room, slamming the door tight closed with her foot. She did not bother to lock the door. Charity and she would be returning through that same portal presently. 

Charity, who had been awaiting her mentor’s arrival, stood in the centre of the chamber, rigid - like some flesh and blood statue. Her small stature was heightened by the regal style of wig which she wore, powdered and sprinkled with sparkling stuff, so that the grey of its coloration was all but, not quite, completely lost. She was dressed from head to toe in white tissue and lace, sparkling patches of crystals stitched hither and thither on the fabrics. Her beautiful face had been whitened with the dangerous white lead cosmetic: high up on her cheekbones, two rosy pink marks accentuated her paleness, and the lustrous depths of her sapphire-coloured eyes were made more startling by black cosmetics. Her lips were painted a bright vermilion and she had them open, slightly pouting, a sheen moistening their seductiveness.

Madame groaned inwardly, for the young woman looked so appetising. Her extraordinary breasts were hauled up and all but threatened to break the flimsy strings of pearls which held them so high and taut. Madame placed the tray on top of a stool and, sighing her pleasure, she made Charity walk about the room. 

As she did so, gauzy panels of fabric parted, so that her limbs could be viewed quite clearly, all the way up to the triangulated tempter which Madame d’Esprit so longed to own completely.

“Charity...” Madame de Esprit looked down slightly, for she was a few inches taller than the pocket-sized Venus. “Yes, Madame Natalie?” Charity's tones were unsure, hesitant. “Please, chérie, come and partake of a glass of this mead with me before we depart from your rooms. You will find,” she added reassuringly, “that it shall fortify you for the cameo role you shall perform for me very soon. Need I tell you, my dear child, how wonderful, no, exquisite you look?! Now, shall we sit and shall we go through once more what I want you to do?” 

Madame d’Esprit patted the chaise longue upon which she had settled herself. Charity did as she was bid and, finding the courage, she told Madame how beautiful she considered her to be that night. This praise pleased Madame, for she was not adverse to hearing gladsome tidings from her own selected fruit. “We shall toast to mutual attractiveness, then, shall we – my chérie amour Charities, my Charity Amour!” Madame had unstopped the flask and had poured the liquid into the glasses. She gave one to Charity with an admonishment that she consume it with one gulp.

Charity did as she was asked, the bitter pungency of the drink making her eyes smart. Madame Natalie swallowed hers more slowly, then drained the glass’s contents likewise. The two women remained talking upon the seat for some minutes, then with an encouraging pat upon her knee, Madame d’Esprit indicated that Charity arise. She tied the strings holding Charity’s mask in place almost tenderly. She ushered the young woman towards the door. Outside, the servant girl curtseyed and, holding aloft a flaming torch, the maidservant conducted them downstairs.

“This is far enough,” Madame told the servant once they had reached the first floor.” You may go now. Dismissed!” 

Charity looked about her, all but gasping with surprise. There was a balcony running about the first floor and she peeped over the banister. Charity looked to the throngs of people below.

She had never seen such richly attired revellers, and all appeared masked, barring the lackeys, that is. Oh what sights of exaggerated abandon met her eyes! Many of the richly attired ladies wore their gowns so tight and low upon the bosom that one might see the coloration of their tinted nipples. 

The men wore elaborate wigs and in some instances even more elaborate decorations by way of skillful embroideries about their trousers’ openings. The air was redolent with heavy perfumes: musk, hyacinth, rose. It seemed to Charity, as she gazed mildly apprehensive, over the banisters, that a thousand, thousand candles glowed amidst the bright opulence below her.

Madame d’Esprit beckoned her back from her position and indicated a shadowy landing. Charity walked towards it, her presence wafting mothlike, making the candles flicker momentarily. 

Leaving her poised thus for her entrance, Madame summoned all her confidence towards herself, and made her own splendid entrance down the wide sweep of marbled stairway. With a gushing restraint she greeted those of her guests she knew intimately, laughing into less familiar faces with a diplomatic charm. At length she reached a small dais set to one corner of the reception room. She stood upon the platform, a true mistress of ceremonies, and indicated that she wished to catch the assembly’s attention. 

“Gentlemen, Ladies, I crave your indulgence for merely a few minutes. I have prepared a small surprise for you; a petit tableau I should wish you to feast your eyes upon. Feast only your eyes though, for the principal of this drama is not available for mere mortals and their dalliances!”

Laughingly, Madame swept her arms around her, then, turning to the orchestra, she indicated that they strike up. With an inaudible sigh, a curtain wars raised and all eyes alighted upon the balcony. Lights made into softly glowing lanterns formed three distinct spotlights. The figure moving so languorously and so temptingly showed every inch of her Olympian beauty. The strident nipples were raised high and hard in profile, the voluptuous swaying of the gigantic breasts forcing grunts and sighs to come forth from many throats. Then, with a fanning created by unseeable zephyrs, the fabric of the gown parted, so that the walker’s divinely-shaped buttocks, calves and thighs could be glimpsed. 

The figure kept gliding, then, as she reached the end of her promenade, a heavier wind all but blew the gauzy tissues from off her form, so that she presented the up-glancing viewers with a complete, tantalising statement of her physical perfection. 

She smiled, the domino hiding her eyes, and tossed a veil down over the banisters. The guests were fixed into rigidity by the vision which she presented. Then, the lights ceased and the figure was gone. A refined masculine voice cut through the strangle-hold of atmosphere: “I shall give you five thousand Louis to spend a night with that divine apparition!” 

“Ah,” Madame Natalie’s voice was tinged with avaricious glee, “But she is not yet for sale, Your Honour.” “I shall up that by two and a half thousand!” “Gentlemen, please! Did you not hear me? This fruit is but barely ripened. She is not fit for the plucking yet. Let your palates salivate ’pon her a while longer.” 

Madame d’Esprit turned back to the orchestra. “Please. Will you not now play some gay air?” Well pleased with her tableau and the impact it had created, she stepped down from the dais and made her way towards two young amorati: “Mayhap, now that your appetites have been whetted, you may wish to participate in some other forms of tableau? Nothing, you mind, as elevated as that which you have just seen. But well, I have two new faces here. They need to be broken into the structurings of the house and they are - but never you fear, friends - tasty morsels. Why, to tell the truth, they say that they are virgins!” 

She chortled merrily, her voice arched towards them, her chin thrust down towards the snowy expanse of her tiered bosom. Both men smiled, lasciviously eager. “Of course,” she continued as the men followed her through the throng, “This tableau will prove to be a trifle more earthy and earthly than the one you have just witnessed: but...I see no reason why you should remain, shall we say, frustrated?” She caught each by the arm and led them up the steps, back to the first floor. With a slight wetting of her lips, she knocked upon a door. There was no answer. 

“This is Justine’s room. Which you of you gentlemen would care to initiate this vestal into the pleasures of amour? The price, of course, is rather high, gentlemen, but you shall be well pleased. Why not swap chambers after your initial probings have worked to your satisfaction? There is more fun that way! I shall leave Diana here to collect your dues.” Madame indicated one of the Amazon-type guards, who smiled, helmet-jawed and just a little menacing. “I shall take Justine first, then, Jean, we shall trade places. The name, Madame, of my friend's dallying partner?” 

“Juliette, Sir. And this is her apartment.” 

She rapped upon this and there was likewise no answer. “Go on gentlemen: you are doing us all favours!” 

Madame stepped back, smiling knowingly as the two friends disappeared simultaneously into the girls’ chambers. “You know, Diana, they always love to pay more for a virgin.” 

“Pah! The fools! Ask them for the higher charge and if you succeed, you shall be rewarded.” 

Madame made as though to leave the guard. She was laughing lowly to herself: “Virgins! Why – those two have at least one child apiece – Fools!"