The Spoils of Sin Read Online Free

them,’ she reported softly.
    â€˜Open the door, then.’
    Fanny did as advised, adopting a broad smile. ‘Come in, gentlemen. Nothing to be afraid of.’
    The challenge worked as she’d hoped, and the men shuffled in, hats in their hands. They looked around with half-smiles on their lips. One nudged another and received an irritable shove in return.
    They were all in their twenties, by Fanny’s estimation. Men employed for timber clearance, house-building, road laying. Their clothes were stained with sweat, despite showing signs of being fresh on for the occasion.
    â€˜Good evening!’ Carola trilled. ‘Welcome to our boudoir. We can promise you a fine time. Now, this is Francesca and my name is Carlotta. We want nothing but your pleasure.’
    It sounded stilted, unnatural, to Fanny’s ears. The strangeness of the situation came over her in a tide of alarm and shame. What in the world was she doing? There was no trace of excited throbbing between her legs, no sense whatever that she too might experience pleasure in what was to come. She remembered words she had spoken to her sister Charity, long ago, claiming to have found a vocation in which her own desires would be fully met. Could she have been so profoundly mistaken as it now seemed?
    One of the men was staring openly at her. He was tall, fair-haired and lightly bearded. He held his hat before his crotch in a suggestive manner. It seemed there was no room for doubt in his mind as to what was on offer in this place. Carola had worried about that. ‘They could simply expect a song and a kiss and nothing more,’ she said. ‘At least to begin with.’
    The fact that there were three of them was awkward. One would have to wait alone, listening to sounds from above his head and wondering to himself about taking the place of a friend so soon after his desires had been sated. Did men worry about that sort of thing, Fanny wondered. How complicated it all seemed, as she stood there on display like a cow in the market place.
    Another man stepped forward, towards Carola. ‘Miss Carlotta,’ he said, with a little bow. ‘Do I detect the accents of a Carolina lady?’ His own tones were decidedly Southern.
    â€˜You do indeed,’ she rejoined.
    He stared around the room, for the second or third time. ‘I congratulate you on this little piece of Charleston, out here in the wilds,’ he said. ‘You have worked a small miracle.’
    â€˜Thank you, sir. We have done our humble best.’
    He moved decisively to the couch and sat down beside her. Shorter and darker than Fanny’s admirer, he carried himself confidently. Fanny recognised the type – a younger son of a large Southern family, sent west to fend for himself in a territory with land to spare. And, no doubt, nostalgic for the comforts back home. Exactly as Carola had predicted, in fact.
    The third man was the youngest and the most hesitant. He had already missed his chance, to nobody’s surprise. With a resigned sigh he moved to the piano and sat down on its stool. ‘Do you play, sir?’ Carola asked him.
    For answer he opened the lid and began to pick out a tinkling tune on the tenor end of the keyboard. Fanny recognised a version of ‘Greensleeves’ and began to sing softly. The ice was broken. They were all friends together in a front parlour, conducting a normal social intercourse. Carola completed the picture with an offer of a glass of whiskey. ‘All part of the service,’ she smiled, ducking her chin at a notice on the wall, which announced: COMPLETE SERVICE $5.00.
    â€˜Provided you just take one glass,’ added Fanny quickly. It had been another point of extended discussion, to decide exactly how much was included in this promise.
    All three men reached into the money pouch on their belts, preparatory to extracting the required fee. This readiness improved Fanny’s mood considerably. They