Morning, Mid-April 1882
Chapter One
Lorelei Langley
Part 1
On an unseasonably balmy April morning in Manhattan, a young woman in a peach colored satin dress made her way down Fifth Avenue. Catching her reflection in the window of a hat shop, Lorelei Langley paused to admire herself. After looking around to ensure no one was nearby, she leaned closer to her reflection and opened her cashmere shawl to reveal a shocking amount of décolletage for day time. Watching her reflection, she adjusted her ample cleavage to form two pearly mounds. Satisfied, she pulled the netting from her hat over her face and sauntered on, unaware that inside the hat shop she gave an enthralled stock boy a memory he would cherish for the rest of his life.
Parasol twirling, curvy hips swaying, Lorelei smiled behind her veil as she walked along the crowded sidewalk. For once, the dust, clattering noise, and occasional whiff of horse manure did not bother her. In a few minutes, she would be with Beauregard Caulfield again. It was risky for a woman without a chaperone to meet a man at his hotel. When she received his message stating that he was in town, the prudent thing to do would be to invite him to tea at her aunt's brownstone on Washington Square Park. However, when it came to men, prudence had never been one of Lorelei’s strong points.
She entered the lobby of the Hotel Livingston. The lobby, decorated in a somber, Victorian fashion, had numerous potted palms, dark oak paneling, and heavy damask drapes covering the windows. The scent of cigars and brandy lingering in the air made Lorelei think of Old Money, which, as far as Lorelei was concerned, was the best money. However, old or new, she wasn’t too particular, as long as there was plenty of it. The bored desk clerk immediately snapped to attention. A bald-headed, bespectacled man, the clerk licked his lips at her approach.
“Pardon me,” Lorelei leaned her heaving breasts over the counter. Her honeyed voice immediately called to mind lazy Carolina afternoons sipping mint juleps on the verandah. “I believe you have a Mr. Beauregard Caulfield under the roof of this fine hotel. Would you be so kind as to tell him he has a visitor?”
The clerk was about to respond behind her someone shouted, “Lorelei!”
She turned to find Beauregard, as lanky and eager as a newborn colt, walking briskly towards her.
Lorelei exclaimed, “Cousin Beauregard!”
Confusion wrinkled his brow, and then he caught on. “My dear cousin,” he said loudly for the benefit of the desk clerk. Clasping her gloved hands in his own, he said, “It’s been too long.”
“Much too long. Please tell me that your trip to New York was a pleasant one.”
“It was indeed, Miss Lorelei, and any inconveniences suffered were well worth it to lay eyes on you.”
“Oh, Beauregard. You are such a gallant gentlemen."
Beauregard’s chest puffed with pride at her remark, and then Lorelei swooned. She steadied herself by holding onto a marble pillar.
At once, Beauregard was at her side. “Lorelei, are you unwell?”
“I feel a bit faint,” she fanned her face with her hand. “This hot April sun must not agree with me.”
“Perhaps you should come to my room to lie down,” he suggested.
“Yes,” she smiled weakly, “A soft bed and a cool glass of water would be most welcome. I feel so silly to be such a bother.”
“No bother at all, Miss Lorelei,” Beauregard led her to the stairs. Behind them, not fooled for an instant, the clerk scowled as he wiped dust from his spectacles.
Once inside Beauregard’s room, Lorelei made an instant recovery. She set her parasol against the wall, doffed her hat and, with the aid of an oval mirror atop the dresser, smoothed her glossy black curls.
With her back to him, she said, “I can’t stay long. Aunt Harriet thinks I’m visiting a sick friend.”
“Well, I have a patient in need of your tender ministrations.”
She turned around. Beauregard’s trousers were around his ankles revealing a towering erection.
“Why Beauregard,” she smiled as she put her hands on her rounds hips. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Part 2
With an audible pop, Lorelei removed Beauregard’s swollen cock from her mouth, and waited in delicious anticipation as his tongue licked the outer folds of her pussy a mere inch from her clit. Beauregard knew how she loved it when he prolonged her release, tongue dancing everywhere except her hot, little button. He lapped hungrily at her tight anus, and then at the smooth skin where her inner thigh met her pussy.
Gripping his cock at the base as she lay naked upon him in the 69 position, she cried out, “Beauregard, I can’t bear it! I beg you. Do it now!”
She heard him chuckle and could easily imagine his lazy smile. A second later, his mouth was all over her clit, kissing it, taking it between his lips, lovingly caressing it with his tongue. He moaned as though the taste of her pussy was the most succulent fruit, her nectar the sweetest honey, and the sound of his moan coupled with his hot mouth all over her clitoris rocketed Lorelei to an instant orgasm. She reveled in the intense sensation, wishing it to last forever. When it faded, she regarded his cock with a blissful smile. A pearl of semen glistened at the tip. Long-limbed and so lean that without his clothes he was practically skeletal, Beauregard possessed a cock of legendary proportions. Looking at it, Lorelei nearly laughed, for it seemed as though his cock nearly outweighed him.
Lorelei ran her lips up and down the length of his shaft while Beauregard continued to lavish attention on her clit. They both knew her second orgasm was moments away. She stroked his cock with two hands and still had enough of his cockhead exposed to bathe it with her eager mouth. Her jaw stretched to accommodate his girth. She licked the underside of his thick head, touching the trigger that released a torrent of semen down her throat.
Sweaty and spent, Beauregard collapsed atop a heap of fluffy pillows beside her and she curled against him.
“My goodness, Lorelei. My goodness,” he held her close, and murmured into her hair, “Come back to Charleston with me.”
She smiled, letting him think whatever he wanted, knowing she was in New York to stay. If circumstances were different, Lorelei would have happily become Mrs. Beauregard Caulfield. She'd be the mistress of a grand house in Charleston, tended to by many servants, riding to church in a fine carriage. But after the War of Northern Aggression, as Beauregard called it, Charleston was a place of bitter memories.
As a girl of ten, she watched her mother waste away from consumption as armies circled her beloved city and burned it to the ground. The Langley home, one of the finest in Charleston, escaped the flames but not the crushing poverty that followed. When her mother died, her father lost himself in bourbon and dreams of better days. It fell on Lorelei to keep the creditors at bay by selling off the Langley heirlooms one by one until the house echoed with emptiness. There was no surer way to discover the real value of something than when pawning it in order to ward off starvation. The yard grew wild for she let all the servants go save one, Daisy; towards the end, since Lorelei couldn’t afford to pay Daisy anymore, their relationship became one of roommates rather than mistress and servant.
One advantage of having a father half in the bottle on any given day was that it allowed young Lorelei an unusual amount of freedom to do as she pleased. Although barely into her womanhood, the effect she had on the men of Charleston was amazing. Unlike other girls her age, when men touched her—chastely at first, but with increasing boldness—the feel of their arms around her waist or their lips on her throat did not frighten her. She loved their masculine ways; deep voices and whiskers, roaming fingers always prying past her lacy garments to probe her hidden wet spots, dangling cocks so quick to spew milky juice. She enjoyed it all, taking great pleasure in the way they made her body feel, and taking even greater pleasure in the gifts they spent their last dollar to buy her.
Lorelei’s days of personal freedom and pleasure went on like this until her father’s death during her twentieth year. The coroner cited her father’s official cause of death as “complications from apoplexy.” Lorelei knew he simply drank himself to death. Creditors descended on what remained of the Langley estate like a locust plague upon her father’s death. Evicted from the family home, Lorelei had no choice but to appeal to her mother’s sister, Aunt Harriet in New York. Moving to New York meant leaving Daisy behind. This broke Lorelei’s heart. Via letters prior to leaving Charleston, Lorelei pestered Aunt Harriet to find a place in the household for Daisy, but Aunt Harriet wrote back that they, “had no need for a colored servant at this time” and that she was “sure your Daisy will find suitable employment with a different Charleston family.”
The fact that Aunt Harriet reduced Lorelei’s dearest friend in the world to “a colored servant” was Lorelei’s first inkling that life under her aunt’s roof would be a trial. Living with Aunt Harriet held one tantalizing possibility, however. Aunt Harriet promised to introduce her orphaned niece to young men of far greater means than those who lived in the battle scarred South. This presented an opportunity that Lorelei intended to pursue with mercenary zeal.
“Say you’ll come home with me,” Beauregard cupped her chin and kissed her.