Free Blackstone and the Heart of Darkness by Sally Spencer

‘We’ve got all sorts in here. Fat ones, and ones that are so thin you can hardly see them when they turn sideways. Tall ones and small ones. Black ones and yellow ones. We cater for every taste, and if we haven’t got it now, we can get it for you.’
    ‘I—I like the young ones,’ Patterson mumbled.
    The madam cackled loudly. ‘Do you know, if I’d had to make a wager on it, that’s where I’d have put my money,’ she said. ‘Well, we can certainly provide for your needs if that’s what you’re after. We’ve a lovely young girl upstairs who can’t be more than fourteen, and as soon as she’s finished entertaining her present gentleman caller—’
    ‘I like them untouched,’ Patterson interrupted.
    ‘Untouched? You mean you like them to be virgins? ’
    ‘Well, yes, I suppose I do,’ Patterson admitted.
    ‘And why is that?’ the madam wondered, with a smile playing at the corner of her heavily painted lips.
    ‘There’s no chance of disease that way,’ Patterson said.
    The madam’s smile widened. ‘That’s not it at all, is it?’ she asked. ‘Or, at least, not all of it.’
    ‘I assure you—’
    ‘What you really like is the way they’re all aquiver because they’ve never done it before, and they don’t know quite what to expect. What you really like is the way they cry out in pain when you enter them for the first time. I’m right about that, aren’t I?’
    ‘Perhaps a little right,’ Patterson said.
    ‘Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ the madam said easily. ‘There’s many a man walking the streets of London with the same desire as yourself. It’s as natural to want a virgin as it is to want a fresh egg. But since they can only lose their cherry once, it does come expensive.’
    ‘I appreciate that,’ Patterson told her. ‘I believe it can cost anything up to twenty-five pounds.’
    The madam threw back her head, and laughed loudly. ‘Twenty-five pounds!’ she repeated.
    ‘That’s what I’ve been told.’
    ‘Well, yes, I suppose it could cost only twenty-five pounds if you were willing to accept a snotty-nosed ragamuffin who’d just been picked up from the docks. But the pleasure is so much more intense when it’s a better class of girl you’re deflowering—a shopkeeper’s daughter or tradesman’s daughter, for example. That’s the kind of girl we like to offer our gentleman callers here—and that kind of girl will cost you at least fifty pounds.’
    Patterson licked his lips. ‘Can I see her?’ he asked.
    The madam laughed again. ‘It’s not like ordering up towels or linen, you know. We haven’t got a big cupboard upstairs marked “Virgins”.’
    Patterson started to stand up. ‘Then if you haven’t got what I—’ he began.
    ‘Sit down, Archibald,’ the madam ordered. ‘I can get you exactly what you crave—but it might take some time.’
    ‘How long?’
    The madam shrugged. ‘Could have her tomorrow, might take a week or so. You can never tell in these matters. But whenever she gets here, she’ll have been well worth waiting for. All right?’
    Patterson nodded, and sat down again. ‘But how will I know when you’ve got your hands on one?’ he asked.
    ‘I’ll tell one of the maids to take a message to your club. Which one is it? The St James’s? White’s? You do have a club, don’t you?’
    Patterson nodded. He did indeed have a club—the Peckham Domino and Whist Club, where he had first met Rose, his fiancée—but that didn’t quite fit in with the role he was currently playing.
    ‘Well, which one is it?’ the madam asked.
    ‘I’d rather not be contacted at my club,’ Patterson said. ‘I’ll give you a telephone number, instead.’
    ‘That would be perfectly acceptable,’ the madam agreed.
    Patterson made a great show of taking a case containing his visiting cards out of his pocket. He opened it, then—as if having second thoughts—snapped it shut again.
    ‘I’ll write the number down for you,’ he said,