No Honour Among Thieves (Mature)

No Honour Among Thieves Part Two

To her utter disgust the man jerked with a gasp, his hips leaving the seat as he came. Meg could feel the pulse of his cock against her hand, and wrenched it away before the front of his breeches became damp with his seed.  Thrusting her hand contemptously in front of his face, she snapped. “That’ll be another shilling.”

She heard hooting laughter. Looking up, she saw her kindred spirit shaking his head as he laughed at her predicament. Yanking the coin out of her customer’s grip she stormed up the aisles, twitching her body away as the chuckling man made a snatch at her.

His laughing request, “what you got for me darling?” ignored, as she literally burned in anger.

Meg had worked here for three years, since the age of fifteen, and not once, had she provided sexual gratification for a single theatre goer. She had prided herself on that. Not only had it now happened, but it had been witnessed and made fun of. Ally my arse, he was just another cunt who sought entertainment at someone else’s expense.

Handing the basket and money to Mother Clement, Meg was immediately suspicious when the woman gave her a shilling back with a sly smile.

"You keep that love. I won't take my cut till next time." The gleeful madam had seen the unfortunate encounter with the customer, now she would be unbearable in her plans to sell Meg’s body to the highest bidder.

Meg flipped the coin between two fingers in contemplation, before slipping it beneath her corset. "There won't be a next time, if I'd been more aware, there wouldn't have been a first time."

"Then you're a fool." Anger flashed quickly across the other woman's face as she hissed angrily. "Anyone with eyes could see you'd make a fortune, think of your mother, the comfort you could provide for a poor dying woman."

"I am thinking of my mum.” Meg retorted.  “The pox that eats at her body and mind, and that will not be my future Aunt Florrie." She bit out to the sour faced woman, who once beautiful, had worked on her back along with Meg's mother, Sally.

Changing tactics, Florrie Clement softened her tone imploringly. "There but for the grace of God, it doesn't have to be that way. Look at me, I run my own girls, we could make so much blunt you and I."

Meg jerked her head away before the woman's hand could tug at a coil of fiery red hair, something she had frequently done when Meg had been a little girl. For three years, the madam had used every weapon in her arsenal to convince her best friend’s daughter to take up the profession.

"It's still a risk I'm not going to take." Meg reiterated forcefully. "I have to go, people are leaving the theatre." Before she took more than a step away, her arm was caught in a claw like grip.

"I do your mother a great charity girl, because I loved Sally more than my own sister. But I lose money from your stubbornness. There are plenty of girls more willing to take your place."

Meg looked down into diamond hard eyes. Florrie Clement was thirty five, the same age as her mother and looked decades older. "Love." She said simply to the madam.

"What?"

"You love her like sister Aunt Florrie, she ain't dead yet." Ripping her arm from the older woman's grasp she walked away, knowing her riposte was tenuous at best. Her mother wasn't long for this world, but when she slipped this mortal coil, it was clear Meg wouldn’t be able stay in this theatre and not whore any longer.

She hurried to the exit and wasn’t the only girl there, competition was fierce. It was worth getting a little mauled, for Meg’s light fingers picked on those too interested in a pair of tits to notice they were being fleeced. A few of the gents tried to convince her to leave with them. Meg was adept at dealing with their offers, or downright lying to them if they were too persistent.

Head and shoulders taller than the rest, Meg's snide kindred spirit made his way towards her.

She shifted fleetly out of his path, he was too sharp to dip.

He only adapted his direction, eyes on her every movement, intent on his prize. The crowd jostled around him and yet his approach was unhindered.

Feeling hunted, she felt his size became more pronounced as he drew closer.

When he came into contact, he hooked an arm around her waist to stop the crowd from separating them. His lips glanced against her forehead as he pulled her nearer, leaving her skin tingling, as if they still rested there. She tilted her head back, looking up into a face with gleaming blue eyes and a predatory smile. It was obvious he wanted her. She could feel his arousal digging in her belly, that warm sensation flooded her again, deeper, hotter…disturbing.

Concentrate, Meg admonished herself, no larking about, just get rid of him.

The man’s lips twitched as if he could read her thoughts, Meg knew that couldn’t be. You didn’t grow up around actresses and whores without learning how to hide your emotions.

His hand, hot and large slipped lower to cup one cheek of her bottom, flexing his fingers on the padded flesh. Meg clenched her buttocks, tightening the muscle in the hope it would dislodge his hand. He only held on tighter, pressing her against him.

“I have a proposition to put to you, a good little earner if you want it.”

“I ain’t interested.” She informed him, reaching behind her to lever his hand off her posterior. She achieved her goal, but his sardonic smile made them both aware it was only because he allowed it. There was something hard in his sleeve. Fingers making quick work of sliding it free, she pulled his arm from around her.

“You ain’t heard it yet” He pointed out softly.

With Meg’s release she could feel the suck of the crowd as they surged out of the theatre. Smiling beatifically, she kissed the air in front of his face, saying “And still I ain’t interested,” before melting away into the mob.

###

If she thinks she can disappear she’s mistaken. Her bright ginger hair enabled Billy to keep his eyes on her the whole time. She had dismissed him, him, and she had the gall to rob him while she did it. He was impressed by her nimble fingers, aware that she had taken his knife. Not because he had felt her doing so, but because Billy would not have passed up the opportunity in the same situation. He was pleased she had done it, meant he now had the fun of seeking her out again. 

Who was he kidding? He’d have sought her out anyway.

The orange seller was a beacon of light, tempting men to forget about their woes between her creamy white thighs. She would be an asset to his gin palace, he could see her luring the East End to his door. Billy would enjoy her first though, whatever her price, he would have her.