"Ye see Frella? Jest like the caravan back home."
"It's so fancy."
"I'm jest glad ye like it. That one there is fer us. I jest need to sign some papers."
"All set Frella."
They walked inside.
"Well....do ye need to rest..."
"No, I rested all the way here."
She sat down on the comfy carpet.
"Well, if ye be ready..." he said, turning toward the wall.
"Ye like that wall Thames? I think it's fit for a queen."
"What? Oh, yes I suppose so. I jest wanted to give ye a chance to lay down."
Frella wasn't sure why he needed to look at the wall for her to do that, but she obliged him. At the sound of her movement, he turned a little more.
"I am laid out before ye."
Thames turned toward the bed. Then he looked with surprise at the floor.
"What? Did ye not want me to lay?"
"Yes....for..."
"Sex, right? I'm ready....unless of course ye be tired."
"No, I'm not tired. Ye want to have sex right there on the floor?"
"Well, where else would we have it?"
Poor Thames. Frella felt thankful she had grown up in the brothel. She knew quite well that sex was almost always to be had on the floor.
Thames eyes lit up. As he approached Frella gently let her legs run up the sides of his.
Soon her legs were wrapped around him, her skirts surrounding him.
The night of their honeymoon and he asked so little of her. Frella decided before the honeymoon was over she'd show him the advantage of marrying a daughter of the brothel. She was almost sorry she had kept her virginity. Mother said the wiser man seeks the most practised girl in the brothel. She'd have to do her best with all she had witnessed instead.
With his final thrust pain seized Frella. He seemed to bore into her, moving and not moving at the same time.
He gave the familiar groan, the end of the deed groan she had heard so many times. He looked down at her dreamily.
As he got up she felt something seep out of her. She knew what that was. She'd had to scrub it off the brothel floor since she could remember.
Frella stood uneasily.
"Blood! There's blood on my dress!"
At that Thames kissed her.
"Frella...forgive me...I was worried up until I saw your bloodied skirts."
"Ye want me to die?"
"Die? Oh Frella. Ye ain't dying. That jest means ye are no longer a maid. Ye won't bleed the next time."
Frella was shocked. She didn't know the first time was different. She felt...scared. She trembled a little.
Thames pulled her close. She buried her face in his shoulder and cried.
Huh. I would've figured her mother would have told her that her first time wouldn't be like what she was used to seeing in the brothel. Poor girl. At least her husband seems like a decent enough guy? Weirdly enough, in spite of the age difference, there seems to be less head-patting going on than with a lot of the other couples.
ReplyDeleteIn other news, it appears that I'm caught up. Very much enjoying this and curious to see what happens to these characters. :)
Alas, her poor mother. It didn't occur to Frella's mother that Frella didn't know all the important details. Nor did occur to Frella that she might not. Sadly the one person prepared to give her "the talk" was Queen Yolanda....unmarried and ready to repeat what she had been told...and chickening out when she heard more than she ever wanted to from Frella.
ReplyDeleteMy first thought when pairing Frella and Thames was very this century - ewwww. But then I thought of the alternative...and how a gypsy views the world differently. I loved wandering through Thames thoughts in that one chapter.
Seriously there are women in that brothel that were born in the brothel and are now likely stuck there for life. Frella was one of the lucky ones.
I am so glad you are enjoying this story Van.
I am thinking about how to word the next chapter. It might be ready tomorrow.