PHANTOM IN TIME (22 page)

“Well,
I don't want to go there with Jacques,” asserted Bella. “His designs on me are
scandalous enough already. No sense encouraging the rascal.”

“But,
Bella, you've stepped out with him at least three times over the past week.”

Her
expression abstracted, Bella toyed with the fringe on a throw pillow. “I
know—but I'm afraid I'm just a conquest to him. He was really playing the
Lothario at the theater today, flirting with all the chorus girls, with Maria
and Teresa.”

Shaking
her head, Helene came over to join Bella on the couch, patting her hand in
reassurance. “You know, Bella, lately I see other women pursuing Jacques much more
than he is encouraging them.”

“Perhaps.”

“You
needn't fear he'll ravish you tonight. I'll be along as chaperon.”

Bella
groaned. “Helene, I'm just not sure.”

“But
you and Jacques could make a wonderful couple.”

Bella
tossed the newspaper onto the tea table. “Like Maurice and Andrea Bloom, who
may soon sing for la belle New Orleans?”

“Well,
yes.”

“No,
thanks,” replied Bella ruefully. “I'd never be able to share Jacques with the
rest of his admirers.”

Helene
was crestfallen. “But Bella, you must come tonight. Tommy's going to be playing
this wonderful new music called ragtime. He'll be so thrilled to have us all
there.”

Staring
at her friend's intensely expectant face, Bella found she couldn't disappoint
Helene, who after all had been a savior to her. She forced a smile. “Okay,
then.”

Helene
clapped her hands in glee. “Good! And I've got just the dress for you to wear
tonight!”

Bella
sighed dramatically. “Oh, brother. Dare I ask?”

Helene
was saved from responding as the old-time telephone jangled. Grinning, she
dashed over to answer it. “Oh, hi, Tommy, love,” Bella heard her exclaim. “Yes,
we'll all be there tonight with bells on!”

***

When
Jacques appeared at Helene's door an hour later, he whistled at the sight of
Bella in a blue satin dress. Never had she looked more ravishing to him, the
frock showcasing her every, lush curve. With small, puffed sleeves, the gown
was low-necked, and sculpted to her waist in the popular hourglass fashion. The
skirt was slightly flared and ruffled; at her neck she wore a blue,
Gibson-girl-type ribbon embellished with a cameo; matching cameo earrings
graced her ears, and a blue ostrich feather tiara, garnished with rhinestones,
crowned her upswept coiffure. The angelically lovely lines of her face were
even more striking with her hair pulled up, and her slightly rouged lips
invited his kisses. Indeed, she looked so adorable that he wondered how he
would make it through the evening without devouring her alive.

Stepping
inside as Bella shut the door, Jacques held out an orchid corsage. His voice
trembled with the admiration he felt. “For you,
ma belle.”

Hearing
that awed quiver in Jacques's voice, Bella glanced at the pale blue and white
flowers. “How lovely.”

“I'll
pin it on you,” he offered.

As
Jacques stepped close to her, Bella caught the whiff of his shaving soap. His
warm fingers tormented her as he quickly pinned the corsage to the neckline of
her dress.

He
moved back slightly. “There, you look utterly exquisite.”

Bella
laughed, unable to deny that she felt inordinately thrilled that her appearance
pleased him so. He pleased her, as well. She eyed him in his dashing cutaway
and ruffled white shirt. His dark, curly hair gleamed in the electric light,
and his freshly shaven face had never appeared more handsome, his dark eyes
gleaming lustily.

“And
you look sinfully decadent, as always,” she murmured.

Jacques
took and kissed her gloved hand. “I live to please you,
ma belle.”

“Well,
hello, Jacques.”

The
two turned as Helene emerged from the bedroom in a rustle of starched
petticoats. She twirled before them in her fashionable gold satin frock.

Jacques
again whistled.
“Mon Dieu,
I am a lucky fellow! I declare that two
lovelier flowers have never graced my bower.”

Helene
and Bella laughed.

He
extended an arm toward each girl. “Shall we go,
mes jolies filles?”

The
threesome left the apartment, proceeding to Basin Street in Jacques's carriage.
Bella was wedged against Jacques on one side of the carriage, and his nearness,
the scent of his bay rum, the warmth of his arm at her waist, again
traitorously aroused her. The sounds of revelry—raunchy music and
laughter—spilled out as the horses clip-clopped down the cobbled street. Once
Luis had halted the conveyance, Jacques hopped out and assisted both women down
onto the banquette
.

With
her hand perched on Jacques's sleeve, Bella glanced up and down a street lined
with carriages, gaslights, and quaint Victorian structures. Half a block away,
a group of sailors were hunched together on the banquette, playing dice; on the
corner, a black jazz band with homemade banjo, tambourines and harmonica played
a soulful, syncopated tune.

Together
the three climbed the steps to a huge, ornate stone house with impressive
carved columns and dramatic gargoyles. Bright light shone out through the
leaded glass panels on the massive oak door.

Jacques's
knock was answered by a smiling black man in a dark suit. “Evenin', Mr.
LeFevre. Won't you and the ladies come inside?”

“But
of course, Gideon,” replied a grinning Jacques, handing the man his hat and
walking stick.

Bella
glanced askance at Jacques, wondering why he knew the servant's name.
Obviously, this establishment was one of his haunts.

They
moved into an opulent foyer with gaudy red brocaded wallpaper, dripping crystal
chandeliers, and rosewood rococo furniture. Bella raised an eyebrow at a
flowery portrait of a reclined, naked beauty that hung above a handsome
mahogany, bronze, and marble pier table. She could hear sounds of merrymaking
from the parlor beyond—laughter and Scot Joplin type ragtime music being played
on a piano.

They
entered the large drawing room to view quite an astonishing scene. At the piano
sat Helene's boyfriend Tommy, plunking out a lively ragtime tune; his red hair
gleamed with the lights of the chandeliers and his freckled face glowed with
high color. Around the room on red velvet rococo chairs and settees sat
elegantly dressed gentlemen, some with tawdry women on their laps, painted
creatures wearing tight, low-cut gowns embellished with sequins and feathers.
There was no doubt in Bella's mind that they were visiting a whorehouse! Of
course, Helene had claimed before that Tommy played the piano in a bordello,
but Bella had assumed she was kidding. And to think that Jacques was familiar
with the place!

She
flung a hot glance at him, only to find him grinning in delight, eagerly taking
in the scene. The rascal! She should have known.

Helene
at once went over to join Tommy at the piano. Without missing a beat, he kissed
her cheek and scooted over to give her room to join him on the piano bench.
Then Bella watched three women with heavily rouged cheeks and wearing sleazy
gowns rush up to greet Jacques. The stench of cheap perfume assaulted her
nostrils.

“Jacques,
darling!” cried the first, a blonde with a sagging bosom and lined face. She
hugged him and smacked his cheek. “How good to have you back! You have stayed
away too long,
chérie.
”

“The
rigors of rehearsals, Julie,” he replied, grinning. Turning to Bella, he added,
“Julie, meet my new friend, Bella De La Rosa.”

The
woman smiled. “Welcome to Madame Julie's, darling.”

“Thank
you,” Bella replied stiffly.

Jacques
gestured toward the other two women—one a brunette, another a dark beauty who
appeared to be half black. “Meet Rochelle and La Roux.”

“How
do you do?” said Bella.

The
two women nodded and smiled back.

“Well,
we must have Gideon bring champagne,” Julie declared. “It's quite a honor to
have you among us again, Jacques. And of course you'll sing for us?”

“I
might be persuaded,” replied Jacques, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Then
make yourself at home,
chérie.”

As
the women moved away, Jacques glanced about the room, his gaze fixing on a
vacant Victorian armchair. “Come on, Bella, we'll sit over there.”

“But
there's only one empty chair,” she protested. “Where will I sit?”

He
was already tugging her off. “On my lap. It seems to be the order of the
evening, no?”

“The
order of the evening for others does not interest me in the least,” she
snapped, reeling at the scandalous suggestion.

Laughing,
Jacques sat down and held out his arms to her. “Ah,
petite,
you are so
full of spirit. Now stop protesting and come here.”

Though
he was shameless—not to mention irresistible!—Bella held her ground. Primly,
she retorted, “I'll sit on the arm, thank you,” and did so.

Jacques
eyed her precarious perch. “How long do you think that is going to last?”

Bella
smoothed down her skirts. “I'm not planning to go anywhere.”

He
reached up and toyed with her earring. Huskily, he asked, “How long do you
think I'm going to be able to resist you?”

A
flush heated Bella's cheeks. She felt grateful for the distraction when a
grinning Gideon ambled past with a tray, offering them both glasses of
champagne. Bella sipped hers, feeling extremely discomfited to be so close to
Jacques—and to watch the other male guests pawing the women. Not far from them
on a corner settee, a couple was locked in a passionate embrace, and moaning
softly.

Squirming,
Bella set down her champagne glass on the tea table next to her.

Jacques
glanced up at her solicitously. “Don't you like the champagne, love?”

She
seethed at his innocent tone. “This is a brothel, isn't it?”

“But
of course.”

“When
Helene said Tommy played the piano in a whorehouse, I suspected she was joking.
But now . . .” She glanced around and shuddered. “You'd think they'd have a
little modesty, at least.”

“Modesty?
In a brothel?” Chuckling, Jacques reached up to touch her shoulder, massaging
the tight muscles with his fingertips. “Bella, you're too tense. Relax and
enjoy yourself.”

Fighting
the thrill of his decadent touch, she retorted, “Obviously you've done a lot of
relaxing here, since you're so chummy with the women residents.”

“But
not for some time, love.”

She
shot him a smoldering glance, ending with a moan of pleasure as his wonderful
fingers kneaded deeply.

The
next moments were exquisite torture for Bella, being so close to Jacques, while
Tommy's repertoire progressed to more romantic Gay Nineties tunes, and the
gentlemen guests became bolder in their attentions to the women. Several
couples openly petted, while two others left the room hand in hand.

As
Bella turned away from the sight of a man running his hand up a “lady's” dress,
she felt Jacques's mouth at her ear. “Are you sure you don't want to sit on my
lap, Bella? That chair arm must not be too comfortable against your delicate
derriere.”

“I'm
very sure,” she retorted breathlessly. “Furthermore, my 'delicate derriere' is
none of your damn business.”

He
chuckled wickedly.

Bella
was about to box his ears, but at that moment Julie stood. “Ladies and
gentlemen, you are in for a treat. La Roux is going to perform the naked
dance.”

Bella
glanced at Jacques, wide-eyed. “Does that mean what I think it means?” she
whispered.

Features
gleaming with devilment, he nodded solemnly.

“I
want to leave.”

But
Jacques merely caught her around the waist, and smoothly pulled her down onto
his lap. “No, Bella.”

His
boldness set her senses spinning and excited her deeply. She squirmed, but
Jacques only tightened his grip. When she continued to balk he nudged her
earring aside with his mouth and nipped at her earlobe with his teeth. That
passionate little bite shot an incredible shudder through her, and all at once
she was docile as a purring cat.

“That's
better,” he murmured, kissing her ear more gently this time, sliding his tongue
inside . . .

Bella
was left gasping wantonly. The entire situation was shocking, wicked, intensely
provocative. She sat in Jacques's lap, just as the whores sat in their
customers' laps. She felt depraved and indiscreet—and relished the feeling far
too much! Jacques's sinful tongue at her ear was shattering her defenses. She
could feel his heat, his strength, his hard arousal pressing against her
bottom. The combined stimulation was devastatingly erotic.

But
more torture awaited her. Bella died a dozen slow deaths as La Roux took to the
floor totally naked, save for a sheet of sheer white silk which she trailed suggestively
over her body as she moved with unbridled lewdness. With Tommy playing a slow,
sleazy tune, she sashayed about, teasing the men, sliding the silk up and down,
revealing her various charms one by one. The men reacted with hoots, catcalls,
and cheers. Many threw greenbacks at her.

“Does
that arouse you, Bella?” Jacques whispered in her ear.

“The
sight of a naked woman?”

Eyes
burning with desire, Jacques rubbed his index finger over her underlip. “No,
the thought of what all these men want to do with her . . . what I want to do
to you, Bella, my love.”

Bella
turned away, panting. “Jacques, please stop.”

“You
do not like the idea of men and women unabashedly expressing their sexuality?”

“I
don't like this. I want you to take me away from here,” she pleaded
desperately.

She
felt his warm fingers stroke her waist . . . and lower. “No, Bella, you want to
be here . . .”