to touch the man. Soon, a sea of females surrounded him, sucking and licking his skin, kissing him on the mouth, caressing his erect cock.
Beside her, Philip Ross shifted in his seat. Did the erotic tableau arouse or disgust him?
Helene couldn't tell in the half-darkness; all she could sense was the heat and tension radiating from him. She risked a glance at his profile and saw his gaze was fixed on the scene, his mouth a hard line. He shuddered as one of the women fell to her knees and drew the man's cock into her mouth.
"I refuse to watch such—"
He got to his feet and blundered toward the door. Helene followed him out as quietly as she could. She found him farther down the deserted hallway, his back to the wall, his hands clenched at his sides.
"Monsieur? Are you feeling unwell?"
He raised his head to stare into her eyes, and she experienced a moment of pure fear.
"How should I be feeling after being forced to experience such appalling behavior?"
"I'm not quite sure what you found appalling, sir. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely."
"Apart from that poor man, beset by those harlots."
Helene allowed him to see her smile. "That 'poor man' has been waiting a month for that experience."
"Are you trying to tell me that he wanted to be used like that?"
She shrugged. "This is a house of pleasure, sir. If that is his notion of pleasure, then I can only offer him the opportunity to enjoy it."
"Ah, so those harpies are paid to pretend to enjoy him."
"Not at all. Everything offered here is a choice. No one is forced to do anything."
He snorted. "I hardly think any respectable woman would choose to behave like that."
Helene took his arm and guided him to the far end of the hallway, where there was less chance of them being overheard.
He turned to stare out of the narrow window, his shoulders set and his back stiff. Helene studied his rigid profile.
"You might be surprised what a respectable woman wants. Almost all the women in that room are titled ladies." She looked up at him from under her lashes. "I can only apologize. Perhaps I chose a room your wife would've preferred more than you."
"My wife would never stoop to such salacious behavior."
"Perhaps you should bring her here and see if that is true? You might be surprised."
He swung around to face her more fully. "My wife is dead. But I can assure you that such erotic displays would have shocked her immeasurably."
How terrible for you. It took all of Helene's resolve not to speak the words out loud. If Philip's wife had indeed been such a lady, it was no wonder he looked so repressed and unhappy.
She took a deep breath. "I apologize again, sir. I should not have mentioned your wife."
"Why not? I'm sure you've been wondering about her all these years."
"I beg your pardon?"
Philip shrugged. "You know who I am. Don't try and lie to me."
"Indeed I do, monsieur." Helene paused to gather her defenses. "I thought you must have forgotten me, and I hesitated to remind you of my existence."
His smile was almost a sneer. "How could I forget you? You haven't changed at all."
Helene touched her face. "That is hardly true. I am no longer eighteen."
His laugh was harsh. "Thank God for that."
"I'm not quite sure what you mean. I'm certainly glad I'm not eighteen anymore. I make far wiser choices than I did then." She swallowed hard. "I sincerely regret my comments about your wife. I did not intend to cause you pain."
"You did not intend to cause me pain."
His loaded words hung in the air between them, throwing her back to the nights they'd shared, the feel of his skin against hers, his laughter and the delights of their lovemaking.
Had she hurt him? Helene focused her attention on his plain white cravat to avoid looking into his face.
"Why are you here, sir?"
"Because Lord Gideon Harcourt brought me and because I've often wondered if the infamous Madame Helene could possibly be you."
"I am infamous?"
He bowed. "You are renowned as the woman
Beside her, Philip Ross shifted in his seat. Did the erotic tableau arouse or disgust him?
Helene couldn't tell in the half-darkness; all she could sense was the heat and tension radiating from him. She risked a glance at his profile and saw his gaze was fixed on the scene, his mouth a hard line. He shuddered as one of the women fell to her knees and drew the man's cock into her mouth.
"I refuse to watch such—"
He got to his feet and blundered toward the door. Helene followed him out as quietly as she could. She found him farther down the deserted hallway, his back to the wall, his hands clenched at his sides.
"Monsieur? Are you feeling unwell?"
He raised his head to stare into her eyes, and she experienced a moment of pure fear.
"How should I be feeling after being forced to experience such appalling behavior?"
"I'm not quite sure what you found appalling, sir. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely."
"Apart from that poor man, beset by those harlots."
Helene allowed him to see her smile. "That 'poor man' has been waiting a month for that experience."
"Are you trying to tell me that he wanted to be used like that?"
She shrugged. "This is a house of pleasure, sir. If that is his notion of pleasure, then I can only offer him the opportunity to enjoy it."
"Ah, so those harpies are paid to pretend to enjoy him."
"Not at all. Everything offered here is a choice. No one is forced to do anything."
He snorted. "I hardly think any respectable woman would choose to behave like that."
Helene took his arm and guided him to the far end of the hallway, where there was less chance of them being overheard.
He turned to stare out of the narrow window, his shoulders set and his back stiff. Helene studied his rigid profile.
"You might be surprised what a respectable woman wants. Almost all the women in that room are titled ladies." She looked up at him from under her lashes. "I can only apologize. Perhaps I chose a room your wife would've preferred more than you."
"My wife would never stoop to such salacious behavior."
"Perhaps you should bring her here and see if that is true? You might be surprised."
He swung around to face her more fully. "My wife is dead. But I can assure you that such erotic displays would have shocked her immeasurably."
How terrible for you. It took all of Helene's resolve not to speak the words out loud. If Philip's wife had indeed been such a lady, it was no wonder he looked so repressed and unhappy.
She took a deep breath. "I apologize again, sir. I should not have mentioned your wife."
"Why not? I'm sure you've been wondering about her all these years."
"I beg your pardon?"
Philip shrugged. "You know who I am. Don't try and lie to me."
"Indeed I do, monsieur." Helene paused to gather her defenses. "I thought you must have forgotten me, and I hesitated to remind you of my existence."
His smile was almost a sneer. "How could I forget you? You haven't changed at all."
Helene touched her face. "That is hardly true. I am no longer eighteen."
His laugh was harsh. "Thank God for that."
"I'm not quite sure what you mean. I'm certainly glad I'm not eighteen anymore. I make far wiser choices than I did then." She swallowed hard. "I sincerely regret my comments about your wife. I did not intend to cause you pain."
"You did not intend to cause me pain."
His loaded words hung in the air between them, throwing her back to the nights they'd shared, the feel of his skin against hers, his laughter and the delights of their lovemaking.
Had she hurt him? Helene focused her attention on his plain white cravat to avoid looking into his face.
"Why are you here, sir?"
"Because Lord Gideon Harcourt brought me and because I've often wondered if the infamous Madame Helene could possibly be you."
"I am infamous?"
He bowed. "You are renowned as the woman
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