An old story of mine but one offered up with fondness.
Sophia ran a clean place. Eight women, all with their own rooms. They worked hard but it was the kind of work that did not turn your lungs to soup and the people who came here knew well enough not to raise a hand to any of her girls.
Naomi peered out over the balcony, amber eyes glinted in the evening light and brassy ringlets of hair hung around her face, heavy and soft as petals from an orchid. Her bronzed bosom strained at the partially unlaced corset. Sophia looked up and sighed. She would have been her most popular girl, how she moved, hips undulating, high, firm buttocks and a heavy-lidded arrogance that made men unable to keep her gaze.
She smiled at Sophie and clapped her hands together. The arrogance was a good act, a challenge to the men that they would never be free…
View original post 2,102 more words