Two for Home

Chapter 4-2

Life continued on, in spite of the battles and the marches.

Sharps’s first—what proved to be his only—experience with a woman came in May of 1864, after another inconclusive battle, this time at the Spotsylvania Court House in Virginia. In order to recover their spirits, some of the men slipped away from camp, and they took him with them.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Ned, a fellow corporal who’d become his tent mate after Henry had fallen, grinned at Sharps. He was a few years older, although he often came across as the younger of the two. “To a w***e house.”

Sharps was so dumbfounded he couldn’t think of a single objection. The next thing he knew, he was in the brothel.

He looked around at the gaudy wallpaper, the overstuffed settees, and the upright piano in a corner, where a handsome young man played soft music. Sharps tried not to be obvious in his staring, but the young man’s dark looks stole his breath away.

“Evening, gents.” A plump lady wearing a wrapper covered in colorful flowers smiled at them. “What’s your pleasure?” She gestured toward a girl who stood by a table that held glasses and bottles. “We have beer, wine, and whiskey.”

“This is a classy cat house,” Ned said, awe in his voice. “Wine!”

“Just let Essie know what you’d like.”

“We can drink later. Bring out the women!” one of the privates chortled.

“Just have a seat. The girls will be right in.”

Sharps swallowed and perched on the edge of a settee. He could feel sweat pooling under his arms, and he was glad he’d taken the time to have a bath after they’d made camp.

The women entered one at a time, each one picking out a soldier, running her fingertips up his arm, and fluttering her lashes. Sharps stared at them, wide-eyed. Suddenly this didn’t seem like such a good idea.

“She’s so young,” he whispered, panic-stricken as a girl entered the parlor. Abruptly he thought back years ago to the poor girl who’d been beaten and raped by the Wilson brothers. “I…I can’t sleep with that lady.”

“You ain’t gonna be sleeping, not if you do it right,” Ned whispered.

“Yeah, but—”

“And besides, she ain’t no lady.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. She could be my sister.” She was tiny, with warm, golden skin, and didn’t look more than a year or so older than him.

“Well, I ain’t got a sister. Come on, girl.”

“Sure thing, General.” And suddenly she didn’t appear so young anymore.

“I’ll take care of this soldier.” Another of the women sashayed up to Sharps. She wasn’t pretty, but she had a kind face and a warm, throaty voice. She was a few inches taller, stocky-looking, with a square jaw and pronounced cheekbones. She wore a fancy scarf around her throat, and Sharps couldn’t resist catching an end and rubbing it between his fingers.

“Is this silk?”

“You know silk?” The ends draped down over her chest. Sharps didn’t want to stare, but he couldn’t help noticing she didn’t have much in the way of bosoms, not that it much mattered.

“I’ve seen it before.” One of Pa’s customer’s had come to the shop, accompanied by a lady who’d worn a dress made of the expensive material. Pa had shooed Sharps out when he’d realized his son was lingering in the doorway. Afterward Pa had told him the woman was actually a lady of the evening. Then Pa’d had to explain what that meant.

“Hey, boy,” one of the soldiers goaded now. “You want to f**k her, not talk fashion.”

“Never you mind, you sweet thing.” Something about her made him feel less nervous than the other women. He ignored the hoots of laughter from his friends and let her take his hand and lead him to her crib.

“You’re a virgin, ain’t you, sweet pea?” Her voice suddenly seemed deeper.

“Ye-yes, ma’am.” He was afraid she’d make fun of him, but all she did was kiss his cheek. Her own cheek felt a little bristly, but he remembered Mrs. Sabatino from back home, who had a dark line of hair above her lip. Pa had told him that like in The Three Little Pigs, some women had hair on their chinny-chin-chins and he was to be polite and never mention it.

“Mama’ll treat you good.” She stripped off his gaiters, boots, and trousers, pushed him gently down on the bed, and made a pleased sound when she realized he’d bathed before setting out for the evening. “Billy Yank or Johnny Reb—it don’t matter none. Not many soldier boys bother cleaning up before they come to visit us.”

“That’s just good manners, ma’am.”

She beamed at him. “Mama’s gonna treat you real good, honey lamb.”

And she did. She made love to him in the French way, and he almost fainted from the pleasure of her lips around his prick.

She took her mouth off him. “You like that, sugar?”

All he could do was groan and nod and try to tug her head back down. He’d overheard the men talking at night. A lot of them didn’t like having their pricks sucked, considered it too foreign, but how could they not enjoy it? The warm, wet suction felt so wonderful he didn’t even think to ask if she wanted him to pleasure her in return.

After he climaxed, he murmured, “I love you.”

“Thank you, darlin’.” Her eyes gleamed with tears, and he reached for her.

“Will you let me try to make you feel as good?”

“Having a sweet thing like you has made me feel better than I have in months.” She kissed his cheek and started to leave.

“Wait.” He reached for his trousers and dug into a pocket.

“I’ve already been paid,” she said gruffly, her voice sounding even deeper than it had before.

“Buy yourself some flowers or something pretty. I’d buy them for you myself, but we’re pulling out tomorrow.”

“You’re a sweet boy. I hope one day you find someone who’ll love you as you should be loved.” She tipped his head up, and this time she kissed his mouth. He was startled to taste himself on her lips but it didn’t bother him as maybe it should have. “Now, why don’t you get some sleep?”

She slipped out of her crib before he could object—he really didn’t like the idea of her going to another man, but then he realized that was how she made her living, and he couldn’t afford to take her away from this life, even if he’d been older and had enough money to set her up in a nice house. Or even if she’d consider going with him if she ever learned he was half Cherokee.

He sighed and found himself dozing off.

The other men roused him when it was time to leave, and although he looked for the woman, he couldn’t find her.

“Did Molly give you a good time?” the madam asked.

“Is that her name? She was wonderful!” They all laughed at his enthusiastic reply.

“Good. Our Moll always knows which boys will appreciate her most.”

His friends hustled him out. They needed to get a few hours’ sleep before they broke camp in the morning. On the ride back to camp, they traded stories of their experiences, bragging of how they’d made their w***e howl and swear she’d never been f****d so good. By the time they got to him, they’d arrived at camp.

“C’mon, Sharps. Tell us what it was like having your first woman.”

He could feel heat creep up his cheeks. It hadn’t mattered that all the men knew he’d never had a woman before this night—his lack of height and youthful face made it obvious he’d had no previous adventures—but talking now about what Molly had done, how kindly she’d treated him, somehow felt disrespectful.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” he said, and he picketed his horse and made sure she was unsaddled, rubbed down, and watered before he went to his tent.

The next morning they learned the 14th was being mustered out, and there wasn’t time to talk about his experience the night before.