Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Amanda

1793 – Philadelphia Pa. 

I had thought that returning from the party to my everyday life would be difficult, but it was not at all. There were meals to cook, beds to make, floors to sweep, and plenty more to occupy my time. Not the least of which, of course, being the Saturdays that I spent with Alice.

Alice and I exchanged our lessons. She taught me to play the guitar and sing, while I, having access to Eliza’s private library, taught her to read and to write.

I seemed to adjust to the normality of my life with Madeline quite well. Day to day, our lives as lovers were fairly bland when compared to all we had done at the party. But that was the magic of Catherine’s parties. Somehow I understood that during those three days there in her house we were free to explore anything, and upon returning home Maddy and I again were completely dedicated to only one another.

Our evenings often were spent in Catherine’s graces at her tavern. Later, in the darkness and privacy of Madeline’s bedroom, we shared our secret passions, making love most nights. It was a wonderful life I had come to be living.

Yet so often the terrible show I had seen at Catherine’s party seemed to occupy my thoughts — the awful things I had come to know of — though I admit they began to seem less awful every day. I wondered what had become of me that in time I felt no shame or offense when I recalled the terrible things I had seen, but instead felt excitement and… lust.

Madeline sat over her breakfast eating slowly. I had been developing a question in my mind now for weeks and at long last I would ask it. “Are we truly so wicked as all of this?”

She half smiled. “Wicked? Indeed a wonderful wickedness.”

“I speak in earnest.”

Madeline looked up at me and understood. “Dearest, we speak of sin and wickedness and perversion, but we don’t truly believe in that. ‘Tis said in teasing and fun. We are not wicked, love.”

“If you believe in God we are,” I offered.

“Are we? In God’s eyes, you say? Do you mean the impotent child that the church teaches? No, I do not think there is that God. If indeed such a thing as God exists in this world, I think that He is only love. That He is only joy and happiness and all those wonderful things we feel so little of in this world.”

She took another mouthful of food and ate silently for some time, then went on. “Wickedness is a condition of man. It can only breed hatred and misery. Is that what you feel with me? No, I doubt it’s so. I feel love and joy and pleasure, and how could that be wicked?”

I had to think about this for many days before all it meant could finally sunk in. Madeline was so wise, and why shouldn’t she be, I thought. After all, she had spent at least some time in Catherine’s home. It did not take me too long, however, to realize how proud I was to be her wife and she my husband, if indeed such titles befit us.

We continued on this way. The months seemed to race by, and before I knew it, we had attended another of Catherine’s annual weekend parties. And as before, Alice put on the most scandalous show for us. But this time I found myself swept up in it, chanting, cheering, and loving it along with the others.

Madeline began to have coughing fits soon after, and I found myself seeking out a remedy. Honey and tea. This seemed to help some, and I thought little of it after that. We simply continued on in our daily lives.

Looking back on it now, I realize that I hardly noticed that Madeline seemed to be growing more tired. We made love far less often and rarely went to the tavern. She seemed to prefer to go to bed early, and I found it more difficult over time to get her up in the morning. It happened over such a long time, though, that I simply did not notice it right away. Not until she took a sudden turn downward.

I had gone in to awaken her one morning for breakfast. She sat up coughing, and it was then that I noticed there was blood on her pillow. Fear seized me. Such a thing could never bode well for the sufferer.

Though Madeline could hardly get out of bed, she insisted she was well. After breakfast she went down to open the shop but soon collapsed. I was in terror. What was wrong with my Maddy? I managed to get her back in bed, then ran from our house to find a doctor.

I ended up at Catherine’s palatial estate explaining to the doorman what had happened. He wasted no time in fetching his mistress, and Catherine hurried me to her private doctor.

As quickly as we could get back across town, the doctor was examining Madeline. Catherine and I waited outside the door, perhaps praying or perhaps just hoping that she would soon recover.

When the doctor came out, his expression inspired no hope in us. Most solemnly he explained that he believed Madeline to have a tumor, and that she likely would not survive to the end of the month.

I fainted.

When I awoke, the doctor had left and Catherine had moved me to the sofa. “What happened?” I asked, opening my eyes to her face.

“You fainted, dear.”

Catherine dabbed my forehead with a damp cloth, tears rolling lazily down her cheeks. It had not all been a horrible dream. My darling Maddy really was morbidly ill.

“What shall I do without her?” I asked.

“What shall either of us do?” Catherine said, then sat me up and looked into my eyes. “Not to worry, child. You’ll want for nothing, I’ll see to that.”

But that was not what most concerned me. Madeline had for so long been my rock. How could I be confident without her? How could I live my life without her strength to support me?

I looked at Catherine and shook my head. “I cannot go on without her,” I sobbed. Catherine pulled me close and stroked my back.

The doctor had only been partially right. Madeline was fatally ill, indeed, but she managed to hang on for another two months.

Early on the day of her death she said her goodbye to me. I was sitting by her side in a chair while she slept, myself nearly asleep, when I heard a voice faintly calling my name. I immediately knelt at the edge of the bed and took Maddy’s hand. Most of my memories of those last days are blurry and seen through tear-stained eyes, but not that moment. That one is as clear as if it happened yesterday.

“I have been a good husband to you?” she asked, smiling.

I nodded my assurance. “I couldn’t hope for better.”

“A husband should love his wife to his dying day, and I will. Even until my dying breath.”

There was a long pause, and I thought she had slipped into sleep again. Then, quietly, “…Liz, I know you couldn’t truly love me. Promise me, though, that you will not spend the rest of your life mourning her, this Molly, who broke your heart. And when you’ve forgiven her, you mustn’t mourn me, either. You have to live and love for us both now.”

She returned to sleep, never to wake again.

In the middle of that night, she passed away. Catherine, myself, and several of her dearest friends had only just begun the vigil, the death watch. When Madeline passed, she was surrounded by those who most loved her, and I holding her hand.

We buried her a day later, and then I was alone. Left there by myself to mourn. I thought that my life with all of the women I had known had ended when Madeline passed, but after a week Catherine arrived with a man in tow.

“This is my lawyer,” she said as she entered the house. “And thereby Madeline’s.”

I did not understand. “Lawyer?” I asked. “But why?”

“For Madeline’s will, of course.”

She sat me down on the sofa, then took a wooden chair in front of me. “Madeline saw to your needs before she died. The house, the shop, those things are yours, and my allowance as well. She asked me to continue it on to you. And we are here now to make all that official. But you must sign some documents.”

I nodded, still not fully comprehending.

“Madeline knew you could not continue her business. She told me you will not dishonor her if you choose to sell the house and the shop and get on with your life.” Catherine leaned forward and placed a hand on my knee. “She wanted me to see to it that you do not spend the rest of your life mourning her.”

When, I wondered, had there been time for them to discuss all of this? And what she was telling me, was it truly Madeline’s will? Were they her words?

“Sell the house?” I finally managed.

“If you wish. And then you could live anywhere you want.”

I looked around the house for a moment. It seemed to make sense. Being here only reminded me of Madeline and how lonely I now was. Though I may never have truly fallen in love with her, I did care for her very deeply. I did have a sort of love for her. Losing her now, when she was yet so young, had crushed me.

“I don’t know what to do,” I finally admitted. “I don’t think I can stay here, but I don’t want to offend her memory.”

Catherine nodded her head. “If you choose to sell, I will have my lawyer handle all the details, thus ensuring you get a fair price.”

She glanced up at the man and he stepped forward, opening a satchel.

“A table, Miss,” he requested as he withdrew papers.

I nodded and led them to our dining table.

He set the papers in front of me and prepared a quill. “No matter what you decide, you will need to sign these. When you have made up your mind, simply tell Miss Pennington and she will know what to do.”

I had no idea how fortunate I was to have Catherine in my life. She was an angel and had the wealth and power to keep any promise she wanted to make. She had even been making arrangements for me that I had not known about.

“I think I should like to stay in a hotel for a while,” I told Catherine.

I did not want to stay in the house alone any more. I believe now that even then I had already resolved to sell it all. There were simply too many painful memories to suffer with in the house.

Catherine sat down across from me. “Nonsense, girl. You’ll stay with me, of course.”

I looked up at her, surprised. What exactly did she mean? She often had referred to me as a daughter, but did that mean that she would not make love to me? I was afraid that I did not even want such a thing. The thought of anything sexual had no appeal for me. Not without Madeline.

After a pause, I nodded my head to her. I wondered, though, even if there was nothing more between us than friendship, would my being there, living with her, not encourage rumors that we were lovers? Would that not hurt Catherine’s standing? It did not seem to matter at that moment however.

And that was exactly what the next two months held. I moved in to Catherine’s home. We sold the shop and the house and she stashed the proceeds away in gold coin, for me to use when I decided to go back out on my own.

Although I soon found myself wanting it, Catherine had not taken me to her bed. How horrible I must be, I told myself, to think of such things with a woman I viewed as a motherly figure, and while still mourning Maddy.

Catherine herself seemed to think of me only in terms of a child. I was not at all a child, of course, but that was how she treated me and how she spoke of me. I did not mind, I suppose, not at the time, because still I needed someone else to determine my destiny, and she was doing a fine job of it.

It would seem that Catherine cared for me and was but a loving matron, but do not mistake her kindness, though she was indeed very kind. Still she was the same woman who held her infamous annual party of debauchery, and that person was not limited to only those three days.

I was in her house a third month when a visitor called. I thought surely when I heard the bell ring that someone had come for Catherine, but the butler found me in the library and announced that Alice had arrived and asked for me. I was elated. I had not seen her since Madeline died.

Alice was shown to the parlor and I quickly joined her there. We sat on the same sofa where she had straddled my lap naked some years before.

“I’ve missed you,” she told me right away.

“And I you.” I was already sorry that I had not continued with our lessons.

“I only just heard you had come to live with Catherine. You know she does not say much at the tavern about her private life.”

I nodded.

We talked for a time, leaning close and holding hands, before Catherine entered the room and closed the door behind her. “How cozy,” she said with a smile. “My two dearest girls.”

Catherine wore a jacket and breeches but no tights or shoes. Her hair was tied back but she was not wearing a wig, and she had clearly been drinking. There was something in her tone that frightened me. I had never heard anything the like from her. Could she be jealous? I wondered to myself.

A smile played at her lips as she sat in a chair across from us.

“Catherine, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“Ah, my state. Yes indeed, dear girl, I’ve had too much to drink and I beg your forgiveness if I offend.”

She laughed quietly and sat back in the chair. At her side, a table held a bell and she rang it. Moments later the butler arrived and she demanded brandy.

“It’s hardly noon,” I pointed out.

“I’m celebrating tragic news, dear girl.”

The butler returned with a bottle of brandy and a glass. Catherine sent back the glass and sat sipping directly from the bottle. She said nothing, leaving us to wonder, until finally we could stand it no more.

“Tragic news?” Alice asked.

“Yes. It seems that one of my ships has sunk with all hands.”

I covered my mouth with my hands. “The poor sailors,” I said quietly.

“A filthy sort they are, but nonetheless I shall compensate their families. After all, I’m well insured…”

She closed her eyes. “Money,” she spat. “As if that would make the loss right again. Money shan’t father their children nor protect their wives.”

Catherine appeared saddened for the loss of the men and said nothing about the valuable goods the ship carried. I could scarce believe my ears. I wondered to myself how one so rich could care so little for wealth.

She was an odd sort. At times Catherine could be as demanding of those beneath her as any wealthy, powerful woman might be. And at other times she was so gentle and tender that she seemed a lover. Guessing which side of her one might see was impossible. I had learned, though, to expect either and she rarely surprised me.

Rarely, but this time she did.

“Entertain me, Alice,” Catherine demanded after quite some time in silence.

With a nod, the girl got up and reached for her guitar, but Catherine stopped her. “No.” She sat straighter and gestured toward me. “No, entertain me, dear.”

I was quite shaken by this request, but Alice did not seem at all to be. She smiled as she turned toward me. “Liz?” she asked.

I could hardly speak. My mouth had run dry, and I felt dizzy. I thought I should faint but Alice’s hand on mine snapped me out of it.

“What of Eliza?” I asked.

“Oh, but she will be very excited to hear of it,” Alice laughed. “She’ll beg every detail from me as she forces her fingers into me and sucks the wetness from my nethers.”

“Alice!” I gasped, but she only giggled as she tossed pillows on the floor, then pulled me down with her. The girl began simply enough, trying to help me feel at ease by kissing my neck and lips.

She eased me onto my back and gently untied my dress. I helped her slip it off, and moments later she had done the same for herself. She bent forward letting our breasts rub together as we kissed deeply. Even under the circumstances I found myself quickly becoming excited. This surprised me, as I did not truly feel comfortable performing for Catherine in this way.

Alice smiled down at me. “You’ve wanted me for so long… say it,” she whispered.

She was right, of course. I had wanted her again since the night we made love at the party, years earlier. During all of our lessons, I had felt great desire for her, but denied those temptations in honor of what Madeline and I had together.

Now I did not speak. I remained silent.

Alice reached between my legs and rubbed my clitoris carefully between her finger and thumb. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

I groaned and nodded my head, trying to answer. “Yes, yes… I want you, Alice,” I finally managed.

“I knew it,” she whispered hoarsely. She fell upon me and drove her tongue into my mouth. Her hands explored every inch of my flesh and I was no less attentive to her.

Alice was a ravenous lover. A single orgasm did nothing to satisfy her, and with her in my arms it did little to satisfy me. The girl had her head between my legs, teasing my sex when my head fell lazily to the side and through my half opened eyes I caught sight of Catherine. She sat with her head tilted slightly. Her eyes, like mine, were only half open, and she licked her lips from time to time. Her hand was slipped into her breeches and I could clearly see that she was massaging her sex as she watched us.

I was surprised at first. But as I watched her, I realized that it excited me to know I was having such an effect on her. I reached between my legs and gently caressed Alice’s head while she happily licked at my nethers.

As I began to feel the build of another orgasm, Alice sensed it. While keeping her attention between my legs, she turned, bringing her sex around before my face. Without a moment’s hesitation I plunged my mouth forward, lapping and licking every crevice of her sex.

It was as if Alice could somehow cause herself to climax whenever she wished it. As soon as my orgasm burst forth, she too cried out and ground her sex into my face. This, it seemed, was what Catherine needed to see, as she finally began to moan and shudder with her own orgasm. In her drunken state, it had taken all of this time for her to climax but once.

I lay a time catching my breath. Alice had settled her head on my belly and was humming absently as she dragged her fingers back and forth through my muff, petting and combing the curly hairs. I looked up to find Catherine smiling happily, sipping from her brandy. Catching my eye, she gestured with the bottle as if to toast me.

“Won’t you be sober, Catherine?” I begged.

She glanced at me and shrugged before taking another sip. “I promise you, tomorrow I shall be right as rain.” Then she closed her eyes and soon passed out from the drink.

Alice and I lay on the pillows talking and flirting for hours. She eventually slid beside me and kissed me. “I must leave soon. Eliza worries if I’m out after dark.”

I don’t know if Catherine had been awake throughout most of our conversation, or if she had managed to sleep and listen at the same time, but she cleared her throat and sat up. “I’ll send for Eliza straightaway,” she said. “No need for our festivities to end so soon.”

Her hand pressed firmly against her head, she staggered out of the parlor. “Yes, I’ll spread a bit of coin about and everything will be just fine,” she mumbled, still thinking, I supposed, of the reason for her drunkenness.

Alice and I giggled softly before returning to our conversation. “She hates her wealth,” the girl told me.

“But why?”

“Because her father built his fortune on the backs of fifteen hundred slaves.”

I looked down at her, disbelieving.

“It’s true. But she refuses to keep slaves, as it were.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“She houses them on her plantations. They receive a wage. When they save enough money, she ships them overseas to a country where they can be free or else brings them north. She receives little notice for doing this. They are considered her property, after all.”

I wondered now what might have been on the ship that had gone down, and shuddered at the thought of so many innocent lives lost. Shaking this off, I asked, “Is she a Quaker?”

“Not by birth.” Alice shifted slightly. “Her father was a Protestant, but not a Quaker… no, she simply likes the Negros. Calls the women Nubian princesses. There’s a story there, but I suspect none of us will ever hear it.”

“What faith was her father?”

“She’s never said. Whatever it was, though, they believed in slavery.”

“Do you?”

“How could I?” She laughed. “I know what it is to be bound to a life you feel no control over. How could any woman believe in it? We are prisoners of men as well.”

Although I never thought much about politics, or at least had not in the past, that made sense to me.

“Catherine is a Quaker, though?” I asked.

Alice sat up. “Of a sort. But do you really want to know these things? Catherine is a most unusual person, and much of her life is kept secret from those of privilege.”

“She certainly does not look like a Quaker,” I mused. “How do you know then?”

“She’s not as guarded with us.” By ‘us’ she meant only those scant few women whom Catherine might invite to one of her special parties.

Alice leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips. “Shall we find something to eat? Or drink?” She stood and took my hand, helping me to my feet. Alice would have left the parlor completely naked had I not said something to her. Eventually she was coaxed into her undergarments, and scarce let me don any more myself.

We wandered into the kitchen. The cook shook his head when he saw our state of undress but made no other indication that anything was unusual. Alice looked around at the pots, hoping to find something of interest but did not. She led me back out to the dining hall where we found a number of sweet treats sitting about, apparently available for anyone’s sampling. We washed this down with some of Catherine’s privately brewed beer before returning to the parlor where I lay dozing as Alice strummed the guitar.

Eventually Catherine returned to the parlor sipping coffee and again holding her head. “Oh, for relief,” she groaned. The woman looked at me. “I beg of you, child, do not let me drink so much again.”

I had no idea how I could stop her, but nodded my head all the same. “Hemp plants can be smoked, I hear,” she mumbled. “Josephine says it relieves pain.”

Catherine was still quite disheveled, but had at least put on tights and shoes. She reclined on a sofa and set her coffee aside.

Hemp? I remember thinking to myself. Why would anyone smoke rope? Although the name Josephine and its owner meant nothing to me at the time, in a future that Alice’s special cards could not have foretold I would come to know her very well.

One of the servants came into the parlor with a cup containing their cure for her overindulgence. Catherine sipped at it and began to seem better. She looked about for a moment and sighed. “Eliza has not arrived?”

Alice shook her head.

“I sent my driver for her.”

Another hour would pass before Eliza joined us in the parlor and we sat talking. Ever the gracious host, Catherine presented us with cigars and we sat smoking while the boys talked politics or something. I had not truly been listening. Oddly, I simply assumed that any time the boys gathered they spoke on matters of state or economics. Their world was foreign to me, as foreign as the world of men would be, I think.

In time their conversation turned to literature and I became more interested, even going so far as to join them. Alice soon followed, and much to her delight she found she could now participate in the discussion.

As the night drew on, Alice and Catherine entertained us with song and dance. We enjoyed a light dinner, light I suppose for the very wealthy. Then we retired to our bedchambers.

Catherine, as she nearly always would do, appeared at my door in her night clothes, holding a candlestick. She came in, closed the door behind her, and set the candle down on the night table. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she arranged the covers over me, satisfied that I was sufficiently tucked it. She smiled down at me, the smile of mother for her beloved daughter.

There was something comforting about this ritual. I knew she saw me as a child, but she treated me well. She stroked my cheek with the backs of her fingers. “So dear to me,” she whispered.

I wondered often what she might have been like as a real mother. Would she have taken such liberties with her own daughter as she took with myself and the other girls?

Catherine’s goodnight kisses were anything but matronly. She pressed her lips to mine and parted them, as I did. Our tongues touched and lingered a moment before she sat back.

“Catherine,” I began, “don’t you desire me?”

I had to know. After three months, I had to know if I was in any way still desirable.

“You are a lovely girl and a fine lady, but my tastes are more exotic.”

She did not elaborate. She simply left me there, closing my door as she went.

More exotic? What was exotic about Madeline that had so attracted her? I asked myself this again and again, trying to puzzle it out. I could not fathom what Catherine might possibly mean by exotic, but whatever it was I did not have it.

Continue on to Chapter 6