Secrets of the Tea Room

I wondered what this story could possibly have to do with the Tea Room, until she continued. 'Aameenah was already instilled in the Sultan's harem in 1153 when Eleanor of Aquitane followed her husband Phillip, King of France, on his crusade to the Holy Land. Eleanor was a rare woman. She had money, titles and land of her own. She was bright, strong willed and even by today's standards, Eleanor would be considered a forward thinker. She detested Phillip. He was a religious fanatic, weak and spineless.

Their entourage stopped east of Constantinople at the palace of the Sultan before they made their way on to Acre. It was there that Eleanor met my ancestor and they formed a life-long friendship. As I said before, none of the women in the Sultan's harem were slaves. They were free to go as they pleased. So, when Aameenah fell in love with one of Eleanor's French knights she approached the Sultan to beg his leave. He was saddened but gave her permission. She ventured forth with Eleanor telling her story after story of the lives in the harem. Eleanor became fascinated and the seed of an idea had sprouted but it would take years before she could bring it to fruition.

Many years later Eleanor divorced Phillip and married Henry Plantagenent, King of England. Theirs was a stormy marriage but Eleanor bore him seven children ... Richard the Lion Hearted was Henry's first legitimate son and heir to the throne. Eleanor eventually set up the "Court of Love" in Aquataine which was a scandalous endeavor!

They taught not the erotics of love, but the esthetics ... teaching young men how to properly treat and respect their ladies as well as encouraging young ladies to be mindful and ever wary of a young man's intentions.

Aameenah bore a daughter by Eleanor's French knight and passed on her training to her daughter and so it has been for over 800 years. My aunt passed on the secrets to me.

Now Mr. Emerly, we will get down to the reason I have taken you under my wing. My business endeavors only begin with the Tea Room, it gives me access to wealthy matrons, their gossip and their complaints. You see, the second plateau of my business is more educational. If I hear one of the ladies in the Tea Room complain of a dull sex life, a hesitant or an inattentive husband, I venture to remedy that situation for her. I approach their husbands, quite innocently at first I assure you, until I am certain they would be willing to benefit from my services.'

I bolted up not believing my ears and crossed quickly to her desk. I leaned on the desk and drew closer to her so that she could hear what I had to say. "Do you mean that under all these prim and proper trappings you're just a whore! Just a common whore! I can't believe I was duped into playing your pimp or bodyguard or whatever it is you have in mind!"

As I spun to leave the room, she stopped me by saying, 'Mr. Emerly, a whore entertains a man for a little while, I have loyal clients with whom I develop long term alliances.'

I slowed and turned to look at her, then she continued, 'Some of the alliances lead to information on land speculation, stock market strategy and other wise investments. I assure you, no common whore could live this well, much less provide you with the quality of things you own today.'

I ran my hand through my hair and tried to clear my head. It wasn't just the shock ... that was bad enough ... it was also the sting still in my cheek. I had wanted her, lusted for her, from virtually the first moment I saw her. Rose was something special ... she had some special quality that I couldn't quite put my finger on ... and she increasingly filled my thoughts. She was a whore! A whore who had turned me down, insulted me, and yet sold herself willingly.

Rose sat and watched, almost as if she could see the flashes going through my mind. I paced for a minute or two and realized I had no where to go ... no prospects of any kind of a future ... and suddenly, what she offered me intrigued me.

I sat to face her, "Please go on."

'The gentlemen from whom I accept commissions are unknowingly screened very carefully. I first must make sure they truly love their wives. I have no interest in breaking up a marriage. Then, of course, they must be discreet, not only for their own sakes but mine as well. My commissions last from a few weeks to a few months, usually depending on their learning capacity. At the end of our intimate relationship we retain a friendship. Often a referral comes from a previous client who approaches me with a commission to educate a son or perhaps a favorite nephew.'

'A few years ago, very rarely at first, then becoming more common among my more liberal patrons, they have returned requesting that some sort of an educational process be obtained for their wives. Subtly, perhaps even a seduction, so that the wife is not aware of being schooled in the more erotic graces. Until I met you I had not been able to find an suitable apprentice. I think that perhaps you have the character and ability to fill this void.'

I had been screwing around since the summer I turned 16, but never in my wildest fantasies could I have ever imagined a proposition such as the one now set before me. Once again Rose stared into my eyes as if to see my thoughts. I wasn't aware that my jaw had dropped until she flitted slender fingers at me and jovially said, 'Well, shut my mouth! That's probably the summation of your thoughts, isn't it, Mr. Emerly?'

I couldn't help but smile, "Yes, I guess it was. This is almost too much, and I must admit not a profession I ever thought I would one day consider myself in. I'm not sure I want to be in this profession. Yet, there is a part of me that is curious, intrigued and even a little flattered. Can I think about it for a while?"

As she stood from behind the desk, she totally disabled me with a brilliant smile, "Of course Mr. Emerly, you may give me your decision tomorrow morning before we leave for the Tea Room. Good night, sir. I hope you rest well." With that, she slipped quickly out of the room and before I knew it had disappeared, probably into her bedroom.

The damned thing about it, I had no idea where her bedroom was. I couldn't help but chuckle, rub my cheek smiling this time, and stroll down the hall toward my room to face a nocturnal dilemma. I somehow knew this would be a decision that would affect the rest of my life.

After tossing and turning until the wee hours of the morning, I agreed to join Rose and submitted myself to her tutelage. My lessons weren't long in arriving.

Am I boring you, Dana?" he chuckled.

I was pulled back from '1001 Arabian Nights' to the veranda. I couldn't speak, my eyes were as round as my mouth. I couldn't believe what I had just heard, "Mr. Em ... Jackson, did I hear you right? Did you just tell me that you were a gigolo?"

He threw his head back laughing, "My God, I don't think I've ever thought about myself like that, but yes I guess you're right. I suppose I was a gigolo at one time in my youth, but it was much more than that. You'll come to realize that over the next few days as I tell you more of my story." He rose from the table, pulled my chair back and said, "Let's walk for a while"

Mute and dumb I followed him to the gardens, "Dana, do you still think my memoirs will be boring?" His eyes once again danced and twinkled with mischief. I still couldn't say anything, my mouth was still open and I just shook my head 'no'.

He laughed again, reached up and shut my mouth with his index finger and said, "You're going to catch flies my dear. Do you want to go make some notes now?" At least my mouth was shut, but I still couldn't find my voice. I nodded my head and turned to walk back to the house and he turned to wander further into the gardens. I once again heard him chuckle.

Almost in a daze I made my way back to my room. Instead of heading for the coffee pot this time, I felt it more than necessary to pour myself a glass of wine. As I stood by the window I watched this man I was beginning to know wander through the gardens. What on earth would he reveal next ... I couldn't possibly imagine. Shaking my head I felt I needed another glass of wine ... or two ... or ten ... to help me absorb and sort out all I had heard this afternoon.

I sat quietly as brunch was served the next morning. I was quiet because I didn't know exactly what to say ... I thought I'd let him begin and then try to keep up as best I could. "Dana," he began, "did you sleep well?"

Now wasn't that trite! "Yes, thank you, I did."

"And are you ready to begin working again?"

Still numb, "Yes. I am."

"Wonderful," he began, "I hope I didn't shock you too much yesterday. But if these memoirs are going to be written, I decided they must be written honestly. I wouldn't want to mislead you or anyone else.

Before we go on, I'd like to try to explain the evolution of my personal philosophy. While we're growing up we are taught that sexuality is something to be ignored, suppressed and controlled ... if not, the 'beast' might take over our conscious beings somehow. We're taught that only husbands and wives can indulge in sex ... but somehow all the jokes portray marital sex as dull and boring.

Then by deduction, most of us figure out that if sex is to be exciting and fun then it must be outside marriage. If it's outside marriage, then it must be dirty. Of course everything along the way is complicated by the old double standard ... no wonder everyone is usually in such a snit about it.

Affairs for instance ... did you know that very few affairs have anything to do with sex at all? It's true. Some men think it's about the 'thrill of the hunt' ... the conquest ... but it's not. To them it's about power. Sometimes men or women stray because they need someone to make them feel special. They need to feel smart or pretty or appreciated or they're lonely. There are at least a hundred different reasons.

These are really only a few of the things Rose taught me. I'll tell you now about my first practical lesson ...

Oh, but I almost forgot," Jackson said as he handed me a parchment envelope, "this came for you in yesterday's mail. I have no idea how it found you."

I took the envelope and turned it over to discover my address had not been hand written but printed. How odd I thought as I opened it. I pulled out a matching plain card and unfolded it. My breath caught in my throat and my brow knitted up as I read, 'I can't believe there are so many miles between us. It has been too many days since I've seen you. Each day and every mile adding to my heartaches until I can see you again, be with you again.'

"What in the world? Would you excuse me, Jackson." I got up from the table and walked toward the gardens loosely holding the card in my hand. As I walked my brain skipped from one thought to another. Who in heaven's name would send me a card like this?

I searched my memory ... could it have been Don ... my contact for Business World? He was good looking, but I thought he was married. Maybe it was Richard, my accountant ... Lord, I hope not! The Fed-Ex guy was cute ... but I didn't think he had the panache.

I was at a loss. And, where on earth did he get this address? Could it have been a delivery man? I had no clue. I read the card again ... it was a mystery that left me feeling a bit unnerved. When I managed to get my wits about me again I returned to Jackson sitting on the veranda.

"I'm sorry, Jackson, this card kind of threw me for a loop. I can't imagine who might have sent it. I'm sorry I interrupted, where were you?"

Jackson's eyes danced for a moment before he spoke ... "Dana ... you're flushed! Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes. Please, let's don't talk about this any more, it's probably just some misunderstanding. Now, please go on with your story."

"Very well. Rose approached me a few days later, 'I have a client visiting me tonight ... a new commission. I'm going to use this opportunity to begin your training. We will speak further of this after the Tea Room closes.' Then she just walked away as though nothing more important than a new menu item was going to be introduced to me.

Daydreams and fantasies filled my head the rest of the afternoon and it was difficult to hide my excitement. Finally it was time to close. Rose drew the shades and locked the front door. We left Queen to supervise her new helper in cleaning up while she began the pastry preparations for the next day.

Rose and I took a cab to her home without speaking. Once there, I followed her into her office.

Rose started to explain, "I first became aware of Andrew Caplan through his wife at the Tea Room, of course. Over a period of time, I noticed that she was not as happy as a young wife of three years should be. There was something restless and depressed just below her consciousness. You are aware that over a period of time many of my ladies begin to confide in me. Susan was no exception, although I'm afraid that I did have to urge her along just a little.

Two weeks ago when she initially complained of a headache I offered to make her one of my special cups of tea ... and I did make her a very special cup of tea. It was getting late in the day and the Tea Room patrons were drifting out and heading toward their homes. I wanted to talk to Susan alone and this was the perfect time, so when I made her tea, I added a pinch of one of my special herbs to relax her just a bit. After two cups of tea, Susan was feeling much better and began to confide in me.

She spoke of her disappointment in her intimate married life. She adored Andrew but he simply wasn't the lover she had anticipated and longed for. Although it was obvious that Andrew likewise adored his wife, he was less than attentive outside the bedroom. And once in the bedroom, he was unimaginative and their lovemaking was over far too quickly.

I empathized with Susan and told her that some men change over time. Perhaps her Andrew would, too.

The very next day I arranged to bump into Andrew at the bank. He vaguely recognized me and I initiated a conversation. He was easily manipulated and before long, I had him buying me a drink in a cozy spot down the street. I chose a table in the corner and slid in making sure the slit on my skirt rose to mid-thigh. As he slid in the booth across from me, I took off my jacket, feigning summer discomfort. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he surveyed my shear blouse and the camisole I wore under it. If he was to be a candidate for instruction, I had to first be sure he was interested in me physically. I only sipped on a nice Chablis while he enjoyed two bourbon on the rocks.

After his first drink, it was easy to play into his ego, flirt, smile and touch his hand ever so lightly. As he warmed to my gestures, I continued talking to him about how lonely it could be for a woman all alone in this world. I knew that by this time he would begin to think about us together. So I explained how a discreet and mutually satisfying tryst could be arranged if he would like. I explained about my commissions and he was a little shocked at first. With just a bit more conversation and the palm of my hand just above his knee he was intrigued.

We set up an appointment for tonight at 7:00. He will drive himself, park in the rear and I will welcome him personally. Under no circumstances should there to be any sign of you. I have given Agnes the evening off. You will find a plate of cold cuts, cheese, fruit and bread already made for you in the kitchen. I must go now and prepare myself for my guest tonight. Please meet me here again at 6:30."

And with that, she left the office. I don't think it ever occurred to her that I may have something to say or a question to ask. I wandered off to the kitchen, found the plate, and poured myself a generous portion of Maker's Mark Scotch. As I sat at the kitchen table and more played with my food than ate it. I didn't know how to anticipate the coming evening or what my role would be.

I did manage to eat about half of the light supper and made my way to my room. After showering and shaving, I put on fresh clothes. I just decided to bide my time once again and trust that Rose would make things known to me as I needed to know them.

At 6:30 I entered her office and found her already there. It was evident that she had bathed, redone her hair in soft, upswept curls and applied her make-up in a more dramatic fashion. She wore a dress made entirely of pink lace. It wasn't at all what I expected to see a whore wearing. It was form fitting from the waist to the high scalloped collar and it had long sleeves and the graceful skirt hung to her ankles. As she stood and approached me, I noticed she wore pearl colored spiked heels and white stockings. When she got within a few feet of me, I realized the lace dress wasn't transparent at all, but lined with matching pink fabric.

She smiled at the indication of awe on my face and slowly turned around, 'Would you zip me up? I forgot Agnes had the night off.' I did as I was told. Without turning to look at me, she walked back over to the desk, opened the middle drawer and took out a key attached to an ornate tassel. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then said 'Follow me', in a soft voice, and I did.

She unlocked a door behind her desk and switched on a light. We entered a corridor which ended in a small sitting room. She pointed to a pane of glass, 'Your first lesson will begin when Andrew arrives. When we enter the room, I will turn on the light and you will be able to observe through the one-way mirror.

During my first encounter with Andrew, I will allow him to take the lead so I can ascertain the proper course of instruction. You will witness not only this encounter but subsequent ones as well. If you are to be an apprentice, it will be necessary for you to learn how to delight a woman with a wide variety of methods. Once you have been exposed to these various techniques, your practical training will begin. Do you have any questions?'

Did I have any questions! I was too dumbfounded to speak! 'Hell no!' I didn't want to tell her about the afternoon I spent in the hayloft.

'Good', Rose retorted, 'and one other thing, please remember not to turn on the light in here, it would reveal your presence and I'm sure Andrew would be less than pleased.'

So, I waited, and pretty damned uncomfortably too, I might add. The minutes seemed like hours, but finally I heard a door open and the light was turned on. A tall man in his late 20's followed Rose into the room. It was the first time either he or I had seen her bedroom.

It was large, furnished in wonderful early Louisiana antiques ... their French influence could be easily seen. The paintings on the wall seemed to be from the brushes of old masters, but contained clearly erotic scenes. The largest hung above the bed and depicted a pastoral scene with a gathering of Renaissance men and women on the pretext of a picnic. As you looked at the painting, though, it became evident that some couples were engaged in oral foreplay, others helped each other with awkward positions, while a menage d' trois cavorted behind a nearby tree.

The painting was not wasted on Andrew, he noticed it almost immediately upon entering the room. Rose walked over to a table just below the mirror and without even a hint of acknowledging I was there, poured bourbon over ice for Andrew and a glass of sherry for herself. As she handed the glass to him she said, 'I've been looking forward to this Andrew. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?'

Instead of sipping his bourbon, he threw it back in one swallow and shook his head 'no'. He looked at her and was as surprised by the woman who stood before him as I had been earlier in the office.