Lady Charlotte: Women loving Women

By Susie Ray

Two lesbian, slow-burn romances that explore the amazing love between women.

 

Lady Charlotte is not a conventional Victorian woman, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't want to be loved, even if her family have tried to kill that very notion inside her…

She lives her life on her own terms, taking wealthy and powerful men to her bed, yet she still cannot understand why they have little effect upon her libido, until she meets Lady Lydia, who shows her the wonders of making love to another woman. But Lydia isn't interested in anything more than another conquest, leaving Charlotte bemused and unfulfilled.

Sally, her ladies' maid, adores her, but will Charlotte recognise what is right in front of her, or make the leap to appreciate how close, true-love might be? That's when fate takes a hand…

 

Aiko, tells the story of her unremarkable life, and then the only person who sees her as a beautiful young Japanese woman, her mother, dies tragically.

Will she ever discover who her father was, could she possibly get the disfigurement to her lower lip fixed? A chance meeting has the power to change at least some of her troubles, if she is brave enough to actually say hello to her possible saviour…

• Language: English
• Publisher: S-Ray Press
• Release date: Apr 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201554767

Susie Ray

Susie Ray Author bio I love to read and lose myself in stories conjured up by the written word – I am a mature individual, but I can still recall love’s first sweet kiss and the sting of rejection; the elation of being brought alive, by another’s caress, or tender words. I write sapphic stories for my own pleasure as well as hopefully that of the reader, and my head is full of ideas and storylines that are desperate to be shared. Admittedly, it was a freebie, but the first sapphic tale I read, left me feeling wanting and empty. I thought ‘I could do better than that’, and I did! My stories draw on a lifetime of experiences and places I have visited, so there is always a piece of ‘me’ in them. My preference is for short stories; tales, in bite-size portions, although some topics, simply require a novella to do them justice. I feel my writing skill has improved and grown with me over time and I am pleased to offer some of my work for your pleasure. Come lose yourself for a while, like I do when I’m writing…

Book preview

Lady Charlotte

One

It is the year of our Lord 1865 and it is probably fair to say that I am not what London society might describe as a normal respectable woman, but I am what my parents have made me, well my younger brothers too, to some degree.

I was a disappointment to my Papa, not being born a boy and he never showed me any love or caring. From the outset, all he ever wanted was a male heir to take over his businesses. Having a second son, merely confirmed to him that I was a mistake and he never let me forget it. My Mama is and always has been, under his thumb, willing to meekly go along with anything and everything he said, so even she did little to ensure anything other than my upbringing. No finishing school for me like some of the other Ladies, thereabouts.

That is when I decided to make something of my life, something that I could be proud of even if no-one else would care. I might have considered going to live with my aunt, the black-sheep of the family, but that would involve leaving my beloved London. I began to actively seek out information about women that had made their mark in this man’s world. Ada Lovelace was one of my heroines, and not because she was Lord Byron’s only legitimate daughter, but more because I felt that she had been manipulated by her parents too, like me. Lady Byron, after her disastrous brief marriage to the man of many talents, appetites, and low morals decided to school her daughter in mathematics in an attempt to allay any potential that she might turn out like her father.

My interest in Ada began when I heard about how she successfully tried to make her way in the world. She came up with the concept of flying machines when she was only twelve and her collaboration with Charles Babbage on his Difference Engine was remarkable and essential. I attended her funeral in December 1852, such was my admiration, when she sadly passed at a very young age of 36. I even met her once at a playhouse. Master Dickens had a play he was trying out there, and it appears we are each, acquaintances of his and were both invited backstage, after the performance. It is a memory I treasure. Meeting Ada, not Charles.

Playhouses are normally a bawdy affair with the artistes playing up to the hoi-polloi in the stalls and not really my scene. Master Dickens had invited many of his upper-class friends in an attempt to get his work acknowledged seriously. Whether or not, he considered himself the ‘modern-day’ Bard of Avon, I am unsure – he never spoke of it to me, but surely, he must have drawn some inspiration from the Bard, nonetheless.

Anyway, the best thing to come from that night, is that I met my heroine Ada, and for once, the audience seemed rapt – maybe Charles has got something after-all?

The fact that I have little respect for many, least of all my family, should indicate my regard for the late Ms Lovelace. In fact, some might say that I have a propensity for ‘collecting’ female innovators – the writer, Jane Austen for example. I admired her too, more for her achievement than for the content of her work, a little too girly for my appetite. I have recently heard of another writer – George Eliot, who is writing under a male non-de-plume, but even so, she is trying to break through this invisible barrier. I haven’t had the chance to read Adam Bede yet, or to discover her real name, but I am sure that one day I shall.

Of course, I have lived a privileged life in the reign of our glorious Queen Victoria, and whilst I wouldn’t want to be poor, I resent the manner in which my Papa’s money was earned, in the disgusting Slave Trade. I am almost glad that as a woman, that I have been overlooked to take over the reins of his now respectable business ventures including the import of tobacco and other ‘essential’ commodities, and that my two younger brothers Charles and Oscar will have their birth-right, one day. I am not so much of a fool to refuse the stipend my father allows me, for it is adequate for my needs.

Or at least it was, until I matured and decided to make my own fortune. I have not been blessed with the mind of someone like Ada, but I have other attributes and womanly wiles to employ to make my way in the world. I am unaware if my family have any idea that I am now a Courtesan, a kept woman, and I really am not concerned whether they do, or do not.

My business card presents me as Lady Charlotte Chalfont, an assumed surname, to disguise my origins, and my profession is shown as Indulgence Co-ordinator – it sounds so much better than a ’high-class-whore’. Not that I have to present it very often. My business comes usually by recommendation – word of mouth – very discreetly, naturally. There are several Lords who have partaken of my services and modesty forbids me to reveal all. Earl Althrop is an exception. He thinks he has an exclusive arrangement with me – that’s why he has provided my new home. I ensured it was fully in my name, before I allowed him to bed me. A woman has to take precautions, after-all.

Edward, the Earl of Althrop is away visiting the Americas, a foolhardy thing to do, I told him so, and refused to accompany him, but now he is out of the way, I am able to entertain again. There are always opportunities, one simply has to grasp them and I intend to. Lord A, a good friend of Edward’s is ‘visiting’ me tomorrow, so I have ensured my calendar is clear, if you get my meaning. He isn’t a bad lover, and he is unusual in that he doesn’t partake of tobacco in any form, so I even may kiss him. What some of my gentlemen must think when I do not allow them to kiss me, I’m not sure, but I am sure that I do not want to taste or smell the revolting dregs of an old ashtray! I feel certain, such a filthy habit can only cause damage to one’s respiratory system, but alas, I am no expert and no-one takes me seriously.

Sally, my ladies’ maid looks after all my needs and she has just presented someone else’s calling card, hand delivered by a footman. I accept it from the silver platter and notice that it is from Lord P. Turning it over reveals a missive in his own hand.

My Dearest Charlotte, pray make yourself available on Thursday p.m. for my attendance.

Lord P always brings generous gifts whenever he calls, so I am more than happy that he is taking advantage of Edward’s absence too. His gifts may be the best, but then his demands are the greatest too, of all my Gentlemen. It may sound onerous, having to pleasure all my Gentlemen, but generally I only do what I am happy with and I rarely get any sort of physical satisfaction from our encounters, until I look at my holdings.

Lord P – I really cannot reveal his name, as he has the ear of our good Queen Victoria, another blinding example of what women might achieve, given the opportunity, but I digress. He is the only lover who has been able to elicit any sexual response from me, but I am a great actress and if all else fails, I feel I would be able to make a decent living in the stage.

I suspect that I may be barren, considering the number of intercourses I have endured. Either that or my body needs to be seriously aroused before I might produce any ova of my own. Lord P has come close, but not even he has achieved that status yet, but his offerings always make up for that. Still, I must away and not dwell on him, Lord A is due any time.

My Gentlemen always feel awkward initiating the tryst between us and it usually falls to me to make the first move. At least with tonight’s participant, I can bring him close to the boil with kisses – they don’t even turn my insides now – practise, I suppose. I wish one day that I might get so involved in the moment that I might even discard all my clothes, and not just my bloomers, as is the case tonight. Honestly it is hardly worth the effort of removing every elaborate item of my clothing for the big non-event that is their climax, and he is barely inside my outer lips when he cannot contain himself any longer. Poof and it’s all over – see what I mean. You know how long it takes me to dress in full regalia – it would hardly be worth investing the time in removing it all, for one quick ‘poof’.

As he straightens his outfit to leave, I muse that at least with this choice of profession, I do not have to spend most of my time learning lines or rehearsing, as I might if I was an actress. Besides, actresses aren’t thought well of in general terms and I defy anyone on my street not to show me respect – I have earned it. Sally will deposit my latest funds in the bank on the morrow and she will get one percent of the total, which buys her loyalty and her silence. Believe me, she must be easily the highest paid maid in our street. I like to care for her well, partly because she is an excellent ladies’ maid and partly because she is from a similar background to me, but her family did not fare well in times past and she finds herself in reduced circumstances.

I have implored her not to call me Mistress, rather Miss, or even Charlotte, as I have no intent to demean her circumstanced further, but I fear it is a lost cause as she willingly accepts her lowly status, almost as if she believes she deserves it for some reason, which is beyond me. I keep trying, especially when we are alone, but she has not been moved, thus far.

Naturally Lord P is a different story to my other Gentlemen – he will expect to see a little flesh to deem he is getting his money’s worth and to be fair, I do like to tease him and show more than a little ankle and calf, maybe even my knee if he is a good boy. Sessions with him often last an hour or more – two is the record, but the pearl necklace he gave me next visit, is divine and well worth revealing some of my ample flesh. I wonder what he might give me if I showed him a flash of my bosom? I have caused myself to flush at such an outrageous thought. I am looking forward to the morrow, very much. Sally doesn’t comment on getting no reward when Lord P calls. If our situations were different, I believe she might make a play for him herself – he is such a ladies’ man. And I do pass down to her, the occasional trinket that doesn’t appeal to my liking. I assume she sells them to increase her own monetary worth.

I am unsure when society developed such prim and proper standards or has it always been this way? Either way, I must have been absent when that edict was declared – that is the only way I can account for my nature – that and the effect my family has had upon me. Perhaps I might ask the Bishop, when next he calls – he wears almost as many layers as I do, as I discovered at our first meeting. He knows everything, or claims to – I suppose he does have the ear of the Almighty, so maybe he does?

Two

Lord P is very hungry for me tonight, but as a small dispensation, he has managed to arrange an invitation for me, to a very formal garden party with many elder statesmen present, so that I might broaden my client list, should I have the need. He wasn’t remiss in my gift either – a pair of amethyst earrings – they are my birthstones. Sorry Sally, you will not be getting these. He isn’t easily deterred as most of my Gentlemen are, by a swift glance of my many layers of petticoats and insists on seeing a little more than usual flesh, which of course, I am happy to provide. I have no problem with looking at my own naked body, on occasions, and even though it is merely my own opinion – I look quite delectable. So, I can hardly deny him his pound of flesh, as it were, and he managed to get me moist before he entered me, making both our experiences, easier.

I even mused what it might be like, one day, to have him see me naked from the waist down, however, such a thing amongst our class of people, is considered vulgar and unheard of, and I am glad that I was merely musing. I fear I might faint, for real if such an occurrence were actually to happen. Sometimes, I wonder, how on earth men and women re-produce, given the hands-off approach that everyone seems to have about... What to call it – making love, hardly. Even I with my broad mind, I feel very naughty considering it to be sex. It is almost a new, taboo word, even in my profession.

Fainting is usually a method I use to call a halt if any of my Gentlemen begin to take liberties, but I cannot prevent the notion that one day, I might discover a special someone, with whom I am prepared to risk fainting for real, but inside, I know just how remote such a possibility must be, so I usually do not dwell upon it. I cannot afford to think of such things, for many a season yet, while my looks and status are at their peak. I believe our rural fellows call it ‘making hay while the sun shines’ if I get their meaning correctly.

After Lord P leaves with a smile on his face and a spring in his step, I begin my ablutions to cleanse my private areas as is the norm after such events, and once cleansed I can allow my thoughts to drift to the up-coming social gathering, to which he has secured my presence. I do not get many opportunities for such gay gatherings and I intend to make the very best of my time there. I do not require any additional clients at the moment, but it does not hurt to check out what is on offer, and I can spend much of my time indulging myself, meeting others and engaging in small-talk, of which I get very little chance in my daily life.

Alas, it requires me to associate with ‘old-money’, acquired by similar means to my Papa’s or by some equally nefarious exploits, but I am not one to judge, after-all some of them are likely to be of my general age group and may well detest the methods used to make their families rich, just like me. The weather being clement, the garden party is going ahead outdoors, with ample marquees to shield the ladies’ fair skins from the ravages of sunshine – I still do not understand why it is so harmful, yet essential to our existence. It seems an anathema to me, but then I have already explained that my talents lie elsewhere.

I have never visited here before, nor do I know my host – Lord P sent his carriage to collect me at the given time. I mingle and nod as and when, as I make my way to the refreshments area, where I plan to try the punch. Hopefully it will at least be drinkable and not the slop that I have tasted before at other events. The attendant hands me a glass cup of a pinkish liquid, which upon sampling isn’t so bad and I sip very genteelly as I espy my immediate neighbours. My attention is drawn beyond them to a group of young men gathering like bees about a honey-pot. I can discern it is a woman, by the glimpses of her gown as they all laugh and talk, never still, but as to the attraction – that is obscured from my view. It is mere idle curiosity as to who could be providing such a draw and my patience is eventually rewarded as she apparently dismisses them all.

Well, her attraction is plain, even from here, but something encourages me to get a closer look, before more hordes descend upon her. She must have a mind for refreshment as she is heading my way, but she stops at a seemly distance and addresses me,

"Hello my Dear, I am Lady Barstow. It is a