Sugar and Spice

Sugar and Spice

By Selmoore Codfish

Copyright 2013 Selmoore Codfish

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Sugar and Spice, all chapters

About the Author

The Waiting, chapter 1

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Chapter 1

Put your hands here, the nurse said to the woman as she pushed a small table close to the exam chair.

Sitting in the SRF Free-Clinic, it was erotic watching the two women together, one working on the other’s fingernails. The nurse held the woman’s fingers. She cradled them in her palm.

In the society which we lived, the church repressed talk of intimate body parts. Since the hand was considered the most sexual part of the body, it was socially unacceptable to look at a woman’s bare hands. Only when out with the guys was it safe to bring up the subject of a woman’s body parts. Otherwise, we risked leers from eavesdroppers.

Yet, looking at hands was why I was brought to the clinic. I was supposed to witness the services the clinic offered.

You have a hangnail, said Sister Englebert to the woman. You know what causes that? The Sisters that ran the clinic were trained nurses.

The woman in the chair was known professionally, as Candy. She rolled her eyes at the Sister. She had obviously been lectured too many times before.

Yes, Candy blurted out.

Then please don’t trim your nails leaving rounded edges. It may cause a hangnail. Leave the edges square.

My clients don’t like it that way. They say that I scratch them, the street worker replied. Candy was a strumpet which meant that men paid her to hold her hand.

I felt very guilty standing there. The two were talking about hand holding, which according to the church is only done between husband and wife. It was rumored that there was more to marital life than just holding hands. But the mere mention of anything beyond that was steadfastly rebuffed. Even the guys didn’t talk of it.

I kept my ears wide open because I didn’t want to miss a word. This made me feel even guiltier. I had a girlfriend, Angela, and I should have been looking at her instead. However, we both worked for the church and had to follow all of the rules about personal conduct. There had been no hanky-panky yet, although I secretly wanted to break all of the rules with her.

Also, I was a representative of the church. I was there to find why their insurance claims had been so high recently. It could have been the end of my career if I were to be found abusing free-clinic patrons by looking at their hands.

When they grip my fingers in their hands, they like caressing each finger, all of the way to the nail. They won’t like it if they get scratched, said Candy.

I watched Englebert clipping and filing Candy. Candy’s young hands were very desirable. They were quite different than the Sister’s much older, wrinkled hands. I tried not to see those.

A hangnail might make the experience even more unpleasant for both of you, said Englebert.

The strumpet nodded.

I was embarrassed by the open discussion of taboo subjects. I turned to my tour guides. Maybe they would have something less intimate to talk about.

I had been brought into the exam room by Mother Camilla, who was the head of the clinic. Also leading the tour was Brother Jirkas. I didn’t know why it was necessary for the Brother to tag along, but he hovered over the mother. He was a small man, but his intense stare and stern expression made me realize that I couldn’t ignore his presence.

Neal, you’ve probably seen this a thousand times in your job, Camilla said. Your medical training comes in handy.

I nodded, but she was wrong. I went to school for accounting. That was all that I needed to evaluate insurance claims.

We see this sort of stuff all day long here, she said.

Too much of it. They can’t take care of themselves, said the Brother.

The Brother was staying close to me. He watched everything that I saw. Whenever I turned my face his eyes followed mine to see what I looked at. As I looked back to the medical procedure, he was the only one who noticed or seemed to care, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.

The strumpet’s free hand lay at the side. I doubted that anyone could tell that I was looking at that hand instead. Except, maybe the Brother could. With my peripheral vision I could see him watching me still.

On Candy’s wrist was the traditional charm bracelet. Strumpets had worn something similar to it for centuries.

The bracelet draped over her wrist bones. The palm of the hand was what I found to be the most erotic, but the wrist was still very exciting to me. Women’s wrists looked even softer than the palm did.

So you’re a doctor, said Candy. I looked right at her eyes, and didn’t look back to her hand. I felt caught, but it hadn’t bothered her that Camilla, the Brother and I had been staring at her. It was just part of the profession.

No, I work for the SRSIG. It’s the Clinic’s insurance carrier, I said. Candy had me in her sights. I bet she thought a doctor might make a well paying client for her.

Oh, she said as she blinked. Then after a moment, she looked me over.

You’re a fine man, she said. I felt flattered, but it put me on-guard. She was still looking for a customer.

Tsk, said the Brother with reproach.

Are you interested in a ‘date’ tonight? she asked.

I shook my head. I just wanted to look, but not get caught looking. I needed to say something like that so that I was on the record.

I’m a professional with the Sacred Recluse, I said. The Sacred Recluse is the governing authority of the church. I don’t do that sort of thing.

Honey, I’m a professional too, she said. Some say what I do is very heavenly.

The Brother stepped in. We’ve seen enough of this. We are going to the next room, he commanded.

The Sister obeyed, and the three of us walked towards the door.

Since you work with the Sisters, Candy called to me, I could comp you a free date.

I didn’t turn back or acknowledge her. Yet, her comment made me smile on the inside. Maybe she did see me as a ‘fine man’ or maybe she was just very skilled at making all potential clients feel that way.

The clinic was in a brick building that looked as if it was formerly a large home. Next, we went through the narrow hall at the back of the building to another exam room.

Sorry about that, said Mother Camilla in a professional tone. I didn’t feel an apology was necessary, because I had been flattered, but in the company of religious people it was best to show remorse. I moved my hand sideways in a motion that said, ‘oh well.’

We paused at door of exam room 2. Camilla knocked and said, It’s us.

Okay, said a female voice inside. Then we entered. Camilla went first, and I went second, followed by the Brother. I felt under their guard.

This second exam room was a little larger than the first. We could all stand inside without hovering over the patient and health care provider. We stood back, more as observers.

Two women sat in this room, too.

The attending Sister touched the bruised pinky finger of the strumpet. The strumpet tried not to squirm.

This is Sister Paulina, said the mother. Most of the Sisters had looked to be sixty years old or more, but Paulina was younger. It was more pleasant to see her hands working on the strumpet.

Hello, said Paulina, not looking up. And this is Brandy. I wondered what motivated a young woman to become a Sister. My friends joked that it was the ugly girls that became sisters, but Paulina was modestly pretty. Her blond hair either had a natural curl, or she curled it herself. She might not have dispensed with all vanity when she became a sister.

Brandy looked up, and said, Hi. Her beauty wasn’t modest at all. Since she was selling herself she dressed it all up. She had obvious makeup on her dark face. Her hair was clearly styled, and her clothing displayed as much of her body as she could get away with.

We’re going to have to put a brace on it, said the Sister.

Hmm, said Brandy with an expression of being let down, as if she had hoped for a magic cure.

I need to support myself. Nobody is going to give me a paid vacation, she said.

Maybe you can find some clients who are turned on by immobilization, Paulina said sarcastically.

Brandy stared into space blankly for a moment. I wondered if she thought it was a real possibility that she could find enough men who’d want that.

How long do I have to keep it on? asked Brandy.

It could take months to heal a sprain. It would have been better if he’d broken it, then in six weeks you’d be fine.

Can’t I just let it hang? asked Brandy.

No. It’d just get worse, said Paulina.

Listen to what she says, interjected the Brother. Sister Paulina knows what’s right. Paulina smiled, but I wondered if he should be interfering. Brandy scowled.

Let’s step out here so that they can have privacy, said Camilla. I was impressed by the way Mother Camilla conducted herself. The nurses seemed to respect her, and she showed concern for the patients. I wasn’t embarrassed to be with her as we looked at women getting treatment. Having the Brother there was the cause of my uneasiness. I wondered what religious order he was a member of. Each group within the mother church had their own ideas, and knowing where he belonged would help me understand why he was acting that way. Asking him about it would just prolong my conversation with him, but I really didn’t want to talk to him.

We stood in the hall and Camilla closed the door.

That is true, Brother Jirkas. Paulina is our most qualified practitioner, said Camilla. She was soothing him and she knew just what to say and how to say it to prop up his ego. I guessed that they must have known each other well. The Brother wasn’t there just for a one-time tour like me. He must have been there because of me, such as being my chaperone.

Was the girl injured by one of her Johns? I asked.

Yes, we call them ‘clients,’ said Mother Camilla.

Are many of the women abused? I asked

Unfortunately… She looked defensive as if I had opened a contentious point.

At the front of the house they had added a reception area with about forty chairs. Many were occupied with people waiting for the nurses. To cause the damage that I saw among the people waiting would have taken a lot of abuse.

I wouldn’t be too concerned, interrupted the Brother. Camilla winced.

They’re just strumpets, he continued. They are women who have sold themselves. You shouldn’t think of them as pure. They accepted this as part of the job when they started soliciting men.

I was shocked by what the Brother had said. To him, it was the required wear and tear of the job. However, I didn’t respond because I wanted to hear what Mother Camilla would say. When he looked at her, they locked eyes until she nodded in agreement.

Still, we try to do what we can to make things not so hard on them, she said. Rather than objecting to his comments, she tried to smooth it over.

You help too much sometimes, he pressured her. He seemed to be digging at something that was under the surface.

The head of the Sisters stared back at him for a moment.

Maybe, she said, not committing to anything.

The whole problem with the strumpets would go away if you would close your doors because you make it easy for them to keep at it, he said. The Sister didn’t reply. I figured that he must have held some power over them because it looked like the Sister wanted to speak but was afraid of the consequences.

When he couldn’t coerce her answer, he led us down the hall looking frustrated.

Come, I will show you. We passed a meeting room and the reception desk where I had met the receptionist Sister Gingerbell as I came in. Then we went into the large lobby.

There, he said pointing at a strumpet. As she sat knitting, a man next to her stared at her hands.

She’s practicing her trade in your clinic, he said to Mother Camilla with disgust. I thought that the man must be paying to watch her knit. It seemed like an erotic thing to ask for.

It wasn’t as bad as if they had been holding hands. Leering at someone’s intimate body parts was a social taboo, but was not intimacy. I had been guilty of doing the same thing just a few minutes before in the exam room.

However, Mother Camilla looked embarrassed. It wasn’t appropriate for a religious organization to be seen as directly abetting a practice contrary to its teaching.

Your failure to heed me has doomed you again and again, the Brother said in a condescending tone.

Camilla turned away to face the receptionist.

Gingerbell, please talk to Olympia. The woman looked around to see the strumpet, then jumped from her chair and walked over to her. They talked, then after a minute the woman and her client left.

We’re sorry, said the head Sister.

This area also functions as a community room, warming shelter in the winter, and right now it is a cooling center.

It was mid-summer and it had been a hot day. The shadows were lengthening in the late evening, but it was probably still very humid out.

There were several women who appeared to be waiting for health services. Then there were a couple other groups of people who sat talking in the cool room.

Three men were gathered around a TV and watching a saucy reality show. It seemed odd to me that men would gather there since it was a women’s health clinic.

The men? I asked vaguely.

They are truck drivers. They work hard during the day then come here to unwind, said the Brother as he walked a few paces closer to them. Camilla and I followed.

Another man entered the front door and walked to the TV.

Whew, he said when he sat down.

Marv, what took you so long? asked one.

I’ve never been so furious, said Marv. "I was coming up SR-85 where it is still two lanes. There was a long line of cars going very slow. Jay, I probably could have got in the top bunk for a nap and drove it with my toe.

Nah, said Jay, smiling.

Anyhow, said Marv, we finally get to where it’s four lanes, and I pull ahead. I thought I’d see an old lady driving her out-of-date car, but it was a kid on a cell phone.

That sucks, said Jay.

Yeah. Then after a moment, Marv asked, While you were waiting did you keep yourself busy with the ladies?

No, the TV’s on. I don’t like quickies during the commercials. The ladies don’t like it when you are distracted.

I pulled the Brother and Camilla back so we could talk without interfering with the television viewing.

Usually it’s like this, Camilla interjected before I could ask my questions. It is our policy that the ladies and clients never have any contact in the shelter, but go outside to conduct their business. I didn’t mind her defending her enterprise, because Brother Jirkas had been rough on her.

I had come out at night and into the city to see why the Sister’s medical costs were astronomically high. Twelve Sisters shouldn’t have been going through as many supplies as they had in a year.

It was becoming clear to me that they were charging the insurance company for all that was necessary to run their free clinic. Their policy was only supposed to cover their employees. The clinic focused on problems related to the hands, so their clientele was mostly strumpets. They were the ones in the clinic who were there for the services, not just to get cool. In essence, by covering the strumpets’ medical costs the Sisters were claiming them to be part of their organization.

By what rationale do you use the Holy Recluse Insurance funds to cover these ladies? I asked.

Camilla did not answer verbally. Instead, she swept her hand in front of her face, not to hide her face, but to show me her hand. I looked away because I misinterpreted it as an unwelcomed advance. Respectful people never looked at each other’s hands.

Then out of the corner of my eye I saw the sparkle of a bracelet on her wrist. I looked back. It was the same bracelet that the strumpets wore. Camilla had shown me the bracelet to remind me of the long connection between this order of sisters and the strumpets.

I stared blankly, trying to refresh my memory of church protocols on this order, and the implications for insurance.

Brother Jirkas cleared his throat. He probably thought that I was ogling Camilla rather than stunned with new information. If I was going to get caught looking at someone, it wouldn’t be at this seventy year old with bony hands. I was not going to resolve this issue standing there. I blinked then looked back to Camilla’s and the Brother’s faces.

Thank you for the tour, I said to the two of them. I let them know that I would contact them later with more questions.

I nodded to the Sister and reached to shake the Brother’s hand. Although holding hands is the climax of intimate relations, a quick business-like handshake was completely innocent. However, after just staring at the Sister, I didn’t want to send her or the Brother mixed signals.

The brother shook my hand, but it felt different than I expected. I looked at his right hand. His hand and arm on that side were smaller than the other. He had effectively hid his hand throughout the entire tour. In that moment, he suddenly seemed to me to be shorter and less powerful than he had before.

I felt pity for him. Except in winter, all people walked in public with their most intimate body part, the hand, exposed for everyone to see.

I had always thought that I had hands that were too small, but his right hand was puny. I felt sorry for all of the taunts that had invariably happened to him. A small hand meant that he had no masculine prowess. I wondered how that had affected him.

I abruptly turned to leave.

When I got near the door, there were two women walking into the clinic. One was crying, and the other was comforting her.

Camilla, called the comforting woman to the Sister.

Yes, Jewel. What’s the matter with Bambi? said the head Sister. Then she said, Come, as she led them back behind the reception desk and into the meeting area.

Brother Jirkas went along, so I went too. I didn’t mean to pry, but that was why I’d come that evening. It was my job to pry into their business.

All of the women sat, but the Brother and I stood, partly since we were uninvited, but also I could sense a threat so it was my instinct to stand guard rather than huddle and have a good cry.

What happened? repeated Camilla.

She’s been…, Jewel paused, searching for the right word.

Accosted? offered Camilla.

No, um… not exactly, but worse.

I was married, blurted Bambi between her tears.

I was confused. Marriage wasn’t that upsetting to me. In fact, I was hoping to marry my girlfriend despite knowing her for only a few months.

You poor dear, tell us more, said Camilla. Another Sister must have heard the conversation from elsewhere because she came to join us.

I stood standing, ready. I didn’t see any raving accosters running down the hall. I didn’t see any potential grooms with bouquets of flowers and rings either.

Bambi couldn’t stop her crying to explain.

I was with a client, said Jewel. "Then when we were done, I didn’t see Bambi anywhere. I guessed that she was with someone too. Finally, she ran up to me.

All I could get out of her was that ‘he had said the words.’ He married her.

The words that Jewel meant were: ‘You are my wife.’ In the centuries before churches and courts, a man needed to simply claim that his woman was his wife in order for it to be law.

The privilege to make that claim still existed in common law. It allowed the destitute to marry without paying court or church fees, although no gentleman would ever consider doing that to a woman because it showed desperation.

Did he consummate it by holding your hand? asked the Brother.

No one answered, but Bambi bawled louder and all the other women scowled at Brother Jirkas.

Then it is irreversible, he said. The church could annul a vow if it had not been consummated. Brother Jirkas was probably even empowered to do so, but it was too late for Bambi.

I looked around for flower bearing grooms.

Shall we call the police to catch the accoster? I asked.

The new Sister that had walked in said, No, something like this is always the girl’s fault to them. They’d probably arrest Bambi for working the streets. It was illegal to strumpet, but it was rarely enforced.

Br. Jirkas snorted in approval.

Still looking for answers, I asked more questions.

Who did this to you?

I don’t know. The truck was dark, said Bambi.

Jewel and Camilla looked at me. They didn’t scowl, but I was made to feel that my question was irrelevant. It didn’t seem to me that the accoster or groom’s name should be irrelevant.

Most of the street lights are out. If the cab lights were off, she may not have recognized her client, said Jewel. It seemed odd that she wouldn’t know who she had been married to, but a man need only say the words. He didn’t have to introduce himself.

What will I do? wailed Bambi. I could see her predicament. She could not continue working the streets. It was a felony for a wife to work as a strumpet, but just a minor offense if a single woman did. A married woman had different expectations on her.

It’s okay, we’ll care for you, said Camilla. It didn’t bother me that the Sisters would care for her. A noble part of their mission was to help the destitute. Plus, the money wouldn’t come from my insurance fund, but their other sources of income.

Other things seemed wrong to me. First, I couldn’t believe that a trucker could do this to a young pretty girl. I admired truck drivers because they used their powerful hands to tame the wild beasts that they drove. The truck manufacturers named the models Stallions and Bulls.

Second, it seemed a bit extreme for someone who made their living holding hands to fall apart when someone grabbed it. Maybe I was just not sensitive to why Bambi was upset since I thought of marriage as a good thing.

Suddenly, I realized that under my breath I’d just said my thoughts that Bambi should fall apart.