Soiled Dove Read Online Free PDF Page B

diminutive young woman. “Find anything you like, Miss Loretta?” he asked in a low voice.
    “Why yes, I did, Hiram. Thank you.” Loretta smiled without looking at the older man. He was a familiar customer and having met his wife on a number of visits to his store she could see why he might look elsewhere for pleasure. “Your wife will be cutting some of that new material for me as soon as she gets around to it.”
    Hiram O’Toole glanced at the material lying on the cutting table. “That color will look wonderful on you. It matches you complexion,” he said. A ruddy blush made its way up his neck as Loretta turned toward him and curled her lips in a smile.
    “Why, thank you, Hiram. That was very sweet,”
    she said seductively, looking up at him. “Two dollars a yard is a little more expensive than I had planned for. Once it’s sewn, you’ll have to tell me how it looks on me.”
    “Two dollars?” Hiram asked, practically having to wipe drool from his lips.
    “Yes, that’s what Mrs. O’Toole said it would be,”
    Loretta said innocently.
    “Mrs. O’Toole was mistaken, Miss Loretta. It’s only one dollar a yard. If you’d like I would be happy to cut the length for you.”
    “That would be extremely kind of you, Hiram.”
    Loretta followed Hiram to the cutting table and watched as he measured out the two yards, plus a healthy extra half yard to ensure the cut was straight.
    As he smoothed the material over the table he glanced up occasionally and admired the soft curves and lines of Loretta’s body. He couldn’t afford to visit Jack Coulter’s establishment often, but when he did he always requested Miss Loretta.
    “What are you doing?!” Mrs. O’Toole’s shrill voice broke the relative quiet of the store.
    “I’m cutting this material for a customer, my dear,” Hiram said calmly.
    She lowered her voice as she walked up to her husband. “She’s a whore, Hiram O’Toole. She could have waited until respectable customers were taken care of.”
    Loretta bit her tongue and clenched her hand tightly around the handle of her parasol.
    “She’s a customer,” Hiram restated. “As far as I know her money is as good as anyone else’s.”
    Picking up the material, Hiram folded it and when he was sure his wife wasn’t looking, he cast a wink in Loretta’s direction. Loretta and Amelia followed him to the cash register, ignoring the daggers Mrs.
    O’Toole was sending their direction. Loretta took four bills from her purse and slid them across the counter toward Hiram.
    “But I said the material was…,” he began.
    “I don’t wish to cause a problem for you with your wife, Mr. O’Toole,” Loretta said.
    Sliding two dollars back toward her, he said, “The price I told you was the correct one, ma’am. I won’t have my wife cheating customers and giving my business a bad name.”
    “That’s very considerate of you, Hiram. You, indeed, are a true gentleman.”
    As Loretta picked up her package of material and turned to leave she almost ran into a young woman in her mid twenties wearing a conservative green dress and horn-rimmed glasses. “I’m sorry,” Loretta said, stepping aside.
    “Now where?” Loretta asked as she and Amelia stopped onto the boardwalk in front of O’Toole’s Mercantile.
    “I don’t know,” Amelia shrugged. “I don’t have any money of my own.”
    Linking her arm with Amelia’s, Loretta said,
    “How about I buy you a sarsaparilla?”
    “I’d like that,” Amelia said, smiling brightly.
    “Me, too,” Loretta said as they made their way through horses and wagon traffic on the dusty street toward a local eating establishment.
    Loretta slid into a booth and settled herself before taking a long draw on the straw of her drink. “Damn, this tastes wonderful.”
    “Better than whiskey,” Amelia said.
    They chatted for a few minutes, laughing and gossiping about some of their customers. Loretta was looking absently out the front window, when a voice broke into