Chapter 1: Meet Madam Von R

Madam Von R-- was a very wealthy and extremely helpful patriot during all five years of the generally-welcomed British occupation of New York City. I knew her only briefly at the beginning of her service to the country, just for a couple of years before we went south, but I was happy to have known her at all. She knew John Foster, might have been some kin to him, so got me assigned to her for a month at a time in 1778-79.

She was a bright, diminutive woman with a stately air, a heart of oak and a will of iron. She wore fine, dark clothes of the previous generation and tall, powered wigs that were her hallmark and pride. She had survived three husbands; a ship builder, a merchant and a lawyer, borne a number of children, many of whom were now highly placed Tories, and had inherited a good deal of real-estate inside the city walls, on Long Island and up along the Hudson. She had dozens of relatives, many of them handsome young women who loved and admired her. When I knew her, she was, I would guess, about fifty years of age, perhaps more. And she survived the war, a real accomplishment considering how dangerously she lived. If I had been handing out medals, she certainly would have been first in line, right up there with Anna Strong of Setuaket and the woman known only as "355."

As part of my off-and-on spying activities, I often lived in her basement and prowled the docks and streets during the curfew hours, seeking information and informants, but she provided more useful knowledge of British intentions from her soirees and salons than I ever wormed out of tipsy soldiers, tired harlots or drunken sailors. I believe that every field grade officer in the British and German forces regularly visited her home, paid court to her fresh young nieces and their stylish and complaisant friends and discussed the government's problems and military plans openly in her drawing room and at her long dining table. A great number of them, it was said, also visited several soft and friendly beds in that mansion. The madam attracted or recruited many fashionable and talented females, all of whom seemed to possess fine memories and a willingness to fall on their backs for talkative Brits. One that I had heard stories about was as luscious a woman as anyone had ever seen, a robust young matron called Margo who was said to be almost insatiable. I was eager to find out if that was so.

When I met Madam Von R-- for the first time, she lifted her eyeglasses on their long stem and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I'm not sure we can hide anyone as big as this," she said to my captain's commanding officer, a major who was some sort of cousin or nephew. "It would be like concealing an elephant in a bushel basket." However they made a space for me under the cellar stairs that was quite comfortable, and I soon found that there were several members of her household staff with a serious need for male companionship from time to time. I seldom slept alone except by choice, but I pursued the plump Margo without success due, mainly, to my schedule which involved very long nights and sleeping until noon many days.

Late one evening or early in the morning as I crept back to my cot and peeled off my soft and comfortable boots, I heard footsteps on the stairs that led up to the pantry. "Hist," a female voice whispered as I took off my britches, "is that you?"

I stood, barefoot and breechesless and welcomed a nightshirted young lady to my triangular cubicle. Her long hair hung almost to her waist and she held a candle before her. She raised her flickering light, looked me over, glanced at the narrow bed, smiled and blew out her taper. A small, high window gave us a tiny bit of moonlight, and in a short time, our eyes adjusted.

"I've heard the maids a'talking," she said with a musical lilt that might have suggested Ireland. She stepped where I could touch her and feel her warmth. "They say you can satisfy a girl that needs a man, that you can do it properly and in a short time if need be. I must say, you're surely big enough for the task. I'm the madam's goddaughter, Louisa May. We haven't met." She made a mock curtsey to me. She was a very pretty young one, slim and petite with a happy smile and sparkling eyes, and she smelled good which made me think of my own condition.

"Pleased," I said "But I've just come in from an evening of street tramping, tobacco smoking and liquor drinking so I likely smell something awful, and I'm tired out and doubt that I'm in any shape to do any woman much benefit tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, later in the day, before your supper." I smiled down at her and felt myself becoming aroused.

"Oh," she said, pouting very prettily in the gloom. She untied her neck bow and peeled her night dress from her narrow shoulders. It slid to her elbows revealing a firm, upright pair of blue-veined white globes with high pink tips that looked slightly away from each other. "My husband is far away, in the south seeking arms from the Spanish. He's been gone two whole months. Couldn't you try? I have done my best but I can't, well," she sniffed, "I can't satisfy myself. It's not the same, even when I do succeed." She had the odd habit of raising her voice at the end of most of her sentences, making them sound like questions.

"However," I continued, reaching out for her boobies, caressing their smooth undersides and then weighing them in my palms, "if you can overlook my filthy state, I will do my best to meet your needs and try not to get you dirty." I could hardly wait to get at her. Her body seemed to glow with good health and emanate sexual desire. She was truly juicy, panting to be had, squirming in my hands, rubbing her thighs together, her mouth agape, nipples extending as I rubbed them with my thumbs.

"Perhaps just a sample this morning, a small taste then, until we can do better at another time, a more propitious time," she whispered, dropping her arms and allowing her gown to slip to the floor after it paused at her hips and well-rounded butt. Her long, yellow tresses rested on her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Her waist was high and the full curve of her hips very long. She took a deep and wonderful breath, placing her hands behind her and pushing her soft belly out at me, moving her small muff from side to side.

"Yes" I said, kicking a stool toward her, "good idea, a small sample. I haven't shaved for a week, miss, and I really don't think you want to bed such a large and smelly body as mine, not just now. I appreciate the sentiment, and I'll surely put you on the list once I'm more presentable."

She smiled and stepped carefully up on the milking stool which brought her eyes almost to my level. I moved forward and grasped her firm buttocks and caressed them and her smooth legs. I wondered how young she was. She moaned nicely under my kneading. "Oh, you are prickly," she said, touching my cheek, and then laughed at her own joke as my shirt tail tented out before me.

I went down on one knee, held her gently, stroking her legs, tried not to rub her soft skin with my bearded face, and licked at her pouting, trembling lips, probing and pressing them apart with my fingers. I pushed my tongue deeply into her and licked upward. Her breathing became very rapid indeed, and she closed her eyes with her hands full of my hair. I explored with my tongue until I found her tiny prick and then paid homage to it until she gasped, liquefied and moaned, my big hands on her pelvis with my thumbs holding her wide open. Then I stood carefully, moving my mouth up to her breasts, held down my striving member and let it slowly push up into her well-prepared passage. I pulled her legs above my hips one by one as got my prod well and very tightly lodged, the ridged head well inside her inner lips. She trembled and sucked in air. I locked my wrists in the small of her back and said, "Now lean back and take a deep breath." She did and I impaled her fully. She gasped and jumped as if she had been shocked, shuddering again and again as she sank onto the thick root.

She exhaled loudly, "Hahh, ahh, ahh," and her body quivered all over. She kicked me steadily as I enjoyed her, pounding the back of my thighs with her heels, digging her fingernails into my back. "Oh, oh, oh," she sighed. She was eager and active, writhing and groaning, humping me steadily. She rose, ground against me with her head at my shoulder, mouth open, spasmed over and over, gushing fluids, then threw her head back, her tongue flopping in her mouth and her body bucking to and fro like a wild horse on a short tether. I felt her legs peeling away from me, and I let her down to the stool, with my prematurely freed cock enjoying the feel of her body as I did so, rubbing at her navel and then up toward her warm breasts. I doubt that we had been joined for five minutes. It had been barely a taste but a fine and inviting one that left me wanting much more.

I stepped back and stood a bit sideways to her, and she got her breathing under control with her head on my chest and my arm about her, patting her rump. I dumped her gown over her head and she shook it down her slim body and tied the ribbon at her throat without taking her eyes from my face. She rose on her toes, kissed my stubbled cheek sweetly and left with her dark candle, breathing deeply. I tumbled into bed, grabbed my cock and slept like a stone.

A few hours later, with the sun fully abroad in the land, I awoke to the usual noises in the house and the tap of shoes on the rude stairs above my head. I wondered if I had dreamed of the longhaired girl in the white nightgown as the same girl, now fully dressed, brushed aside my blanket-door and stepped into my small, bare room, looking serious.

"Good morning, sir," she said, while I lay there dumbfounded and thoroughly erect, "I believe I did you a disservice last night, earlier, you know, early this morning. In fact, I can see I did." She quickly stepped out of her stiff skirt and ruffled petticoat, tossed aside her fancy bodice as though it were but a trifle, pulled my blanket down, swung a leg over me as if she was mounting a wide-bodied horse and sat on my thighs, smiling, still wearing her shoes and stockings as well as her lacy shift and very narrow, tight-laced stays, her long hair was combed and dressed for the day and her round breasts pushed up and close together by her fancy, tightly laced corset.

I slid my hands under her shift, admired her slim body and the bulging breasts above her lace and stay strings and said, "Did you? I can't recall."

"Um," she said, bending to kiss my root's trembling head briefly. "I got what I wanted without any consideration of your needs, very selfish of me. You were very good, even if you were tuckered out, very strong and considerate." She licked her lips and held my gaze while I petted her hard, round bottom. She swallowed and then rose on her knees, put her hands down on my shoulders and let her round breasts hang in my face. Then she lowered herself very slowly, biting her lower lip. I held my huge lance at the hairy base and she took it in, wiggling her hips right and left as she did. It took some effort and that showed on her pretty face. It was like putting a ten-pound ham in a skin meant for a five-pound sausage.

"Oh my," she gasped, shaking her head and drooling a bit, "I thought all men were about the same, but," she stopped and shook, sucking in air. I held her gently at the hips and thighs as my disappearing ram exercised itself within her. She changed her hands' position to my stomach, sat up straighter. She gasped loudly, put her hands behind her head and turned her body right and left, heaving and squirming as she attempted to settle herself in the saddle. She squealed and then fell on my chest, her arms limp and palms turned up at my sides. "Can't believe it," she moaned. "I'm ruined. I can't do it; it's just too much, too much. It just won't go in."

We lay together for some time, about halfway joined, my rod perhaps a hand deep, and remained entertained observers of our bodies' passionate wants while I petted her back, and then after fifteen or twenty minutes of probes, jumps and throbs, she roused herself, panting when I had nearly all of my stake in her. "Please," she said, stretching up to take my mouth briefly, "be gentle." I was for a long time, finally fully lodging my mighty pole fully within her, but she became more demanding after that and at length found herself under me, kicking her legs wildly, crying out, "Please, please, please," until I was done and kissed her cheek. Her hair was a mess, but she was smiling and gasping.

We sat beside each other on the edge of my bed, proud and satisfied, needing nothing more from each other. "That ought to hold me until Christmas," the girl said, laughing.

"You're awful strong for your size," I told her, patting her back and nibbling her ear.

"So are you," she said and she laughed, stood on trembling legs, dressed carefully and left, still breathing hard and trying to push her hair into shape.

I got some breakfast and went back to bed. And that was the night I fell in among thieves, as they say, so it is a good thing I got so thoroughly laid.

Early the next morning I was in a fancy house near the docks when I heard a loud voice asking, "Who the hell is it that's so damn interested in the Royal Navy?"

I could not hear the answer, but I knew I had not been careful enough somewhere along the line. I headed for the back door, pulling my big bayonet from its scabbard as I moved. I eased the door open and found two Royal Marines with muskets awaiting me. I scurried back upstairs, entered the first room with a light showing and found myself facing a large caliber pistol in a steady hand. Four men sat at a round table playing cards under a shaded lamp while a mulatto woman stood at the window, looking surprised, her flimsy robe open to show her hard breasts and strong body.

"Closed game?" I asked as the man with the pistol raised an eyebrow.

"Who the hell are you?" he said.

"Man looking to hide in plain sight," I told him, pulling out a chair and pushing some loose coins in front of me as feet pounded on the carpeted stairs. The man sat and his pistol disappeared. The dark woman pulled her robe closed and answered the thuds on the door panel.

In stepped a naval officer, all braid and bluster. I slouched and kept my back to him. "We're looking for a man, common dressed, big man, seen in the front room a few minutes ago."

The man whose pistol I had studied stood. "Sorry sir," he said, "we've been here since sundown. Ask Cindy there if we ain't. She knows us."

The girl evidently nodded or smiled or somehow vouched for us and the door closed. I pushed my borrowed coins back to their owner. "Got any a'yer own?" he said with a smile. I produced my purse and jangled it in my palm.

It was a high stakes game with one strange twist, every time the deal got back to the banker, we played a "Cindy" hand and the winner not only got the pot, he got a turn with the lissome young lady on a couch along the far side of the room. We had plenty to drink, a bit to eat, and some very quiet and serious card playing. When one of the men was being served by the tea-colored whore, we hardly heard his grunts for our concentration. Despite her abilities, or perhaps because of them, the winner seldom missed more than one deal and once, when the same man won twice in a row, he made an odd face before he went to take his winning opportunity.

I won and lost, lost and won, but never took the Cindy hand until the sun was starting to rise. By then there were only three of us left, but the pots had grown with doubled bets and pushes until perhaps ten pounds or more was on the table and available for the turn of a single card. I almost whooped when my missing ace showed up, raked in my pile and stood, working on my waist buttons.

"Wait," said the dealer. "We all chipped in for her, a quid."

I said, "Help yourself," gesturing at my winnings and shook the girl awake.

"Damn," she said, "Hoped you'd never win, big as you is." She laid me down, pulled my britches to my knees, washed my privates gently but thoroughly, and got me pumping in quick march time. She was getting off of me before I realized that I had come. "That there's some mighty tool y'got," she said as I buttoned up and got back to the table.

The game was soon over, the players left, groggy and satisfied and the dealer riffled the cards and gestured me to a chair.

"Redcoats're interested in you," he said. It was not a question. I nodded and watched his nimble fingers manipulate the cards.

"Bit nosy, are you?" He lifted an eyebrow and I nodded again.

"What they pay me for," I said.

"Who?"

"Continental Congress."

"You hiring?"

"Pay for information, sometimes," I said.

"All right," he said. "How 'bout a list of the major ships, their compliments, commanding officers, number of guns, that sort of thing?"

"Think we got most of that."

He pondered and rubbed his chin. "Cornwallis's cipher?"

"The odd-shaped one?" I drew it in the air.

"No, this is like two circles of different sizes."

"Ten pounds," I said.

"Twenty," he said.

"They change regularly."

"But they go back to the old ones, don't they?"

"Fifteen," I said and we shook.

"Tomorrow night, right here," he said, and I left, a few shillings richer and well and truly laid by a professional.

I went back to the mansion and slept away the day. Near sundown I found Louisa May and asked her where the lady of the house might be. "Off into the country," she said, "won't be back till Friday."

"I need some money, some gold," I said.

"How much?" she asked moving close enough for me to hold her. "Twenty pounds at least," I said.

"Come," she beckoned me with a crooked finger and I followed. In her room on the second floor, she produced a folded purse and extracted a wad of paper money, British as well as American. She smiled and held it out. "Help y'self," she said.