Dara

'If you ask me,' I said, 'she's nothing but a common tart, selling herself cheap.'

'Ah. Yer don't understand. Yer not like us. She's just a good sport. I remember the first time Tom and me met 'er. They say two into one won't go but it did that night. Tom and me 'ad 'er sandwiched between us, piggin' it in the same 'ole as yer might say.'

It was pitch black when Adam and I stumbled up the stairs to his room later that evening and I paid scant attention to the decaying, fetid smells that seemed to infect the whole house. Adam's room was spotlessly clean but barely furnished, with its cold floorboards, bed, wash stand, clothes cupboard, small table and two chairs. In the fluttering light of a tallow candle I undressed and he did likewise, removing all his clothing except his shirt, before jumping into bed.

When I pulled my shift over my head and stood naked before him he turned his head away. 'Put yer bloody shift on,' he shouted. “Ave yer got no shame, showing all yer got like that? Wot d'yer fink this is, a broffel?'

This was my first experience of lower class prudery. Later, as time went by, I was to learn that Adam was no exception to the idea prevalent amongst the poor that it wasn't decent to expose your private parts to anyone however intimate the relationship had become. In all the time I was with Adam I never saw him naked; he always undressed with his back to me and held the front of his shirt over his private parts until he got into bed.

Wasting no time on kisses or caresses, he pulled me roughly under him. He was what you might call a 'knee-elbow lover'. Taking most of his weight on his forearms he crouched over me and viciously thrust deep into my giny saying, “Old yer breaf when I pass yer 'eart.'

In spite of the rough manner of his entry into my soft underparts, it was good to feel the warm full flesh of a man inside me again. The deep probings of his aggressive cock began to arouse my passions but the warm, sensual feeling wasn't to last for very long, for in less than two minutes his frantic stabbing brought him to a head. Gasping for breath, he flopped down on me.

Bitterly disappointed, I said with feeling, 'Is that the best you can do for a girl?'

Without any warning I was stunned by a stinging blow across the mouth from the back of his hand. 'Shut yer mouf, you stupid cunt,' he growled, 'or I'll shut it for yer.'

I could hear the slumbering anger beneath the surface of Adam's words the following morning when he bid me rise and dress. 'Come on, woman, there's work to do.'

He was determined to bring me down a peg or two to keep his own self esteem. The difference in our education and speech irritated and belittled him. His constant harping on what he called my 'la-di-da' speech and genteel manners exposed his sense of inferiority with those who had the advantages that he associated with the self-assured gentry. What he wanted from me was admiring respect.

It was obvious that if our intimate relationship was to continue he would have to be top dog and I his subservient woman. It would be difficult for me to play such a role but it would be easier for me than have us both tearing each other to pieces in constant bickering. A long day of sullen resentment was not a happy prospect so I decided to put the matter to rights immediately.

Standing before him with eyes downcast in an attitude of meekness and submission bare-footed and wearing only my shift, I murmured in an apologetic voice, Adam, I'm sorry for what I said last night. Please forgive me.'

The angry resentment he felt was still boiling up inside him and had to come out. He scowled at me. 'Yer're a tight-arsed, snooty bitch and I won't stand for it so yer'd better knuckle dahn and mind yer tongue.'

He waved his fist in front of my face. 'Yer fink yer're better than me- don't yer?'

'No, Adam, I don't,' I protested.

Stuck for words, he mumbled hesitantly, 'Mind yer place-or I'll wallop the 'ide off yer.'

By the time we arrived at Covent Garden, Adam was his usual lively, agreeable self. It was hard work helping him push the barrow through dismal streets and into gloomy courtyards to get the sales for the fruit and vegetables. Despite the drizzling rain that soaked us to the skin, he remained talkative and entertaining, doing his best to bring good cheer and laughter to the pale, pinched-up faces of the women who came out from crumbling houses to buy our vegetables. Their thin, tawdry dresses gave them little protection against the cold wind and rain.

I was dog tired at the end of the day and ready for bed but Adam insisted on us having another evening at 'The Half Moon' tavern. The cosy atmosphere and warm welcome I received from Florrie soon revived my spirits.

Sitting next to Tom Biggs was a little dwarf. He was so hideous and grotesque that I couldn't take my eyes off him. I tried to concentrate on the conversation between Adam and Tom, but became increasingly uneasy as the fixed staring eyes that bulged from the monstrous head of the dwarf followed all my movements. He never took his eyes off me from the moment I sat down in a chair opposite him. The diabolical grin on his fat lips unnerved me every time I glanced at him.

Adam seeing the dwarfs interest in me, gave him a push and said, 'Take yer eyes off 'er, yer randy little bastard. Anyway she'd get nuffink from your short stick.'

The dwarf turned with his heavy head lolling to one side. 'My short stick 'as pleased a lot of women.' Sticking out a thick, wet tongue at Adam, 'Yer know what they say, “Long and thin, goes right in but it's short and thick wot does the trick.”'

I took my eyes off the dwarf just for an instant and in that fleeting moment he had disappeared from view. Looking around the tavern to see where he had gone, I became aware of something crawling up my leg. My searching fingers found a hand half way up my thigh. Letting out an outraged yell, I flung myself backwards toppling over onto the floor. Scrambling to my feet amidst a roar of laughter, I caught sight of the dwarfs head rising above the table, and thumped it hard with a clenched fist.

Florrie intervened and with a comforting arm around my shoulders ushered me behind the bar and poured out a glass of brandy.

'Here you are, luv, drink this. That bloody dwarf, you never know what he is going to do next.'

To my disgust Adam and Tom were splitting their sides with laughter. When they saw me looking at the dwarf with an excess of loathing they hooted even louder. To everybody's amusement the dwarf climbed onto the table and, with tongue lolling out, 'cunt thumbed' me with a thumb folded into his fist. In triumph at my discomfort his fat little legs danced a mad Irish jig to the accompaniment of Adam and Tom's hand clapping.

The landlord, with a scowling face, gestured for me to get back to my seat and I was about to do so when Florrie muttered, 'Don't take any notice of him. Stay where you are.'

Pig Face, as Florrie so aptly named him, was a big bully of a man with a florid complexion. His scanty crop of hair was plastered over the top of his head in a vain effort to hide a bald patch.

With some harsh words he was ordering Sniffler, the little waif who helped out at the back of the bar, to bring more glasses. Sniffler had obviously got her name because she was constantly sniffing a wet nose. For something to say, I asked Florrie if she and Sniffler slept on the premises.

'Yes, we share a room upstairs. That way I can protect her from Pig Face. Poor little sod, she's never had a chance. Born in the Poor House and kicked out to fend for herself when she was twelve, she knew nothing of the world outside and was scared stiff when I found her, curled up in the doorway. I brought her in and gave her some hot soup. We needed some help so I persuaded Pig Face to let her stay and she's been with us now about twelve months.'

She shot a quick look at her boss and her voice dropped to a whisper. 'You wouldn't think it looking at that belly of his but he's a right randy sod. He's always at her. She never complains because she's frightened he will chuck her out into the street. I've caught him more than once having his way with her in a cupboard. Yesterday he had her bent over on the stairs and was ramming it into her like a street dog with a bitch.' She sighed. 'I do my best, but you can't have your eyes everywhere, can you?'

'What about you?' I asked. 'Doesn't he try it on with you?'

Florrie snorted, 'Just let him try; he will get what he got last time.'

'What was that?' I asked with a laugh.

'Well, it was like this. I was born and bred in Chelmsford.'

'So that's why you don't talk cockney,' I exclaimed.

T couldn't, luv-even if I tried. The doctor taught me how to speak proper and I've done so ever since.'

'What doctor?' I asked.

'Well, I was going to tell you if only you would stop interrupting. When I was twelve I got work as a serving maid with a Dr Huddle. Although he had a wife he crept into my bed the first night I was there saying, “Huddle