“Scandal!
Georg CCO Facial Enhancement Treasures has recently taken a house
pet. Reporters have been trying for weeks to find out who it is but
Cracking News just received a tip off from an informant who wishes to
remain anonymous that Georg's new pet is from Hubbard's”
Rachel could almost hear the horrified gasps from all the women
around the city listening to the news program and gave an involuntary
superior snort of her own. For such a high executive to consort with
a woman from such a solidly mid-level brothel was ludicrous and to do
so on such a long term basis, instead of just one night for novelty,
was even more ridiculous. She made a mental note not to invite him,
or, probably, any of his associates, to the Sacrifice, as doing so
might now be construed as looking desperate.
The radio program
on the brothel streaming service had launched into another commercial
about something called a “trendy snack pack.” It contained all
the latest edible sensations. In addition to the candy bead
necklaces and bracelets, it had rings, their bases made of plasticite
but topped with huge faux gems made of suckable hard candy, as well
as sticky, flexible sheets of some edible substance that could be
bent and molded, ripped, or rolled around a finger and then consumed
like a make-shift lollipop with the finger as the stick, all clearly
designed to appeal to new hires fresh from the boarding house. It
all looked messy and tacky and gross to Rachel, not something she
would have found appealing even at the target age. Alice would
probably like it though. Rachel felt something turn over in her
stomach and cringed, realizing she had forgotten her current
circumstance and had been following the train of thought towards
getting one for Alice, then pulling herself up short as she
remembered.
It just brought
home to her again that she was desperately lonely. About a week had
passed since Dave's departure. She escorted Alice to her singing
lessons every day but, after that conversation in the transport, she
was not speaking to Alice on anything more than a business level.
And Susan was gone. She had, it turned out, been given an assignment
in another city, which is why Rachel had been unable to find her.
Such assignments were fairly uncommon but, by sheer coincidence, this
one had arrived the very night Alice had her accident. Personally,
Rachel suspected Elissa. It was just too convenient that Susan's
assistance had been taken away from her right when she needed it
most. On the other hand, Rachel was also glad Susan wasn't around,
so she couldn't pry into Rachel's feelings for Dave and expose her
shame. Strangely, the person Rachel had the most contact with at
this time was Stacy. They spent a lot of time playing cards together
and, sometimes, Beth or Laura would join them. At first, this made
Rachel nervous, since she was afraid Beth might allude to seeing her
at the clothing artist's. But, as time passed and nothing of the
kind happened, she became more at ease. Rachel got on well with
Stacy herself, as long as she didn't mention anything about Dave's
money.
"You must
understand that I'm not doing this for the money," Rachel said
wearily one day, dropping her losing hand of cards on the table.
Stacy looked at
her with raised eyebrows as she collected another tube of lipstick
from the betting pile. "Then what are you doing it for?"
she asked, fingering her prize thoughtfully.
"I'm just
doing it for the sake of helping my unfortunate companion," said
Rachel with mock sweetness.
"Well,
you've been acting none too friendly to Alice recently," said
Stacy. "But you can keep your reasons to yourself. I don't
care why you make money as long as you do it."
"And I don't
care what you want me to do, as long as you keep quiet about it,"
replied Rachel smoothly. After that, she and Stacy seemed to have
reached some kind of understanding. Rachel knew Stacy wanted the
money and Stacy knew Rachel didn't want her to mention it, so they
both smiled politely and avoided stepping on each other's toes.
Her other source
of comfort was taking trips to the library. She could not go as
often as she liked, having to schlep Alice around to all her
appointments, though she did go more often than the other women
thought proper. But, she could not help it. Being shut up in the
room with Alice who she now felt mistrustful of was so unbearable
that, every time she managed to have a free afternoon, she would take
off. She was particularly eager to get back to Bethany's diary as,
the last time she had gotten a chance to read it, Bethany had started
talking about a special client named Jarek for whom she obviously
felt something more than society at large would find appropriate,
reminding Rachel of her own intense emotions. With a strange, eager
knot in her stomach, she flipped quickly to the page she had
dog-eared at the end of her last visit.
Yes! Yes! Yes!
I had an appointment with Jarek yesterday, well over night so it was
last night and this morning. Anyway, he's attending a networking
vacation at a fancy hotel out on the city limits and he wants me
to go with him, me on his arm at the cocktail parties, me soaking in
the jacuzzi with him, me waiting in the room to help him unwind.
It's not just that that I'm going to get to spend so much time with
him in such great surroundings. Choosing me for this, I can totally
imagine this is first step towards making me his house pet. Oh, just
imagining having Jarek as my ho-owner... Ho-owner. Snicker. I
heard some girls at the bistro calling it that instead of home-owner
and it's funny because we're hoes. He he. Anyway, I don't care what
you call it. I still think I'd really like to be his house pet.
I'll just have to make sure everything goes perfect during the trip.
Rachel didn't
really understand the joke but she did understand the the longing to
be chosen as a house pet with painful intensity. She found her sense
of kinship with Bethany's feelings making her hope she got her wish,
despite the fact that Rachel normally found her vapid and stupid.
Eagerly, she flipped to the next entry and frowned seeing there was a
gap of over a week between the two. This is the first day I've
been able to bring myself to write. I'm still so steamed I want to
throw things at walls. I was all geared up for my amazing vacation,
even had my bags packed with all my best lingerie. And wouldn't you
know it, I got the worse period of my life the day before we were
supposed to leave. I was having to empty my cup every few hours and
the idea of doing anything other than curling into a ball with a hot
pad on my back was inconceivable. Well that all made Bethany
sound like a bit of a wimp. Rachel didn't know what getting a period
was or why it entailed drinking so much liquid but physical pain, no
matter how bad it was, was no excuse for not working, especially when
such an important assignment was on the line, and that went for
business men, not just prostitutes. Maybe, things were more human
back in the day and people weren't just expected to conceal all
symptoms of suffering physical or emotional.
But no. I
would have tried to conceal it and go anyway, knowing I'd be better
in a couple days but I knew I could never get away with being out of
commission for sex during the trip. Even if he didn't mind me lying
there like a malfunctioning auto vac, he would have been totally
revolted by the state of my plumbing. So I had to call up Madeline
and ask her to take my place. Of
course, she wasn't sufficiently grateful for what I was
doing, just kept complaining the whole time about how the girls she
had been hired to train kept calling her SM and there was no hope for
the next generation if they were all too lazy to even say soror
magna out properly. So
that was where the expression came from. Doubtless Madeline would be
even more offended that the title had now been slurred into Essem and
no one even had the faintest idea what soror magna meant.
Rachel considered asking Dave if he had ever come across it in his
studies. Certainly, details about brothel life would not have been
included in education but maybe in some of the old books like the one
he lent her. She just couldn't shut up about it, even
though they seemed to be pretty good with practical skills. Not like
the time I was stupid enough run a class on party service and the
clumsy little bitches kept spilling drinks on me, which she showed me
zero sympathy for, by the way.
Anyway, she
knew I didn't really have a choice about the vacation. Well, I did
have a choice about giving it to her but I did have to give it to
somebody and she knew I wouldn't give it to anyone else. If I can't
have the money, the next best thing is having my main girl get it. I
hope she appreciates that it isn't the smartest career move. She and
Jarek don't really like each other so I would look better if I sent
along someone more to his taste...but, for me, that's kind of an
added reason. I really prefer keeping him to myself. I mean, I know
I don't. I can't expect him to sit around and have no fun and make
himself look bad at all the parties where he gets invited and I
don't, just like I've got to have my other clients to keep the shoe
tab paid. But I don't want to just gift deliver someone that might
really compete with me for his attention. But not only has Madeline
given me her word, she wouldn't really want Jarek anyway. So I have
to put up with her being a bit annoying. Normally, this wouldn't
bother me so much but having a period always makes me so moody. It's
just the worst luck from every side.
Now Rachel was even more confused about what a period was.
Certainly, being in so much pain was reason enough to be in a bad
mood but Bethany's language suggested it was more than that. Then
again, Bethany was an idiot and could be completely clueless about
even slightly subtle implications of her word choice. One thing
however was glaringly obvious to Rachel, Bethany's account made no
mention of taking a pill for the bad mood. Rachel snarled in rage.
This relatively lenient status of pills in Bethany's day was just one
more way that she had had it so much better. At least, even if the
pills themselves were more basic, less pervasive, the things that
they were supposed to treat were still considered bad as shown by
Bethany's need to conceal how badly she wanted Jarek for her hOwner,
sorry ho-owner.
She had even more
reason to be infuriated by the contrast two days later, when the
topic of pills came up again in a particularly unpleasant way. She
was sitting in bed reading, while Alice practiced singing and playing
the harp. "Don't forget we have an appointment with the
clothing artist tomorrow for you to try on your dress," said
Rachel in a neutral voice, "so you need to get up early to make
sure we finish there and get to your lessons on time."
Alice put down
the harp and looked over at Rachel. "When are you going to open
that package?" she asked abruptly.
Rachel had been
so despondent at the turn events had taken, that she had left Dave's
present untouched. Besides, that way, she could sustain herself with
wild fantasies of what might be inside. Alice was the last person
she wanted touching his things right now. "I'm sure you would
love to know," she said coldly while eyeing Alice with
suspicion.
Alice shrank back
a bit under her harshness but then, she raised her head and spoke
clearly, if in a trembling voice. "Do you think whatever is in
that box will give me the power to seduce him? And, even if it did,
he gave the box to you. I don't ask this for myself. It's just that
I love presents, whether they're for me or not. And also," her
voice became so soft Rachel could hardly hear her. "I wanted to
make you happy. I haven't seen you smile since he left."
"His absence
alone is not what makes me unhappy," said Rachel shortly.
"Have you
tried taking a pill?" asked Alice quietly. "Jealously is
an illness that can be treated."
Rachel's scream
was so loud the walls seemed to vibrate from it. It was fortunate
the rooms were insulated for sound, otherwise, the entire brothel
would be down upon them. As it was, Alice couldn't help glancing
nervously at the door. Rachel screamed until her voice cracked and
her throat was raw. Then, suddenly, her anger drained away, leaving
her with no desire to scream again, to throw things, or to run at
Alice and stab her with a pair of scissors. She felt, not cold or
broken, but strong, self-assured, almost serene. She knew she
was right, and nothing could change that. There was no point in
fighting for what was already hers. She was the solid wall. Let
them break themselves against her.
She walked over
to Alice and put her hands on her shoulders. Looking deep into her
eyes, she said, "No, Alice, I am not like that. I will not use
drugs, or willpower, or behavioral training to fit into the mold of
our world against my natural inclinations. I am not like others and
neither is Dave. Even if I begged him to, he would not have you
because of the way in which he is different, an 'illness' he has also
refused treatment for. This is the truth you must accept. And here
is a further truth," she went on, "the hardest of all for
you to hear. You are different also. You have no hope of competing
with 'normal' women according to the rules they have set. It is only
by changing those rules that you can hope to triumph over them. And
Dave and I have been willing to go to such lengths to break the mold
for you precisely because we break it in our own lives. Therefore,
do not urge us to become normal for, if we do, you are lost. Takings
pills may remove my jealousy, but it will also make me look at you
the same way Grace does. Do you want that?"
Alice looked up
at her with the eyes of a frightened new hire being taken away from
the known security of the boarding house. A single tear pooled on
one of her lower lids, then ran down her cheek. "Must it be
that way?" she asked sadly.
"Medicals
cure you of emotion, Alice, but in taking away the pain they can also
take away a lot of other things," said Rachel. "If you
grieve for me, do not be sad. I have no wish to change myself.
Respect that and do not try to change me."
Two more tears
came out of Alice's eyes, making wet trails on her face. "Can
we open the box now?" she asked.
"In a
moment," Rachel replied. Then, she put her arms around Alice
and held her close, stroking her hair while she sobbed quietly.
When Alice
stopped crying, Rachel went and got the package out from under her
bed, though she was not totally at ease regarding Alice and her
intentions. While she knew she had made an emotional impression on
Alice, she felt less sure about the duration of that impression. She
took a small pair of scissors from her make-up kit and ripped through
the clear tape around the box. It was doubtful that Alice would ever
be stupid enough now to try to slip pills into Rachel's food, but she
might still secretly harbor ideas about sleeping with Dave. Rachel
would have to keep a close eye on her when they were with him. With
a sharp jerk of her arm, she ripped off the cut tape and folded back
the lid. Inside, lay several long narrow rods with soft tips, like
giant makeup brushes, resting on top of a taut piece of white cloth.
Across the rods lay a scrap of paperite with Dave's writing on it,
which Rachel pocketed quickly before Alice could see it. "I
wonder what all this stuff is for," she pondered aloud.
"Well, take
it out," Alice urged, "and let's see."
Rachel lifted out
the cloth, which turned out to be clamped onto a hard plasticite
frame in order to stretch it. Underneath it lay several more pieces
of cloth, cut to fit the frame, and below these again were a great
many squeezable tubes, like those for toothpaste, but quite a bit
larger. "Did he give me chemicals?" she wondered. "I
hope there's nothing explosive in here." She picked up two of
the tubes hesitantly and took a closer look. One was labeled
sponsor's delight sky blue and the other astro-turf green.
"Are those
dyes?" asked Alice. "Why would he give you dyes?"
"I don't
know what they are," said Rachel, keeping the irritation out of
her voice with difficulty. She really wanted to be alone with Dave's
present. It was the closest she would get for a while to being alone
with Dave. If she had been sure they were non-toxic, she would have
been very tempted to rub the contents of the tubes into her skin.
Plus, she desperately wanted to find out what was written on that
paper. "Don't you need to be somewhere?" she asked as
politely as she could.
Alice giggled,
thinking it was a joke. "Where would I need to be?" she
laughed. "I already had my lessons today. Besides, I'm not
allowed to go anywhere without you and you don't look ready to go
out."
"Well
then..." As she searched frantically for something else to say,
Alice came over and plopped down on the floor next to her...then
began handling the objects from the box. Rachel bit her lip to check
back a snarl. Dave had given those things to her. His
glorious hands had touched them, as they would not touch her. The
only way she could experience his caresses was by using an
intermediary, like these gifts. And now, Alice was putting her
filthy little hands all over where his hands had been, before Rachel
even got a chance to. There may have been nothing in it beyond the
fact that Alice, as she kept saying over and over, loved presents.
But Rachel, in her jealousy, could not convince herself of this. She
was sure Alice was doing it for exactly the same reason she was, the
pleasure derived from handling objects that had belonged to the man
of her desires. Whatever her motivation, she was spoiling the
experience for Rachel. But she had to endure this for quite some
time before Alice got hungry enough to go have dinner. She had kept
urging Rachel to open the tubes and find out what was inside but this
Rachel absolutely refused to do and, when she realized this, Alice
became bored and left shortly after.
As soon as she
was gone, Rachel pulled the piece of paper out from under her jacket
and unfolded it. For a while, she did not even attempt to read what
was written on it being too enraptured by the form of his hand
written letters. For several minutes, she slowly traced the rounded
shapes of his As and Os and the curving tails of his Gs and Ys,
moving her hand over the sheet as if she were writing the words. She
watched the way her hand moved and imagined his hand moving like
that. What if he were writing, not on paperite but on her skin? She
let out a deep sigh as she tried to deduce how Dave would caress a
lover based on his handwriting.
She was jolted
out her reverie by the "dinner is served" message flashing
on the screen over the door. In a panic that Alice might return, she
began to read the actual message. "A while ago, when you were
at my house, you expressed an interest in paint," he wrote.
"So, here are all the old painting supplies I could find."
Paint! Of course! That was what was in the tubes. And he had
remembered. Rachel felt a warm glow pour through her at the
realization Dave had been thinking about her. There followed a brief
paragraph explaining the use of the different materials. At the
bottom was a line of numbers and symbols. Dave's phone code! Rachel
gasped with delight but quickly recovered and hid the paper away
before Alice returned.
Too bad she could
never use the code, since private calls were off limits to her. But,
perhaps, that was really for the best. If she was allowed to
use the phone, she would probably call him, which would be a bad idea
to begin with. Then, she would look even more stupid because she
would have nothing important to say and it would be so obvious she
was calling just to hear his voice. Rachel realized she had best
hope one of the other women stayed on the phone until he came back.
Even while she thought these things, she was seized by a powerful
urge to paint. If she could make something beautiful, maybe it would
impress Dave. But what should she paint? It couldn't be too
complex, since she had never painted before, but it had to be
beautiful. There was absolutely no point in painting something that
wasn't beautiful. Anything else would just be a waste of time. She
was still trying to figure out the perfect subject for her first
venture when Alice came back into the room. "Rachel, why
haven't you eaten yet?" she asked with concern.
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2026
