In the middle of
the night, Rachel was wakened again by the crystal, shimmering music.
Her face and the pillow were still damp but the music reminded her
of how she had felt when seeing the sun break through the clouds in a
burst of light that made the particularly expensive clean snow
sparkle. This time, however, she turned over and opened her eyes to
see Alice sitting on the edge of her own bed, playing a stringed
instrument she held in her lap. It had a flat base with a curved
piece of woodide rising from it. The strings were stretched between
the base and the curved limb and Alice ran her fingers lightly over
them, stroking and plucking them. Rachel gazed in shock and wonder
at the girl everyone thought was a total failure when, in reality, it
turned out she could do something no one else she had ever heard of
could. Alice did not see that Rachel was awake at once. But, when
she did, she quickly cast down the instrument and attempted to look
as if she had been doing something else.
"No, don't
stop," said Rachel, shamed by Alice's shame, as she rarely had
been by anything she had done personally. "Your playing is
beautiful. I'd love to hear it more often." Alice shivered at
the thought and turned her face away. "Look." Rachel
searched frantically for a way to keep this beauty from slipping
through her fingers. "If...if you show no fear of playing in
front of me, I'll give you sex lessons whenever you want, without
complaining." She was so distressed that she scrambled out of
her own bed and hurried over to stand by Alice.
"Will you?
Will you really?" Alice whispered.
"I will,
Alice." Alice gave a strangled cry of almost hallucinogenic
rapture and, falling to her knees before Rachel, lifted Rachel's hand
to her face. Raising her back up, Rachel asked, "Where did you
learn to play like that?"
"At my
boarding house our governess had a harp. She hardly ever played it,
but she always left it sitting next to her chair and became furious
if anyone tried to touch it. No one liked her, so, one night, I
snuck out and stole it while she was sleeping, then hid it under my
bed. Since I'm slow, as you know from experience, all the girls I
had been raised with were sent off to brothels long before I was.
So, I was terribly lonely and started playing the harp whenever I was
alone to comfort myself and I've continued doing so ever since."
Rachel sat for a long moment gazing intently at Alice, torn between
awe and pity for this girl, so special and so alone, just like
herself. But there the similarity ended for Alice had neither the
strength of will nor the financial potential that Rachel had, which
would make living such a life slightly more bearable. Alice hung her
head. “I know what you're thinking,” she said softly. “Why
couldn't she have spent her time learning something useful instead?”
“That was not
what I was thinking,” Rachel answered fiercely. “I swear it to
you,” and she reached out to brush a stray strand of hair back from
Alice's face, the first kind touch she had ever given her. Alice
froze, paralyzed by the contact, staring up at her with her eyes
wide, pulse fluttering in her throat, like the “dear in the
headlights” or the images of prey animals in the wolf books at the
library . “Don't you believe me?”
“No one ever
thought I was good for anything before.”
“They must
have, otherwise, how...” Rachel caught herself quickly.
“How did I get
picked up by such a prestigious brothel?” asked Alice bitterly.
That had been what Rachel had been going to ask, only to realize too
late how hurtful it would be. “That wasn't because I was valuable.
It's because I was cheap.” She stopped, for a moment, eyes
closed, chest heaving and Rachel realized she was exerting all her
effort to force down her tears.
“I don't want
you to be afraid to cry in front of me.” Rachel settled onto the
bed beside Alice and touched her forehead again. “I don't think
there's anything wrong with it and I won't tell anyone who does so
you won't be harassed for it.”
“The governess
was desperate to get rid of me.” Alice's lip quivered. Of course
she was. Governesses had their reputation to think of, just like
everyone else. While it was largely random to which of the few
boarding houses in the city a new future employee was sent and,
therefore, all could be expected to produce at least a few duds, the
ability of the governess as teacher and motivator was also a factor
and so, if a governess had too many of her charges wind up as
unprofitables, especially if the rate was higher than those of her
peers, it would reflect poorly on her. Although governesses were
essentially set for life and received a base stipend to pay for
operating costs from the small “donations” all businesses were
socially expected to give them, their true wealth was in the form of
the sizable payments they received from prestigious brothels and
corporations in exchange for being allowed first shot at recruiting
their charges. The more impressive a governess's placement record,
the more businesses were willing to pay for this privilege.
Conversely, produce too many specimens like Alice and a governess was
likely to find a majority of her income drying up as she acquired a
reputation for releasing a poor-quality product and all but the most
desperate shunned her establishment.
“I've seen so
many different brothel representatives from all different levels,”
Alice went on. “I remember the first time we were told that people
from a five-star brothel were coming. I don't remember how old I was
but not very.” Which was only natural. Promising potential
employees were shown to the best as early possible, which meant most
people with talent were snapped up before businesses lower down the
social scale were even aware of their existence. Rachel too
remembered that first visit so long ago but, unlike Alice, that first
meeting had also been her last. “The governess told several of my
friends to be ready to meet with the nice ladies who were coming to
take them to their forever home. But she didn't say anything to the
rest of us and, when one girl had the nerve to ask about it, sharply
told us we weren't ready. I didn't care so much at the time since
most of us weren't ready but, during the meeting, my close friend
Lucy got picked and I never saw her again, didn't even get to say
good-bye,” Alice's voice caught and she dry sobbed for a moment or
two before she could go on, while Rachel patted her head, hoping
Alice lacked the presence of mind to realize this meant that Lucy
must have been picked up by a different five-star brothel and
therefore, according to social expectations, was now Alice's enemy.
“Like I said, I didn't mind it so much then but, as the years
passed and I kept not being ready, it started to bother me more and
more, especially as my friends disappeared one by one.”
“I'm so sorry,”
whispered Rachel gently, not knowing what else to do.
“Then, I think
about when I turned eight or nine, suddenly something changed. There
was no more talk of 'ready' and the governess started aggressively
showing me to every brothel that came by. The fact that she started
dressing me in clothes that were too big for me and making me wear my
hair in little girl styles like pig-tails made it extremely obvious
that I was getting too old and would soon become an embarrassment to
her. Also, she was trying to hide my actual age because almost no
one gets left that long unless there's something seriously wrong with
them.” Not that it would have done the governess much good as all
Alice's vitals, including her age would have been available in the
boarding house data base for anyone who cared to ask for them.
Rachel refrained from mentioning that, by that age, she had already
mastered elegantly serving food and drink and was starting to learn
how to carry on entertaining conversations, how to select good topics
and how to make jokes and witty retorts that would amuse without
offending...at least not too much, and that she was already starting
to chaff under that fact that some of the offensive ones, as well as
lots of the off limits topics, seemed far more interesting to her.
“I think I must have been shown to every brothel in the city at
least once,” said Alice bitterly. “Becket's, Smith's,
Frumentius's,
Abraham's, so many names I can't remember them all.
But, she was careful and only showed me a second time if the 'nice
ladies' who came were not the same ones from that brothel's previous
visit. But none of it did any good. Time after time, I was passed
over, trotted out and made to do tricks for them, serve them food,
while they judged every false move of my shaky hands or facial
tension.” Tears formed in Alice's eyes and trailed wetly down her
cheeks. “Even the one-star brothels didn't want me.”
“Why not?” said Rachel contemptuously. “Even without any
training, you still have your looks which are above what they could
normally expect to get and, I know, Luther's training is hard, but
even the most basic grasp of it puts you leagues ahead of them.”
Alice looked up, sniffling, and looked like she was about to object.
“It's not just me,” Rachel went on quickly to head off any
possible denials. “Susan's told me your technique is at least as
good as a three-star brothel now.”
“It's because I
was shy,” Alice cried in agony. “As one of the women put it, I
wasn't 'tarty' enough. Even girls who are too young to be sexual,
they want you to make eye contact and speak in a clear voice and
giggle and make stupid jokes and... and...” Her voice caught and
she doubled over sobbing.
Gently, Rachel
guided Alice's head down onto her lap where she clung, weeping, as
Rachel stroked her hair. “It's because the bitches have no class,”
she said with disgust. “They have to rely on such crude tactics
because they have no finesse.”
“Well, I don't
have that either,” Alice gasped through her tears. “I'm too
clumsy for a good brothel and too reserved for a bad one. But,
really, it was being rejected by the one-stars that hurt the most,
getting turned down by people who had to struggle to get any new
hires at all. Right in front of me sometimes, the women would bitch
at length to the governess about how it had been months since they'd
even been allowed to look at any potential employees, then turn
around and say 'but not her.' I was worse than nothing.” Her
fingers clutched into Rachel's encircling arm like claws and Rachel
was hard put to avoid flinching away, which she knew at all costs she
must not do, while she glanced nervously at the door. Sure the rooms
were sound insulated but the lack of locks on the door meant someone
could walk in for any stupid reason and catch Alice being emotionally
unstable on top of all the other reasons the women already had to
resent her. Cupping Alice's cheek and rocking her slightly she
frantically wracked her brain for a physical injury that would be
painful enough to justify the tears but not serious enough to require
being sent to a medical. Yes, such a lie would probably get Alice
buried beneath a flood of over-the-counter pills but their effects
were temporary and it was a much better option than the alternatives.
Thankfully, the
sliding door remained safely closed and, once Alice had cried herself
out, Rachel helped her lie down and pulled up the covers around her
before returning to her own bed. She listened for a moment in the
dark but the sound of heavy breathing reassured her that Alice was
well on the path to sleep and she felt a fierce happiness that she
had been able to help someone feel better by openly expressing their
pain instead of locking it away. As she drifted off to sleep
herself, Rachel wondered vaguely if she would have been better off as
a governess. Of course this wasn't an option because governesses
always chose their own successor and Rachel's governess, of course,
had hated her, probably as eager to off-load her as Alice's had been
but for a very different reason: her “unbearable attitude.” But
if... Rachel hated having to be tolerant of ineptitude so being
surrounded by hordes of tiny potential employees seemed like an
absolute nightmare. But, she was constantly surrounded by
incompetence anyway and their age did give potential employees
something of an excuse. Certainly an argument could be made for
dealing with actual five-year-olds over catering to business
executives who acted like five-year-olds.
Holding Alice
while she cried had actually been rather nice. Perhaps, taking care
of potential employees wouldn't be so bad and... Suddenly, Rachel
felt a horrible wrench. Alice belonged to Luther's
and wasn't going anywhere, unless the other girls threw her out, of
course. But the whole point of a governess's wards was for them to
leave. Being a governess actually sounded like the most awful
existence in the world, having to constantly care for and invest in
an endless conveyor belt of individuals who would be taken away from
you just when you had made them something to be proud of. How did
the governesses bear it? Were they all as heartless as hers had
seemed to be? Or were they actually secret pill addicts, constantly
trying to medicate away the pain inherent in their existence? She
felt a stab of burning rage at a system that would inflict such
cruelty without even acknowledging it was doing so. True, there was
a social expectation of detachment for everyone but once a person was
hired by a corporation or, especially, a brothel the chances of their
position every changing in any significant way were virtually nil so
they would be surrounded by and, in the case of women, living with,
the same group of co-workers permanently, which meant that, if they
did become emotionally attached, there would be nothing to stop
them...unless they were too obvious and got sent to a medical for
brain detox. It was a horrible thought, but, on the flip side, it
did give Rachel another good reason to invest in Alice. Alice wasn't
going anywhere. Worst case scenario, she might become a house pet
some day, though that seemed ridiculously unlikely at the moment, but
even house pets usually did not maintain total isolation from their
former brothel-mates, Rachel, of course, being the exception.
Finding a sense of security and comfort in the guarantee of Alice's
continued presence in her life, Rachel gave a relaxing sigh and
drifted off to sleep.
The next day, she
woke with a strange feeling in her stomach, part fuzzy, part queasy,
like a severe case of nerves that she could not decide were good or
bad. She didn't feel like going down to the kitchen for breakfast,
instead ordering a couple of waffles out of the wall slot, barely
noticing when the waffles came out dry and the syrup had a
consistency more like jello. Soon after, Susan came in and plopped
down on the bed next to her, just as Rachel bit into the first
waffle. Rachel shot Susan a sour look as her arrival jounced the
bed, and therefore, the plate.
"So, what
happened, Rachel?" Susan asked.
"Nothing
really."
"If we're
friends, you can't lie to me. I saw you come in last night crying.
Then, this morning, I went down to the computer register to see if I
was wanted for anything in the near future and saw a payment for last
night in your file. But you were in your own bed last night.
Rachel, what is going on?" Rachel sat silent, twitching
uncomfortably, her half-eaten waffle oozing syrup on her plate. She
knew Susan was right. She ought to tell her about what had happened
but she felt ashamed for some reason and, also, part of her felt that
the gift she had been given was too special to tell. To speak of it
would be to tarnish its pristine beauty. But, as Susan continued to
look at her expectantly, she gradually stammered out her story. "I
don't understand," Susan muttered. "I just don't
understand. Why would someone do that?" Rachel shook her head.
"I don't trust him."
"I would
think you would like someone who paid us for doing nothing,"
snapped Rachel, oddly defensive. "I thought we needed money."
"But he's
trying to swindle us. The only other possible explanation is that
he's drooling over you but too afraid to do anything about it. But
that's too ridiculous to be true."
"He did talk
about porn," Rachel pointed out. “And you know people who do
that usually aren't the best at these things.”
"But he's no
coward. How could someone who dared offend other men, who could
cause him problems if they were upset, be afraid to do what he needed
with a harmless woman?"
“You know well
enough that I'm not a 'harmless woman,'” said Rachel savagely.
“Yes, I do.”
Susan sounded impatient. “But David doesn't so you don't need to
be angry with me.” Rachel was about to point out that he could
have heard rumors from other women at parties but, the conversation
ended abruptly, which she wasn't at all sorry about, because, just
then, Alice walked in from breakfast and, tremblingly, asked if they
could study for a while. To Susan's extreme surprise, Rachel agreed
without objection. "Something's not right here," she said.
"Rachel, you're not yourself."
"Please,
don't tell anyone else about this. I couldn't deal with that,"
said Rachel in a tense voice and when Susan did not respond, went on,
"I told you only as a friend. Now, keep silent as a friend."
"All right,
I promise,” Susan said reluctantly. Fortunately, before she could
say more, a buzzer sounded in the hallway, alerting everyone that a
man was about to pass through the brothel to visit one of the
performance rooms so everyone should hurry to make sure the halls
were cleared of anything unsightly or domestic and all the doors were
closed. The abrupt sound appeared to have made Susan loose her train
of thought and, once the warning stopped sounding, she nodded
absently to Rachel and left the room without resuming the
conversation. Rachel breathed a sign of relief and quickly turned to
the training to distract herself from the upsetting occurrence.
Today, Alice was attempting to learn how to lick an ear properly and
Rachel gave her as much help as she could, but Alice still failed
pathetically. To her great frustration, Rachel realized that Alice
was so convinced that she would fail that she would subconsciously
make herself fail, even if she would have otherwise succeeded. To a
certain extent, Alice realized this also and began to weep.
"I'm
worthless," she sobbed. "Why was I ever born, since I can
do nothing of value? My very existence is a shame to me and to
everyone around me."
"How can you
say that, when you can do something incredible that no one else can
do?" protested Rachel.
"My musical
skills are nothing," shrieked Alice, flinging her Art of
Perfect Sex across the room. "They won't keep me. The only
talents that count are those that society says are worth having, and
those I do not possess." Rachel didn't know what to say. As
much as she might hate the fact, Alice was pretty much right. After
all, there was no way she could use her talent to make money, at
least on a large scale. Women who could sing or play an instrument
were valued because they could entertain at parties but, without
traditional skills, Alice would never be allowed near a party in the
first place. They both knew it and, in the silence, Alice began to
weep again.
"Maybe
you're just trying too hard," suggested Rachel lamely. "Why
don't you and I go out and get something to eat to help you relax."
Alice lifted her swollen nose and sniffed, but nodded, reaching to
retrieve her black virgin's hood from the top drawer of her
nightstand. They took the public transport and, fortunately, the
only other women on board were from a two-star brothel and did not
dare to speak to them as Rachel didn't think Alice could have
survived a confrontation with the Gregory women. Alice squirmed
uncomfortably and attempted to pull her hood down so her face would
be partially hidden, clearly embarrassed to be seen with the brand of
inexperience on her. Rachel could remember becoming self-conscious
two years before her Sacrifice and here was Alice already two years,
going on three, older than she had been when she became a full member
of the brothel. No wonder she was in such a state. Rachel tried her
best to sooth Alice but, in short order, the relentless conveyor belt
of Holidays music that was always playing in all public places around
this time was already starting to get on her nerves. Right now, the
transport's speaker system was blaring out some horrible tinny,
tinklely version of “Jingle Bells,” referring to the price cards
programmed to flash like Holidays lights and make bell sounds during
the the eleventh-hour pre-Holidays sales in order to attract
desperate procrastinators who were rushing to finish their shopping
at the last minute.
Jingle Bells,
discount sells
Buy it while you
may
Oh what fun it is
to buy
On the our
Super-Sales day
She couldn't even
look forward to getting off the transport because anywhere they went
would be playing identical crap. As soon as they reached their
destination, the small Fedallah’s in the middle of the trendy
downtown area, and ordered frothy lattés from the store's special
white coffee selection, they were again assaulted by the relentless
brain melting song.
Dashing through
the store
On Super-Sales day
Through the aisles
we go
Saving all the way
Bells on bargains
ring
Complete with
twinkling lights
Oh what fun it is
to run and save
On the great
door-buster night
Despite the fact
that the music made her want to cover her ears and scream, Rachel
noticed with a smirk that all the snowflake decals pasted on the
window were hexagonal, then got a strange feeling in her stomach
remembering her conversation with Dave the previous night. While
they sipped their creamy drinks, Alice stared into hers with a
melancholy expression on her face and kept picking at her hood.
"When will I
ever get rid of this horrible thing around my neck," she cried,
sticking her hands under the laces of the hood as if they were
strangling her.
"You need to
relax," said Rachel sternly. "This is not helping. Drink
your latte and forget about it."
"But
everyone is looking at me."
"No one is
looking at you. You look young. No one would guess your age."
Alice nodded meekly and took a sip of her drink, leaving a smear of
cream on her lip.
The door opened
and a man walked into the shop, making Alice jump suddenly when the
door slammed shut. After a while, Rachel noticed the man was looking
intently at her. But he was between her and the light so she could
not see him clearly and she became nervous, having an uncomfortable
feeling that he was deciding whether or not to come and hire her to
sleep with him. He started to walk towards her and Rachel lowered
her head so she would not look available. As she did so, she saw
Alice blanch with fear.
"Rachel,
it's so nice to see you." The voice sounded strangely familiar
and Rachel raised her head to see Dave standing over her. "You
look frightened," he said.
"I was at
first. Why did you stand there staring at me like that?"
"I was
trying to decide whether I should come talk to you. I wanted to but
wasn't sure you wanted me to. You seemed upset last night so I was
afraid seeing me might upset you again." Rachel flinched
involuntarily. He was doing it again, treating her like something
other than a sex object and she had no clue why he was doing it or
how to respond, and now Susan's recent comments made her even more
wary.
"No… it's
alright," she said awkwardly, as if she were speaking to a man
for the first time. "Thank you for what you did. It was…
very kind of you."
"It was
nothing. But could I ask something of you?"
"Of course."
"Do I have
your permission to request your presence at parties? I always skip
the BYOBs but I get tired of having to make excuses and apologies for
doing so." Once again he was disregarding social convention,
asking permission for something he had the right to purchase. "Yes,
of course" she replied without thinking. What did it matter
what she said? The idea that she had any power over her life was
just an illusion.
"Thank you,"
Dave replied. "Parties are so boring if I have no one to talk
to." Then, he turned and greeted Alice courteously. But she
was shy and turned her head away, hiding her face behind her hood.
Things got awkward so, seeing that Alice had finished her latte,
Rachel said they needed to be going. Dave nodded understandingly and
walked with them to the transport. On the way, he and Rachel got
into an interesting discussion about architecture, largely concerning
how bad most of it around them was and started trying to come up with
ways to fix the buildings around them without significantly altering
the existing structure, like taking the huge blocky concrete mass of
apartment building they passed and covering the entire surface with
murals and relief sculptures. It was great fun, like trying to solve
a puzzle, but Rachel could not properly enjoy it because she had to
watch over Alice who was still very uncomfortable. As they took
their seats in the transport, Alice sighed, more loudly than Rachel
thought proper. She glanced at her sharply and saw her cheeks were
flushed.
"What is
it?" asked Rachel. "You look like you're going to faint."
"I am in
shock," said Alice in a small voice. "I have never heard
of anything like it. I... don’t believe it."
"Neither did
I," said Rachel, gently putting her hand on Alice's. "But
try not to make a scene...especially now. See." Rachel pointed
to some women from Calvin's
entering the transport.
Alice looked
frightened then, suddenly, she gave Rachel a shy but mischievous
half-smile. "Let them have it," she whispered.
"If they try
to bite me, they will break their teeth." Rachel smiled back
and squeezed her hand reassuringly.
The women stepped
in and, looking around, quickly lighted on the black hood. "Well,
well, well, look what we have here. An innocent."
“Vir-Gin”
"Yes, it's a
shame," said Alice in a excellent rendition of a pathetic voice.
"I wish I wasn't a virgin. When will I be allowed to have
sex?"
"Patience,"
said Rachel in a humoring tone. "You know all the officials at
Modern Butchers are vying to
get with you. The longer we hold out, the higher the amount they are
willing to pay will go." The women from Calvin's glanced
sharply at each other and began grumbling but made no more direct
attacks. Rachel and Alice realized that the others knew they were
probably bluffing but the situation was too serious for them to try
to call them out, on the off chance they were not. Rachel thought
wistfully how much better things would have been if the meat molding
executives really had been interested in Alice. Yes, better, even
though it would not directly benefit her in any way. When they
arrived back at Luther's,
Rachel saw Alice looking happy for the first time ever. The pleased
look on her face gave Rachel a strange joy, a kind of fulfilling
gladness that she had never felt before. The full joy did not last
long but a kind of quiet contentment lingered for several days.
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2025
