LJ Idol 10: Week 14: Topic 4: Nevermind
[Possibly NSFW, warnings under cut]
Allusions to sex work, including descriptions of consentual wax play and drug use
They Say Beyond The City Walls There Are No Cameras
I duck into the alley behind The Parsonage, pressing my hand against the bleeding wound and trying to hold back gasping coughs.
“Janie you look like-”
“I gotta see her Tony.”
“She’s in number ten tonight but-”
I don’t wait to hear the rest as I stumble to the door at the end of the alley.
Tony calls after me but I ignore him as the door swings open and I nearly fall into the corridor. I support myself against the wall with one hand, the other still pressed against my side, as I shuffle towards the door marked ten.
The screen on door ten is blank and I tap it between pulling at my clothes trying to find a barter token, tears stinging my eyes. I give up completely, desperately, and bang against the door with all the strength I have left.
“Sweets,” I cry out, “Sweets!”
My vision starts to blur and I’m swaying forward as the door finally opens.
I’m suddenly in her arms and I breath in her scent, holding on to it like a dying man’s last wish. I hear her voice as if it’s underwater and very far away as everything goes dark.
*****
I blink awake in unfamiliar surroundings. I’m in a bed and she is there; sitting in a chair by the corner. She’s saved my life again.
“I prayed for you. I prayed for you all night.” She says softly, angrily.
She stands. She reaches into her pocket and then tosses a fistful of barter tokens onto the bed, I lift one with shaking fingers; my thumb running over the imprinted image on the side of one, Amalyen, the patron saint of lost souls. Fitting.
Sweets reaches into her pocket and pulls out more; tossing them onto the bed.
“All of these -”
It’s a year of wages, it’s every token I’ve ever spent on her. She said a petition for me for each one.
She stares at me, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Thank you.” I whisper through cracked lips.
"That's all you have to say?"
"Sweets, I -"
"Nevermind," she says. "I have to get back to work."
She leaves; slamming the door as she goes.
Three Months Earlier
He counts out the change into his palm and then drops the barter tokens into my outstretched one, my gloves are so worn thin the tips of three fingers are visible. I snatch the small box of ancient birthday candles off the counter and slip it into my back pocket. I pull up my hood and step out from under the florescent lit awning over the trading post counter and keep my head down following the crowd until I turn into the alley behind The Parsonage.
“Hey Tony,” I say softly to the man leaning against the brick wall.
“Sweets is in four,” he says. I nod and head deeper into the darkness.
Through a metal door is a hallway with a series of numbered doors. I stop at the fourth one. The screen next to the door tells me that besides Sweets the room is unoccupied. I'm relieved I don't have to wait my turn tonight.
I swipe across the screen and drop a token into the slot. The door opens and She leans out; a tumble of blonde curls over one bare shoulder.
When her eyes meet mine, her smile deepens.
Inside the booth Sweets wraps her arms around me and I drop my pack to the floor. “It's been a while,” she says softly into my shoulder.
I pull the box of candles out of my pocket and hold them out to her.
“Yeah?” She asks with a grin.
I nod.
She moves to the the metal cabinet across the small square both and takes out one of those snap cold packs from a first aide kit. I try not to think about why Sweets would be issued a first aide kit as I lean against the wall next to the door; my hands fisted into the front pockets of my cargos.
She turns back to me and there's that smile again. I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall and then she's there, in my space, whispering in my ear. She kisses my neck and coaxes me into taking off my jacket. It lands on the dusty metal floor with a soft thump. I smell her light the match. I open my eyes to watch her light one of the pastel stripped candles. It burns quickly and we both watch the wax drip to the floor. She lights a new one off the stub and drops the stub to the ground.
I pull up the sleeve of my left arm with my right hand. She lets the wax drip onto the exposed skin. I hiss and she presses the cold pack over the spot. I put my right hand over the pack and she lights a fresh candle, the blue wax drips and hardens on my skin again.
Sweets goes down to her knees and raises the hem of my shirt. She lets the wax wax drip over my abdomen. I cry out and she looks up at me, the firelight shining in her eyes.
“Is it really your birthday?” Sweets asks me later blowing refer smoke into the air.
I give a noncommittal shrug as I bend over the edge of the cot to tie my boots.
Her mouth quirks up. “You must have some serious issues with your momma, honey.”
“Don't I pay you so we don't have to talk about my momma?”
Sweets sits up then and I stand retrieving my shirt from the floor.
It's not why and we both know it. My government issued wristband beeps then alerting me that I should eat something soon.
I grab my pack and jacket and press the release button on the door.
“Hey,” She calls after me. “Don't be a stranger Janie.”
****
I sit at the counter looking at the scratches in the metal.
“I will give you five meal cards for that packet.”
I put my hand over the object in question and turn my head away from the female voice.
“Oh c'mon I won't tell. I swear.” The voice continues.
I clear my throat and slid the packet into my vest pocket. “It's uh, it's my last one.”
“Well that's just my luck. If you happen to come across any more...” She slides a plastic calling card into my line of sight.
Her name, Priscilla Damon, is printed in a blocky font over the QR code that I make no move to scan. It's the blue star in the corner that gets my attention and I'm moving to my feet before I even think about it.
She's wearing plain clothes but has a badge on her belt.
“Don't try to run, I just want to ask you a few questions.”
I hold my hands out in front of me as I look around. She slips the calling card into her breast pocket and takes out a small tablet. “I'm looking for information on this woman.” She turns the tablet to me.
It's a picture of Harper. It's slightly dated and I have to remind myself not to grin as I sit back down at the counter and look back up at the detective's face.
“Glenna Flynn Harper. Age fifty-two. She's been under special surveillance for three years. She failed to check in on her monitor yesterday. Known associates include Matthew Fairbanks former CEO of Vine Corp. International. He fulfilled a one year sentence in the Alpha Sigma Farming Quadrant, but his current whereabouts are unknown, and when your were fourteen Glenna Harper was declared your legal guardian.”
She slides her finger on the tablet bringing up another profile with a picture of me off a public train camera in the corner.
“Janine Mason also known as Janie. Age thirty-one. Last assigned residence, number 443 West City Housing Building 6 -”
“Listen, whatever you guys might think, me and Harper -”
“Where would she go Janie? That's all I want to know.”
“Yeah, I'm not telling you anything.”
She considers me for a minute then puts away the tablet. She holds out her calling card again. “In case you change your mind.” I pass my wristband over the card and turn away.
Out of the corner of my eye I watch as she looks around and then pulls out her rations book. She counts out five meal cards and holds them out to me. I tilt my head, “Isn't this like entrapment or something?”
“I'm not going to report you to the vice squad on your birthday,” She says.
I shake my head and look down. I pull the packet out and slide it across the counter as she slides the plastic meal cards toward me.
She rips the packet open and pours it into her coffee. She takes a sip and makes a face I would consider giving the ration cards back just to see again. She holds the cup up in a quasi salute and leaves.
I sigh and turn back to the counter. I pull another packet of sugar out of my pack and pour it into my own cup of coffee.
“Hey Janie is that Pinkerton giving you a hard time?” Seymour asks coming over to put a steaming bowl in front of me.
“Nah.” I glance back over my shoulder.
“'Cause you're if you're in some trouble I know a guy-”
“It's not me.”
He regards me silently. I sip my coffee. I lean forward shoveling some of Seymour's famous stew onto my spoon. “Harper got out of the city,” I say around a mouthful of stew.
Seymour whistles. “No shit?”
I nod, chewing. I swallow. Devour another spoonful. “Hey you got anymore of those magazines?”
“The print editions? Janie I will never understand your priorities.”
I count out three of the ration cards generously provided by Private Eye Priscilla Damon and pass them over the counter.
“Yeah, that's not how it works.”
“Give 'em to the junkies out back.”
“Hey, I don't need that sort in my fine establishment.”
I rub my fingers over the counter and hold up my hand showing the black smudges on my fingers.
Seymour grumbles but puts the vouchers into his apron. “You've got a big heart but you're a real smart ass. Next time those vice cops come asking around, maybe I know where they should look.”
I hold my hands over my heart. “Is that a declaration of love Seymour because well -” I pull a wry face at him.
He points a warning finger at me as he walks away. I drain my coffee as I stand up and take my jacket off the back of the chair.
I take shortcuts back to the West City Housing block. I stop to look up at the pitch black sky. There's too much light pollution to see any stars in the city but I imagine them and play with the star map on my wristband for awhile. I scroll through my contact list. I stop at one labeled “Don't call her.”
It's Harper's direct line. I mentally curse her. Happy fucking birthday to me. Fuck plausible deniablity. She should have told me what she was planning. I delete the number, it's no good to me now.
_________________________
AN: This is part of a larger story set in a technologically advanced society within a heavily guarded police state with strict regulations on resources and behaviour. Barter tokens are often used by the lower classes instead of the official digital currency, although this practice is illegal. The loophole is that Barter Tokens are recognized as Religious Medals stamped with images of saints and are gifted with the expectation that the recipient will include a good word for you in their daily devotionals. Citizens must apply for a travel visa to leave the city for any reason. Sweets is indentured in her service to pay off debts to the government and has been working "under the table" for a wealthy club owner who took on her debts. Wax play with those small multicolored birthday candles is generally not recommended within the kink community for safety reasons, but when you're living in a dystopian authoritarian regime you work with what you got. I encourage research before engaging in such activity.