(no subject)
The Story of Eight Whores and One Madam
*****
Mike was the first, his sleek good looks making him one of the more wealthy men in Chicago by the time 2008 rolled around. But he had a problem with needy friends and could never seem to keep all the things he earned.
He had the type of body type that was more familiar in swimmers and soccer players than models, all his muscles useful, and when Claire asked him he said that once upon a time he'd hoped to be a professional.
"Sports player," she clarified.
"Or this," he admitted. His lips pulled upwards, and he had the deep lines of someone used to smiling all the time. She knew he was lying.
Later he would tell her that the only reason he'd tried to pick her up was because his friends had said he couldn't.
"They were right," she would say, only slightly critical.
The very first time they met, though, he said, "Hey there, gorgeous. Lonely?"
Claire looked him up and down and said, "How would you like to work for me?"
"I think that's what I'm trying to do, sweetheart." He'd leaned into her space, making her look upwards to get a good view of him.
Claire had made a bored noise and turned back to people watching. "If you don't move," she said. "I'm going to have to ask my friends to remove you. There's nothing as unattractive as clingy men."
Which is when her friends had thrown him out. She'd stepped over him in her high heels and said, "Let me know if you reconsider."
*****
Carol went by Candy and had been screaming at her boyfriend at the blood bank and they were both giving Claire the type of headache that she hated to get. Gesturing to security, she said, "Get them out of here."
The boyfriend had been easy to get rid of, but Candy hadn't given blood yet, and with an eye roll, Claire let her back in.
"Do her quickly," she said. Her patience had the consistency of a very fine porcelain.
"I mean, it's like he doesn't even like me," Candy said, talking to the room at large. The nurse glanced at Claire, security ignored everyone, and Claire tried not to grind her teeth.
"I just like the regular sex, you know? It's the one thing I can count on here, and I'd dump him, but then where would I live?" She'd started crying, and the nurse put a stress ball into her hand.
"Squeeze this gently," the nurse said.
"Maybe I'm just not supposed to have relationships," Candy cried. "You know what I mean?"
"I really don't care what you mean," Claire said. "If all you want is sex and a place to live, there are more efficient ways to get it."
"Really?" Candy asked. "Like what?"
*****
There were three of them, and one little girl in the middle of them. At first Claire thought she tiny, but it was just the perspective. Somehow she'd managed to find the three biggest men she could and it wasn't a hardship to imagine what she was doing in exchange for protection.
Claire made a face: one of them smelled like sewer.
The girl herself was mostly clean. Her hair could use a good shampooing and she had sunburn on her shoulders, but other than that, Claire could see the attraction.
Just as the girl moved towards a stall, one of the men reached out and caught her hand, like a leash. It was far too possessive for someone sharing a girl with two other guys and Claire knew exactly how the story would end.
Bypassing the bookstand, she walked straight up to four of them, her eyes only on the girl.
"There are better ways to get protection," she said.
From the smell alone, she could tell they were all human, and that somehow made the possessiveness worse. If they were wolves she could dismiss it as part of what it meant to turn into an animal.
"Oh, no, I'm fine," the girl said. She smiled a little, a hint of Americana and Claire knew she'd fit right in. Claire wanted her.
"Beth-" one of the guys said, in warning. He moved forward, crossing his arms and Claire noted the sweatstains on his t-shirt. There were no words to describe how offensive she found him.
"Listen to me. They're possessive and he smells like some sort of farm animal. I'm offering you protection and a salary to do what you're already doing. Don't be an idiot."
*****
Seth was a kid when she found him suckling at a girl's neck, both of them making pornographic sounds that she just found irritating.
After he finished, she'd taken him back to the museum and let one of the older vamps sort him out. Someone had to explain that blood sucking didn't mean sex.
Years later when he'd developed into something less embarrassing for vampires everywhere, he'd knocked on her office door. Waving him in, she said, "Seth. How are you doing?"
"I'm great," he said. "I heard- I mean, George said- Are you starting a brothel?"
"Bordello," Claire corrected, folding her hands in front of her.
He'd grown into his limbs, tall and slender where poor nutrition had crossed genetics.
"Oh," he said. "I was wondering if I could work there."
The half light of her lamps cut across his cheeks and she wondered if he could even say the word sex.
"Seth, I already have the security lined up, I'm sorry."
"No," he shook his head, and she knew that there would be people out there who would love to have him. "As a... As a prostitute."
With what she felt was an noble amount of self-restraint, she didn't laugh, instead saying, "Seth, you'd have to have sex with people for currency."
"I know," he said, and she didn't need good lighting to see he was blushing.
"You'd have to have sex with people for money," she said.
"I know, ok!" the irritation seemed to explode out of him. "Do you want me to prove I can do it?"
After a moment, Claire said, "Well, yes."
*****
Amy moved in with Mike like a pet puppy.
Claire was unimpressed. She crossed her arms and said, "No roommates. No free rides."
"Amy isn't a roommate," Mike said. He wrapped an arm around Amy's shoulders. "She's an investment."
"Is this investment going to turn tricks?" Claire asked.
She couldn't quite tell if Amy's hair was red or if it was a trick of the light that made her look that Irish. She definitely had the type of features Claire was looking for: pretty without being too pretty, confident without being dominating.
"I'll earn my way," Amy said, finally. Her voice was husky and if there had been telephone lines, Claire would have put her on a 1-900 number instead.
After a moment, she dropped Claire's eyes and the message was clear. Sassy, but not unmanageable.
"Vampire?" Claire asked.
Amy showed her teeth, canines too long for a human, and Claire nodded. "Fine. But there's a trial period for her."
*****
Pearl said, "I really need to get a new job."
"Have you thought about prostitution?" Claire asked.
*****
Tracy had lived at the Shelter from the beginning and Claire didn't understand why she would want to change her living situation so radically.
"Difficulties," Tracy said. She tugged at the hem of her shirt and Claire shook her head.
"No."
"No?" Tracy's voice rose. "You're looking for whores! I'm willing to spread my legs and take it!"
Putting down her pen, Claire raised an eyebrow, and glanced up and down critically.
"Whatever you're doing, take it somewhere else. I play people. People do not play me."
After a moment, Tracy left, slamming the door behind her.
*****
Tatiana and Kira were sold to Claire at an exchange.
Their owner was a short, stubby man wearing an Armani suit. Claire appreciated the quality even as she wondered how he'd gotten into Chicago. Things like a slave trade weren't kept secrets long.
"How long have you been in town?" she asked, eyeing his merchandise.
"Not long," he said. He sounded American, which made her vaguely curious about his operation. "We just came into Chicago today. Happened on this market and decided to make a profit before settling down."
The merchandise was the two girls and a little boy, none of them tied up, which meant that he'd had them for long enough to put fear into them. They were all too thin: she could count the girl's ribs where their stomachs were revealed under their too short t-shirts.
"Is this all you have?" she asked.
The man grinned, one of his teeth had been knocked out and she could smell the rot. "I have more, but not here. I can get them if you're interested."
Making a sound he was welcome to take however he wanted, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a set of tools and two boxes of nails.
"This should cover all three," she said.
"Of course, of course, Miss Pullman," he said.
The tone was enough for her to know he had either been in town before or had asked around beforehand. He didn't flinch from her, though and she gestured towards the girls.
"Come on," she said.
After a few paces, she snapped her fingers and the little boy flinched. George broke off from an argument over the price of dog meat and said, "Yeah?"
"Follow him out of town, make sure he doesn't have any more like them. Then get me back what I paid and make sure he understands he isn't welcome back in Chicago."
She wouldn't call George sadistic, but he liked his job. She respected people who took pride in their work. With a grin, he said, "Yeah, can do, boss."
Glancing over at him, she caught his eyes. "He's not wearing a wristband, George."
George nodded and she turned to the three kids.
"Do you understand English?" she asked, enunciating clearly.
There were too many eyes and ears and Claire thought that only certain dirty laundry should be aired in public. Mostly the dirty laundry that would have positive consequences for her. This was that type of laundry.
The taller girl nodded. "Yes. We speak little English."
Russian, then. She'd suspected, but Claire hadn't spent a whole lot of time in Russia.
"I'm Claire," she said. "You're in Chicago. We're a free democratic city. I bought you, but you're free now. No one owns you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," the tall one said. She spoke briefly to the other two and then turned back to Claire. "Tatiana, Kira, Pierto."
"Good," Claire said. "I'm going to take you to the Shelter, and they're going to take care of you."
The reception of three ex-victims-of-human-traffiking was just as entertaining as Claire had suspected it would be. Accusations were thrown, tempers got heated, someone found new shirts for the girls, and Claire finally got to be able to say, "Well, if we had a sheriff, I wouldn't have had to deal with this myself."
Two weeks later, when she was holding up different fabrics for the drapes at the bordello, Tatiana and Kira had both been shown in, George looking slightly confused.
"I don't know what they want," he said, in explanation.
"Right. Tatinana, Kira. It's good to see you," she said.
"You need whores, yes?" Kira spoke first and Claire had been marginally surprised. She'd expected that only Tatiana spoke English.
"Yes," Claire said. "But I can't take you as whores because I don't want to support slavery."
The two girls had glanced at each other and Tatiana said something brief in Russian and then, in English, "But you pay us, yes?"
"Fair working wage," Claire agreed.
"They not pay us at the Shelter," Tatiana said.
"Well, that's because it's communism," Claire said. "On my side of the fence, I practice capitalism."
The seamstress came to the doorway of the sitting room and Claire held up the fabric she wanted the curtains made out of. The woman retrieved it and left, hurriedly.
"We prefer that," Tatiana said. "Money for work, yes?"
"Yes," Claire agreed. "You understand that you'll be having sex with people, right?"
There'd be complications, of course, arguments that she was exploiting them, that they didn't know what they were getting into. Valid points, but Claire was not known for her morals.
"Yes," Kira said.
"Nobody's forcing you to do this," Claire said. "If you need food or supplies, there are people who will loan it to you."
"We want to work," Kira said.
"Well, fine. Pick out a room," Claire gestured to the stairs. "We open next week."
She'd worry about the psychological problems, the clear Stockholm syndrome later.
*****
Claire knew that killing her whores would be bad business, and that it'd be worse to dump them all out on the street. She wondered if she could get away with forced relocation. To somewhere that she didn't own.
"So then Beth said that Tati was stealing her clients and Kira punched Amy in the face," Seth finished.
"Right," Claire said. She took a deep breath and let it out. "And how did Mike dislocate his shoulder?"
Seth blushed and said, "Well that really was an accident."
Patiently, she waited, watching him.
"He said he'd done it before," Seth said, his whole face going red.
"All right," Claire said. "Beth, Tatiana, Kira and you are on tonight."
"But, today was my day off…" he trailed off as Claire stared him down.
"Go tell everyone," Claire said. "And take some fresh blood to Amy."
This was not what she'd signed up for. If only she really could just beat them. But, Claire found that brute force was not her specialty. Anyone could beat someone until they gave in, but it was so gauche. And in the long term it was incredibly ineffective.
"Claire?" Les stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.
"Baby, now is not a good time," Claire said.
"Ummm, ok," Les said. "But. Marilyn is here?"
"Fine," Claire said, gesturing to let her in.
Marilyn wore her weight well, and had always reminded Claire of one of those servants that ran the household herself. Shrugging out of her coat, Marilyn glanced around the room in approval.
"It looks good," she said.
"Yes," Claire said, amused. Of course it did.
Marilyn had dressed up, Claire noted, a white button up tucked into her black skirt. Raising an eyebrow, Claire waited.
"I used to work at a girl's boarding school in New England," Marilyn said. "As house mother."
"Is this going somewhere?" Claire asked. She could already hear an argument upstairs and George was nowhere in sight, damn him.
"You need a madam," Marilyn said, frankly.
"...yes," Claire said, after a pause. She did. Until now, there hadn't seemed to be any valid candidates. "Are you offering?"
"I'd be good at it," Marilyn said. "I'd want a percentage."
"Five percent of gross," Claire offered.
Marilyn smiled, her fangs catching the light.
"Ten."
For a moment Claire savored the feeling that she was dealing with someone who knew what she was worth.
"Done," Claire said. "You can start right now."
*****
end
*****
Mike was the first, his sleek good looks making him one of the more wealthy men in Chicago by the time 2008 rolled around. But he had a problem with needy friends and could never seem to keep all the things he earned.
He had the type of body type that was more familiar in swimmers and soccer players than models, all his muscles useful, and when Claire asked him he said that once upon a time he'd hoped to be a professional.
"Sports player," she clarified.
"Or this," he admitted. His lips pulled upwards, and he had the deep lines of someone used to smiling all the time. She knew he was lying.
Later he would tell her that the only reason he'd tried to pick her up was because his friends had said he couldn't.
"They were right," she would say, only slightly critical.
The very first time they met, though, he said, "Hey there, gorgeous. Lonely?"
Claire looked him up and down and said, "How would you like to work for me?"
"I think that's what I'm trying to do, sweetheart." He'd leaned into her space, making her look upwards to get a good view of him.
Claire had made a bored noise and turned back to people watching. "If you don't move," she said. "I'm going to have to ask my friends to remove you. There's nothing as unattractive as clingy men."
Which is when her friends had thrown him out. She'd stepped over him in her high heels and said, "Let me know if you reconsider."
*****
Carol went by Candy and had been screaming at her boyfriend at the blood bank and they were both giving Claire the type of headache that she hated to get. Gesturing to security, she said, "Get them out of here."
The boyfriend had been easy to get rid of, but Candy hadn't given blood yet, and with an eye roll, Claire let her back in.
"Do her quickly," she said. Her patience had the consistency of a very fine porcelain.
"I mean, it's like he doesn't even like me," Candy said, talking to the room at large. The nurse glanced at Claire, security ignored everyone, and Claire tried not to grind her teeth.
"I just like the regular sex, you know? It's the one thing I can count on here, and I'd dump him, but then where would I live?" She'd started crying, and the nurse put a stress ball into her hand.
"Squeeze this gently," the nurse said.
"Maybe I'm just not supposed to have relationships," Candy cried. "You know what I mean?"
"I really don't care what you mean," Claire said. "If all you want is sex and a place to live, there are more efficient ways to get it."
"Really?" Candy asked. "Like what?"
*****
There were three of them, and one little girl in the middle of them. At first Claire thought she tiny, but it was just the perspective. Somehow she'd managed to find the three biggest men she could and it wasn't a hardship to imagine what she was doing in exchange for protection.
Claire made a face: one of them smelled like sewer.
The girl herself was mostly clean. Her hair could use a good shampooing and she had sunburn on her shoulders, but other than that, Claire could see the attraction.
Just as the girl moved towards a stall, one of the men reached out and caught her hand, like a leash. It was far too possessive for someone sharing a girl with two other guys and Claire knew exactly how the story would end.
Bypassing the bookstand, she walked straight up to four of them, her eyes only on the girl.
"There are better ways to get protection," she said.
From the smell alone, she could tell they were all human, and that somehow made the possessiveness worse. If they were wolves she could dismiss it as part of what it meant to turn into an animal.
"Oh, no, I'm fine," the girl said. She smiled a little, a hint of Americana and Claire knew she'd fit right in. Claire wanted her.
"Beth-" one of the guys said, in warning. He moved forward, crossing his arms and Claire noted the sweatstains on his t-shirt. There were no words to describe how offensive she found him.
"Listen to me. They're possessive and he smells like some sort of farm animal. I'm offering you protection and a salary to do what you're already doing. Don't be an idiot."
*****
Seth was a kid when she found him suckling at a girl's neck, both of them making pornographic sounds that she just found irritating.
After he finished, she'd taken him back to the museum and let one of the older vamps sort him out. Someone had to explain that blood sucking didn't mean sex.
Years later when he'd developed into something less embarrassing for vampires everywhere, he'd knocked on her office door. Waving him in, she said, "Seth. How are you doing?"
"I'm great," he said. "I heard- I mean, George said- Are you starting a brothel?"
"Bordello," Claire corrected, folding her hands in front of her.
He'd grown into his limbs, tall and slender where poor nutrition had crossed genetics.
"Oh," he said. "I was wondering if I could work there."
The half light of her lamps cut across his cheeks and she wondered if he could even say the word sex.
"Seth, I already have the security lined up, I'm sorry."
"No," he shook his head, and she knew that there would be people out there who would love to have him. "As a... As a prostitute."
With what she felt was an noble amount of self-restraint, she didn't laugh, instead saying, "Seth, you'd have to have sex with people for currency."
"I know," he said, and she didn't need good lighting to see he was blushing.
"You'd have to have sex with people for money," she said.
"I know, ok!" the irritation seemed to explode out of him. "Do you want me to prove I can do it?"
After a moment, Claire said, "Well, yes."
*****
Amy moved in with Mike like a pet puppy.
Claire was unimpressed. She crossed her arms and said, "No roommates. No free rides."
"Amy isn't a roommate," Mike said. He wrapped an arm around Amy's shoulders. "She's an investment."
"Is this investment going to turn tricks?" Claire asked.
She couldn't quite tell if Amy's hair was red or if it was a trick of the light that made her look that Irish. She definitely had the type of features Claire was looking for: pretty without being too pretty, confident without being dominating.
"I'll earn my way," Amy said, finally. Her voice was husky and if there had been telephone lines, Claire would have put her on a 1-900 number instead.
After a moment, she dropped Claire's eyes and the message was clear. Sassy, but not unmanageable.
"Vampire?" Claire asked.
Amy showed her teeth, canines too long for a human, and Claire nodded. "Fine. But there's a trial period for her."
*****
Pearl said, "I really need to get a new job."
"Have you thought about prostitution?" Claire asked.
*****
Tracy had lived at the Shelter from the beginning and Claire didn't understand why she would want to change her living situation so radically.
"Difficulties," Tracy said. She tugged at the hem of her shirt and Claire shook her head.
"No."
"No?" Tracy's voice rose. "You're looking for whores! I'm willing to spread my legs and take it!"
Putting down her pen, Claire raised an eyebrow, and glanced up and down critically.
"Whatever you're doing, take it somewhere else. I play people. People do not play me."
After a moment, Tracy left, slamming the door behind her.
*****
Tatiana and Kira were sold to Claire at an exchange.
Their owner was a short, stubby man wearing an Armani suit. Claire appreciated the quality even as she wondered how he'd gotten into Chicago. Things like a slave trade weren't kept secrets long.
"How long have you been in town?" she asked, eyeing his merchandise.
"Not long," he said. He sounded American, which made her vaguely curious about his operation. "We just came into Chicago today. Happened on this market and decided to make a profit before settling down."
The merchandise was the two girls and a little boy, none of them tied up, which meant that he'd had them for long enough to put fear into them. They were all too thin: she could count the girl's ribs where their stomachs were revealed under their too short t-shirts.
"Is this all you have?" she asked.
The man grinned, one of his teeth had been knocked out and she could smell the rot. "I have more, but not here. I can get them if you're interested."
Making a sound he was welcome to take however he wanted, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a set of tools and two boxes of nails.
"This should cover all three," she said.
"Of course, of course, Miss Pullman," he said.
The tone was enough for her to know he had either been in town before or had asked around beforehand. He didn't flinch from her, though and she gestured towards the girls.
"Come on," she said.
After a few paces, she snapped her fingers and the little boy flinched. George broke off from an argument over the price of dog meat and said, "Yeah?"
"Follow him out of town, make sure he doesn't have any more like them. Then get me back what I paid and make sure he understands he isn't welcome back in Chicago."
She wouldn't call George sadistic, but he liked his job. She respected people who took pride in their work. With a grin, he said, "Yeah, can do, boss."
Glancing over at him, she caught his eyes. "He's not wearing a wristband, George."
George nodded and she turned to the three kids.
"Do you understand English?" she asked, enunciating clearly.
There were too many eyes and ears and Claire thought that only certain dirty laundry should be aired in public. Mostly the dirty laundry that would have positive consequences for her. This was that type of laundry.
The taller girl nodded. "Yes. We speak little English."
Russian, then. She'd suspected, but Claire hadn't spent a whole lot of time in Russia.
"I'm Claire," she said. "You're in Chicago. We're a free democratic city. I bought you, but you're free now. No one owns you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," the tall one said. She spoke briefly to the other two and then turned back to Claire. "Tatiana, Kira, Pierto."
"Good," Claire said. "I'm going to take you to the Shelter, and they're going to take care of you."
The reception of three ex-victims-of-human-traffiking was just as entertaining as Claire had suspected it would be. Accusations were thrown, tempers got heated, someone found new shirts for the girls, and Claire finally got to be able to say, "Well, if we had a sheriff, I wouldn't have had to deal with this myself."
Two weeks later, when she was holding up different fabrics for the drapes at the bordello, Tatiana and Kira had both been shown in, George looking slightly confused.
"I don't know what they want," he said, in explanation.
"Right. Tatinana, Kira. It's good to see you," she said.
"You need whores, yes?" Kira spoke first and Claire had been marginally surprised. She'd expected that only Tatiana spoke English.
"Yes," Claire said. "But I can't take you as whores because I don't want to support slavery."
The two girls had glanced at each other and Tatiana said something brief in Russian and then, in English, "But you pay us, yes?"
"Fair working wage," Claire agreed.
"They not pay us at the Shelter," Tatiana said.
"Well, that's because it's communism," Claire said. "On my side of the fence, I practice capitalism."
The seamstress came to the doorway of the sitting room and Claire held up the fabric she wanted the curtains made out of. The woman retrieved it and left, hurriedly.
"We prefer that," Tatiana said. "Money for work, yes?"
"Yes," Claire agreed. "You understand that you'll be having sex with people, right?"
There'd be complications, of course, arguments that she was exploiting them, that they didn't know what they were getting into. Valid points, but Claire was not known for her morals.
"Yes," Kira said.
"Nobody's forcing you to do this," Claire said. "If you need food or supplies, there are people who will loan it to you."
"We want to work," Kira said.
"Well, fine. Pick out a room," Claire gestured to the stairs. "We open next week."
She'd worry about the psychological problems, the clear Stockholm syndrome later.
*****
Claire knew that killing her whores would be bad business, and that it'd be worse to dump them all out on the street. She wondered if she could get away with forced relocation. To somewhere that she didn't own.
"So then Beth said that Tati was stealing her clients and Kira punched Amy in the face," Seth finished.
"Right," Claire said. She took a deep breath and let it out. "And how did Mike dislocate his shoulder?"
Seth blushed and said, "Well that really was an accident."
Patiently, she waited, watching him.
"He said he'd done it before," Seth said, his whole face going red.
"All right," Claire said. "Beth, Tatiana, Kira and you are on tonight."
"But, today was my day off…" he trailed off as Claire stared him down.
"Go tell everyone," Claire said. "And take some fresh blood to Amy."
This was not what she'd signed up for. If only she really could just beat them. But, Claire found that brute force was not her specialty. Anyone could beat someone until they gave in, but it was so gauche. And in the long term it was incredibly ineffective.
"Claire?" Les stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.
"Baby, now is not a good time," Claire said.
"Ummm, ok," Les said. "But. Marilyn is here?"
"Fine," Claire said, gesturing to let her in.
Marilyn wore her weight well, and had always reminded Claire of one of those servants that ran the household herself. Shrugging out of her coat, Marilyn glanced around the room in approval.
"It looks good," she said.
"Yes," Claire said, amused. Of course it did.
Marilyn had dressed up, Claire noted, a white button up tucked into her black skirt. Raising an eyebrow, Claire waited.
"I used to work at a girl's boarding school in New England," Marilyn said. "As house mother."
"Is this going somewhere?" Claire asked. She could already hear an argument upstairs and George was nowhere in sight, damn him.
"You need a madam," Marilyn said, frankly.
"...yes," Claire said, after a pause. She did. Until now, there hadn't seemed to be any valid candidates. "Are you offering?"
"I'd be good at it," Marilyn said. "I'd want a percentage."
"Five percent of gross," Claire offered.
Marilyn smiled, her fangs catching the light.
"Ten."
For a moment Claire savored the feeling that she was dealing with someone who knew what she was worth.
"Done," Claire said. "You can start right now."
*****
end