Chapter ten, hope you enjoy this one. xx

Chapter ten

Galinda

October 183

I was feeling tired, under the weather. It was cold outside, too, and the weather seemed to reflect my mood: bored, ill and lonely. It was time for a night on the town. During that day, I had been with Carter, Pippa and all of the usual crowd, though nobody that was really worth a mention. Plus, beside Carter, there was nobody else there I wanted to be with.

He had invited us all around for lunch, which had made me feel great, but when it came down to it? He started talking about his wife-to-be, Emilina. I wanted to get up, walk out, and keep going until I could jump of the nearest bridge or drown myself in the sea. Not that I had indulged in these emotions, I guess I had a little more sense than that, but now I was feeling even worse.

Dragging myself away from the window seat I walked to the bedroom to find something to wear. If I couldn’t have Carter, I’d find somebody else at half the price- at least they wouldn’t ask for commintment, or love. They’d just want me for my body- and right now, that was all I wanted.

I found myself a dress in the wardrobe that I hadn’t looked at in years. Not because it was old, or ugly, or even because the last woman who had worn it had died in it: no, that didn’t bother me too much. A lot of my clothes were second hand, it was the thought that a whore had worn it, which made me think twice about putting it on, every time. Not this time. This time I searched for the red dress specifically and pulled it out with a grim smile to myself. This woman had gotten herself luck enough to die from her clients, maybe that would leave me the chance of getting one.

I donned the dress quickly, made my face up with a black pencil and some rouge, and then pouted my lips at the reflection in the mirror. The woman who stared back was shockingly different to who I had expected to see. I had expected Galinda, the sweet innocent villain girl who was really a lot meaner than she looked. Instead, I found myself face to face with Lin, the cheap market whore from Corner Square. The transformation was shocking, in that I had never seen her before, never imagined that I could become somebody else so easily; but there it was, right in front of my eyes. The makeup made me look younger, my lips fuller, and the dress enhanced what little my body had to offer. Hey, I thought to myself with a spin, I might as well make the most of it before I die, right?

With a click of my heels in the new shoes (or rather the old ones, remodelled), I left my flat with vigour. I may have been feeling awful, and true, sex might not make me feel any better, but it would certainly help me when it came to putting food on the table. I left quietly, desending the stairs with as much grace and stealth as I could muster: it probably wasn’t wise if my new landlady saw me going out to turn a corner, as she probably wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment- at least, she wouldn’t unless she saw a cut of the profits, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

Outside, the air was icy, bringing forth a warning of snow and much darker, colder nights to come. Perhaps I hadn’t picked the best time of year, or the best time of night, but I was pretty sure that in these parts of town I could find somebody who would work with my needs. Staggering a little with each push of wind against my bare ankles, I walked along the pavement quickly. I made my way into the centre of the town, drawing up all my strength to pull myself into the shadows, but where I could at least be seen. When I spotted the blinking lights that highlighted the Red Zone coming up ahead, I began to flaunt my body like never before. I suppose you could tell I was new to this, and I suppose it was clear I had never even sold a part of my body before, it wasn’t long before I got a few offers.

“What’s yer rate darlin’?” called one toothless man from the other side of the street. I looked him over twice, and decided that I could do better.

“More than you can afford,” I replied with a wink, and a silent cry of disgust, and walked away. Another two or three calls came, but each of the men was either too old or too ugly for me even to think about it. Finally I got a shout that sounded promising.

“How’s it going sweetheart?” the voice drawled. I looked around and noticed that it belong to a tall, man with long dark hair, who was stood under a lamp post, his large rimmed hat shading his face from view and his trench coat covering most of his body from the world.

“Not bad,” I replied cautiously. “How about yourself?” At least he was polite.

“Good, good.” He lit up a cigarette and took a breath before blowing a stream of white steam up into the night sky. “You’re new, aren’t you?” he said in a way which made me annoyed, yet left me feeling obliged to answer him.

“Yes,” I answered, a stoney tone to my voice. “What’s it to do with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied, taking his wallet from his pocket to count his cash, “What’s your price.”

“You name it.”

“Two hundred?”

“Four.”

“Three, and you’ve got a deal.”

“Three hundred it is,” I acknowledged.

“Good,” he began to walk away, and like the small child I appeared to be, I followed him. I could hardly believe myself: at the young age of just twenty-two, I appeared to be going through a rather sudden midlife crisis. “I know a place,” he started to say, and I soon caught him up as he slowed his pace for me. “not far from here. Small charge room fee, an hour a part. That good?”

“Whatever,” I replied with a dismissive flick of my hair from my face, although I was fighting the urge to ask him why he was being so nice.

“Good,” he said again, and we walked in silence for the rest of the way. The streets, although dark and cold, were buzzing with life. We passed by many men and women alike, some working the streets, others just going out for a drink or a lesiurely walk. Some people, like myself and the mystery man, had other business to attend to.

We passed a number of couples who looked both similar and different to ourselves, and then he drew to a halt. We were stood just outside the exit of an alleyway, dark from the lack of light except for a flickering candle flame hanging from the sign outside one of the houses. It was a large house, large enough to have it’s own sign, that read “Dainty Michaels’”, with a great overhanging black roof and foreboding windows that blacked out even the lights inside. I looked up to the man, carefully judging what little of his face I could see under his hat. He seemed cool, calm, collected and totally unfazed by the oddness of the small street.

“It’s this way,” he said, sounding like he was making conversation, although I knew this to be a lie. He just wanted me to be calm, I guessed he liked women who knew how to control themselves. This could get interesting...

We walked up the alley in silence, the only sounds now were those of our muffled footsteps on the flagstones, all other noise having been left behind with the light. The man placed his hand on my shoulder, the warmth seeping through the sleeves of my thin dress and making me feel slightly unnerved. Physical contract? Unneeded? Why?

“It’s dark,” I said quietly, wanting to hear him speak again. His accent was mixed, hard to place, but it drawled nonetheless, and was rather addictive to hear.

“Yes, don’t worry. We’ll be inside soon.”

I followed him quietly as he knocked on the door of the house, and waited. He seemed to know his way pretty well, so I figured I might as well leave him to it. It would probably be less painful for me to do it this way, too.

A large woman opened the door, her bright copper hair piled on her head messily and her skirts half raised. She scowled for a moment, adjusting her vision, and when she saw who it was she gave a small squeak of surprise, or joy, I wasn’t sure which.

“Why, it’s Gentleman!” she called out loudly, and the two other people in the room- an elderly woman and a small boy- turned to look with expectant aces.

“Well, let ‘im in then.” the old woman called, her voice rickety and feeble as she looked.

“Evening,” the man, Gentleman, said with a short nod of his head. “The usual room, please.”

So, he’d been here before. I wondered how many times, and with how many women. I wondered for a moment, fleeting, and then it was gone and I cared no more. This was just business, and it didn’t matter to me how many he had taken, or why, just that he was going to pay me for my trouble. All I wanted was a release.

“Of course, of course.” The fat woman, who I assumed was Dainty Michaels, fumbled around in a little draw in the desk by the door, and pulled out a little silver key that had rusted and worn over the years. She handed it to Gentleman quickly, and then walked back to the fire. I assumed, also, that we would be paying when we left.

He took my hand, firmly, in his own and pulled me away from the warmth of the little room, and into a corridor that led directly to a set of stairs. He pushed me through first, and had me marching up as he placed a hand on the small of my back. I shivered in the sudden cold, but found that once we had climbed the stairs it was warmer, and the room Gentleman let us into was warmer still. They’d been waiting for him. The fire was burning, and the double bed, which sat in the middle of the room, had been made ready and the covers were turned back. I glanced at him cautiously, and watched with care as he closed the door and placed the key in the lock, turning it a half turn to the right. He saw me watching:

“Just a precaution,” he said with an expression that could only have been a smile, though a small one at that, “I don’t want them to disturb us, especially the little one. He’s a pain- sweet- but likes to listen in. He won’t if the door’s locked.” I nodded, bewildered at the thoughtfulness of this strange man. “So,” he added, stepped over to stand before the fire, roasting his bottom against the flames, “tell me about yourself.”

“Like, what?” I asked, unsure.

“Your name? Age, where you live? Why you’re here?”

“You know why I’m here; and I don’t see why any of the other stuff is relevant.” I pouted.

“I need to call you something,” he replied, “the other things, they’re just conversation starters.” Great, I thought, I got one that likes to talk...

“My name,” I repeated slowly, buying myself time, “is Lin.” I think he knew I wasn’t being truthful, but he didn’t push it. When it became clear that I wasn’t going to answer any more of his question he took off his coat and threw it over the back of the chair, exposing a clean cotton shirt, braces and tidy black trousers. His shoes were well polished, his clothes pressed and neat.

“I suppose we’d better get down to it then,” he said with a sigh, “that’s what I’m paying you for, I suppose.” He finally removed his hat, and as I watched his face was revealed before my very eyes. I blinked: once, twice, three times, and tried not to flinch. Although his eyes were a beautiful shade of green, I couldn’t say much for the rest of his face. It was oddly shaped, the skin around his left eye wrinkled, like it had been burnt in a furnace. His mouth and chin, I noticed, were normal, but his eyes. I couldn’t stop looking at them, dark green like seaweed, and surrounded by something of similar texture.

“Yes, you’re paying me...” I answered quietly, moving my eyes to the floor. When he didn’t move I began to undo the buttons on my dress, praying now that this would go faster.

“Stop,” he said once I had unbuttoned the top and I was ready to take it off. “Wait, let me. Please.” I stopped and stood still. He walked towards me and smiled, kindly. “I know what I must look like to you,” he said, reading my mind, “but please don’t let it stop you. I’m no different,” he paused, “... no different anywhere else. Just pretend it’s not there.” I nodded, without looking at him, and then he moved closer. I swallowed hard and raised my eyes to meet his.

“Thank you,” he answered, before lowering his lips onto mine. He wrapped his arms around me and did what I think he had wanted to do in a long while, and I couldn’t help but wonder if all the others had left as soon as they saw him. I wondered if they had run out into the street calling monster and never come back. I wondered.

When it was all over, he sat up from the bed and left me lying there, thinking. He pulled himself to the side of the bed, and sat with his back to me for a moment. I looked at him, running my gaze along his smooth skin and the muscles that ran underneath. I watched as his rubbed his arms to get warm and then slid his cloths back on. All of this he did without saying a word, or turning to me once. I pulled the bed covers around my body, suddenly self conscious, and then he turned to me. His hair was tussled and damp with sweat, and his mouth twitched in a little smile as he watched me.

“You know,” he said, picked my dress up from the floor and bringing it around to me, along with my undergarments. “You’re the first one in over seven years, since the accident, who’s ever looked at me twice. The only one- and though it was bought,” he pulled the covers from me and started to help me dress, “it still meant an awful lot to me.”

“Sure,” I replied, uncertain of what I could say, “any time.”

“Really?” I was taken aback that he thought I was being literal, but I decided not to push it now.

“Yeah. Like I said: any time. It pays.” I finished dressing myself and smiled at him.

“How much do I owe ou?” he asked after a moment of staring at me.

“Three hundred,” I replied quickly.

“Okay,” he rooted in his wallet and pulled out some paper notes. I was happy to see it, money in all its splendour, but I knew it wouldn’t last long, and soon the work I had just done would be worthless. I tooked the money from his hand and slipped it under my bodice, between the material of it, and that of the skirts. I made sure it was safe, and then Gentleman opened the door and we walked downstairs together. With a smile on his face, and the hat off his head, he tossed a few coins and note over to the old woman in the rocking chair and we left the house. Outside, the cold was welcome, and I felt it cooling the sweat where my hair had fallen onto my neck.

He laid a hand on my arm, and looked down on me kindly. “I’ll let you go, now,” he said, “and, once again: thanks.” with a swift nod and a gentle squeeze of my arm, he was gone and walking back down the alley in the dark, leaving me to me thoughts in the dark and cold outside the whore house.

I don’t think it hit me, what I had done, until I got back to my apartment. my feet were tired, my arms ached for some unknown reason and I felt like somebody had taken a pin and pushed it right through the centre of my heart. Inside, I stripped off the dress, threw it back in the wardrobe in disgust, and then boiled some water. I filled the bathtub as quickly as I could, and once it was ready I stepped into the scolding water, crying out only once at its heat. I lay there, and let the water soak every part of my body until I was ruby red, and sweet smelling from the cologne, and then I climbed out. My heart was still in as much pain as before, a cold clenched hand now in my stomach was gripping tight and making me feel ill.

My night on the town hadn’t done me much good, and I knew that now, but it had at least given me enough money to live. I walked to the bedroom, pulled the money from the dress and walked to the window. I sat in the seat, looking out across the lines of rooftops and then down into the streets below. What had I done? It wasn’t a matter of being a villain any more, and how I was feeling was something I would never wish on anybody, not even my worst enemies.

Without another thought, I opened the window and sat on the sill, my hands gripping the sides tightly in case I should fall. Then, with one single swing of my arm I saw the notes of money fall to the floor like large, rectangular snowflakes on Christmas Eve. With a satisfied smile I walked back inside, slid between the bed covers, and fell to sleep.