The Rabbit Hole may not be distributed in any way, including posting to FictionPress and all other websites without Penelope P.'s written permission. Thank you.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland", it belongs to the wonderful Lewis Caroll. However, all other characters belong to me. Please don't take them.
What's going on?! So thanks a million for being interested in this story. Ah... this is it. It's brand spanking new. I really hope it's good. Um... so you know, enjoy. Oh and if you're new to my stories then I'll have you know typos and I walk hand in hand. You've been warned. If your not new, then thanks for coming back and reading. I appreciate it!
"The Rabbit Hole"
She preferred older. Not old, just older. And he seemed just right.
Older men always had softer hands than younger ones. They weren't smooth, just soft. Like worn leather. That was her favorite part. Her second were their eyes. You could always see the younger side of a man in his eyes.
"Butterfly…" He said to her. "What's your real name?"
She smiled and tipped her head until her lips were just a whisper from his. "What makes you think Butterfly isn't my real name?" He didn't look down, but when he did she would kiss him. His entire body was ridged and hard. "Relax," Her breath tickled his neck. "Just relax."
He made a strange sort of mumbling sound deep in his throat. "How old are you?"
"Older than I look." Butterfly said. She knew how youthful she looked, and how that was usually enough for men to be interested. But he was different; he didn't look at her with that gleam in his eyes. She wondered just who he was, and why he picked her.
When she placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed an easy kiss to his chin he jolted. His wide hand grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away from his body. "No." He said, something Butterfly wasn't used to hearing.
"No?" She asked looking into his pale green eyes.
"I just want to talk to you." He said still holding her at arms length.
Butterfly didn't understand. "Talk?" Smiling she lifted her hand and brushed it against his cheek. "You're shy. We'll go slow."
"I just want to talk." He said again and moved her over to sit on the bed. She did and blinked up at him. Her heart quickened just a little. He didn't look mean, but maybe he was. Butterfly was usually good at gauging the mean ones from the others. She began to stiffen and wait for him to hit her, anything, but instead he took a few steps away from her.
"I don't understand, you paid for-"
"I know what I paid for. Just listen." He ran his hands through his graying hair. "I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to remember it. Can you do that?" When Butterfly didn't say anything he crouched down and took her hands into his own. They were so much smaller than his. "It's just a sentence. Will you do it?"
She frowned, and thought. He looked like such a nice man, someone who maybe had a bunch of kids and a wife with a sweet smile. "That's all?"
"Someone will come looking for you. I just want you to tell her what I'm about to tell you."
Looking for you… Butterfly pulled her hands out of his. "I… I don't think this is a good idea."
When he saw her stiffen he stood up. "I can pay you, anything you want."
For some reason it made her feel disgusted that he even offered. That was silly of course; this wasn't the first time a man offered a little extra for something special. "No, I don't want people looking for me. If you don't want what you paid for, then I'm sure Mother will give you your money back." Butterfly was speaking of the woman who ran the house. Everyone called her mother, even clients.
He opened his mouth to urge her, but stopped. He nodded and offered a thin smile. "All right." Butterfly watched as he dug around the pockets of his old jacket and pulled out a roll of money wrapped in an elastic band. "It's not a lot," He said placing it into her delicate palm and squeezing her hands together. "But it's enough to leave and start somewhere new."
She didn't understand why he would give her money for nothing in return; she quickly dropped the roll onto her lap. "Why?"
"You don't belong here. You're too young."
She wasn't too young, well not her in her mind. She was old enough to do anything she wanted. Looking into his eyes, she saw the gentleness she usually sought for. "Thank you, but no thank you." She said and handed him back the money. "I can't leave. This is my home for now." He frowned but didn't take the money. "I'll remember what you want to tell me." She didn't exactly know why she changed her mind; maybe it was because he was being kind to her.
Smiling he crouched back down to her eyelevel. "I once played three games of tic-tac-toe with a Trickster."
Butterfly raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"That's what I want you to remember."
"I once played three games of tic-tac-toe with a trickster? That's it?"
"Yes. It's important that you remember it was only three games."
She nodded. "What does it mean?"
He smiled again, but he didn't answer. "When the woman comes, Alice, she wont understand either. But she'll figure it out."
Butterfly swiped a lock of hair out of her face. "Who's Alice?"
"My daughter." He said. "You look like her. Well, you might. I haven't seen her in a very long time." For some reason Butterfly's heart warmed, but she didn't say anything. Instead she held up the money. He shook his head. "Keep it. Save it." He touched her cheek; it was smoother than he thought was possible. "Don't waste your life here." She stayed where she was as he moved to the door of the small bedroom. "You'll remember, wont you?"
"Thank you." He said opening the door, he took one last look at her then smiled again. "Goodbye, Butterfly."
After he closed the door silently behind him, Butterfly stared down at the money on her lap. It didn't feel right keeping it. She laughed at that thought, since taking money was vital part of the job. But with him, she just couldn't. Not because they hadn't done anything, but because it didn't feel right.
She walked to the door and into the hallway. He was gone. She hurried past the rooms where the sounds of people enjoying themselves echoed, and down the stairs, into the bar. Men laughed and shouted as they drank and got drunk. Women served drinks and flashed dazzling smiles at the men with the most money. Butterfly saw him over the heads as he made his way to the door. She pushed through a crowd of men even as they called to her. She managed to reach him before he left forever.
Butterfly placed her hand on his shoulder and brought herself up onto her toes when he turned to her. "My name is Katherine." She whispered into his ear as she slipped the money back into his pocket. She'd never told anyone her real name, and doing it made her feel giddy.
He smiled, and cupped his hand around her ear. "I'm Jack." He whispered back.
Then he was gone.