It was labeled as the Happy House located in the Pleasure District. Its name was rather cliché for a tiny business that seemed to be managing well in reputation and it was far from a "happy" place; only if one didn't include the debauched clients that came and went in swarms.
However, on this day there was a rather peculiar humming in the air, a cacophony of men's excited and anticipated voices; it was not uncommon for the brothel to be infested with men and women alike seeking to pass a good time with an adolescent child. After all, this was the kind of place every pedophile could merely dream about, a child molester's nirvana.
No one knew that truth better than Alois Trancy.
Alois gazed into the mirror as he combed out his luxuriant short, blonde hair and smeared a light coat of strawberry chapstick over his tantalizing lips. Gloss was not necessary as he guided his keen tongue that caused many erections and more through his mouth, an alluring shine now embedded on the soft skin. Steel-blue eyes slowly navigated all over Alois's naked body as if licking it, a mirthful smirk yanking at his lips with admiration and awe. Alois exhaled a haughty laugh. There was a phrase "God's gift to women," but unlike most individuals who solely wished to live up to it, he was God's gift to men and women. Ironically, it was the men that requested Alois's presence more than anyone else.
"Oi, Alois! Get your faggot ass down here. You're wanted," shouted a youth's demanding voice. Cy no doubt; he was always yelling orders to the other boys even though he was one of the youngest in the group. Those who found it amusing went along as if it was a play for Cy's sake, but those who deemed him a source of irritation also deemed it necessary to put him in his rightful spot. Not once did Cy mess around with the wrong guy (and in some cases girl since he was a rather pathetic person) and came out with a black eye or bruised ribs the next morning. But like a boomerang his damaged ego ricocheted and he once again became "Cy the Fly," the nickname originated from the pesky nature of a fly. It was difficult to feel a shred of sympathy for one who practically begged for it.
'Show time!' Alois analyzed himself one more time before heading down the hallway that eventually opened to a staircase. He vaguely contemplated what all the fuss was about once he reached the top of the stairs, men shoving one another while sluts garbed in modish attire clinged to their opulent male companions for dear life, who were eager to pay large sums of money to have "first dibs" on someone they called Ciel. At this point Alois was fueled up, pissed off that his merited attention was being fixed on some enigmatic stranger with a foreign sounding name.
"Who the fuck is this Ciel?" Alois directed this inquiry toward Cy as he neared the bottom of the stairs. It was so packed, more than normal that it was impossible to even reach the admission desk where clients signed in and paid their bill for time spent with the young whores. Cy ran a slightly dirty hand through his mussed, tangled auburn locks and looked at Alois with gleaming jade eyes. He drawled in his Australian accent, "A new kid I s'pose. Just got here from merry old London." For some reason he had an expression of triumph as if he finally knew something that Alois didn't for once. But the feeling of arrogance quickly faded as Alois harshly retorted, "We're in London, you imbecile."
"Oh… right… Well you didn't have to be so mean about it," Cy almost whined. Already his eyes began to shine with translucent tears.
"Shut the fuck up, will ya? Every word that spews from that shithole of yours only solidifies your idiocy. And stop crying like a damn infant! This is a whore house, not a fuckin' nursery."
"Shut up! I'm not crying!" he snapped, wiping the back of his sleeve on his eyes even as he said this. 'Tsk! I don't have time for this,' Alois thought as he pushed his way through the tight crowd and to the front where the owner of the brothel, Madame Red, was raising her gloved hands in a entreaty for accord. Alois reviled that elegant bitch with short, sharply cut hair the shade of fresh blood. With her noble background and voguish ruby dresses she looked down her nose at those she considered less worthy of her attention and respect, which was almost everybody. A narcissist, she believed she was doing the London society a great service by opening a distinguished brothel in a rather quiet part of the city. Of course the Scotland Yard had threatened to kill her business, but as money exchanged hands so did the business continue to flourish. And of course Alois couldn't speak much as he was a narcissist himself, but he had every right to be so. He was entitled to that label.
Once the crowd of unruly, impatient clients finally settled Madame Red directed her words to them. When she spoke, one listened whether they wanted to or not.
"Thank you for your undivided attention. As you all know we have a new "servant" that has been conferred to us from a very generous noble man, Sebastian Michaelis, and will be granting us his services from here and in the near future. Since the child is new to this fine establishment he will not be available until the beginning of next week. If you have any questions, then please consult my secretary, Grell Sutcliffe, or my security guard, Claude Faustus. I'm certain they will be more than willing to answer any questions you may have. Meanwhile, if you wish to do business, then please form a straight line in an orderly manner in front of the admission desk—you all know the drill."
Alois navigated through the now steady crowd that began to form lines and chat amongst themselves and ambled up to Madame Red, but not before a middle-aged man with messy brunette hair and odious russet eyes snatched his arm, forcing Alois to sit on his lap. He recognized this man instantly, a regular customer and one of Alois's frequent purchasers. The man was Rufus Walton, also known as Ruff, and a trouble-maker. Binging on strong alcohol and women were his accomplices, but his heart's true interests were elsewhere—in particular young, beautiful boys such as Alois. Alois was no one's bitch, but Rufus intended on making him one. 'To show you who is boss,' he'd say. And yet, he was just like any other ordinary man that came into this joint: foolish, horny, ordinary and a puddle of flesh once in the enticing blonde's embrace.
"Not now Ruff! I have business to attend to," Alois complained as he struggled against the older man's nearly crushing hold. Of course the movement only made Rufus's throbbing erection even tauter beneath Alois's butt, stimulating his body in the process against his resolve.
"Alois, my boy. Where have you been? We've missed you and that tiny, lewd mouth of yours," Rufus teased as he trailed a calloused finger between Alois's parted lips, roughly rubbing it on his moist tongue. The temptation of biting this douche bag's finger off was close to transpiring, but Alois decided to let it live to see another day and turned his head instead, coughing. Rufus's finger mildly tasted of oil from the car shop he worked at and dried semen, no doubt from masturbating before coming here and not washing his hands; hygiene wasn't exactly his forte.
"You and your inadequate dick can go to hell," Alois chuckled wickedly.
"What? What did you say you little shit?" Rufus spat, cruelly yanking on Alois's hair with those disgusting fingers. "I'll make you eat those words, you little brat!"
Alois merely grinned and gently extracted the man's hand from his pure golden hair, setting it on the sweet area between his legs that protruded slightly with pompous confidence. "If you're really good to me I swear I'll give your precious dick a fuck job like it's never experienced before." His voice oozed like delicious honey with insincere, licentious words. Just like that his mood had changed, as simply as if someone had flicked a switch inside of him. This is how the game was played. This is who Alois was. A two-faced whore, a deceitful player.
"You better make sure you keep that promise of yours, boy," Rufus scoffed. "I don't pay that bitch, Red, my hard-earned cash for poor-ass service, do I Alois? And besides, I'd hate it if anything bad happened to you. It'd be a damn shame for a pretty and popular face such as yours to mysteriously go missing."
"Of course," was all Alois said in reply. Empty threats had no effect on him, especially when they came from Rufus. All bark and no bite. "You can trust me. I'm a man of my word after all." Alois leaned in close to Rufus's ear and licked the lobe slow and surely, ending with a teasing tug between his teeth. Rufus released a lust-induced sigh and eased his grip on Alois's petite waist. Once he was certain the man wouldn't pull any unforeseen surprises, Alois jumped from his lap and immediately continued onward to Madame Red as if none of it had transpired at all.
Madame Red was in the middle of discussing the evening's dinner preparations with their recently employed chef, Bard. An English man with pointy blonde hair, deep emerald eyes, scratchy stubble and a crooked smile that screamed defiance and arrogance. Alois had gone a few satisfactory rounds with the rough-around-the-edges guy, but nothing to cause him to scream and cry in utter ecstasy. Whenever he saw someone that met or almost met his standards of beauty he made sure he was the first one to contaminate them with his familiar stench, like a cat pissing on its territory to inform others to stay away or risk dire consequences. These particular men were his play things, sex toys to mollify his every caprice and desire on a whim.
Alois cleared his throat to attract Madame Red's attention. Her crimson eyes revealed a gleam that only came often when she did not have to go in search for a person or thing of interest. Yes, she loved it when things fell into place instead of her having to go to them.
"Alois, darling! I was just about to send someone to retrieve you and here you are presenting yourself to me. Wonderful, for I do have a humble request for you…"
"Hold up," Alois interrupted, holding a hand up to cease her irritating chatter. "Before you ask me whatever crap you're about to ask, I also have a request for you."
"I'm sure whatever it is it can wait, Alois. I'm on a schedule here, my dear, and I'm afraid I'm pressed for time." Even though her words seemed kind and reasonable enough, a strained connotation of contempt could be heard. The only reason she permitted Alois to address her in such a rude manner was because he was ultimately the pride and joy of the brothel, one of the main reasons why business was booming.
"Look, I just wanted to inquire about this new brat that was so generously given to you. Cecil or whatever the hell his name is."
"You mean Ciel? Ah yes! That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I need you to show the young lad around the place, introduce him to the others, and become his best friend if possible."
"Are you fuckin' serious?" he said incredulously. "I don't have time to teach a bratty newbie the ropes here nor do I have any desire to do so!" Alois's creamy-white skin turned a shade darker as he gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes in frustration. He was here to earn his living arrangements there by working his ass off, not by babysitting a possible pre-teen whiner like Cy.
"Oh, and Ciel is a virgin," Madame Red stated as an afterthought as she began walking away.
"So? What the hell do you want me to do about it," Alois replied nastily.
"So I expect you to do as you are commanded."
"Which is…?"
"Teach the boy a few beneficial tricks. He'll be worthless if he can't do what's required of him…"
"Which is?" Alois was deliberately being a royal nuisance, much to Madame Red's exasperation.
"Making the clients happy!" she finally retorted. "Hence the name. If he can't make our clients happy, then he doesn't belong here. It's simple really."
"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, crossing his arms in utter defeat. This wasn't what he had in mind. All he wanted was to be informed a little about the extra addition to the Happy House "family," but it seemed he would be getting more information than warranted now. Well… maybe it wasn't a complete and total waste; maybe this whole pupil thing would turn out to be entertaining. The good Christ above only knew the kind of boredom Alois had to endure every day, the monotony and constant repetitive cycles of it all. There was so much he could teach a virgin. 'So much indeed,' he mused as he slowly licked his pink lips in anticipation. Oh, this was going to be so interesting for a change.