Part One
Silke Montclair always ran late. It wasn't like she planned it a'tall but no matter what she did, the clock always proved her to be late. The customers of the Scarlet Tower said that if her body and the skill of which she used it didn't make up for it, then they'd be very angry and leave. Instead, however, they found themselves enjoying more from the anticipation of having her.
Bluntly put, the fact that she was a great fuck was the only thing that even saved her job.
"Splendid," She mumbled to herself, not taking any pride in that fact that not only was she a prostitute, but she was a great one at that.
Silke tied her red-gold hair together as quickly and elegantly as possible, before sparing a glance at her bird, Spects, the one thing in her life she'd even consider calling a true friend. "Ah, Spectacular don't give me that look. Now how do I look? Smoldering temptress?" She turned around long enough to check her reflection, before her attention was back on Spects. "Now lets hope that the priest was right, and my hair is an invitation to sin. If not I'm screwed…and not the kind that gives me a paycheck."
Realizing that she was wasting her time, precious time at that, talking to a lovebird that probably didn't understand a word that she was saying, she grabbed her shoulder bag, and stopped over at her bookcase.
"Tonight?" Silke racked her brain, trying to remember who her lover was to be tonight. "Oh, hell. The investor." She groaned out loud, scanning the bookcase. "Looks like a Susan Johnson night." She grabbed the appropriate book, throwing it in there. When she first began she was embarrassed on how much turned off she could get by some of the customers, which led to them being very unsatisfied. Fortunately for Silke, Marguerite, who helped run the club along with its owner suggested romance novels. After reading a few of Johnson's love scenes, Silke was pretty much ready to sleep with anyone. Hopefully anyone would do, she was counting on it.
As Silke was readying for her night with the investor, Christian MacLaren, commonly known as Kit, was trying to decide on how to tactfully remove his friends from his life. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to understand a word he said. And if they disobeyed a plea from him, they blamed it on his accent.
Bloody hell.
"What's so important about going to a nightclub?" Kit asked after giving up on making excuses as to why he couldn't go. "There are plenty of 'em in Connecticut."
Henry apparently decided to take pity on him, because he answered the question. "This nightclub is really a secret whorehouse, Kitty." Apparently not too much pity for he used the nickname kids use to taunt him with. "Not only do you get to dance, watch girls sing in skimpy clothes, but you can fuck them too!"
Kit resisted rolling his eyes at his friend's obvious lust. "For a price."
"Mmmm. But the money is well spent," Henry said as he closed his eyes. He opened them again. "Ah, they say the prized whore is Silke. She's as soft as silk and the best lay in the country."
"How…poetic."
"Yes, well most men are drunk from alcohol and desire after wards so they're a little too preoccupied to really speak eloquently," Henry stated simply. "I've seen Silke, and I'd love to show her my bed."
"The one in your parents house?" Kit asked, somewhat amused.
Henry glared at him. "Of course not, Kit. I'd probably show her to your apartment and claim it as my own."
"What if I was sleeping in it at the time?"
"You won't be, because you'll be with your own prime piece back at the Scarlet Tower. If you are, and she wants you to join…hell, I'll sleep with you too if it means I still get to come into her."
At the moment Kit wasn't sure to be disgusted, appalled, offended or amused. "She's that hot, huh?"
"Red-gold hair, creamy skin, eyes so green you can see them from miles away."
"I'll take your word on it, since you're the man admiring her from afar."
"Every man admires her from afar. You know how much she's worth?" Henry asked.
"How much?"
"More than you or I or even your father could afford. Combined."
"I think it's easier just to pick some one up at a bar," Kit said with a sigh. "It's cheaper."
"Are you coming or not?" Henry asked, suddenly exasperated with his friend.
Kit sighed, "Do I have much of a choice?"
Henry grinned, "Course not. We still have to meet Ginny and Tye before we get there."
"Bloody wonderful," Kit mumbled under his breath. "What's the point though? You don't have a chance with Satin."
"Silke," Henry corrected him. "Because sometimes she offers a poor schlub a chance and gives herself to him instead of one of the higher ups."
"For free?"
"No. For the same amount, but that's not the point MacLaren."
"Oh hell, I give up," Kit said, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I'll just pretend to understand."
"Good, now put on your best outfit- it's a classy place."
"It sounds it."
"Well dress up a little at least, look clean! You'll get lucky," Henry assured him, though the thought of sleeping with a whorehouse prostitute was rather repulsive to Kit. "You could be considered to be attractive…with the cleft in your chin and all…"
"Thank you," Kit replied without sincerity. "Now if I have to dress up to go to the slums, I think I prefer to do it alone. Pick me up after you get the others."
Henry beamed as he left, stopping only at the door to call to Kit. "You won't regret this!"
Kit shut the door, feeling very much so that he would regret this. For this had the makings of changing his life forever. How, he didn't know.
Silke Montclair always ran late. It wasn't like she planned it a'tall but no matter what she did, the clock always proved her to be late. The customers of the Scarlet Tower said that if her body and the skill of which she used it didn't make up for it, then they'd be very angry and leave. Instead, however, they found themselves enjoying more from the anticipation of having her.
Bluntly put, the fact that she was a great fuck was the only thing that even saved her job.
"Splendid," She mumbled to herself, not taking any pride in that fact that not only was she a prostitute, but she was a great one at that.
Silke tied her red-gold hair together as quickly and elegantly as possible, before sparing a glance at her bird, Spects, the one thing in her life she'd even consider calling a true friend. "Ah, Spectacular don't give me that look. Now how do I look? Smoldering temptress?" She turned around long enough to check her reflection, before her attention was back on Spects. "Now lets hope that the priest was right, and my hair is an invitation to sin. If not I'm screwed…and not the kind that gives me a paycheck."
Realizing that she was wasting her time, precious time at that, talking to a lovebird that probably didn't understand a word that she was saying, she grabbed her shoulder bag, and stopped over at her bookcase.
"Tonight?" Silke racked her brain, trying to remember who her lover was to be tonight. "Oh, hell. The investor." She groaned out loud, scanning the bookcase. "Looks like a Susan Johnson night." She grabbed the appropriate book, throwing it in there. When she first began she was embarrassed on how much turned off she could get by some of the customers, which led to them being very unsatisfied. Fortunately for Silke, Marguerite, who helped run the club along with its owner suggested romance novels. After reading a few of Johnson's love scenes, Silke was pretty much ready to sleep with anyone. Hopefully anyone would do, she was counting on it.
As Silke was readying for her night with the investor, Christian MacLaren, commonly known as Kit, was trying to decide on how to tactfully remove his friends from his life. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to understand a word he said. And if they disobeyed a plea from him, they blamed it on his accent.
Bloody hell.
"What's so important about going to a nightclub?" Kit asked after giving up on making excuses as to why he couldn't go. "There are plenty of 'em in Connecticut."
Henry apparently decided to take pity on him, because he answered the question. "This nightclub is really a secret whorehouse, Kitty." Apparently not too much pity for he used the nickname kids use to taunt him with. "Not only do you get to dance, watch girls sing in skimpy clothes, but you can fuck them too!"
Kit resisted rolling his eyes at his friend's obvious lust. "For a price."
"Mmmm. But the money is well spent," Henry said as he closed his eyes. He opened them again. "Ah, they say the prized whore is Silke. She's as soft as silk and the best lay in the country."
"How…poetic."
"Yes, well most men are drunk from alcohol and desire after wards so they're a little too preoccupied to really speak eloquently," Henry stated simply. "I've seen Silke, and I'd love to show her my bed."
"The one in your parents house?" Kit asked, somewhat amused.
Henry glared at him. "Of course not, Kit. I'd probably show her to your apartment and claim it as my own."
"What if I was sleeping in it at the time?"
"You won't be, because you'll be with your own prime piece back at the Scarlet Tower. If you are, and she wants you to join…hell, I'll sleep with you too if it means I still get to come into her."
At the moment Kit wasn't sure to be disgusted, appalled, offended or amused. "She's that hot, huh?"
"Red-gold hair, creamy skin, eyes so green you can see them from miles away."
"I'll take your word on it, since you're the man admiring her from afar."
"Every man admires her from afar. You know how much she's worth?" Henry asked.
"How much?"
"More than you or I or even your father could afford. Combined."
"I think it's easier just to pick some one up at a bar," Kit said with a sigh. "It's cheaper."
"Are you coming or not?" Henry asked, suddenly exasperated with his friend.
Kit sighed, "Do I have much of a choice?"
Henry grinned, "Course not. We still have to meet Ginny and Tye before we get there."
"Bloody wonderful," Kit mumbled under his breath. "What's the point though? You don't have a chance with Satin."
"Silke," Henry corrected him. "Because sometimes she offers a poor schlub a chance and gives herself to him instead of one of the higher ups."
"For free?"
"No. For the same amount, but that's not the point MacLaren."
"Oh hell, I give up," Kit said, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I'll just pretend to understand."
"Good, now put on your best outfit- it's a classy place."
"It sounds it."
"Well dress up a little at least, look clean! You'll get lucky," Henry assured him, though the thought of sleeping with a whorehouse prostitute was rather repulsive to Kit. "You could be considered to be attractive…with the cleft in your chin and all…"
"Thank you," Kit replied without sincerity. "Now if I have to dress up to go to the slums, I think I prefer to do it alone. Pick me up after you get the others."
Henry beamed as he left, stopping only at the door to call to Kit. "You won't regret this!"
Kit shut the door, feeling very much so that he would regret this. For this had the makings of changing his life forever. How, he didn't know.