FAIR WARNING: This part deals with some potentially squicky themes. Dubious consent via the use of illicit substances is implied, even if it's not directly described. The reason I mention this is because it's not put to use as a kink in this setting, meaning that any possible romanticism has been stripped from it. I would rather not allude to it in a warning, but since that has the possibility of triggering folks, it's better to just say that up front rather than let it catch people off-guard.
ALSO: there are briefly described bondage and fetish kinks. I've tried to present them with an air of observational neutrality, save for when a character has a 'WHAT!' reaction to it. The intention is not to gross out the audience, or poke fun at/kinkshame anyone, so a lot of the things presented are more absurd, or exaggerated than they would be normally. There are definitely references to things that are not for everyone, of course, but I did my best not to be super-descriptive on those segments.
[ 14 :: The Velvet Rose ]
"This set-up's pretty elaborate." The matron's remark was underplayed, but it was easy to tell she was impressed. "Must have cost a small fortune."
"It's more than paid for itself over the years," Yirell said, letting her own eyes stray over the decor of the lengthy hallway. "I like to think of it as a necessary feature... moving through a transition from the world outside, to a place where the rules we all take as gospel can be set aside."
"Certainly has that kind of feel to it," Ineesa said gently, then lapsed into silence.
Yirell didn't press the point, allowing instead for the matron to take the time to observe her new surroundings. It was easy to feel a sense of pride at even the arrangement of the hallways, whenever it was viewed through the eyes of a newcomer; was of no consequence that the hall itself was far from the highlight of the tour. Black and white paintings lined the walls, arranged in a pattern that mimicked a fractured spiral curving inwards, much like the display in the bar, the centerpiece smaller than the rest to give a feeling of depth; of otherworldliness.
Four statues broke up the pattern on the white marble walls, carved from black, meticulously polished stone, the subtle, amber overheads illuminating the iridescent, prismatic patterning of organic filaments native to the material the pieces had been carved from. The effect had described as being not unlike fire opals, others still saying that it looked like sun reflecting off of black oil- one human had referred to it as appearing like black damascus steel. It took looking up what was being referred to, but once Yirell had discovered what it was, she was inclined to agree- and was somewhat disappointed to discover that the craft used to forge the metal, in spite of numerous efforts to duplicate it, was considered a flawed, if not dead, art.
It was no matter; the statues stood out well enough on their own, and the stone used to create them was readily available if she desired to have more of them created. They were simple depictions of asari in mirrored poses, legs melding into ornate, black marble stands, dark silver curtains that hung from the ceiling draped over upraised arms, and curling around their shoulders like shawls, the thin material offering coy modesty by falling over one breast, and pooling between the thighs. Around the base of each statue, the filaments present in the stone the statues were carved from had been replicated in translucent white, subtly prismatic projections that rose from the floors like foliage, the luminescence they gave off oscillating in playful mimicry of the mild hallucinations that afflicted a small percentage of the patrons that ordered the venue's signature drink, or- tincture, in this case.
Yirell had found that it offered the uninitiated a sense of comfort in a world that had seemingly gone berserk without warning, the hallway they entered mirroring their internal experience so effectively that the isolation they often complained of would ease. The faces of the statues were calm, serene, offering smiles that had said to so many over the short time the substance had been offered, I know; it's alright, allowing the newcomers to enjoy sights and sounds that catered to their state without having to endure any additional anxiety.
That comfort wasn't necessary here, however. Ineesa, unlike so many who had agreed to tour the facilities before her, hadn't accepted the offer of a new experience. She had, instead, been careful, cautious, attentive, sharp eyes affording everything around her an almost clinical scrutiny, as if failing to memorize even the slightest detail would be a fatal error all its own. Yirell couldn't help but find the behaviour intriguing- different enough that she couldn't help but find herself caught by a kind of anticipation that hadn't been present in years. In truth, it was the matron's unwillingness to let go of even the slightest shred of control that served as the primary lure for Yirell's interest; many who stepped down these hallways, especially where it came to asari, were already desperate to loosen their stranglehold on commonality; desirous of an existence where hedonism, where indulgence, was encouraged.
Ineesa, though... For all the pride Yirell had in being able to correctly predict a client's preferred outcome and less palatable desires, she found herself unable to discern either with any ease, in this case. It wasn't that something was off, necessarily, at least in any way that would have aroused suspicion... it was simply that the matron, in spite of all outward appearances, had little to nothing in common with the usual fare.
She wasn't a business mogul, Yirell could see- wasn't someone's pampered daughter, or treasured, but wholly unfulfilled wife looking for some new distraction; wasn't a skilled craftsman, or venture capitalist that had more money than they knew what to do with, save to seek out rare pleasures not afforded to the caste they came from... Instead, she bore all the classic signs of a walk of life that was rarely seen in any patrons save the turians: that of a soldier, turned wealthy, and worldly. There had been others before Ineesa, of course, former commandos that had settled into a job that offered them more hard currency than they knew what to do with, and every one had been a source of the same intrigue, their training forcing them to be more tightly controlled than most.
In every instance, that control had slipped, the walls they held around themselves shed- but they had been willfully outspoken to that effect. Ineesa had said nothing of intent, however, one of many signs that allowed her to stand apart from her 'breed,' as it were; something unique that had drawn Yirell's attention, and held it. True, she was easily two centuries older than Yirell's preferred points of interest, but that was negligible; in this case, advanced years only amplified her interest in the challenge presented, hard-learned lessons of valuing restraint over recreation more deeply engrained than they were with Ineesa's younger colleagues. It made her vow to be more patient than she might normally- but no less provocative in her approach.
"I couldn't help but notice that you didn't finish your drink," she said, tapping the door control at the end of the hallway, drawing Ineesa's attention away from the decor. "Was it not to your liking?"
"It was fine," Ineesa said. "Just didn't seem like a bright idea to drink it down in one shot if I had to be on my feet."
"Arguably," Yirell said, "the point is to coax you off of them... but that will come in time, I'm sure."
The bluntness was unexpected, but it was taken in stride, leading Ineesa to say, "We'll see."
Yirell simply smiled, "I certainly hope so," gesturing for the matron to step inside the unoccupied sitting room.
It had been dubbed the 'staging area'; a lushly furnished lobby of sorts. Before them, a pair of small black couches that surrounded a coffee table, the end table between them host to a crystal lamp fashioned to look like a defoliated tee, with small lights in place of leaves. To the right, a minibar with a small selection of drinks, as well as a small container with words from an ancient, globalized trade language native to Thessia carved into the glass finish, roughly translated to White Whisper.
Ineesa's eyes were on the small room itself, taking in all the small details- whereas Yirell's were on the matron's back. The low cut of the dress allowed her to see where the half-moon pattern of one of the younger asari's markings had been deliberately carved out of the right shoulder blade, the darker violet pigment marred by scar tissue. Between that, and the musculature Ineesa sported, Yirell's assumption that the matron had seen combat was confirmed- but the wound seemed more personal than a simple battle scar.
Interesting. A mercenary, then. Successful soldiers of fortune often wore signs of professional rivalry, and had a tendency to wear those scars as mementos, rarely seeming to care if they were put on display.
"Are you always this forward, by the way?" Ineesa asked as she looked over the small room, looking over her shoulder to afford Yirell a wry, underplayed smile. "Or is this a new thing?"
"I find it helps to be blunt in this profession," Yirell said, stepping behind the minibar to open one of the cabinets behind it. "Why? I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?"
"'Uncomfortable's a pretty strong word for it," Ineesa said, stepping up to the small counter to examine the glass container.
"Unaccustomed, then," Yirell said, withdrawing a small cylindrical container, and setting it on the counter. "Unused to proper attention being paid to your needs?"
"Maybe," Ineesa said, "maybe not," glancing up from the medium-sized container with a quirk of her eyebrow. "I try not to be too chatty about myself on a first date."
"Then I'll just have to strive to make sure there's a second," Yirell said, opening up the container to reveal a small collection of four white masks, all stood up on the thin posts welded to their chins.
Peering at the contents of the container, Ineesa went quiet for a moment- then nodded towards the masks, and said, "This one of the 'precautions' you were talking about?"
"Yes," Yirell replied, withdrawing one of the masks from the container to hand it to the matron. "Everyone but myself, and my employees are instructed to wear one in the public rooms. This one is, of course, temporary-"
[...]
"-but if you decide you'd like to stay and find some companionship for the evening, I'll find you something that allows you to free up your hands."
Not too subtle, are you? Tela thought, keeping her eyes on the mask she accepted from Yirell for a time. Whether or not it bore the mark of good craftsmanship, she took an immediate dislike to it. It wasn't that it was ugly, carved as it was out of something meant to look like porcelain, the piece noticeably lighter than she expected it to be; some synthetic material that made it easy to hold without someone's arm getting too tired, probably.
The look on its face, though... that, she couldn't help but be put off by. It looked- blank, staring hollowly at her with a neutral expression, its lips were parted like the mouth had gone slack. Whether or not it was carved out to allow the wearer to breathe easy, it didn't matter; something about the look of it, the open-mouthed, dead-eyed stare made her more uncomfortable than she would have preferred. Didn't help that it looked familiar, either.
Like the party guests, she thought idly, the people in the dream that milled around aimlessly, their only contribution coming in the form of white noise chatter, or blank stares. Seemed a little ridiculous to think about, considering the implications of being walked into a sealed off, empty room with someone who, so far, had proven to have little in the way of filters, but, well... there she was.
"Something on your mind?" Yirell asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.
"Doesn't seem like this'd do a whole lot to obscure someone's voice, is all," Tela said, going with the first point of curiosity that sprang to mind, rather than let herself dwell on the blank stare any longer.
Yirell let out a soft hm, a hint of amusement in the sound. "If that concerns you, I can try and locate one of the masks that isn't temporary," she said. "Rest assured, however, that there is a function on the pieces worn by our guests that allows for voices to be altered, or distorted."
"Any reason the temporary ones don't have that feature?"
"Most of the patrons are encouraged to ignore newcomers who are taking a look around," Yirell said. "Assuming, of course, that they don't get something out of having a new set of eyes look their way." She paused for a moment, looking Tela over carefully before saying, "If you're nervous about being shown the facilities, we do have some means available that might allow you to relax a little more, though... I noticed you turned down the offer that may have allowed for that."
There was that pushiness again- and every time it resurfaced, the less she liked it. "I'm not real partial to tasting colors and smelling sounds when I'm in unfamiliar territory," she said dryly, looking back down at the mask.
There was something else familiar about it that she couldn't quite put her finger on. The features were carefully carved, yes, but they were dumbed down enough that she couldn't get a sense of why it seemed recognizable.
"That sounds curiously like the voice of experience," she heard Yirell say, the comment immediately making her wonder if she'd made a crucial misstep.
Only thing to do then was recover from it as cleanly as possible- especially since she knew she must have made an expression, shown some kind of tension, that let Yirell know she'd been 'caught' in something.
"It is," she said, offering her best apologetic look. "Isn't the first time I've gotten my hands on it."
"White whisper is exclusive to this venue," Yirell said. "May I ask how you ended up acquiring it?"
White whisper, Tela repeated inwardly, like the writing on the small glass container, fighting the urge to look incredulous. Was there nothing in this place that didn't reek of pretension?
"Someone who'd been here before managed to slip out a dose for me," she said regardless, taking a gamble that such a thing was even possible. "Better I didn't say who-"
[...]
"-I was the one that dogged her into it. I'd rather not have her blacklisted because of that."
Yirell couldn't help but be intrigued by the admittance, her brows raising slightly. "Interesting," she said, a slow smile on her face. "You surprise me, Ineesa... I was under the impression that allowing yourself that kind of freedom was beyond your purview. Seems I underestimated you."
To her credit, the matron wasn't taken aback, or put off by the comment, offering a light shrug instead. "Well... I'll pass up the free voucher if that makes us even," she said, her eyes going back down to the mask in hand- studying it, like she studied everything. "Can't say it wasn't worth a try, though."
On that note, Yirell didn't stop herself from imagining how that must have appeared, no matter how disappointing it was to discover that Ineesa's first experience with the substance was one she hadn't been present to witness. Many crumbled under the weight of that initial surge, confidence stripped, thoughts and emotions laid utterly bare to observers; a display of pure, rarified energy that little else could replicate. To see a creature like Ineesa so thoroughly stripped of pretense, made thoroughly vulnerable by desire, by the tidal wave of aggression that allowed for those desires to be carried out without restraint... it would have been a very singular moment, to her mind; one that would never reach that level of intensity again, no matter how high the dosage.
"I wouldn't dream of denying you the full experience," Yirell said, even as the thoughts continued to play through her mind. "After all, this place was built, in part, to facilitate the use of the substance. Provides familiarity when, often times, no such thing exists in the world outside these walls. 'Set, and setting,' as they say."
"That concept's different for everyone," Ineesa said. "So what happens if their idea of familiarity isn't the one you're offering?"
The words were guarded, but not in the collected way the matron's earlier responses had been; another point of intrigue. "Your interest in acquiring the voucher gives some indication that your experience was far from unpleasant, but- are you meaning to imply that you ran into some... rough spots, shall we say?"
"I'm not implying anything," Ineesa replied, the edge in her voice, in her expression, starting to ebb, "just that- that level of intensity isn't for everyone. People who don't have experience with that kind of head trip could be in for a really rough ride."
"You're correct, of course," Yirell said, offering that concession, at least. "But that's precisely why I have staff whose job it is to guide newcomers through their first time... ensure that it remains pleasurable, if not highly rewarding."
"Well, it was- certainly something," Ineesa said, that edge fading entirely; a shame, really- the hint of feminine nervousness in her rough-edge demeanor had been pleasant to see. "Good to hear you've got people on board who can help with the worst of it, though."
"The worst of it?" Yirell echoed curiously. "So you did experience some discomfort, in that respect."
Ineesa quirked an eyebrow; looked almost amused at the assertion. "Remember what I said about a first date?" she said dryly. "That applies here. Good or bad, I don't trip and tell until I know someone better."
"You're free to ask me whatever you like, Ineesa," Yirell assured her. "I have little to hide-"
[...]
"-and everything to gain from ensuring that you one day decide to open yourself up to the benefits this place has to offer you." The matriarch canted her head towards the door, and said, "But elsewhere, if possible. This room is used for clients that intend to go to the lounge, and only a few individuals are allowed in here at one time."
"The anonymity thing," Tela confirmed, inwardly cycling through the list of questions she wanted to ask- and doing her best to ignore the pointed looks the older woman was leveling on her. "How do they know if someone's in here, anyway?"
"Both of the doors locked when the room is occupied," Yirell said. "People are allowed to come and go as they please, of course, but allowing them to see each other unmasked upon leaving together simply wouldn't do."
"They see each other in the halls, though," Tela said. "It's not foolproof."
"No," Yirell said, "it's not. But most people who come in here dally in a number of things that makes 'outing' their fellow patrons- inadvisable." The matriarch inclined her head towards a small sign near the doors they were set to walk through. "As you can see."
Stepping up to the sign to look it over, Tela took a moment to read it, in spite of the matriarch's warnings that they should be on their way. It said:
...
-{ :: DON'T FORGET TO SHOW YOUR COLORS! :: } -
The Velvet Rose's nitelite color system is optional, but
everyone, including our staff, is welcome to use it.
We want our clients to have the best possible experience. We've
put this system together in the hopes that it will allow our staff
to better fulfill your needs. It works especially well for anyone
looking to avoid awkward conversations about their personal
interests.
We recommend putting colors corresponding to your primary
interests in a place that has the highest visibility. Also, if
you're curious about trying something new, but aren't certain about
it, there are methods of letting people know about it. Please ask
our staff for further information.
Remember, placement is key! If you're going to put the system to
work for you, you will want to know how each color is interpreted,
depending on whether they're worn to the left, right, or center.
You will avoid a potentially harmful mistake by being attentive to
these various meanings.
...
- { :: STACKING :: } -
Stacking is an excellent way to let patrons know that you're
interested in them, as well!
New nitelite color patterns have been added to our
inventory and can be stacked on top of the colors corresponding
to your interests, allowing you to lock in a preferred species,
age, gender, or occupation. As always, there is a neutral color
that will specify interest in all patrons present, though it
is suggested that this signal only be given if you are absolutely
certain that you are willing to follow through, regardless of
whether or not someone who approaches you is to your liking.
Stacking can be as elaborate, or simplistic as you desire, but
we ask that you make your selections and color placement as
aesthetically pleasing as possible.
- { :: THANK YOU! :: } -
...
Below that, there was a small chart with small projected lights that were no larger than the beads Tela wore around her neck. Sample 'interests' were given alongside each small light, some of them basic, others... not so much.
"What the hell is agalma-" Tela squinted. "Uh... agalmato-" Rather than try a third time, she pointed and said, "What's that word?"
"Agalmatophilia," Yirell said simply. "It means they prefer dolls, statues, or mannequins to be present for whatever they engage themselves in."
Tela paused, looking at Yirell incredulously; hard to miss the fact that she rattled that off like she was talking about the weather. "Don't tell me that's common."
"Common enough that it needed its own color code," Yirell said, "but not as common as some of the other things present on the list. Either way, it does encourage silence between patrons once they take their leave. If one can be identified, so can the other... and there are very few clients that abstain from using the system."
"So if it's mutually assured destruction," Tela said, brow raised, "why bother with masks and airlocks?"
"Comfort," Yirell said. "It goes a long way to ensuring that they shed their restraint upon entering the lounge itself. In any event, as I said, we'd do well not to hold up anyone who might be waiting to enter."
"Right," Tela said, stepping to one side to allow Yirell passage to the door controls. "There anything else I need to do before we go in there, by the way?" she asked, raising the mask slightly. "Or is this it?"
"Mn... well, there's something to be said for your markings, I suppose," Yirell said. "There aren't a great deal of asari with your coloration that come in. I'll leave it up to you if you'd like something to wear that might obscure them."
"Might be better if I had something else on, yeah," Tela admitted. "You got anything on-hand?"
"I do, actually," Yirell said, shrugging off the blazer she wore. "It's not really your size, but it should be enough to lend you some cover."
It didn't take much more than a glance to see that there was a dark shawl hanging off of one of the coatracks, or small, decorative fabrics hanging behind the minibar- so why, Tela had to wonder, was the jacket being offered? And, more importantly: did she really want the answer? It wasn't as if she hadn't been in similar situations before, accepting an offer she might not have preferred to, but- this felt different. It wasn't a CEO staring her down like she was a runty varren that had crapped on the carpet; wasn't some dipshit alien underestimating her because she happened to have blue skin and a pair of tits. This, though...
Like the continued use of what Yirell assumed was her given name, there was an air of- something... to it. Something to it that spoke of someone whose interests went well beyond giving a good sales pitch, beyond even the idle flirtations, but the meaning behind it still remained ambiguous.
It was driving her nuts.
Pushing the thought out of her mind if only out of necessity, she accepted the jacket regardless of her misgivings, forcing herself out of the moment's hesitation to set aside the mask, and wrap the material around her shoulders. It was perfumed- something native to Thessia she couldn't quite put her finger on, and lightly so; not overwhelming. Yirell, herself, looked almost like she wasn't wearing much of anything, even if it was just an illusion. The white material of sleeveless, corseted top the matriarch wore was just slightly lighter than the pale skin it covered, broken up as it was by the elaborate black stripes that lined her shoulders and, apparently, her back, the patterning becoming visible when Yirell turned to the doors they stood beside.
They weren't anything like asari markings, so far as Tela could see. None of the classic repeated patterns, none of them mirrored- it was a detail that hadn't been in Von's report, but she wondered if that was on account of people just not giving a fuck about it. After all, there wasn't a single asari anywhere that didn't know what the black markings meant, and yet, Yirell had still managed to draw them in as clientele.
"Please put on the mask, if you could, Ineesa," Yirell said over her shoulder. "We're about to enter the main lounge."
Another repetition of her name, as patronizing as they all were. The tactic was one that just irritated her on the best of days, but she could imagine a maiden falling prey to it, assuming it to be flattering that their name was used so often, or intimidating- a reminder of adults that had swatted their wrists when they were too young to do anything but make trouble.
The thought, she soon discovered, was an unfortunate one to have as the doors opened up to a spacious lounge, revealing an assortment of patrons, and employees, the latter of which were- as had been stated numerous times- made up entirely of asari... most of them much younger than her. Glancing towards Yirell, allowing herself a moment to watch where the matriarch's attention went, she couldn't quite see any immediate tells- and found herself looking elsewhere before she spotted any.
Later, she reminded herself, for what seemed like the fiftieth time that evening, if there's more to this, you can deal with it later, her eyes straying to the room itself to take in the details.
It looked to be nearly half the size of the Voreia's banquet hall, covering more square footage than she'd expected to see from a back room, with several seating areas, all host to either small groups of asari, or girls that had been paired off with clients.
Immediately to her left was one such sitting area, black sectional sofas placed in an angular c-shape around a simple coffee table, the likes of which was host to an arranged centerpiece that mirrored the ones she'd seen on the tables in the bar area. The couches were occupied by three couples, one of which- she was surprised to see- was comprised of a pair of human women.
Two young asari were snuggled close to the other two patrons, one turian, one human... and aside from the turian, whose mask had been fitted to accommodate for mandibles, and had been carved in such a way to reflect the species' features, every single paying client that she could see within range wore the same blank-faced masks she had been given. For the males, it was more masculine, though the features that made that distinction made it more androgynous than anything; for the females, it was an exact replica of the face that Tela had had found so dislikable.
The familiarity of that face continued to gnaw at her, something that went beyond her initial impressions, but- it was unnerving to be surrounded by it, by faces wiped clean of identity... with all the slack-jawed enthusiasm of an insect hive, pure nervous system without a flicker of cognition, roving stares with no perception...
She blinked, pushing the thought from her mind as she continued to observe, realizing only too late that she'd been staring straight at the human and his chosen companion for the evening. He had his hand down the front of her decorative skirt, the material like veils, shifting and fluttering with every slow lift and fall of his wrist. The girl was squirming, glancing Tela's direction every so often, a shy look added to her already flushed expression.
And that was when she saw it, her eyes shifting from one unmasked asari to another, that sick feeling she'd been fighting throughout her entire stay settling in like a lead weight. Out of the eleven asari she saw present, without counting either herself, or Yirell, only two of them- a pair of girls carrying trays of drinks, and presumably food from one table to another- had clear eyes. But the rest of them, young or old, had the dreamy, preoccupied stare she had seen in the mirror the night before, beads of sweat reflected off their flushed skin, pupils and irises swathed in darkness.
Drugged.
[...]
The Velvet Rose's primary lounge was a elaborate affair, the high ceilings that facilitated a second floor loft host to two ornamental chandeliers that gave off soft, pale blue lights at their bases, the strands of glass beads that hung from the branched arms reflecting the luminescence like icicles. Twin staircases, both fitted with vintage style railings bearing intricate, deco patterns that had been carved out of sleek metal, were situated near the back of the room, and lead up to a landing that snaked around the walls, granting access to a cluster of private rooms, six in total. The back sitting area between the staircases was smaller than the main portion of the lounge, to make way for the hallway that encircled it, the two entrances at the base of each staircase facing each other.
To the right was a bar, a replica of the two that occupied the front room, at which an asari matriarch was seated. She was reclining, legs crossed, one foot resting on the back of a human woman, while one of the maidens under Yirell's employ favored the toes of the raised foot with light attentions with lips, and tongue. Further back in the concave seating area, a circular couch occupied by one of the few krogan clients present, the maiden in his lap gently rising and falling, her voice echoing back to the entrance of the lounge to give a good idea of what was going on. Those around them watched with interest, some attending to the arousal the image evoked, others simply observing.
"Is it always like this in here?" Ineesa asked, her tone a bit mystified.
"Not always," Yirell said. "You're actually here on a night I'd consider to be a bit more- 'low key,' I suppose you could say."
Ineesa nodded towards the seating arrangement in the back, careful not to displace the mask in spite of the gesture. "You call that 'low key?'"
"The point is for our guests to enjoy themselves, and each other," Yirell said, gesturing for Ineesa to follow her. "So, yes. I do, in fact. It tends not to get much more elaborate out here, of course- the lounge is meant to be more of a subdued environment... but typically, there's a great deal more to see, when more people begin to arrive."
"Hard to imagine this place getting too crowded," Ineesa said, falling step alongside the other woman. "The price of admission is already pretty high."
"You didn't find it prohibitive, did you?" Yirell said, stepping close to a plush lounger that one of the younger maidens, a girl named Nerice, occupied.
"Not at all," Ineesa said, without the normal hitch or uneasiness Yirell had often observed in those who had spent outside their means to attend. "Just starting to get a feel for why this is one of the best kept secrets on the Citadel."
"One of several," Yirell said, reaching down to meet the curious raise of Nerice's hands, fingers toying with the maiden's own, the smile she was met with returned. "But yes... word of our existence is passed from person to person, rather than advertised. We find it keeps things insular which... for the most part, is preferred, for reasons that should already be clear to you."
"Comfort," Ineesa echoed from before, eyes turning back to the couple in the sitting area near the lounge's entrance.
"Precisely."
The matron trailed off, then; was making it a point to take in her surroundings, from what Yirell could see.
From the tension in Ineesa's shoulders, it was difficult to tell if she was daunted, or merely curious- though it was possible that both applied, in this instance.
"You gonna introduce me, ma'am?" Nerice asked, drawing the tips of her fingers down the length of Yirell's own, her smile broadening. "I'd give her a proper greeting, but I'm feeling a little heavy."
"Mmn... better to stay where you are, then," Yirell advised, entwining her fingers with Nerice's to clasp the maiden's hand. "I know how you can be when you're like this."
Nerice merely maintained her smile, at that, dark eyes reflecting the overhead lights like polished obsidian, echoing the light sheen of sweat on her cheeks. "Not there yet," she said gently. "Getting there." Glancing towards Ineesa, she said, "What's your name, anyway?" though her question raised no response. After a moment's pause, the maiden added, "I don't think she likes me," in a stage whisper.
"I'm sure she likes you just fine," Yirell said, amused at the matron's apparent distraction, aiming to call it back to both herself, and the young woman stretched out on the lounger-
[...]
"-don't you, Ineesa?" calling Tela away from her intention to keep her eyes off of the display of...
It was hard to call it affection, in truth, not when the girl had already cited the body load common with hallucinogens. There was a possessive air to it, almost maternal, that made the sly smiles exchanged between matriarch and maiden set her teeth on edge- almost as much as the soft sounds from the drugged asari being blatantly manhandled on the couch had.
"She's very pretty," Tela said absently, lamely, figuring that a note of distraction in her tone wouldn't be taken too poorly. "Just, ah..."
"-Not your type?" the maiden concluded for her, almost playfully. Her tone took a turn for the lascivious then, to add, "I can be, if you tell me what you like," in a lower purr. "You don't even have to look at me if you don't want to."
Everything the girl did was tinged with the kind of arousal that was only too reminiscent of what Tela had felt the night prior, a desperation for touch that was communicated in the way the maiden's hand clutched and released at Yirell's- the way her breath caught when their gazes met. The girl's free hand played with the sheer material that just barely covered her, the garment- if it could even be called that- more like a decorative sash than a shirt, worn like a shawl over her shoulders, the slim tassels sewn into the white fabric hanging loosely over the partially exposed lower slopes of her breasts. The rest of the cover was granted by the strips of cloth holding snugly over her shoulders that acted as suspenders, of sorts, the bands patterned with elaborate silver whorls and spirals that looked oddly familiar; Tela couldn't quite place why. The same went for the stylized belts they were attached to, and the slit, embroidered skirt that was cut to expose the lithe contours of the girl's thigh.
It was a fetching image, no doubt about that... but it was hard to see the desire that played through the girl's expression as anything but fabricated. A ruse, in and of itself.
"Do you get a lot of requests for that kind of thing?" Tela asked, uncertain of how to take the assertion that had been made.
"Sometimes," the girl said, her hand dropping down to one of the tassels, the toying of her fingers threatening to lift the fabric high enough to give Tela more than just a teasing glimpse of her body. "It's not like they make me put a bag over my head or anything... sometimes they just like being blindfolded, so they can imagine I'm human. Or... quarian, but that's not really that common."
"More singular, in this instance," Yirell said, her thumb brushing over the side of the maiden's hand. "Some of the matriarchs who visit the establishment have had experience with quarians in the past... have a tendency to 'revisit' their memories, as best they can. In fact, Nerice has become something of a favorite to one of our regulars, for specifically that reason."
Nerice giggled lightly, smile spreading a little further across her face- it showed her age a little too prominently for Tela's tastes, but... at least she was legal. "She says I remind her of her first bondmate," she said, shifting against the lounger in a way that was telling of recalling a rather- fond memory. "The sounds I make, the way my skin feels when she touches me... I've nearly perfected the accent she asked me to imitate."
Felt like watching an advertisement. I'll be whatever you want me to be, so long as you touch me. Left a sour taste, no matter how Tela looked at it.
"She even gave you this outfit as a present, didn't she?" Yirell asked, the question earning a nod from Nerice.
"She insisted," Nerice said, smiling brightly- far too excited about that than anyone ever should have been, considering the implications. "It used to be her bondmate's... a dancer, from back when they didn't have to wear those awful environmental suits. Her term, not mine... I think they're pretty."
It occurred to Tela as they spoke that both women were talking openly about the needs and desires of one of the clients- in such a way that could be identifiable. Was the mutually assured destruction clause really that airtight? Do you care? she asked herself, opting to shift her thoughts towards her second point of curiosity instead of worrying herself about the possibility of some old matriarch getting outed for taking advantage of a maiden, solely because of some age-old heartbreak. Cute as it was, the idea was... patently repulsive.
"You allow people to get emotionally attached like that?" Tela asked, refraining from letting her eyes drift along maiden's body, the context she'd been given more than enough to dissuade a more pointed examination.
"Why not?" Yirell said, shrugging. "Emotions play just as great a part in what goes on here as the physical side of things... and my girls deserve to be shown appreciation for what comforts they offer." Motioning for Tela to follow, she said, "If it's the... darker side of attachment you're worried about, it's understandable, but the concern is unnecessary. Our clients are on their best behaviour while they're here."
"My favorite matriarch certainly is," Nerice said with an almost dreamy smile. "Well..." she turned her head, calling after Yirell, "Second favorite matriarch."
"You're too kind, dear," Yirell said, offering a smile of her own over her shoulder.
From there, the girl seemed only too happy to bliss out on the couch- the one that was still being manhandled by her human companion offering a direct counterpoint with the less than pleased sound that came from their direction. Yirell barely seemed to notice- turned instead to talk briefly with a maiden ready to make her way up the stairs with a tray full of hollow needles. Both were utterly dismissive of the sounds that wafted from the sitting area.
"I'd recommend her company if you choose to come back here, by the way," Yirell said, after the moment's distractions. "She can be quite boisterous, in the right conditions."
"Which one?" Tela said, forcing herself to adopt something other than a dry tone, or think too hard about where the recommendation came from. "The one in the quarian outfit, or the one with the tray of surgical equipment?"
Yirell laughed softly. "Those were needles, Ineesa," she said. "They're not meant for 'surgery,' as you say. That kind of equipment is kept in a room that's been termed the 'ICU.'" Noting Tela's silence, she said, "It refers to precisely what you think it does."
That's lovely, Tela thought, wincing slightly at another noise of discomfort made from the girl on the couch. "And what I just heard back there," she said, before the tension imposed by holding her tongue got to her, "from that girl on the couch. Does that mean what I think it does?"
"Pardon?" Yirell asked, glancing back in that direction, though the sitting area was out of sight. "Oh. You mean Ellina?"
"If that's her name, then yes," Tela said as they approached the first of the rooms branching off from the hallway. "She doesn't sound like she's having a good time."
"Well," Yirell said, smiling in that way that Tela had always associated with an incoming, patronizing head-pat, but thankfully, the gesture raised was meant to direct the focus to a moderately sized bedroom, instead, "while I understand where you may have gotten that impression, you should know that the girl you're referring to favors situations that have- dubious implications. Same as she did when she came to me as a client."
That caught her attention, "She was a client?" asked somewhat incredulously as she peered inside the bedroom. "How many-"
As pertinent as the question seemed- and was, by all accounts- Tela was stopped short by what she saw playing out in the bedroom; didn't doubt that her expression would've been one of outright bemusement if the mask hadn't been present. What she'd originally just seen as a confusion of limbs, she was beginning to make more sense of- and she wasn't entirely sure that that was a good thing.
A turian- wearing, aside from the mask, a black smoking jacket with red trim- was laid out on a bed with silk sheets, a young asari by his side. His wrists were bound to the bedposts, legs raised, thick suspension cables hooked to bracers on his ankles, the angle he was 'presented' at giving her a clear view of his half-erect cock. Strange as it was to admit, that wasn't what had her attention- what did was the fact that he was being used as a tray table, an arrangement of fruit and petitfours on his chest and abdomen. Some of it, his companion ate- the rest, she flattened against his rough carapace, smearing mashed fruit and cake over him before licking her fingers clean.
"Now would be a good time to tell me what I'm looking at," Tela said flatly, "and why."
"I'd assume the answer to both was fairly self-evident," Yirell replied, the sound of her voice making the turian on the bed squirm.
"Oh, Spirits," the turian exclaimed, his breathing heavy, his shifting making Tela realize that he couldn't lift his head. "What was that? Is- is someone there? Can they see me?"
"They can see all of you," the maiden beside him said, those words alone making him go from half-mast, to a full-on erection. "Filthy thing... showing off for Miss Noir and her guest like this."
"A delight to see you, as always, young man," Yirell said with a note of wry amusement. "No need to worry."
"Hear that?" the maiden said, grinning. "She can see how much a pretty diva like you loves getting dirty, no matter how much you whine about it."
Tela, for her part, had heard- and seen- more than enough, turning away from the doorway once the shock wore off, but failing to step out of earshot before hearing something about bodily fluids and teacups. The specifics were muted but, for that, she was damn grateful.
"What was that for?" she asked Yirell irritably. "Was that really necessary?"
"It was meant to illustrate the range of tastes we accommodate," Yirell said simply. "Not to your liking, I take it?"
"Not really, no," Tela said flatly. "And I'm not a big fan of being used as a prop for someone else's enjoyment."
"It wasn't my intent to 'use' you, Ineesa," Yirell said, managing to look contrite, at least- even as she managed to somehow, magically, ignore the startled oh god! that wafted down the hall from one of the far rooms. "It's very likely he was unaware of your presence. I merely leant my voice to the exchange as a means of playing to his preferences. Otherwise, she's been instructed many times to tell him people are watching, even when they aren't."
"Yeah, well," Tela said, calming herself, "just give me some warning before you pull something like that again."
"I wasn't attempting to 'pull' anything," Yirell said. "I just assumed that, since you were in contact with someone who'd been here before, you'd been told what to expect."
"She didn't give me a lot of details," Tela said, hoping that didn't sound completely unbelievable. "Just said I should check the place out."
"It's entirely possible that she avoided this wing," Yirell said, offering a smile. "It's not to everyone's tastes, really, though I do find that even the most reticent guests eventually stroll through here out of simple curiosity. I do, however, try to familiarize newcomers to it when, such as it is in your case, they weren't aware of its nature. For others, it's a means of letting them know what's available to them."
They're rich, Tela thought, a bit more spitefully than intended, they know full damn well what's 'available' to them, though they tended to think of it as 'owed.' Then again, in comparison to the private clubs she'd heard tell of on Illium, very few of the designated hot spots for those so affluent they'd become overtly hedonistic were rarely this- concentrated, or elaborate. But, that was what made this a proverbial honeypot, really; it offered things that only monied interests cared to flock to in droves.
"So what is it, exactly?" she said, attempting to brush off her irritation. "Some kind of exhibition hall?"
Yirell chuckled softly. "You could call it that, yes. These rooms are for people who fancy the idea of having their exploits visible, but, unlike those that take their conduct to the main lounge, they still prefer the illusion of privacy. Being 'caught' is part of the thrill."
"Yeah, I noticed that," Tela said under her breath, grimacing behind the mask at the sound of another strained oh god! from down the hall, "and I'd be interested to know what some of your girls think about it," added in the hopes of diverting to the topic that had been on her mind for some time. "Seems to me there's a lot of specialized interests here, and not a whole lot of bland, every-day fucking."
"Oh, there's plenty of that," Yirell said, "but often times, guests hear about some of those 'specialties' and become curious enough to try them out themselves. The same is true for the girls who work for me."
"Not to be blunt," Tela said, over another deep groan from the turian, and a melodic giggle from his companion to follow, "but isn't some of that 'curiosity' manufactured?"
"Pardon?"
"You can see it in their eyes, Yirell," she said, letting the words- and the more familiar use of the matriarch's given name- come out, regardless of her intent to keep the observation downplayed. "They're all off on another planet."
"They are, yes," Yirell replied, not even the least bit staggered by the comment- seemed even pleased to answer it. "Wonderful to see, isn't it? Lack of inhibition, freedom to its fullest extent, and the willingness to take the pleasures they're offered."
"You make it sound like you're doing them a favor," Tela said, finding it only too fitting that a single glance to her side gave her a view into a different room, just as opulent as the others.
Another bedroom, decorated in red and black, a white velvet noose hanging over the floor near the entrance; Tela didn't want to think about what the discolored stain on the red carpet beneath it was indicative of. All she knew was that it presented a curiously apt analogy for what she'd seen playing out since she'd set foot in the lounge in the first place.
"-and while that may seem to go against the tenets of informed consent," Yirell was saying, cluing Tela in to the fact that she'd missed a great deal of the answer, "you should know that none of them are being forced to indulge themselves, nor are they being forced to take part in activities they would find otherwise distasteful. They enjoy themselves, and their craft."
Might have something to do with the fact that you turned them into addicts, Tela thought, recalling the handwringing of the young salarian, the concern on his face when he'd described the girl he'd become fond of. Just the image of it made her bristle, the dispassion the matriarch displayed towards it threatening to make her lose the facade she'd attempting to build up.
"I'll take your silence to mean that you still find some objection to it," Yirell said, forcing Tela to double-time her attempts to ease up on her temper.
"I saw a lot of girls getting dosed against their will on Illium," Tela said, opting for the bald truth on that one. "Leaves an impression."
"I'd imagine," Yirell said. "And I'm sorry to hear you were exposed to that in the least- but I sincerely hope you don't think that's a method we practice here. Still, you aren't the first to wonder, about whisper's nature, about its use. Not that it isn't understandable... the first experience is always incredibly potent."
"I noticed," Tela said under her breath. "Doesn't leave much leeway for that 'informed consent' you were talking about."
"It's why none of the asari under my employ are allowed to work if they're new to the substance, and choose to indulge in it. Not that such things happen often, as I prefer to hire from the client pool, not the uninitiated."
"You mentioned that before," Tela said, "but you were talking about the girl out front. Are you saying most of these women used to be patrons?"
"I am, yes," Yirell said, as they passed a room that housed a krogan on his hands and knees between two asari, one at his back, the other- wearing a mask and bereft the black eyes, Tela noted- positioning herself in front of the mask's unnaturally distended mouth, "if only for the simple fact that they've broken free of societal constraints, allowed themselves to enjoy both their natural gifts, and the drive that accompanies them. Rid themselves of pretense, and accepted that it's time to get back in touch with who, and what they are."
"And that has nothing to do with the drug," Tela prompted, even as she found herself baffled by what was playing out in front of her; she'd lost count of how many times that was the case here.
The mask the krogan wore was absurd, but what she was seeing personified the definition of the word. The krogan was dressed in the same stripper costume she'd seen in Chora's Den numerous times, the outfit tailored for his bulk and body shape.
"The drug is merely a means of assistance," Yirell said, "a method of leaving behind everything that held them back in their day-to-day lives," moving in closer to peer into the room, herself, just as the asari positioned behind the masked krogan moved the thong away from his body, fashioned a makeshift shaft out of biotics that was 'welded' to her pubic bone, and plunged it into him. "Their desires were present, always... but they, like many others, were stifled by the tethers their leaders, and outside species, have placed on them."
It was difficult for Tela to remind herself that what she was being told was important for a moment; she was too busy crossing 'hear a krogan squeal' off her list of things she'd never thought possible. Right up there with 'see a krogan in drag,' if she was honest.
She'd nearly opened her mouth to respond directly, once the shock wore off, when she was interrupted by the asari standing in front of the krogan, "Hey, pretty girl," said jeeringly, the maiden's hand dipping down to spread herself open for the express purpose of making use of his tongue. "Looks like you've got yourself an audience."
"Not a- not a girl," the krogan protested, nearly recoiling as the maiden in front of him reached down to, presumably, pinch the sensitive skin around the small indentation of a lobeless ear, the move provoking another sharp, high pitched sound.
"You are now," the asari behind him said breathlessly, her pace unrelenting. "Goddess knows you sure shriek like one."
"And this," Tela said dryly, pointing into the room, "is what you call 'getting in touch with who and what we are?'" Looking back at the trio one last time, she said, "I mean... they're getting in touch with something, but I'm pretty sure that's not it," then turned her attention away, signaling Yirell to continue on.
"Aww," she heard one of the asari say, "way to chase off the bystanders."
"Pretty girl didn't want her reach around anyway," the other replied.
"N- not- not a girl," the krogan protested, words followed by another sharp squeal.
"Tough break for him," Tela said under her breath, glancing over her shoulder towards the open room but opting not to look too closely at the activities inside.
For all she knew, that krogan was a slave just like the rest of them, mask or no.
"You joke," Yirell said, "but these sorts of things are important for a variety of species... the asari especially. They're creatures of overwhelming intimacy, as I'm sure you well know... bound and restrained by their leadership, by tenets put into place that are meant to cater to the petty insecurities of species not their own." She paused, her moment of consideration interrupted by one of the asari barking out a derogatory tell me how much you like having your ass hammered, and said, without a hint of irony, or recognition, "It seems to me, then, that the only decent thing to do in light of that, is to offer an outlet to those who wish to shed unwanted social paradigms- allow for a place where employment also serves as a gateway to a free, fulfilling lifestyle."
Tela didn't have to ask if Yirell believed any of that; it was clear in the matriarch's eyes that every word was like gospel. That was a point of interest all its own, in a way, but what caught her attention the most was the fact that it fell in line with the things she'd heard Selex say, about the 'true nature' of the asari species. That alone made the line of questioning worth pursuing.
"Alright," she said, then, tone coming just shy of an all-out deadpan, "I guess I can see how being the designated 'ass hammer' for pretty-girl krogan could be 'free and fulfilling' for some people, but by the way you tell it, this is a social crusade, not a brothel." Or a fetish museum, more like it, she added inwardly.
"And why shouldn't it be?" Yirell said, pausing in her stride before they got to the next room; Tela counted it as a small mercy. "As I said, everyone needs an outlet- the ability to be themselves, so that the cages they return to when they leave this place doesn't seem quite so... stifling. As for the asari- their obsession with public appearances has removed their ability to do just that, up to and including being forbidden from pursuing their own kind."
"Our own kind, you mean," Tela said, the continued use of the distancing proving to be a curiosity all its own.
The pause only added to it, a contemplative look that made it clear that any alterations to the way the matriarch spoke required active thought; added an interesting slant to the presence of those black markings.
"Yes," Yirell said, voice softening slightly, "I suppose I do," her words so lackluster that they only added to the impression. Lapsing into another brief silence, the matriarch remained as she was for a time, save to glance over her shoulder in the first actual recognition of the oh god! chorus Tela had been hearing for the better part of the 'tour.' "Either way," she said, giving a dismissive wave of her hand, "this is hardly any place to talk about it. These people are here to enjoy themselves, and this debate isn't likely to lend to that."
"Is there some place we can talk about it?" Tela said, not entirely sure she wanted to be alone with the matriarch- but too convinced of the topic's relevance to let it go that easily.
Yirell debated it for a time, a clear look of uncertainty entering into her expression. Finally, she said, "I have an office nearby that may be better suited for this kind of discussion. Assuming you've seen enough of the premises, of course."
"I have," Tela said, adding, "and I'd appreciate it," with as honestly as she could manage. "I'm interested to know where you're going with all this."
Another moment of consideration- and then, with a smile, Yirell said, "I suppose I did say I'd answer any questions you had for me. Be a pity if the first impression I gave you was one of someone going back on her word."
"It'd be understandable if you did," Tela said. "You're running a high-profile business; means you've got reason to protect yourself."
"Protecting who and what I am isn't very high on my list of priorities," Yirell replied, unlocking a door that lead down a slimmer hallway, one that actually looked like it belonged on the Citadel proper. "What you're asking about, on the other hand, is." She gestured to the door, then, and said, "Right this way, please."
Walking into the heart of madness or no, Tela nodded; anything to get away from the ridiculous menagerie she'd set her sights on, the symptoms of individuals 'stricken' with being so rich they had no fucking idea what to do with themselves except... this, even if leaving it behind meant holding a private audience with the orchestrator.
With that thought in mind, she couldn't help but find it fitting that the last sound she heard from the hallway was a sharp whack, and another startled oh god! before the door's mechanisms kicked into gear, and closed behind the both of them.