"Playing hard to get is surely an admirable angle to play him at," Madame began, hands upon her hips as she addressed Vanessa at the laundry, in a tone that betrayed some aggravation. "However, his appointment was made for tonight. I'm going to cancel with him, and you'll be losing another fine sum of money, I'll have you know. Hopefully he'll take to another woman here, so that someone may profit from this opportunity lost."

Vanessa continued pinning out the wash, staring at the white sheets, these simple clear sheets. If she let her eyes stare and lose focus some, her vision blurred enough that she couldn't see the faint stains upon them at all. She could trick her eyes into seeing pure white, clean sheets.

"Doctor Moriko has named a price you could pay; you only need the steamer fare – funny, that the good Baron's offering enough to more than cover that."

Pure, pure white. Cooling, clean water upon solid light sheets, billowing softly in the western wind.

"You disappoint me, darling. I took you in, taught you life and kept you safe from it all the same," Madame scolded, impatient. "You stand to profit better than most of us dream to in single nights, stand to earn your health and claim your place as a woman in control of her own destiny. Instead? Three days of silence. I have met girls who let the end of their virginity be the end of their life. They were the weak ones. I thought you were strong."

Black boots with high heels stepped away, you could see them from beneath the hems of the billowing sheets. Then there was sand, and the wind whistled, and there were only the sheets and the sand.

Vanessa wasn't standing straight anymore. 'That morning,' she'd tossed her back brace into the basement chest. She'd removed the fancy silver decorations from her freshly-washed dress. And when Jessa was about to throw out a sheet due to a stubborn stain, Vanessa took it and dyed it with dug clay, to treat and use as a cloak for herself, instead.

She didn't want to wear that dress anymore, but the other scrap dresses were even flashier than what she'd made, and she hadn't the money for a simpler one, new or used. Madame was still holding the profit from her 'sale,' as she thought of it. Vanessa hadn't spoken hardly a word since that night, and hadn't asked for a dime from Madame. There were chores to be done, errands to run, fancy dresses to make, and she executed it solemnly.

OXO

Many of the ladies had tried to speak with her, had asked many questions and seemed interested in her turn of events. But since she did not respond, save for a few "I don't know"s, interactions with them always wound up into lectures and stories. Each woman had her opinion. Some thought she would benefit from hearing about how some of the ladies had horrible first times, but had turned out perfectly fine. Others spoke of the overall great unimportance of sex itself, how it meant nothing, really, that to experience it and take command of oneself was a great liberation.

So, Vanessa let time tick by around her, let words be said to her, and she wore her ugly, tan cloak over her lovely, tight velvet-trimmed dress. She didn't have anything that she wanted to say, to do. If life would just pause, or if she could just continue rhythmically doing her chores, eating, sleeping, that would be better than making any changes.

She wanted a simple life. Drama, she'd decided, was something she was meant to avoid.

OXO

The little cell of a room stifled her, and she was seen outside in her free hours, more and more, be it day or night. To whatever natural lights she found in the back alleyway, she hunched over her thick volume. If a lady went out there, the girl abruptly shut the book and, as usual, did not make eye contact.

"Vanessa changed," they all agreed, "for the worse."

"Ungrateful little wench," Maggie scoffed, fanning herself as they waited for the night's customers to arrive. "Only once, all that money, a handsome man – who gave her that damn Bible anyway?"

"Father brought it by a ways back," Jenna explained. "Didn't think she'd take it so seriously. She didn't, before…"

"It's insulting to the rest of us," Kim snapped, face reddened.

"She wasn't strong enough, not like us," Jenna noted, hoping to change the subject a bit. Then, whispering, she added, "Madame's to get rid of her soon, I'd wager."

That cheered the girls up a bit. Having the sad girl around was a constant reminder of the pains they had to endure, of their own hidden guilts, if they had any.

OXO

Vanessa didn't hear them. She was out back, book open across her crossed legs, listening to the town as she remained grounded in dirt. At the distance from the main room, she couldn't make out what people were saying within, but it mattered not, for she had heard them say those things earlier, and would hear them again.

Patiently, she was waiting for the men to arrive, too, but for a different purpose. She could hear things, from inside the upper floor bedrooms, along the backside of the house. The women kept those windows open when entertaining in there, and from the back yard Vanessa could hear many things, that without looking she could study, could take note of and analyze.

With the book, with the sounds from above and behind her, with this silence, the wounds inside her were closing up.

She was almost ready to tell Madame – to tell her that she was ready to use her money.