Hero
The piercingly bright spotlights lit up the girl on the stage. She was dressed in a sheer white gown and her rosy nipples were barely visible underneath the gossamer fabric. She performed an acrobatic stunt on a swing suspended several feet off of the stage, leaning back and extending her legs. There was a round of applause and the dancer elegantly hung upside down from the swing.
Richard caught a peek of her pubic hair and sighed deeply. Her performance had the desired effect on him and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to adjust his erection so that it wasn't so obvious. He was sitting next to Rolland in a booth, but Rolland wasn't paying any attention to him. Joanna was sitting next to Rolland and they were engaged in whispers and coy looks. No woman had latched onto Richard yet though, so he continued to scope out the working gals.
In an attempt to push down his erection he bumped his hand against his wound in such a manner that caused a rush of pain to whip through his body. He gasped and Rolland turned his attention to him. "You alright?" he asked.
Richard nodded and turned his attention back to the stage. The moment was ruined, however, and his penis drooped flaccidly. He swirled the ice in his glass around and could faintly hear the clicking of the ice against the class. There was a sip of watery gin remaining, but Richard had lost his taste for it suddenly.
"…for sure, baby, for sure," Rolland muttered to Joanna and she laughed in a way that can only be bought.
Richard brought his attention to the pair of them. "So, what do you do when you aren't haunting nightclubs?" Richard addressed Joanna.
Her painted smile didn't once leave her face. "Sleeping. I'm a night owl."
Rolland laughed at this. "That you are! You keep me up all night!"
Richard rolled his eyes at his brother's weak double entendre. He wanted to question Joanne as to why she came to Rapture. Perhaps she really did come to be a prostitute; after all, there was no laws against it. But to commit to an entire lifetime of it? He figured it would be rude to ask, however, and instead asked Joanne how her week went.
The question seemed to catch her off-guard. "Fine, I guess," she mumbled and pulled a pack of cigarettes out from her handbag.
Rolland pulled a lighter from his breast pocket and lit her cigarette. "Richard was in the war, did I tell you that?"
"Was he now?" Joanna replied and took a drag from her cigarette. A lot of people were in the war so Richard understood why she wasn't bowled over with that factoid.
"Not just was he in it, he's a bona fide war hero," Rolland extrapolated. "He was awarded the Bronze Star." Rolland took the glass that Richard had finished with and sucked down the last few drops of gin and water. "You wouldn't happen to have any friends who would be interested in spending some time with a real-life hero, would you doll?
"Rollie, you don't need to bore her with that story," Richard said. Rolland was determined to get his brother back into the arms of a woman, but Richard did not like to talk about the war.
"Come on now, Richie, you did nothing wrong." Rolland interrupted, but saw the approaching irritation on Richard's face and dropped the subject. He set his eyes on the act on stage. "What about her, do you know her?"
Joanna's pert grin was ghastly to Richard. It never left her face. So cold and artificial. Just as artificial and cold as a city at the bottom of the sea. Richard decided that should he find himself with a bona fide whore by the end of the evening he would pay her double if she would just be honest, even if that meant she just curled up and cried for the whole evening. At least that would be far more natural than the ceaseless smile that Joanna wore.
"Yes, but she's otherwise engaged. Joanna answered. "Why don't you wait here for a moment and I'll see if I can't scare anyone up?" Joanna excused herself and stood.
Both brothers watched her make her way through the crowded room and turn and go up a flight of stairs. "You'll be fit as a fiddle again before the night is out!" Rolland proclaimed happily and signaled to the waitress to bring them more drinks.
Richard scowled. The whole operation was making him nervous. His primal arousal was contrasting sharply with his discomfort at the microcosm of a sham of human interactions that the whole evening was. For all parties involved to keep up the charade of "knowing someone" and "meeting ladies" was uncomfortable. "I don't know, I think I've changed my mind," he said to Rolland.
"You're overthinking it," Rolland dismissed easily. "You're sitting there, turning over the ramifications of the moral and ethical insinuations of the exchange of cash and bodily fluids. It might make you a hell of an engineer, Richie, but it makes you half of a man."
"Oh, you can just go and fuck yourself Rollie-" Richard said and tried to stand up, but he moved too quickly and the sudden pain caused him to groan and sit back down again.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," Rolland replied in a softer tone. "What I meant was-"
"I don't care what you mean," Richard snapped, taking offense at Rolland's unintended insult. Richard had felt that he was indeed only a half a man since the war and any reminder of that was, to say the least, a sensitive subject. "I'm leaving, I'm going home, and I don't care if I have to sleep in a different bedroom from my bitch wife for the rest of my life!"
"I didn't mean it!" Rolland apologized sincerely. "Really, I didn't, it was a joke!"
Richard grabbed his cane and leaned on it as he stood up. "I am no longer in the mood for ladies, I mean whores, and do so kindly inform them that this half-man war hero will not be needing their services tonight. My apologies to Joanna, as well, for having to go and get another one out of storage," he huffed.
More than anything Richard would have liked to go home and collapse into bed with a beautiful bed mate and have her coo and giggle over him, to warm his bad leg with her soft and gentle hands, and to delicately coax a climax from his neglected organ. But if the price was to sit with Rolland and tolerate his cheap shots all night, well, Richard had been lonely before and was able to deal with it. He walked out of The Seahorse as quickly as he could, soldiering on through the pains.
Would you kindly imagine a page break here?
Lupe stared at the announcement board at the metro station, willing that the 'DELAYED' sign to her destination would soon flip back to a confirmed departure time. All too often in Rapture there were transportation delays. She liked to imagine something fantastic was causing the delay, like a team of mermaids had spirited off with a section of track in order to build a tower on their fantastic castle (which was not full of disappointment and bitterness), but she knew it was probably something much more mundane, like a switching station was incrusting in barnacles and some poor bastard had to go and scrape them off. Probably one of the wide-eyed young men she had met when she first moved to Rapture was out there right now, chiseling the shelled pests off of some machinery and cursing his decision to move here.
At least they don't charge you to look at the fish yet, Lupe mused bleakly as she gazed out the window at a school of slow swimming silver scaled fish. She was sitting on a bench alone, her pretty face distorted in a pout. Her evening had been cut short by one of Helena's clients and Lupe had decided not to stick around Fort Frolic much longer. Helena had said that the rooms in the hotel she worked out of only had enough space for a bed barely big enough for two.
Lupe would rather spend the night at a seedy motel though as opposed to returning to her dormitory. She didn't want to spend one more night in that filthy hovel. It was even worse now since Helena was gone. No privacy, no peace, just a relentless barrage of noise and aggravation. She was getting desperate and she had hoped that she too would snag a client before she wimped out and returned to the metro. But that didn't happen, obviously, and now she faced the prospect of not just another night at the dormitory, but a lifetime of it.
Lupe choked back tears. It wasn't supposed to be this way, she thought sadly and her eyes followed the last few stragglers in the school as they swam out of view. She sensed someone sit down next to her and turned her head.
A handsome blonde man near in age to herself was leaning back on the bench, his eyes closed and his face screwed up in pain. He gripped a silver handled cane in one hand and he wore a pinstriped jacket over a pure white shirt. He blinked his eyes open and caught sight of her staring at him. "What?" he demanded and sat up straight.
"Are you alright?" Lupe asked. The stranger was a bit flushed and obviously bothered by something, judging by the look of irritation in his eyes.
"I'm just dandy," the man replied. He took a gold cigarette case out from his pocket and lit one.
Lupe's hungrily gazed at the cigarette. She smoked heavily on the surface but hadn't been able to justify the luxurious expense of an unnecessary vice in at least a year. "There are delays," she said distractedly. "Are you traveling on the red line?"
"No," he answered gruffly. "I'm going to Adranos Place."
Adranos Place was a ritzy complex made up of pricey condominiums, chic restaurants, and adorable little boutiques. Lupe had spent some time there before while pitching to a gallery. She had lusted after the shoes in a particular shop window, and even now she could still see the red pumps with white piping. He could afford it, she thought quickly. And he's attractive, I would choose to anyway, under better circumstances. She pulled her skirt up her leg a few inches in what she hoped was an innocuous manner.
The stranger watched her hike her skirt up. The hook of her garter belt was just visible. She felt emboldened by his interested gaze. "All the lines are running a bit behind," she said in her best airy voice.
"Shit," he muttered and took a drag off of his cigarette.
Lupe could almost feel the smoke in her lungs. So tasty… She pressed her lips together. "I know somewhere we could go to kill the time," she suggested. Even if he didn't pay her it would be nice to have some relative privacy. Hopefully he didn't snore.
"Do you really?" he said and smiled sardonically. "A little place that charges by the hour?"
She smiled back. "Maybe."
"I'm curious. Will you indulge me if I ask you something?" he asked.
Lupe scooter closer to him. He's going to ask how much, she realized, but was suddenly struck by insecurity. How much am I worth? Twenty? Fifty? I just don't know. "You can ask for anything."
"When you come down here to prostitute yourself did you have a long term plan or where you just going to play it by ear?"
Lupe's face fell. Oh, how could she have misread the situation so badly? "No!" she exclaimed. "I didn't come here to do that!"
The stranger's smile disappeared. "Look, I didn't mean-" he tried to explain, but Lupe didn't hear him.
"I-I was supposed to be an artist!" she bawled and put her hands on her face, trying to hide her shameful tears. "I was good, my teachers said I had talent! I don't want to do this! I've never done anything like this before, but I can't keep living in that rotten place!"
"Shhh," the stranger offered and she felt his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've had a bad day, I'm sorry, but that's no excuse for my behavior."
Lupe couldn't hear him over her own embarrassment and sorrow. "I don't want to do this! I don't want to be here anymore! I want to go home!" she sobbed. "I just want things to be the way they used to be before I came here!"
"Quiet," the man ordered her gently in a whisper. "You shouldn't say things like that in public."
Lupe sniffed and still hid her face from him. "You're right," she bemoaned. "I didn't think this though. I don't want to be a hooker, I really don't, but I don't know what else to do."
"Look, just, just calm down, alright," the man said. "I feel awful, I do, but you're not helping yourself by getting into a state in public like this. I'll escort you home, no funny business, I swear. I'm very sorry to have upset you."
She took her hands from her face. "I, I-" she started to say but the serious concern on his face was so touching and refreshing it broke her heart and her waning tears were renewed. "I wanted to be an artist!" she exclaimed.
"What do you work with? Watercolors? Acrylics?" he asked, and Lupe was too upset to notice that he was delicately trying to defuse her woe.
"Charcoal mostly," she managed to say between heaves.
"What's your name?" he asked and squeezed her hand lightly.
"Lupe," she answered. "Lupe Cervantes."
"Like the writer?"
She nodded. "Yeah." She sniffed again. "What's your name?"
"Richard," he answered.
"What are you in for?" she asked with a tentative smile.
"I'm a technical drafter," he answered. "My father's got a firm, Stone and Sons, have you heard of it?"
Lupe shrugged. "No, sorry."
"Well, I suppose an artist hasn't got much need for a turret, have they?" He pulled his golden cigarette case out and offered her a cigarette. "Here, have a smoke."
Lupe eagerly accepted and he lit it with a matching golden lighter. She inhaled and moaned in simple pleasure. "Thanks," she murmured.
"I'm sorry for what I said," Richard apologized again.
"You were right though, my friend and I are trying to make some money so-" Lupe stopped talking before she revealed their illegal escape plan. "So we could make better lives for ourselves."
"Where do you live that's so awful?" Richard asked.
Lupe explained her situation and Richard was quiet for a moment. "That sounds worse than sleeping in the mud in Germany," he said after she had described the dorm. "At least when we knew when it was done we'd get to go home."
"Is that where you got that?" Lupe gestured to his cane.
Richard nodded. "Feel free to turn me down, since you're an educated professional, but if you want to move out of the dorm so badly I may be able to help you out."
Lupe detected no sarcasm in his voice. Even if he was suggesting that he bring her back and tie her up in a closet and do unspeakable things to her she couldn't imagine it being worse than the dorm. And, as she had previously noted, he was rather attractive. Perhaps she would even grow to like it. "I'll do anything," she told him and put her hand on his chest.
"Not, not that. We recently lost our maid. It's not the most amazing job in the world, I know, but you'll have your own bedroom and bathroom, and-"
"I'll do it," she agreed. "Now. I will go home with you now," she promised.
"How about tomorrow? Don't you want to get your things and tell your employer you're leaving?"
"No, it's a cut and run with him. And I don't think I will be needing my portfolio anymore anyway," Lupe mournfully said. Just let me come home with you tonight, she thought longingly while gazing at her new-found hero, I don't even need my own bedroom…
"You can survive one more night there. You're brave enough to come down here by yourself-"
"More like stupid enough," Lupe interjected without thinking.
Richard grinned. "You and me both. But I really feel like I should give my wife a few hours warning at the least when I bring a beautiful woman home, even if it is to clean up after her."
Oh, of course he was married. He must be in love too, no wonder he turned me down. Lupe tried to hide her disappointment. "Do I have to cook? I am not good at cooking," she questioned quickly to cover her sudden awkwardness.
"We eat out most of the time. If anything it's just some tea and a sandwich or something. I know it isn't the most dignified position in the world, but it won't be forever. You can save up some money and maybe work out a new plan for yourself once you get some peace and quiet," Richard proposed.
"Yes, I accept," she quickly answered. She was so happy to be out of the dormitory that her heart felt lighter than it had in months. She was so happy she felt like she could face one last night in the dormitory. Lupe wiped her tears away on the back of her sleeve. "Thank you."
Richard wrote the address down on a scrap of newspaper and handed it to her. "I'll probably be at work tomorrow when you come," he said. "But I'll tell my wife all about it, Dorothy, that's her name, and you'll be all set up, alright? And if she gives you any grief, well, I'm writing my extension at work down, you call me up and we'll settle it, okay?"
Lupe took the paper and tucked it into her purse. "Do you think your wife will agree?"
"I'm the one paying for everything, I should get to decide. Besides, it's not like I'm paying you for sex," he added with a smile.
Lupe smiled back, but didn't feel as cheerful as she had before. Being a maid was hardly a step up and she personally would rather be sleeping between his sheets than washing them. It certainly would earn her more money.
They made polite chit chat until the trains were running again, each of them pleasantly surprised that they had both lived in New York. Lupe was surprised that Richard was reluctant to talk about how he had come to be wounded in the war; it was her experience that other veterans were more than happy to tell their tales of combat. But Richard only brushed her questions off.
As she left the station she couldn't help but look forward to seeing him when he got home from work the next day. Lupe hoped his wife would be amiable. If she wasn't Lupe might be falling from the frying pan into the fire.