Title: "Elegantly Wasted" 6/?
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: R, AU, SnC, LoCa
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: What exactly happened that night...and will the repercussions cost too much?
"Where in tarnation is Caroline? Her room is locked and I need to borrow her blue dress!"
"What do you need a dress for anyhow...? You won't be wearing it long."
"It's about the presentation, Samantha, Sugar. *Class*. Something you wouldn't understand."
"Ha. You can't even *spell* 'class', Faith."
As the battle began raging, with cheap china flying across the sitting room, Miss Bobbie sighed and poured herself a stiff shot of bourbon. It wasn't her first of the day and it certainly would not be her last.
Two of her girls had not come home the night before. Gia, she was not concerned with. Russian princes were hard to land the favor of, and she'd always known that her most beautiful, most unique, worker would not be with her for long. Perhaps he would take her abroad, set her up in a castle somewhere, with the best dressmakers and a legion of servants.
She was lucky.
Caroline...Caroline was not. She never had been. And maybe that was why she was the closest to Bobbie's heart. She saw herself in that girl. A fighter. Born in dirt and determined to make something of herself no matter what got in her way ...what or *who*...
Even someone like Jason Morgan.
That was a night that still haunted her nightmares all these years later. A night where the screaming from the last upstairs room on the left had roused the entire house from their beds...occupied or not.
*"Hand him over, you no good bitch!"*
*"There is no way in HELL I'll let you take my baby!"*
*"I'll take whatever I *want*!"*
*"Not anymore...*not* anymore...!"*
She'd bolted upright and reached for her pistol and ammunition.
There was only one way to deal with customers who got violent... especially with children around. Never mind that it was bad business to let one of her girls keep a baby in the place... she'd had her reasons. And she had been ready to protect them.
The body being dragged down the back stairs had told her she was too late. Someone had taken care of the problem all ready. Messily, too, judging by the blood.
Michael Corinthos had bought her silence, first with the deadly look in his eye and then with cash.
That had been the end of her bad business decisions.
Caroline had packed her baby boy off to a convent, the swamps had swallowed sin, and Corinthos made certain that her whores were the most coveted in town. As perfect a life as people like them could manage.
But Miss Bobbie couldn't shake the feeling that all of that hard- earned perfection was on the verge of crumbling into dust...
A fragile china bride turned to powder in the fireplace... and she poured herself one more dose of denial.
***
Every once in a while, a girl got a gentleman. Somebody who ordered champagne up to the room, strawberries, too, and wanted to stay tangled in the sheets for hours just drinking and talking about nothing at all.
Of course, morning always came. It was always over eventually.
Caroline knew, all too well, that no man could be gentle forever.
Yet, Lorenzo felt like an exception. Every time he moved into her arms, he touched her like she was precious, worthy, and *his*. "One night," he had said..."one more night..." She wanted this one night to last an eternity.
That was a dangerous desire for a whore.
He had fallen asleep after their last bout of lovemaking...exhausted by her arsenal of talents... and now he was fitful in slumber. Twitching...moaning softly against her fingers as she stroked his thick, dark, hair and tried to soothe him. She was unused to giving this kind of comfort. All Caroline knew how to do was offer her body.
"No...por favor...no..."
"Shhh...hush, Senor...I'm here..."
It was Sister Leticia who kissed away Miguel's bruises, who sang away his nightmares. She barely knew her own son. Their embraces in the chapel were always formal, perfunctory, as she inhaled his sweet little boy scent and tried not to see his father in the blue of his eyes.
This man, Lorenzo, made her want more. He made her want to touch freely, to give freely, and to take. He made her remember childhood...eating orange slices and dancing in the ocean.
Tomorrow, she would simply have to forget.
"Caroline..."
"I'm here," she repeated, softly, as he turned his face into the hollow of her throat and whispered her name again, more desperately.
And then it wasn't her name at all, but one from her nightmares. From her secret Hell...a Hell thought long-buried in the marshes.
"Jason....damn you...damn you, Morgan..."
No.
*"We all have our price."*
No.
*"He was reckless. Estupido. He incurred debts with the wrong man... debts he was never able to repay."*
It couldn't be. And it could. It *could*. Demons like Jason Morgan never quite died, did they? No matter how hard you hit them. No matter how deep you buried them. How fervently you cursed their name.
The only thing that died forever in a whore's world was...hope.
She shrank back from the stranger in the rented bed... reached, shakily, for her discarded gown.
Everyone...everything...had a price.
Every once in a while, a girl got a gentleman... and then she woke up.
Alone.
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: R, AU, SnC, LoCa
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: What exactly happened that night...and will the repercussions cost too much?
"Where in tarnation is Caroline? Her room is locked and I need to borrow her blue dress!"
"What do you need a dress for anyhow...? You won't be wearing it long."
"It's about the presentation, Samantha, Sugar. *Class*. Something you wouldn't understand."
"Ha. You can't even *spell* 'class', Faith."
As the battle began raging, with cheap china flying across the sitting room, Miss Bobbie sighed and poured herself a stiff shot of bourbon. It wasn't her first of the day and it certainly would not be her last.
Two of her girls had not come home the night before. Gia, she was not concerned with. Russian princes were hard to land the favor of, and she'd always known that her most beautiful, most unique, worker would not be with her for long. Perhaps he would take her abroad, set her up in a castle somewhere, with the best dressmakers and a legion of servants.
She was lucky.
Caroline...Caroline was not. She never had been. And maybe that was why she was the closest to Bobbie's heart. She saw herself in that girl. A fighter. Born in dirt and determined to make something of herself no matter what got in her way ...what or *who*...
Even someone like Jason Morgan.
That was a night that still haunted her nightmares all these years later. A night where the screaming from the last upstairs room on the left had roused the entire house from their beds...occupied or not.
*"Hand him over, you no good bitch!"*
*"There is no way in HELL I'll let you take my baby!"*
*"I'll take whatever I *want*!"*
*"Not anymore...*not* anymore...!"*
She'd bolted upright and reached for her pistol and ammunition.
There was only one way to deal with customers who got violent... especially with children around. Never mind that it was bad business to let one of her girls keep a baby in the place... she'd had her reasons. And she had been ready to protect them.
The body being dragged down the back stairs had told her she was too late. Someone had taken care of the problem all ready. Messily, too, judging by the blood.
Michael Corinthos had bought her silence, first with the deadly look in his eye and then with cash.
That had been the end of her bad business decisions.
Caroline had packed her baby boy off to a convent, the swamps had swallowed sin, and Corinthos made certain that her whores were the most coveted in town. As perfect a life as people like them could manage.
But Miss Bobbie couldn't shake the feeling that all of that hard- earned perfection was on the verge of crumbling into dust...
A fragile china bride turned to powder in the fireplace... and she poured herself one more dose of denial.
***
Every once in a while, a girl got a gentleman. Somebody who ordered champagne up to the room, strawberries, too, and wanted to stay tangled in the sheets for hours just drinking and talking about nothing at all.
Of course, morning always came. It was always over eventually.
Caroline knew, all too well, that no man could be gentle forever.
Yet, Lorenzo felt like an exception. Every time he moved into her arms, he touched her like she was precious, worthy, and *his*. "One night," he had said..."one more night..." She wanted this one night to last an eternity.
That was a dangerous desire for a whore.
He had fallen asleep after their last bout of lovemaking...exhausted by her arsenal of talents... and now he was fitful in slumber. Twitching...moaning softly against her fingers as she stroked his thick, dark, hair and tried to soothe him. She was unused to giving this kind of comfort. All Caroline knew how to do was offer her body.
"No...por favor...no..."
"Shhh...hush, Senor...I'm here..."
It was Sister Leticia who kissed away Miguel's bruises, who sang away his nightmares. She barely knew her own son. Their embraces in the chapel were always formal, perfunctory, as she inhaled his sweet little boy scent and tried not to see his father in the blue of his eyes.
This man, Lorenzo, made her want more. He made her want to touch freely, to give freely, and to take. He made her remember childhood...eating orange slices and dancing in the ocean.
Tomorrow, she would simply have to forget.
"Caroline..."
"I'm here," she repeated, softly, as he turned his face into the hollow of her throat and whispered her name again, more desperately.
And then it wasn't her name at all, but one from her nightmares. From her secret Hell...a Hell thought long-buried in the marshes.
"Jason....damn you...damn you, Morgan..."
No.
*"We all have our price."*
No.
*"He was reckless. Estupido. He incurred debts with the wrong man... debts he was never able to repay."*
It couldn't be. And it could. It *could*. Demons like Jason Morgan never quite died, did they? No matter how hard you hit them. No matter how deep you buried them. How fervently you cursed their name.
The only thing that died forever in a whore's world was...hope.
She shrank back from the stranger in the rented bed... reached, shakily, for her discarded gown.
Everyone...everything...had a price.
Every once in a while, a girl got a gentleman... and then she woke up.
Alone.