Chapter 5:

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I did my best to regain my composure at the shirtless boy before me, and scolded myself mentally for acting juvenile. He was a client, and I had to be sure to treat him as one, and nothing more.

In reply to Spot's advances, I in turn took the chopstick from my hair and let my dark locks fall to my shoulders. My hair was long, and covered me like a black curtain. I stood before him, still fully clothed, but still feeling utterly naked under his stare.

I stared at the floor, waiting for him to take the next step. It was all I could manage to keep myself upright, as terror began to come over me again. I could see clearly now how horrible a life I truly held, as Spot had now made me come to realize. I was a whore, just like he said. Nothing more than a paid toy. This was not the life I had wanted for myself, and who would? I had wanted the life of the stage. What had become of my dreams? Women were not made to be treated so. It was…

Unnatural.

Oh, and these thoughts made my knees buckle under me, suddenly so terrified of this man before me and his judgmental eyes. I was scared of what was surely coming next, and the more he just stood there, the more I grew panicked.

Knowing I had to power through this unfamiliar fear, I sought out to get the job done. I went to him, placing my hand upon his bare chest very awkwardly. He, in turn, put his face agonizingly close to mine and stayed there for several moments, his breathing forced.

Then he let his arms slide around my middle, his palms pressing gently against the small of my back, pulling me against him.

Then he devoured my mouth like he owned it, which in all actuality was true enough.

He was too much to handle. His entire body was threatening me. His force of weight made me step backwards until my back hit wall, which only made the terror increase tenfold, and I began to lose it. Oh, the raw fear that tingled through me, making my body shake no matter how much I willed it not to. I winced with fright as he grabbed the tie to my robe, his mouth still connected to my face.

It was then I involuntarily whimpered in fear, tears springing to my eyes.

He suddenly pulled back, gripping my chin roughly look me in the eye.

"What's the mattah?" he demanded. "You're a whore, ain't ya? Don't you do this kinda stuff all the time?"

"I…" I stammered unsure of how to answer him. I was confused by my reaction as well, since I had thought for sure I had become a stoic machine in bed. I had figured once I fell back to the routine that this job should be easy. Yet somehow, it felt wrong with a job I was actually attracted to. It made it all seem too personal.

"I'm sorry," I spat out. "I do not know what is wrong with me."

Spot frowned at me, his eyes narrowing at me as if he was reading my mind again. Then he looked to the window, as if hoping a solution to all of this would be found there. I had displeased him; I just knew it. If word of this got to Head Maid, I was in big trouble for certain.

"Get your stuff together," he commanded. "I'm takin' you back."

"Please," I begged, suddenly more fearful at the thought of going back to Head Maid untouched than anything else. "Give me one more chance…"

Spot shook his head insistently.

"I don't have time to argue with ya," he shot back.

I bit my lip and didn't move. I cast my eyes to the floor.

"But I owe you," I said in a low voice.

Spot froze and looked upon me with narrow eyes. As I began to undo my robe, he grabbed my hand.

"Not like this, you don't," he retorted. "I'll be the one to tell you when and how you can pay me back. This ain't it."

He led me back down the stairs, much to the surprise of his fellow newsboys, who fell silent at his presence.

"That was fast woik there, Spot," the blond one was bold enough to say.

Spot cast him a harsh look and the blond immediately shut his mouth. Spot let go of my hand so he could grasp his cane.

"Foist one's free, boys," Spot warned. "If anyone else has something t' say they won't ever speak again, ya hear me?"

His men nodded in reply. Spot grabbed my wrist again and together we left out through the front door.

"You- you're taking me back yourself?" I stammered in confusion.

"I don't trust my boys with youse," he explained roughly. "They might be tempted to get their money's worth— now shut up."

So I did. We walked for a long time in silence, with only our footsteps on the cobblestone streets making any sounds.

"I'm sorry," I confessed to him at long last. He acted as if he didn't hear me.

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I didn't see a trace of Spot again for many months. All the while, my status began to grow. I went from a house harlot to an actual stage act. I was also allowed to 'troll', which really meant I could work the floor as a barmaid and stick around to enjoy the drinks with the men before heading up.

There were a few instances were I had been ripped off by a man, getting no pay for services, in which case the rules around the house began to evolve, making the men pay in advance. With the stricter rules, and the growing numbers of customers, the place was kicked up from a slum whorehouse to a 'place of indulgence', and the class of our customers changed to solidify the transformation. It enabled me to hold my head up a little higher around town.

Soon, I even had 'regulars': those select few who came specifically to see me, and Head Maid took notice.

One of these men went by the name of Snyder. He was an older gentleman, white hair and a bit overweight, with a strong eerie presence about him. I didn't like him much as a customer, he was rough and his eyes gave me the creeps, but he tipped extremely well so I didn't dare complain.

What I didn't know was that he was the warden to a local juvenile hall. It was a fact that was going to cause some trouble for me and a certain Brooklynite that would soon find his way into the teahouse…

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Signed,
--RedRogue