When Madame called for Vanessa to follow her to her office while in the middle of making breakfast, she did not protest. But at the top of the stairs, Madame closed the basement door and began to speak, leading them both upstairs, not at all towards the office.
"Have you figured out what goes on behind closed doors, yet, Vanessa?" she asked, stern, as they walked.
"Not entirely," she replied honestly. What she knew was that she heard muffled sounds, grunts, moans, and the occasional cry from a lady sometimes in evenings when she was asked out for chores. Her heart fluttered and stomach dropped to hear it, but they were not being hurt. She'd run, frightened, to Madame's office room when she'd first walked past a room filled with such sounds, but Madame assured her that the entertainment they provided required privacy, that the girls were safe, they were in control, and the sounds were a part of the entertainment they were giving. Madame insisted that their business required discretion. The business was none of Vanessa's business. Surely Madame was right, and the ladies all seemed safe and fine afterwards, so Vanessa passed those rooms and did nothing.
"What a strange one you are!" Madame sighed. "Really, did no one tell you anything? How old are you, eighteen yet? Already a woman and you know nothing of the act of love! Vanessa, this is a brothel. We have sex with men for money, and we live a good life doing it," she stated very simply, almost proudly.
That made sense, she supposed, though it seemed a strange service to offer. So that big book was right; sex didn't always lead to children. Sex was also entertainment. And she let it slide that Madame had her age wrong; really, she was closer to three than eighteen, but that was a matter no one needed to know.
Madame opened the door to Jessa's room and ushered her inside. Jessa was tucked into bed, late in the morning, hidden away under blankets.
"Our beauty gives us control, here," Madame continued, standing at the foot of Jessa's bed. "A client was unreasonably rough with Jessa last night. Because Jessa is a woman, he felt he could treat her like an animal."
"That bastard," Jessa sneered, one eye swollen shut.
"An associate of ours will be paying him a visit today, and he will pay for what he has done. Because we are in control, we do business on our terms. It is important that you understand that in society, this man would likely go unpunished. And his punishment today will not prevent another from doing this to one of my ladies in the future."
"It happens to all of us," Jessa chimed in. "The house is safer than the street, safer than being on our own. Even if we weren't in this trade; us women are targets for abusing."
"Especially the pretty ones. Do you understand now?" Madame asked, silhouetted by soft sunlight through an open window. She seemed so invulnerable, so like a pillar, so regal.
Vanessa nodded. Her heart fell a little, as the idealized view she had of the women's lives in the house became tarnished. She was embarrassed to have been so jealous.
"I've been offered a great sum for your virginity, darling," Madame announced. "You've gotten attention from a wealthy men, he's seen you out. He's heard about your 'problems' and seems rather rabid to get at you. Doing this would repay me my kindness so far, would keep you here for a few years more; an amount sufficient for a surgeon to correct your problems. Then, of course, you'd be a beauty for certain, perhaps you could be a top earner here.
"His offer is, well, ridiculously generous, for certain, and anyone would be a fool to pass it up. However, I would like to hear your choice in the matter, with your eyes open, as they should be now."
"I can pay someone to fix me?" Vanessa asked, for clarification, as she steadied herself against a nearby bureau. "You think I should do it?"
Madame shifted her weight a little and sighed. "Darling, I would not venture to decide this for you. This decision will change your life. Giving up one night to this fellow could allow you normality, the rest of your life. Know that not everyone can live this way, you know, our work is hard on the body and the mind. Most women try to save their first time for their 'soul mate,' if you believe in that sort of thing. There is love and there is survival, and this is the latter. It would be impolite not to respond to his offer within the week, if you would please decide by then," she noted, striding for the door.
Standing there, breathing quick but soft, staring out at the window, semi-blinded by the light, Vanessa's mind processed what she had learned. She half-heard Jenna's order for breakfast to be brought up, sort of stumbling away to do as asked.