A soft melody of a violin played in the background, a tune wrapped in intrigue and danger. A single man stared out into the city from his office window, eyes wandering over the Valean skyline like a lonesome man searching for his bereaved lover. Vale, City of Sin, swallowed dreams and spat out the victims like the cruel mistress she was. But god help him, the man with wandering eyes loved the city. Loved its darkened corners and shady back alleys. It was a one sided love, but the man couldn't escape it, the allure of Vale being too great.
"You're narrating dramatically in your head, aren't you Mr Eclair?" Glynda said, not looking up from her book, hair loose for once, the golden locks framing her angelic face. I sipped my drink, and refused to answer. She shrugged, turning a page. After a moment, I placed my glass on my desk and took my seat, the record playing on the old gramophone reaching its melodic end. Only after silence reigned did I dare speak.
"I'm just considering our future movements. We've been open a week, and while we have been turning a consistent profit, I think we'll need to start making some moves, grow our clientele further, not to mention hire some more dancers, work out some new acts," I explained. The past 7 days have been like a dream, the pieces falling into place as they were designed to. But sooner or later, some maintenance had to be done. Both metaphorically and literally.
The girls were doing their best, but they've been working 'round the clock for almost a full week now. Perhaps I should have hired more performers from the get go. My mistake, but we had to move forward. Opening a drawer in my desk, I pulled out a manila folder and placed it down. It was filled with the names and addresses of businesses that were on their way to going under. I figured we can at least check out their roster of girls, maybe pick up a few new contracts.
Glynda was open to the idea, but had forewarned me that the average strip club would have some rough 'stock,' with air quotes I might add. It was true, sadly a lot of the average club's girls would likely have addictions or illnesses that I just can't allow in the House. I had my sympathies with these women, and didn't judge, but the expectations for this establishment were significantly higher than average. It is what it is.
"Get your coat on Glynda, you and I will start our search while the day is young. I have Grover handling in person interviews for today." Dutifully, she stood and wrapped herself in her fur coat, the Vale nights often being chilly.
Stepping into the main foyer, I saw the rest of the girls, minus Neo interestingly enough, all resting after their practice performances. I gave a few claps to gather their attention.
"Okay girls, I just need to speak with you a moment. Firstly, our profits have been wonderfully consistent, so well done on that front," I began, garnering a few smiles of satisfaction, "Secondly, you've all been working hard, and I think it's safe to say that you've all been a little overworked."
"You're telling me," Militia sighed, rubbing her sore ankles with a dour expression. Blake and Melanie winced sympathetically, nursing their own aches and pains.
"I know, I know. Well, Glynda and I will be going out right now to rectify that. We'll be trawling a few businesses to search for other possible dancers, while Grover will be conducting some interviews here. Now before you ask, none of your pay will be affected by this. You'll all get chances to interact with clients, perform, and generate some personal revenue with tips. This is just to ease the pressure a little, okay?"
The girls seemed pleased with this, no doubt thankful to finally have the workload ease up a little. Melanie and Militia high-fived, while Blake sunk into her seat with a grateful sigh. I had a feeling that the news would go over well, because no matter the pay, no one wanted to feel stressed and overworked.
"We'll be a few hours. If any problems arise, go to Grover, he knows what he's doing," I instructed. Exiting the building, a cool breeze welcomed us, the early morning sun creeping over the horizon. I opened the door for Glynda, as a gentleman should, and followed right after. Our driver politely greeted us, and I saw in the rear view mirror that a couple security guards entered a car behind us. Couldn't be too careful. Glynda gave the address, and we were off.
"So who are we visiting first exactly?" She asked, only knowing the address at this point. I pulled out the manilla folder, and examined a piece of paper with some information on it.
"First we head to The Deluxe. A little nightclub that's been on its last legs for a few weeks now. Poor management and no long term planning seemed to be the main fault in its business," I explained. She hummed, and peered at the paper herself, raising an eyebrow at the photo of the owner.
"Interesting specimen," she quipped, clearly unimpressed, and frankly I had to agree. The photo showed a balding middle aged man, with what little hair left being a dirty brown, his face unshaven and dirty. All of that could be forgiven and forgotten about, if it weren't for the eyes, beady little things that they were, peering from behind a pair of thick, unkempt eyebrows.
"Markus Skalinski is his name. This is his third business venture I believe, and the third to be sunk. He's all 'get rich quick and damn everything else.' I have little hopes for his staff, but figured we could get him out of the way now," I further explained. She nodded, clearly glad with that decision.
The car ride passed in silence after that, the passing of those strange early birds who gladly got up at the ass crack of dawn driving by in their cars being the only sound.
Stopping at a traffic light, I peered out of the window in mild interest. On the corner of the street, a few girls were up and about, prostitutes trawling for John's looking for an early morning fuck. I considered adding a prostitution gig to the House, but decided against it. Sending out the girls in the middle of the night under no supervision or protection rankled me. If I was going to add an option for the clients to spend some quality time with the girls, it would happen at the House and only the House.
I faced forward, finding little of interest, and instead focused on the drive to the Deluxe.
When the car stopped once more, it was outside a seedy little club, more a bar really. A purple neon sign reading the place's name. One of the neon tracks was out, forming the word 'De_uxe' instead.
Glynda and I shared a look, and we both seemed to agree that this place was kinda shit.
One of the guards opened the door for us, entering first to watch for any sign of trouble. Seeing none, he gestured for us to enter.
The inside was exactly as you imagined, a sticky purple and black tiger skin carpet, neon purple everywhere, a couple of poorly cared for bars, and little in the way of guests, even for this hour. Stalinski was nowhere to be found, but there was a bar back cleaning out some old stock. Guess that's where we're starting.
"Pardon," I began, grabbing his attention. He turned, his eyes immediately widening at the sight of a finely dressed man, a gorgeous blond and two hulking guards all pressed against his bar. I saw him gulp, before stepping forward with a professional smile.
"Y-Yes sir? What can I get you?" He asked. Maintaining an air of confidence, I lead the conversation.
"I'm here to speak with the owner of this establishment. My name is Franc Eclair," I introduced, gesturing a hand to Glynda, "and this beautiful woman is Miss Goodwitch. Where is Mr Stalinski?"
"Mr Stalinski? I-I reckon he's in the storage room, counting stock. He might be busy," the bar back deflected. I hummed, and eyed the door marked 'storage.' I was half tempted to have one of my men bust open the door and drag Stalinski out, but figured that was probably a bad idea.
"Get him for me, please. Tell him I insisted," I ordered. He gulped once more, adjusting his uniform with a nervous twitch and heading to the aforementioned storage room. I could see his eyes shift over to my guards, clearly unsure.
Well, not my problem.
"I'm not sure we'll find much success here," Glynda muttered. Frankly I agreed, this place was a mess. Both in the way that it seemed barely cleaned and in the way it was designed. The lights were all off, instead of drawing attention to the stage, where the customers would want to focus, they instead seemed to be placed at random, leaving everything in an uneven casting of shadows and white light. Brilliant.
I heard a door open off to the side, and peered around to see Stalinski exiting the storage room, a dancer slinking off and to the back of the building. Guess he wasn't counting stock.
Clearly irritated, Stalinski likely made to berate whoever interrupted his private moment, only to blanch at the sight of myself and my entourage. Before he could get a grasp on the situation, I grabbed his hand and gave a firm shake, keeping him disoriented.
"Hello Mr Stalinski, I'm Mr Eclair of the House of Ecstasy, I understand you're having some financial troubles, especially regarding payroll?" I said, speaking quickly and concisely, further throwing him off. He would be easier to deal with if he didn't understand what was going on.
"Y-yes, there have been some difficulties, who are you again-?" He stuttered, only for me to interrupt yet again. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, making a mental note to wash this suit jacket, and began waltzing over to the dressing room, the location helpfully provided by the previously mentioned sneaking dancer that exited the storage room.
"My name is Mr Eclair sir, please keep up. Your financial issues? Allow me to help with that, let's talk with your dancers shall we?" I offered, though with the way I was leading him it was more like an offer.
Behind me I heard the guards and Glynda trailing after me, and I could swear that I heard all three of them stifle a chuckle, or at least a snort of amusement.
Entering the dressing room, the half naked workers turned to us, clearly surprised. I saw at least 8 separate women, all from ages 20 to almost 40. I stealthily gestured for Glynda to start her own little inspection. Confidently, she strutted forward, eyeing the girls with an experienced eye. Meanwhile, I kept Stalinski busy.
"So, how about you introduce your girls to me, Mr Stalinski? Or maybe you talk a little about yourself, whatever's comfortable," I spoke. I could see in his eyes that his head was spinning, clearly confused by the fast nature of our interaction.
"I-I, most of the girls here came to me, uhm, with one exception, she uh, she's not here right now but she'll likely be back in a few minutes," he stuttered. I 'oh' in fake surprise, side-eyeing Glynda as she continued her examination.
"And you, you use anything?" She questioned, gently tilting one girl's head back and forth, turning her arms over to search for track marks. She wasn't rough about it, nor unkind, but she committed to the inspection with a neutral disposition. It was necessary, nothing more.
"H-hey, wait a minute, what's happening exactly?!" Stalinski exclaimed. Damn, maybe he wasn't quite as dumb as I originally figured. Seemed to have righted himself real quick.
Before I could answer, I heard the dressing room door open, and in walked a beautiful blond, who whilst not quite as curvaceous as Glynda, was certainly the closest I've ever met.
"Uh, is this like, a bad time? I can leave if . . . ?" She began, only to trail off once she noticed five pairs of eyes observing her. Glynda acted first, strutting over to the girl.
"My name is Glynda Goodwitch, of the House of Ecstasy. What's your name, dear?" She asked. The blond scratched the back of her head clearly feeling awkward.
"It's Yang, Yang Xiao-Long. Is this some sort of interview?" She questioned. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, humming in consideration.
"That's precisely what it is, actually. Stalinski, be real with me. Your finances have been shit lately, yeah?" He grimaced, clearly insulted, but reluctantly nodded his ascent. "Alright, so listen, I'm searching for some girls to add to my roster of staff. Basically, I'm looking to buy a few contracts."
He huffed, face reddening slightly in indignation.
"Where are you from honey? Local, or have you come from out of the city?" Glynda questioned, once more conducting her inspection, checking the usual spots for track marks, or signs of drug use.
"I-I'm from Patch, the island. Came here a couple months ago for, well, stuff, and things went a little south, so I somehow ended up here," she explained, raising an eyebrow when Glynda had her sit, only to remove Yang's shoes and check between her toes.
It sounds odd, but it was actually necessary. Junkies have found some odd places to inject their preferred drug into their system. Between the toes, under the tongue, some alcoholic's even pour their drink in their rectum, getting drunk without the scent of alcohol on their tongues. It was smart, in a sad and pathetic way.
Apparently however, Yang was clean of any injections, and showed no other signs of use. Clean teeth, healthy skin, breathing healthily.
"Wait, you said you wanted to buy contracts? Why the hell would I agree to that? Especially Yang, she's one of our most popular performers!" Stalinski exclaimed. If I was honest, I forgot he was here for a moment.
"Because I'm willing to pay good money, and you frankly need the funds. Let's be honest with each other, this place is on its ass, likely about to foreclose, yeah?" I questioned him, all pretences of politeness gone. He grumbled, but knew I was right. "So the way I figure it, is you sell me Miss Xiao-Long's contract. Hell, sell all of them to other businessmen if you want. Get a little nest egg, and when this place is eventually closed, you won't be broke. Savvy?"
"Wait, you can just buy my contract? Just like that? Where are you guys from again?" Yang questioned, her mind taking a moment to comprehend everything that's happening.
"We're from the House of Ecstasy. A new establishment for the high class members of society to enjoy a few, pleasurable sensations. As for the buying of your contract, well, it's technically unnecessary. You could technically just quit and apply directly."
"But in that case, Stalinski would get nothing. Technically less than nothing, what with severance pay, if that even applies to your contracts," I further explained. From the look on his face, it appears Stalinski actually did include severance pay. That was surprising, but then I imagine he collected the most desperate girls, and figured that they would rarely if ever leave his employ so easily, not unless they were fired.
"Uh. Any benefits?" Yang asked. This time, Glynda explained the details.
"You'll be allowed to keep 70% of the tips you accrue, this will likely only go up since the 30% is used to keep the business itself running steady for the first few weeks that it's opened. After a month or two, you'll likely get 80 to 85%," she began, holding her hands behind her back and slowly pacing back and forth. Plenty of ears perked up at the sound of that. "Besides that, you get the necessary health benefits, dental, chiro, that sort of thing. Better, cleaner place of work too."
"Sh-shit, really? That sounds fucking awesome! But what's the catch?" She excitedly began, only to grow a little suspicious at the sound of all those tasty tasty benefits. I understood, nothing good was entirely free in Vale.
"Well, for one you take the danger of participating in a brand new business into account. You've heard the numbers I'm sure, that a majority of businesses fall through. Like this one," I commented, causing Stalinski to sputter, insulted at the shot to his very failing business.
"The expectations are also fairly high. You'll of course be expected to maintain a clean bill of health, no STI's, no drug use, nothing. Your behaviour will also be under scrutiny. We have a very short tolerance for any disputes in our House," Glynda said, continuing the explanation after me.
Yang seemed to consider the offer, eyebrows furrowing in thought. Before she could accept or decline, Stalinski just had to speak up.
"Now hold the fucking phone! Now I'm tired of everyone apparently railroading right over me! This is my business! These are my workers! What gives you the right to come in and just take your pick of the litter?!" He exclaimed, panting afterward with an aggravated expression on his face.
"I'm willing to pay two weeks of her wages in exchange for her contract," I say, voice decidedly neutral.
Precisely 12 minutes later, I exited the Deluxe with Yang trailing after, her contract in hand. Entering the car, I add the contract to the manila folder, somewhat amused. The two cars exit the street, headed to the next address. Yang was sitting between myself and Glynda, a small bag of stuff in her lap. She clearly felt a little awkward, especially after Glynda had taken her to a bathroom and had her strip entirely, inspecting her fully. A shame I couldn't inspect Yang with her, but I had to project an image of professionalism. That and Glynda would have said no.
"Sssooo, the House of Ecstasy. Sounds uh, interesting. There like a theme or something?" She questioned, likely uncomfortable with the silence that had filled the car.
"Not exactly. We have some plans in mind to dress the place up and conduct a few events, including the holidays of course. For the most part everything is built with the idea of pleasing the senses. Visually with our performers of course, but also hearing with the accompanying music, incense spread through a ventilation system for the sense of smell, taste with the food and drinks served."
"And what about touch? How do you please that?" She asked, raising an eyebrow with a suspicious look in her face.
"Well that will depend on you and your choice on the matter," I said, injecting myself in the middle of the conversation before any wrong ideas were formed.
"The possibility for some members of the clientele to spend a little private time with the performers is there, but the idea will be that this service will only include the girls who agree to the service," I explained. She nodded, but still seemed a touch concerned. Hopefully her suspicions will be assuaged once she sees the House for herself.
"Mhm, okay. So uh, what now?" Yang wondered.
"Right now, we'll be inspecting a few other businesses for other possible performers. If I'm honest, we're a little surprised to find a girl who meets the standards of the House at the first club we went to, especially one on its last legs like that," Glynda told her. Humming in understanding, Yang focused on the street view in front of her, silence reigning once more. I admit, my curiosity got the better of me, and I turned to look at her.
"Forgive me, and feel free to not answer, but do you mind telling how a girl like yourself ended up in a business like that? You said you were from Patch, right?" I asked her, causing her to sigh, likely at the thought of home.
"Well, without getting too deep into details; I came to Vale looking for someone, didn't find them, sadly couldn't find that work that didn't include me taking my clothes off, so I had to take the next job that came up that offered at least a little security. Sadly, that was the Deluxe." Hm, fair enough. If she didn't want to give anything more than the bullet points of her journey here, then I wasn't gonna pry.
"Alright then. Well, for now we're gonna visit a few places, and then we'll give you a tour of the House, see what you think," I explained. We continued on after that, Yang having a contemplative look on her face. Glynda and I shared a look over her head, both wondering how she would do in our business.
Sadly, the next few clubs didn't have as good a find as Yang. Most of the girls either had an addiction, a venereal disease, or both. As much as I sympathised with those girls, I couldn't allow the business to potentially suffer a blow to its reputation, especially whilst in its infancy.
Yang was our only reward for a hard day's work, so I hoped that Grover had more luck with the in person interviews.
Stopping in front of the House, we exited the vehicle, the guards doing similar from their own car. Yang whistled at the sight of the House, it's architecture making it stand out amongst the other buildings, especially as it was a rather high profile part of Vale, with whites, greys, blues and brick being the main colouring of the buildings around us. The House on the other hand, was a warehouse sized building coloured a dark brown, black and red. We certainly had a tendency to stick out.
"Damn, this is your workplace?!" Yang exclaimed, shouldering her bag with an impressed expression. I nodded, feeling a sense of pride for my establishment.
"Man, I think I saw a place like this in some of those special Mistralian animations. Similar premise too," she joked. Glynda rolled her eyes, whereas I found her attitude rather amusing.
"Welcome to the House of Ecstasy. You'll meet your coworkers later, they likely just went to sleep. Habit gained from working at night," I welcomed her, entering the building and taking in the scent of cinnamon and vanilla. There's no place like home, eh?
Once we entered, Yang took a long look around, turning as she walked to get a full view of the place.
"God damn. And I'm gonna be working here?" She asked. I chuckled, and brought up the manila folder.
"It's quite likely. Stalinski was kind enough to send a few videos of your performances. With a little tutelage from Glynda here, I think you'll be able to fit right in," I answered. Yang looked to Glynda, who raised an eyebrow questioningly. Yang nodded, content with the decision.
"With what you may be paying me, a little training ain't gonna be a bother. So what's the plan teach, what're we learning today?" She questioned, Glynda yet against rolling her eyes, before placing a hand on Yang's shoulder and gently leading her off.
"Firstly I'll show you the main areas you need to concern yourself with, then we'll see how you perform live. And discuss the rules of the establishment," I heard her say, before the two walked off and out of hearing distance. Not 5 seconds later, Grover appeared from, I dunno, somewhere, with a small stack of papers in hand.
"Interviews went off without a hitch sir. This stack is the girls who all passed the background and health checks," he explained, handing the papers over. A little smaller selection than I had hoped, but I figured, with how picky I am with my workers, I shouldn't be surprised.
Taking a seat at one of the dinner tables, I laid out the resumes, pulled out a pen and notepad, and started checking through each slip of paper.
It was probably for the best that I had begun checking through the resumes at this hour, all the girls likely went home and were unable to distract me, as they were want to do sometimes. Mostly Neo and the Twins, but still.
The music for the House had been switched off hours ago, meaning I was working in relative silence. Businesses and buildings that worked throughout the night always felt so odd during the day, at least to me. It was almost like the House itself was asleep, light streaming in through the windows and showing every little detail throughout the architecture. It almost felt like, what was it called again? Almost like liminal horror, that's it!
Or was it analog horror? Either way, it was a little unsettling. Have you ever gone to a school during the middle of the night, and it just seemed unnaturally empty? This was similar, just at opposite hours of the day.
Sighing, I looked back at the pile of paper after having separated it into two groups, those to consider for the work and those to, well, not. Grabbing both piles, I decided to go up to my office and finish this up, the silent foyer a little uncomfortable.
Entering my office, I was rather surprised to see Neo laid on the loveseat, a blanket wrapped around her. She was happily snoozing away, face half covered by the blanket. I was sure that she had her own place, why sleep here?
Actually, it doesn't matter, if she wanted to sleep here then it was fine; the House had a washroom with a shower for the girls, and Neo likely had extra clothes in her locker, so it worked out.
Removing my suit jacket, I sat on my chair and started working through the piles.
The pile of resumes with performers to consider wasn't as tall as I would have liked, but there was nothing I could do about that.
Name after name, resume after resume I checked through each slip of paper with a critical eye. There were 2 or 3 girls that I was considering, and made note of their scroll numbers to contact them later.
Business sure was exciting. Please note the sarcasm.