Inamorata

Chapter Two - Cyrano de Bergerac

Chapter 2. Author's note: A surprisingly difficult chapter to write, actually. But comment anyway, please!

"Nightingale, do we ever get to take these off?" asked Rose, gesturing sadly to her identity anklet. They were in what was now Rose's room, talking. Rose was sitting tentatively on her bed, as though worried that the pillows would snap at her or the blanket try to suffocate her. Nightingale, with her distinct loathing of beds, was standing near the mirror.

Nightingale looked down at her own identity anklet, where it curled like an inky snake against the whiteness of her ankle.

"No," she replied to Rose. "But you'll forget it quickly. I never think about mine." Her stomach twisted with guilt momentarily. Well, she rarely thought about hers. Immediately, her thoughts drifted back to Michael. She was astounded at how often she'd thought about him in the two days since she'd met him, and how she enjoyed thinking about him. Men never occupied her thoughts unaccompanied by hatred.

"Is something wrong, Gale?" asked Rose, leaning forward.

Nightingale turned and shook her head. "No more than usual," she said. As she eyed Rose, she was impressed by how well she'd adjusted to life in the bordello. Nightingale had thought that Rose would be the kind of girl who would earn many beatings by her perpetual tearfulness, but that had vanished quickly.

Rose sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "When will I start work, Nightingale?" she asked.

"Well, you've been here two days, not counting today. It's Bobby's usual protocol for Inamoratas to start on their fifth day. Today you'll be learning from an experienced Inamorata," said Nightingale. She sat down across from Rose, winding herself sinuously onto the floor.

"And that Inamorata will be?" said Rose, looking hopefully at Nightingale.

Nightingale smiled ruefully. "Me," she said. "You'll watch me at work, using what I like to call the three Ss."

Rose looked mystified. Nightingale sighed began to explain.

"One: smile. Most clients like a slinky, sexy smile," said Nightingale. Rose nodded, flinching. "Next: seduce. Naturally, this takes practise, so Bobby won't be putting you with high-paying clients right away." Nightingale shuddered as she remembered her first clients. "The more experienced and talented you are, the higher the price and therefore the richer the client."

"Are you one of the more expensive of us?" asked Rose curiously, sounding as though she thought she shouldn't be asking.

Nightingale grimaced, her lovely face twisting into a snarl. "I'm the most expensive," she said flatly. "That's why Bobby wants me teaching you. And, finally: satisfy. I hardly need to tell you that this is the most important step. If you don't satisfy your client, there will be hell to pay."

"Um, Gale?" said Rose hesitantly, looking nervous.

"Yes?"

"What happens...if Bobby or a client is unhappy with you?" asked Rose, her voice thin with fear.

Nightingale sighed. "Your identity anklet does not only identify you as an Inamorata, but it can also deliver a very powerful electric shock. That's Bobby's favourite method of punishment," she said. Rose paled. "It leaves no marks. Visible injury is off-putting to clients, and God forbid we should ever put off clients." Nightingale's voice became bitter at the end of her sentence.

"Oh," said Rose. After a little pause, she said, "Have you ever been shocked?"

Nightingale began to laugh and had troubles stopping. She looked at Rose, who was cowering from the hysterical sound.