The scream shattered the silence of the peaceful mid-afternoon like a brick through a stained glass window. Betty jumped and dropped the heavy basket she was carrying. A wet mass of linen and undergarments—whitish grey with darker clean stains here and there—rolled away across the brothel's utility room as if to hide. Almost inhumane, the screech was high pitched and gravelly. It penetrated the ears like a rusty corkscrew, plunged the brain into a frozen lake of shock and rubbed every nerve with sandpaper. Betty had heard this demonic sound at least once a week for the last year, but she never got used to it. Every time, it made her wish to die.
Then, as always, the scream finally stopped and, as always, Betty's death wish focused on Lotus instead of her own self.
What was it today? An inoffensive spider that despite eight legs, as many eyes, and a bulbous black hairy body, was minding its own business in a corner of her room? A colorful bee buzzing around her without any other intent than getting out again to find some real flower to drink from? A starved rat looking for crumbs, running from one hole to another trying to avoid getting smashed under a vengeful broom? In any case, nothing worth bursting anyone's eardrums.
Betty had never come to like Lotus. Because of the startling screams, sure, but not only. First, her name was stupid. Granted, her real name was unpronon... unprounon... impossible to spit out, getting lost between the tongue and the teeth in a lisp that always ended up in drool. But to choose a name from a flower... As if Betty called herself Daisy. Was she a cow or a proud harlot? However, the name didn't seem to bother clients. Nor did her body, despite her small figure, her narrow hips, her tiny arse, and her blatant lack of tits. Lotus looked more like a child than a woman. Thinking of it, that could have been the reason for her success. But the real perversity from the men coming for her was that they seemed to enjoy her stranger face and her stranger eyes. Men really were all pigs.
Betty kept grumbling while picking up the laundry. She tried to shoo most of the dust bunnies away, but some sheets would have need another round in soapy water. Bah, this would wait another week. The house didn't build its ill repute on beddings anyway, clients wouldn't notice.*
About to go out in the courtyard to be done with her chores, Betty changed her mind, lay down her burden, and ran to Lotus's room. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but not before it got eight great stories to share with its stray pals.
The chink girl was even paler than usual. She stood in the corner near the door, both hands clasped on her mouth, as if her own body got sick of the screaming too.
"I know you're ugly, but I think you should be used to your own reflection by now," said Betty, trying very hard not to crack a satisfied smile.
Lotus had never been the one to play along when jokes started to fly, but she usually wrinkled her little porcine nose in a hilarious fashion. Today she didn't even acknowledge Betty's clever jest. Nor her presence. She only extended one shaky arm towards her bed.
"M... M... Man."
Spread like a skinny starfish over the blankets, someone lay indeed. Betty wouldn't have used the word "man" to describe the childish figure snoring peacefully there, but true, he was male.
He had short messy hair that defied gravity thanks to the humid, salty air and a fair share of dirt. Betty saw a louse dive from one of the dark pikes. Out of joy or to commit suicide, she couldn't tell. The boy wore a simple, sleeveless shirt and pants that stopped mid-calf. Both had the undefined color any white fabric took after years of use and approximative cleaning. The soles of the boy's feet were so dark that Betty first thought he was wearing some black leather shoes. At least, he wasn't too foul smelling.
She sighed. "Since when you're afraid of men? They come in all size and shape but they are all the same."
Betty crossed the room to stand above the boy. He looked so peaceful, lost to the world, deep into a slumber that even Lotus's scream couldn't have disturbed. She raised her hand and let it fall with all the strength and speed she had. The sound when her fingers smacked the boy's arse was pure delight. The shout that followed could have competed with one of Lotus's weakest. The boy rolled out of bed in a tangle of limbs. When he stood back up, holding the painful cheek in one hand, his face was a comical mix of shock, offense and anger. He couldn't be more than seventeen. His free hand pointed an accusatory finger toward Betty.
"You... You... 'Ow dare you, madame?"
"And you, kid, how dare you sleep in a lady's bed, uninvited?" Betty retorted.
"Wha'... I..."
"I don't know how you got in here, but sleeping isn't usually what you pay for in this house. So I hope you—"
If the boy ever listened, he wasn't anymore. His finger dropping in mid air like a flacid cock, his mouth half open. He was staring at Lotus with bulging eyes. Lower, another part of his anatomy started to bulge as well.
Betty turned her attention to Lotus and looked at her for the first time since she had entered the room. The girl was wearing knickerbockers showing a great deal of leg, and nothing above, showing a great deal of everything else. Those tits of hers were truly ridiculous, barely more than mosquito bites, but they seemed to have power on the kid.
Betty was considering flashing her own breasts to teach Lotus a lesson, when Angèle barged into the room.
"Girls, get yourselves appropriate and bring your arses to the port!" she said.
Then she noticed the boy, frowned and gave an interrogative look to Betty. When she shrugged, Angèle took things in hand, like she usually did. "I hope you're an early customer boy. I hope you can pay for what you see."
The boy didn't took her eyes off of Lotus, who gave back the stare with a shy smile and a pink flushed face. But arms away from her tiny breasts. Damned, she was good.
"I don't have a penny," he muttered.
Betty snorted and turned to Angèle. "There's always something happening on the harbor. If you suddenly get wet for two shirtless bears brawling, you should really stop chewing tobacco. It's getting to your head."
Angele looked at Betty like she was the dumbest creature alive, eyes half open, mouth twisted in a contemptuous pinch. "Last time I got wet for a longshoreman, you were still trying to figure out where your clit was... No. It's the Watch. A whole lot of 'em. They're coming at pirates!"
The collection of hats she had seen during the night came back to Betty's mind instantly. "Ah! I knew it! Juan must have followed my tip..."
"What?"
"Nevermind"
Lotus, tiny tits still pointing toward the boy, and the boy, cock still pointing toward the tits, hadn't said a word. Betty came as close as the chink as the smell allowed and whispered. "He has not a copper to his name, girl."
"Oh?" And Lotus grabbed her gown to cover herself. Not as stupid as she looked after all.
Deprived of the far from exceptional view, The boy snapped back to reality.
"Pirates, you said?" His eyes grew even wider for a second and the red flushing his hairless cheeks turned ghostly white.
Then, he jumped through the open window.
____________________
* Most of the client were in fact rather pleased by the high standard of hygiene in the brothel. The bedbugs, fleas and crabs were pretty satisfied too.
Last update on December 19th, 2019