The Hapless Harlot

Impetia 9th, 542 F.A

Hil considered dressing the rustic wooden walls of her cave of operations in a new shade of pastel pink. Though paint was considered a luxury in The Baening, as the plants and fruits from which dye was commonly extracted were all imported from the more arable countries of Vulturia, silver was no longer her stranger thanks to a regular of hers; a benefactor who, despite his fame among the townsfolk, managed to be rather discreet when visiting her place of work. The man was her only customer since she began in this field a week prior, and, at the time that Hil was considering investing in her artistic project, he had already begun laboring on the inside of her own pink ‘cave of operations’.

This benefactor of hers was one Mayor Langley Herron of the small town of Rotteson. The man with the foreign name had become fond of Hil from the moment he’d set eyes on her. He was introduced to a lineup of women as was customary at establishments such as these, and found that, unlike the other, more experienced girls surrounding her, she had the look of a tender maiden who hadn’t yet been held by a man before.

It surprised her that his eyes had picked up on it in no time. Hil had only begun working at the brothel that week and had been passed on by many of the men who were regulars at the establishment, though due in no part to her lack of feminine charm, as the owner had considered Hil to be a woman in a class of her own. No, she was passed on simply because regulars tended to favor their usual girls over new ones, and travelers tended to prefer the gaudier establishment on the wealthier side of town over the Chipping Hole at which Hil worked.

In any case, the man himself did nothing for Hil. He was a large, pretentious sort of creature, and was far too old for a girl of twenty as one who appeared almost triple her age. And worst of all, despite her inexperience in the field of the coital dance that men offered so much coin just to partake in, she found him a terrible excuse for a partner. If she had a gold coin for every time he let it slip out of her in the week that he had been sharing her bed, there would no longer be any need to continue with this occupation. Each time, in as much as she wished that it could finally be over and done with, the man would thrust four times and find his little worm popping out on its own, which she found a hassle considering how tedious it was to wait for him to put it back in.

Even as she took her mind off it by fantasizing about painting the walls in that new shade, the man’s ragged breaths were being exhumed in tandem with the 2/4 time signature of his pathetic thrusts, his dog-like F#3 groans that drifted down towards E3 near the measure’s end (Hil grew even more distraught every time she had inadvertently realized that they were mating in G major, as the squeaking of the bed also neatly fit her favorite scale on the circle of fifths) only served to highlight the pathetic look of his beet-red face, no doubt due to the strain of what was probably the only strenuous physical activity his body would engage in until his next visit.

Tried as she could to accept the man, as was expected of her as a woman of this occupation, she could not continue offering herself excuse after excuse for his grotesqueness when, for the entirety of their sexual relationship up until that point, his foreplay consisted entirely of about a minute or two of massaging her breasts. The man opted to stay away from her lower half entirely outside of intercourse since he, as he had put it in his own words, “found the female genitalia abhorrent outside of his desire to accommodate himself inside of it.” This was also in addition to his daily attempts at convincing her that the two share a kiss while they went at it, something which was expressly forbidden at the brothel (though some girls engaged in the act regardless so as to allow their customers a “forbidden treat”, a method of gaining regulars) despite her flat-out denial every day.

So, one can imagine why, due to the man’s unappealing nature, Hil had found a method of coping during the hour he paid to be with her inside of her cave of operations. Rather than basking in the reality where she had been giving her body away to such a man for coin, her mind had escaped somewhere far, far away from there.

At that moment, she had gone from daydreams where she highlighted the beauty of the room around her to imagining herself standing in the middle of the famous Colosseum that was built at the center of Peregrine City. She had been right down in the arena on a large stage that had been erected especially for her performance before the thousands present, where dazzling lights seemed to want nothing more than to admire her blonde hair, glistening in the strands as if a pure white. She wore a bedazzling blue dress whose sparkles reflected her own newly found stardom, waving out towards the many seated above her as she basked in their applause.

She was holding that magical stick she’d heard so much about from her best and only friend Rise, who herself had moved to Peregrine city less than a year ago. She claimed it was an expensive item manufactured in the neighboring Tillows, and it supposedly had the ability to project the user’s voice across impossible distances if they spoke into it.

When Hil’s voice escaped her lips on that Colosseum stage, colorful notes streamed through its tail-end. She was a stereotypical soprano in that she yearned for the limelight as if she was destined for its warm embrace, and the rainbow of notes along the measure that danced around her filled the Colosseum with bright hues that entranced the audience as if placing them underneath a spell. Her voice neither quivered nor quaked. She was a natural born star, Hil was. Even as a mere abstraction, the experience had filled her with more joy than anything reality had ever seen fit to grant her before.

“Your coin, darling.”

“H-hmm?”

Hil had gotten so lost in her daydream that she neglected to realize that Mayor Langley had already finished and had pulled out of her ages ago, now holding nine silver coins out in the palm of his hand for her. The cost to lay with a woman from the Chipping Hole was five silver, a fee that was split 80/20 between the brothel and the worker, so he had essentially paid her five silver by offering her an extra four coins. It was the usual amount, and Hil was grateful to him for being such a generous tipper.

“Oh, thank you.”

When Hil reached out, he tilted his hand and poured the precious metal down onto her still bare abdomen, her lower half draped in the bed covers as Mayor Langley preferred to keep female genitalia out of sight. He drew his white shirt over his round, sweaty shoulders, then moved over to the dresser to stare into the room’s mirror. His overall unabashed demeanor reflected a man who was either alone or with someone with whom he was quite familiar with. He clawed his comb through what remained of his silky gray hair right after he had gotten done smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt using his hands, grinning and muttering vague praises at himself as if his actions of moments earlier were such a grand accomplishment. The afternoon sun filtered in from the glass window as he placed a pipe underneath his curled, exotic mustache and glanced at the man staring back at him in the mirror.

“Have you gotten any new customers?”

At the question, Hil shook her head. Truthfully, she hadn’t, but she knew that it was a gamble whether or not the man would continue selecting her after she had been chosen by someone else. From what she’d heard from the other girls, most customers didn’t tip as generously as he did, so she wished to continue receiving his patronage if it was possible in order to maximize profits while minimizing her interactions with strange men.

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“What do you want, darling?”

When he offered the question, twirling his mustache, Hil found herself blinking twice. Her mind was still lagging halfway between dreamland and reality. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Lang, Hil,” he said, taking a puff without turning to face her. “I told you to call me Lang.”

“Then… Lang. What do you mean by that? What do I want…?”

“Why, yes. What exactly are you seeking from this life of yours? What compels you to come in and labor at this establishment day in and day out? The way I see it, it’s only a matter of time before a brutish, less sophisticated man than myself sees you for what you are—the most beautiful flower to ever bless this country. Oh yes, I can see it clearly. A rose to rival even the late Queen Peregrine Averion herself. I think it’s only fair that one as young and fair as yourself should live only the most extravagant of lives, don’t you?”

The girl found herself sitting up, her gaze shifting uncomfortably with nowhere to rest. “Thank you, but… I… I don’t…”

“Oh, don’t be shy. Surely there must be a reason that you’ve taken such degrading work upon yourself, is there not? We’ve shared that bed for the past week, so I hope that you find it within yourself to, as the Fortians say, ride with me and share your experiences. You might be surprised at what will come of it.”

What was he offering, Hil wondered? Was the thought of gaining her exclusive company so thrilling to him that he was willing to offer her something more than five silvers a day?

“I… I have debt,” she said. Her face was bright red. Somehow the shame of it had overwhelmed her lack of desire toward the man. “About fifty gold coins worth.”

“Fifty gold coins, working at 5 silvers a night… Even assuming every other part of your life was taken care of for free, that amounts to a little over two years of work then, doesn’t it?” Hil was no good at mental arithmetic, but she had come to the same conclusion beforehand when she ran through the calculations. One gold coin was the equivalent of twenty silvers. Poor folk like her who could survive an entire day off just bronze felt that even a single gold coin was but a pipe dream. And as her face crumbled at the reminder, the man sighed. “Oh no no no, that won’t do. A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t waste away in here for the satisfaction of the garbage who visit this dreadful place.”

“But… they’re your townsfolk.”

“And my voters, yes. It’s terrible, really. I’ve been exiled to the only country in the continent that has opted for the barbaric process of actually voting when selecting its leaders. But never mind that, darling. If that’s all you wish for, that is, the alleviation of the financial burden placed upon you, then I would be more than happy to whisk you away from it.”

Hil’s eyes, for the first time since he had begun addressing her, finally revisited the man’s back. “Really?”

“Oh yes, if that is indeed all you wish for. I would only ask that you make yourself comfortable at my place of residence as my own personal maid.”

“Well…”

“Well?”

The offer hadn’t been a bad one. Serving this man was a much better alternative to a life at the Chipping Hole. But still, was that all she wanted from her life? To be free of her debt and to be safe from other men? Was that truly everything? She wondered if she should speak it into existence. The mere thought of having her debt wiped by this man without having to sell herself to multiple strangers for years was honestly tempting. However, she couldn’t deny the adventurous spirit within her that yearned for more.

“I would also like to be a singer,” she said. “A famous one.”

“The girl does seem to be a dreamer. Are you telling me that you would like to be a star, my darling?”

“Yes!” Her eyes lit up as she finally made eye contact with the man who was staring at her in the mirror. “A star! I’d like to sell out the Colosseum and spread my name so far that I’d be allowed to tour the entire continent! I want to reach people with my music! I’d like to see the world outside The Baening. I’d like to visit Nest’s Harbor and The Tempest and Nansei City while on tour. I’d like…”

“Oh, dearest me darling, calling you a dreamer was underselling it.” Langley took another puff of his pipe as his upper lips twitched. “You wish to sing then, yes?”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted in life,” Hil said, her body hunched forward now as she experienced willful excitement for the first time since the two of them began seeing one another. The animated affirmation brought the mayor’s body around 180 degrees and he leaned his buttocks back onto the seat of the dressing table’s paired chair, his eyes centered on the woman he had lathered with pleasant words such as ‘beautiful’ and ‘extravagant’ earlier.

“Very well then, let’s hear it,” he said, exhaling the smoke.

“Hear it…?”

“Come now, don’t be shy. I’m only one man. You want to perform before the entire Colosseum, don’t you darling?”

“Oh, oh yes. Very much so… it’s just that, this is so sudden… I…”

“Think of it as an audition toward your dreams. Would you really pass the opportunity up because of… suddenness? Would you really risk regretting it for the rest of your life?”

“No!” Hil’s own forcefulness had been a stranger’s voice in her own throat. She covered her mouth almost reflexively. “That is, I’ll do it. I’ll sing for you, L-Lang…”

“That’s my sweet pea.” He knotted his hands over his folded knees and grinned at her. “Go on then.”

Though she had fought for her chance of earning his attention, her head became a blank canvas when it came to the prospect of rousing anything resembling a melody out of her throat. It wasn’t that she was anxious about the performance itself, but what would she sing? None of the many songs she’d memorized over her twenty years of life had come to mind. The lullabies, the folksongs, it was a bygone dream now. The only song she had felt remotely confident in remembering to its fullest was one that she’d penned on her own, but the shame of exposing her inner self before the man even further had given her pause.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

No, she decided. She needed to do this. Her eyes were closed. It was now or never, she thought. She would escape this monotone reality of hers and leap into a fresh life of colors. With the determination within her brushing away the fear that had been hanging over her like a heavy coat soaked in the rain, she finally allowed the vibrations of song to escape her throat. Certainly, the remnants of her anxiety did lead to her starting off shaky, it being the first time she had performed before someone she’d been so intimate with.

But as she grew more confident, as the rainbows of notes leapt out and danced around, whipping and swerving like a skillful biker would deftly circumvent large obstacles on a dirt path, her performance began to fill her with a playful joy. She was so comfortable performing the piece with her own sonically pleasing resonance halfway through that she had even begun bobbing her head with a cheerful smile while imagining that she was before the crowd of the Colosseum once more.

She went on for about two minutes before the notes slowed to a halt and her voice faded, and it was done. The performance she had given was one she felt that she could be satisfied with. Hil had enjoyed herself and felt that it must have been contagious enough to infect the man before her. The curtains slowly lifted from her eyes to reveal that Mayor Langley Herron was already half-way to the door, his brown satchel hanging over his body, before she could even utter a single word. Was he so moved that he couldn’t bear to listen to her song anymore? That was what she had chosen to believe at that moment. But there was a part of her that was anxious about confirming it.

“L-Lang? How… how was I?”

The sound of her quivering voice had frozen him in place the second he grasped the knob. He appeared to be pondering a response, but his pause had returned her to the state she had been in before she began singing.

“Hm, well,” he said without turning to face her. “You certainly possess something, but I don’t know if I’d call it talent. That is, I wouldn’t say that someone of your caliber is worthy of the Colosseum.”

“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the sheets draping her legs.

“However, I suppose it has a certain… flavor that I don’t dislike. Yes. I would like it if you sang to me the next time I visited, dear.”

Her eyes perked back up. “Really? You liked it?”

“Well, it’s a voice that only a distinguished gentleman like myself could truly come to appreciate. I’d be embarrassed if I were you and I sung to someone else. That is to say, please never sing to another man besides myself going forward. I believe it would suit you well to do so.”

He twisted the knob and slipped out without another word, leaving Hil emotionally battered by his parting remarks. Her talent wasn’t even worthy of direct eye contact, let alone her dreams of performing before a large audience. She winced as the dread swelled inside of the pit of her stomach as if coalescing into a firm, acidic ball that sought to rip through her intestines. She felt that dread flowing through her veins. She was sweating it out of her pores. She had slept with a stranger she hadn’t cared for that entire week, but what caused the dread to finally take root within the core of her soul was the realization that it was all for nothing.

Becoming a star was an ambition far outside of her grasp. Despite her colorful dreams for the future, his words had mercilessly dragged her back down to her monotone reality.