The victorian, p.1
The Victorian, page 1
The Victorian
The Victorian
Lydia L. Vaughn
Copyright © 2019 by Lydia L. Vaughn
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Printing, 2019
ASIN: B07RD57GGZ
Library of Congress Control Number: Pending
Waiting Dog Press
Ontario, OR 97914
waitingdogpress.com
waitingdogpress@gmail.com
Cover by: coversbykaren.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Dedicated to Harper Lee, Josephine Baker, and Loïe Fuller, and to women everywhere who are searching for their place in this world.
One
Wednesday night:
Idon’t remember her sitting down next to me, or even introducing herself. Oh, but I do remember when she leaned in close and tucked my hair back behind my ear, her cool breath tickling the nape of my neck.
She had a bohemian quality about her, with dark hair and dusky eyes that held mine captive until she released me. Her tan cleavage peeked out from the top of her burgundy lace blouse, barely showing her rainbow-colored feather tattoo. Was she wearing a bustier? I was desperate to know. I froze, caught between questioning why she’d picked me out of all the other women and being terrified of doing anything that would cause her to stop.
She drew small circles around my ear with the tip of her finger then slid her other hand over my jeans, drumming her fingers along my inner thigh to the THUMP-THUMP-THUMP of the bar music. My clit danced along with the rhythm, and I gasped. I imagined her fingers working their way into my jeans and tapping out a beat directly onto my clit.
And that’s where my recall gets a bit tricky. With four or five drinks on board, the bar was a slow and hazy jumble, with the relentless pulse of the music numbing my brain out of consciousness. She took a sip of her drink, then traced my fingers with hers on the shiny, black table top. My eyes closed and I gave myself over fully to her whisper-like touch.
I became aware of three more drinks on the table, my rum and Coke and two glasses of wine. I wondered if she’d ordered an extra or was going to have me try it. Not after all my rum and Cokes.
And then a woman appeared in the chair next to her. The extra wine wasn’t for me or Feather Tattoo, and I snorted a laugh, hoping she hadn’t noticed how out of it I was. I hovered over the drink in front of me, lining the straw up with my mouth so I didn’t poke myself in the eye, and then peered up at the second woman.
She sat a little taller than me. Her hair was short, like an attorney or CPA, and her eyes narrowed on me, seductive, but like an eagle ready to swoop down and grab its prey. I couldn’t hear when she spoke, so I leaned my head toward hers, inhaling the linen scent of her perfume, as I waited for her words. Instead, she kissed me on the mouth, so soft and so gentle, I gave way without an ounce of hesitation, melting into her and tasting the wine that lingered on her tongue. I giggled. Maybe the wine was for me, after all.
Feather Tattoo’s hand crept higher up my thigh and massaged my crotch through my jeans, and when I turned to her again, her lips were also waiting for me. Surrounded, I gave in fully. Every problem I had fell away, and I floated on a wave of warmth and pleasure, feeling safe for the first time in forever.
Two
Earlier Wednesday night:
The club, called Spinners for some unknown reason, was in the basement of a building a block off the main street downtown. It felt odd being there so early, with indirect sunlight streaming into the giant room and music at half its usual level. The only other people were a couple of older men sitting side by side at the bar stools, drinking but not talking, and the bartender, who was stocking and cleaning up for the Wednesday night crowd, if that was a thing. He glanced up at me and kept on with his work, so I avoided the bar and found a table near the window with a half-empty glass sitting on it. I hoisted myself onto a tall chair and swirled the melted ice cubes around, figuring it would be a good cover until I could find someone to buy me a drink. I didn’t want the bartender to think I was some homeless derelict using the bar for a hangout.
The window gave a close-up view of the sidewalk and the dozens of ankles and shoes passing by. I made a game of guessing what the person they were attached to looked like and tried not to think about my dire circumstances.
“Hey, what can I get you?” The bartender smiled at me. His hair was straw-colored, and he looked more like a farmer than a bartender, despite his tight muscle tee and earring.
“Nothing right now, I don’t want to get started too early. When do people start showing up? I’ve never been at the bar before nine. Or mid-week, either.”
“Tonight’s ladies’ night, so there may be a good turnout, but not for a couple of hours. Here, let me clear this.” He reached to take the glass and wipe off the table.
“Oh, that’s okay.” I grabbed the glass.
He wiped the table anyway and stood back. “Don’t fall asleep waiting, okay? We have to ask people to leave if they’re sleeping.”
The guy had my number.
“Okay.”
I continued my ankles-and-shoes game for a while, pulled my phone out, and pretended to surf the internet. I was lucky my phone was the one thing my parents still paid for, but they’d cut the data plan a long time ago. There was no Wi-Fi within range, so I scrolled through my contacts. Not one person I felt like I could call.
What the hell am I going to do?
I hopped down from my perch, swiped a cocktail napkin and pen from the bar, and started outlining my meager assets. If I gave my landlord a couple hundred and begged for an extension, maybe I could get another job and make next month’s rent. If I parked my car a block or two away from home, maybe the repo man wouldn’t be able to find it. I could catch the insurance up, at least for a couple of weeks. The electricity bill was low, so I could take care of it. That would leave about forty-three dollars, plus the emergency twenty in my pocket. But that would have to cover food, gas, and incidentals until I got another paycheck, and I still had no job, so there was no telling when said paycheck would come.
Arrrgggh.
I was considering going home and trying to sneak into my apartment when a cute college girl came in with a couple of friends. Her hair was dyed dark red, with strands hanging down one side, and she was telling her friends some crazy story, her arms flailing in the air to emphasize some point or other. After a few more customers had come and gone, I took my borrowed glass and sat down next to the pool table. Before long, the girl and her friends came over to play.
They put their drinks on the table next to mine and collected their cues and some chalk. “Hey, we could use a fourth. You want to play? I’m covering it.”
“Sure. Not for money, though. I’m kinda broke.”
“Oh, yeah, just for fun. Hi, I’m Kim. This is Evie and Jon.”
“Hey,” they said.
“Hi. I’m Alicia.”
I found a decent cue and joined them. The next time the farmer/bartender came around, Kim offered to get me “another” drink, and he shot me a nod of appreciation. We shot pool for about an hour and gave up the table to another group of players. We picked a table near the dance floor, where one lone dancer was swaying in wide sweeps, probably higher than hell. Evie and Jon sat close together, chatting a mile a minute like teenagers. Kim plopped down next to me, and we watched the lone dancer shake it down.
“Still too early for sane people to dance,” I said.
“I don’t know; I’m feeling pretty good.” Kim had bought two rounds of rum and Coke for us. I’m kind of a lightweight, so I was starting to fly a bit.
“We were thinking about going to this bar around the corner. Their music is better, and it’s not so claustrophobic.”
I wanted to go, but I was worried about getting home drunk from some other place I wasn’t familiar with. I could easily find my way home from Spinners. “I’ll have to pass on that.”
“Too bad,” she said, as she walked her fingers down my arm and strutted away. Before she got too far, she belted out, Rolling Stones’ style, “Good ta meet you, hope you guess my name! Hah!”
I laughed as I watched her pay the bar tab and lead her entourage outside. Moments later, a third rum and Coke arrived à la Kim, and I nursed it for the better part of an hour, watching the dancers and getting buzzed, until Feather Tattoo found me.
Three
Iwoke up the next morning in a strange bed.
The air smelled like perfume, not the Chinese food from next door, and a slight, cool breeze was coming in through the window somewhere behind me. The room felt airy and light, nothing like my claustrophobic studio apartment.
Who did I go home with?
My head was muddled, and it physically hurt to concentrate on the night before, so I gave up trying.
The bed next to me was empty. All my clothes were still on, and my body felt normal-ish. I wiggled my feet. My shoes were off.
When I finally opened my eyes, they fell on about the last thing I would have expected—a stained glass window. I sat up and memorized the room in case I needed to call the police, find a weapon, or something. The bed was queen size and covered with soft linens and an expensive duvet cover. Unless I wanted to smother somebody, the only possible weapon was a small table, one that used to hold a phone, I think, over by the door. My wallet and keys were lying on top of it. I got up and grabbed my wallet, rifled through it, and found everything was there (including the ATM card that would allow me access to the last bit of money I had in this world).
The closet was cavernous but empty. The rug was beige and high-pile, like from a fancy, older hotel. In fact, the room had the same feel as one I’d been in back in Colorado.
I was in a corner room. The back window’s view was blocked by a tall bush, and the other looked out over the front yard. The room was on the second floor of a house in a residential area, but I was pretty sure downtown was only a couple of miles to the South.
What is this place?
I listened carefully but heard nothing, so I turned the tiny crystal doorknob and poked my head outside. The hallway was longer than the one at my apartment building, with a couple of alcoves for who knows what, and a sitting area in front of a bay window at the end. There were several doors on either side of the hallway, presumably going to bedrooms and a bathroom.
I stepped out and crept down the staircase, which creaked about every third step, and into the giant living room. I’d never been in a place like this. I toured a mansion once on a school field trip, but that was a museum. People didn’t live there.
The living room centered around a humongous fireplace on one side of the room and a panel window with built-in window seats, enough for a dozen or more butts, on the other side. The walls were expensive wood paneling, and the carpet was a deep blue, like they have in the White House or capital buildings.
The front door was old-fashioned and large. It had four panels and curlicues at each corner. The bay window looked out over the front porch, sparsely decorated with a few plant stands, and beyond that, a front lawn that sloped down toward the street.
As my toes curled into the impossibly soft carpet, I realized, once again, my shoes were gone. I considered going back upstairs and checking under the bed, but before I could decide, a voice called to me from the other room.
“Good morning, hon! You sleep okay?”
Around the corner, a woman was stirring a large pot on the stove, swishing around some broth, noodles, and herbs. She had on a thin tank top and women’s boxer shorts underneath an open red Oriental print robe that twirled with her movements. When she turned and smiled at me, she looked familiar, but I couldn’t come up with her name.
“Uh, yeah.”
Without thinking, I migrated to the long dining room table next to the kitchen and took a seat.
“You were pretty wasted.” She ladled a large bowl of the soup and sat it on the placemat in front of me. “Here, this’ll get you walking upright again.”
“I don’t think I can …” I was afraid the odor would make me nauseous after my binge drinking, but the broth base reached my nose and I was suddenly hungry. “My stomach is kind of floopy. You know, from all the rum and Cokes.”
“Oh, yeah. You really were really out of it. Pearl and I had to almost drag you upstairs. We were afraid you might stumble down the stairs in the night, but you were so far gone, I figured you’d sleep on through. Glad you’re okay.” She took two fingers and swept my loose hair behind my ear and looked down at me with approval. Then she bent down and took my earlobe between her lips and ran her tongue over it.
I got a chill down my back, and my clit stood at attention. “Whoa. Where’d that come from?”
“You don’t like it? You don’t remember last night?”
“No. Did we, uh …?”
“We made out. You, me, and Pearl. We had fun, that’s all. You were so messed up, we couldn’t leave you at the bar. They would’ve put you in the drunk tank, or worse.”
“Shit.”
Some of it was coming back to me—the bartender, playing pool, meeting the red head. A flash of a rainbow-feathered breast and a hand on my thigh. My face blazed red, and I couldn’t look her in the eye. Right there on her chest was the rainbow feather tattoo, and a rush of feelings came over me. Desperation, comfort, desire. She and Pearl had been so kind to me, but I still didn’t know how far I could trust them.
“I’m sorry. I hope I wasn’t an asshole. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me. I should probably go, though. I have to do some job searches. I’ve got a lot to do, actually.”
“You should probably eat that.” She set out a small plate of greens and sprouts. “These go great in there. It’s pho. It will settle your stomach, and it’s great hangover food.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” I didn’t want to be rude, so I emptied the plate into the bowl and waited for the veggies to soften.
“So, what kind of work do you do?”
“Retail, mostly. I’ve worked in a warehouse before, but my last job was at a department store. I don’t have any education. I mean, I’m not stupid, I just haven’t made time for college yet. I sucked at school, so I don’t know if I ever will go to college. What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?” I slurped up some broth and began working my way through the sprouts and greens.
“Well, it’s kind of complicated. I work online, and I’m a host of sorts; sometimes a group facilitator.”
“Like at a hotel? Is this a hotel or a bed and breakfast?” The shelves in the back of the kitchen were stocked with a ton of cans and boxes of food.
“Not exactly. Like I said, it’s complicated.” She turned the heat on the stove down on low. “Have you ever done any escort work?”
That took me aback. What was this place? I finished the pho and brought the bowl over to the sink. “Thank you.”
“No offense. It’s a legitimate question, but you don’t have to answer.”
“No. I mean, I’m not a prude, but I don’t like men, and I’m not that loose. You must have gotten the wrong impression of me. I’m not really into the threesome thing. I mean, you and …”
“Pearl.”
“Yes, Pearl … are nice. I was out of it last night because I lost my job. I’m in a real bind because I have no money and nobody to ask for help.”
“What if we could help you?”
“I don’t know. I’m not really into that. And I don’t want to feel like I’m owned by anyone. No offense.”
“None taken. You seemed really comfortable with me and Pearl last night. Don’t you think you should know what we’re offering before you say no?”
This was going from weird to weirder fast. Between last night at the bar and being in this place, nothing was making sense to me. The dining room table probably cost more than everything I own. What the hell would I have to offer them?
“Um, I better go.”
“Okay, your choice.” She smiled. “Your shoes and jacket are in the mud room. If you go two streets that way,” she pointed, “that will bring you to Harrison Boulevard, which leads to downtown. “Look, I feel bad that you’re upset. Here take this.” She handed me a bag stuffed with a sandwich, chips, and a huge apple. I gave her a quizzical look. “It’s the mom side of me.” She shrugged.
