Verisimilitude

Fina walked gracefully up the stairs to her room to finish getting ready for her evening. She had just left the baths and smelled of lavender and rose. She’d spent an hour combing her hair and putting it up in an artful swirl at the back of her head, while leaving a few careful strands across her shoulders. She wore traditional white lunar elf robes that held painted images of trees near water populated with lilies. Tonight was a special night for her — she had her first customer of the Spring Celebration.

This holiday wasn’t just popular locally. It also drew patrons for many miles around to take part in the festivities of the town. Partaking meant business for Blackwell’s ladies, as well. Lady Blackwell had informed Fina that her patron tonight was a handsome Avonian who was older but not yet middle aged. Fina knew it was always noblemen that afforded the luxury of traveling so far to be with them and that meant rich, refined; a gentleman. She was always excited to meet gentlemen.

She met him in the lounge. He was indeed tall, dark, and handsome for a human. Even through his rich, loose clothes, she could tell he was strong and well muscled. She put on her most sultry smile, took his hand in both of hers and kissed his fingers. “Welcome, my lord,” she said. He gave her cool smile and let her guide him up the sweeping, carpeted staircase to the second floor. Her room was at the end of the hall that ended with a window. Silvery moonlight beamed through that window and leant the hall an almost hallowed feel. She knew how the silvery light lit up her pale hair, how it made her skin practically glow.

He paid more attention to her breasts and hips than her carefully painted lips and powdered nose, or her carefully chosen robes or painstakingly made hair. Although slightly disappointed, Fina was okay with that. He’d paid for pleasure tonight and different men found some things more attractive than others. She was happy that he found something about her he liked, even if they were only things she was born with, not things she’d developed with art and style and skill.

She led him into her room and then quietly shut the door. Then she came to him, traced the curve of his powerful pectoral muscles.

“I’m yours for the entire night,” she said with a seductive smile. “We can do anything you like. I’m talented as a masseuse,  as well as twenty –”

“Quiet.”

Fina blinked. “My lord? Would you like –”

“I would like you to be quiet.”

Hard, brown eyes pinned her to the door. Fina’s teeth clicked when she shut her mouth, and she blinked at him. He looked at her coolly as he unbuttoned his shirt. After he undressed, he motioned her to come to him with a wave of his hand, and then with a quick pull at the soft, cloth belt holding her robes together, he untied her robes. He pushed the satiny material off her shoulders and let it fall in a pile around her feet.

Her eyes looked questions at him, but he wasn’t interested. He took her, pressing his mouth hard into hers and pushing her against the wall. To Fina the kiss felt taken from her, rather than shared with her.

When he was ready, he put her on the bed and he took his fill of her. The only passion he showed her was in that moment when he took what she had offered, and what she offered had been what he’d paid for.

It didn’t take very long, though it was longer than it was for some. He was finished inside her in no more than a third of an hour. Though he had her for the night, he seemed to have little further use for her. He merely went to sleep and so left her to clean up or not as she would.

When Fina returned, she lay in bed next to the man who’d used her as a common whore wondering what she’d done wrong. He’d paid for her time and had her for a night, so she laid next to him. He seemed to find that acceptable.

She lay awake a long time that night, feeling she’d failed, but eventually remembered other women who worked for Blackwell talking about men like him. It hadn’t made sense to her before, but now she understood. It was men like him they liked less than even those who were abusive. His kind treated them as nothing more than a warm body to be used and then cast aside; truly just a whore. There was nothing glamorous about it, nor anything really pleasant for her at all. It left her feeling worth less than the silver he’d paid, like less than a person.

She rolled over on her side to stare at the stars that shined through her open window and tried not to cry.

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