Bad Blood

Chapter 9 - Carnal Sins

"Get on your feet, girl. Now," Solona heard the merciless order and she tried to get on her bloody, swollen feet filled with watery blisters. She had fallen for the tenth time that day in those ridiculously high-heeled shoes and she couldn't tell how many times her ankles splayed. She was surprised they didn't break.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Walking in the room back and forth in endless circles. A book of poems in her hand, reciting, another on her head, balancing to not fall.

"I can't," she sobbed. "It hurts."

Madame Chaudron with an annoyed sigh stood up from her spacious velvet sofa, putting her long brass pipe on the mahogany end table. Her high heels knocked on the polished floorboard, every step louder than the last one. Slow, calculated steps. This was worse than if she had stomped like a furious gavel on the judge's podium to demand order. Solona couldn't look up, just stared at the wood grains on the floorboard and listened to the steps of the madame, rhythmical like the beatings of a heart. The black leather boots stopped before her and manicured fingers grasped her chin and lifted her face to look at her.

"You've endured bigger pain than this, dear," she began. She smiled. Always smiled. It was soothing and candied from the distance but as someone got closer it felt like a snarl of a wolf, ready to devour. Solona was always close to her. "Some of the men have simple needs. A company, some glazed word, a soothing touch, while others have a more exquisite or exotic taste. You'll have to satisfy every need. It shouldn't be unfamiliar for you," The woman's hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her into standing. Solona yelped. It was hurtful. Her swollen ankles barely held her, but her fear was much bigger than her pain. Suddenly, dreadful memories flooded and she tried to hush them away immediately. That small and helpless girl died.

"Why?" Solona risked the question. She saw Madame Chaudron's glance hardening.

"Do I really need to explain it again, dear?" she sighed. She released her wrists and swept the stray locks from her face, the soaked tresses stuck to her face. The move was gentle and caring, still, Solona's muscles tensed as if the woman held a knife to her throat. "This is your only weapon, dear. Your words, your gestures, your moves. Use them well. You have to make an impression. You have to make them only see you from the very first moment you enter."

"I thought I had to make them remember-" the smacking sound of the slap lingered in the thick, perfumed air of the boudoir. The trace of the woman's fingers was angry red on Solona's freckled skin.

"They have to notice you to remember you, stupid girl," her voice was calm like a purr, still intimidating. "You have only one chance."

Madame Chaudron reached out for the books on the floor and handed them to Solona. For a few moments she just stared at the heavy, and frowzy book, then she raised her eyes on the madame, her eyes glinting. "What if I don't want to make an impression?"

She braced herself for another hit, but it never came. Madame Chaudron just smiled as released the books, let them fall, and scatter them on the floor. "Then you can leave, return to your life if you have ever had one." The woman turned away from her striding back to the sofa and sat down. She lit her pipe again, drawing a breath, observing the girl through the thick, fragranced smoke. Solona's eyes fixed on the opened books lying on the floor. She was silent.

Madame Chaudron chuckled, it was sharp on her skin like needles pierced her. "You have nowhere to go, dear, do you?" Solona felt the tears gathering in her eyes. She gulped and squeezed her eyes. She promised herself to not cry ever again. "You can go, you are free as a bird. But you have nobody to care for you, nowhere to go, and most likely ending up in a low-run dive bar, tapping beer or selling your body to drunken nobodies, or you can stay here and let me teach you. I can give you the whole world, if you let me, dear. The choice is yours ."