Piece Simul ✔

Chapter 55-Guin-Lady Marmalade

--B.T.L.: Before the Launch

--Dura-Chamber Archive Scan * 032211

Hours later, Guin stumbled down a set of basement stairs barefoot. She had dolled up for the party, and had pre-gamed with whiskey as well. She was properly smashed and maskless. The frat boys denounced masks, as they were for "pussies."

"Leighton!" she whispered. "Turn the lights on!"

A small yellow light lit up below. "Thanks, babe! I'm so tired." She clung to the railing, taking each step like it was her first time.

Up ahead, a man asked, "Isn't this your first time?"

She must've been talking out loud. "First time for what?"

At the bottom of the steps, she met a stranger. A naked stranger. Within a few minutes of breathless contact, he convinced her to de-clothe and slide underneath his body. The way he seemed to want her was so easy. She needed that. Earlier that day, she could never have imagined it. Given the events, and her liquored brain, sleeping with a rando seemed like a fine idea.

Just as suddenly as he warmed her, Guin was left cold and shivering on the mattress. She rolled over to find her phone, but crumpled paper instead. She opened her hand, and out tumbled a few bills. Nothing substantial, (not even a small skyscraper), but it was a week's worth of groceries. Or tuition.

Guin's first drunken impulse was to call the man and tell him he forgot his money. Then she had two thoughts: screw him (twice over), and the money was hers.

And so began her new side-job.

Sure, she wasn't above a sexual favor or two to get what she wanted. But the process had never before been so...formal. Now, there was an act, and a tangible transaction. Part of her had buried the favors from high school, categorizing them as youthful rebellion. It would be hard to bury this. At the same time, she praised her business initiative. She wasn't a slut. She was a sex-worker.

Mamasan would be proud.

Without volunteer hours, and still needing to meet the 20% portion of her tuition, she attended several parties. Each time, she got as drunk as the first time, to minimize the amount of memories retained afterward. Leighton had stopped calling her weeks ago, and she stopped caring the first night. She was getting by, the job was simple, and the clients kept coming.

Ha, coming.

"What's so funny?" the newest stranger asked in between kisses.

"Nothing," she said, and got to work.

The busar's office sent her a notice: tuition was due in a week. They also sent her a warning about her grades, which were slipping. She beat down what little pride she had left and called Caldwell, who wired a partial payment. The rest, he reminded her, was on her. Oh, it certainly was.

The strangers always snuck out right away, and she remembered little about what they looked like. Their bodies were mottled, their faces even more so. Once she focused on what was in front of her, and a white bush of pubic hair stared back. She didn't pay attention after that.

Three months in, a girl approached her, "Wanna get out of here? I know somewhere better, less crowded."

"I'm not that drunk yet. Maybe later," Guin said, actually considering it.

But what she wanted had to wait. The basement couldn't wait.

~*~

She clomped her way downstairs.

"Anybody there?" she asked.

"I am, sweetheart," the stranger said.

Of course someone was there. The pretense was part of the game. She pretended to be a drunk party girl

(Not too far off)

and they pretended she wanted them. Who the game benefited the most, she couldn't be sure.

Tonight, the man's voice immediately put Guin off. The way he said sweetheart...she lingered on the last step, about to go back up.

"C'mere," he urged.

She pictured walking across the stage in a cap and gown, accepting a diploma, none of which would happen without the other 20%. Still, that seemed so far away now. Guin had stopped taking Janis's calls months ago. The only path she could see was directly in front of her. Or, as she continued stepping, she reminded herself that it was directly below her.

"Just goin' slow so I don't fall, mister," she trilled.

Head down, feet shufflin', she fell into the arms of another stranger. He pulled her chin up, and dropped her on the bed.

"The fuck?" he yelled, except he was her father.

The mixed drinks she had downed clawed their way back up. "What are you doing here?" Guin asked.

Though the earth tilted, she gripped the bed, hoping the scenario was a nightmare, or a cruel joke.

"What am I doing here?" His face flushed bright red, and he looked everywhere but at her face. "You're the one who's not supposed to be here." Before she could respond, he said, "If this is how you think you're paying for your part of the tuition, think again. I'm not paying for you to be a whore!"

"Dad!" She made it halfway off the bed, but he slapped her, hard, and she stayed down.

Secretly, she was glad he had hit her. The sting of the slap woke her up.

Her appreciation quickly dissolved as she remembered the expectant tone when he'd said sweetheart. She sobbed, but another sensation overrode the misery. She dove for a bowl on the side of the bed, and her shame shot out in hot, shuddering chunks.

The bed dipped, and someone handed her a towel, then a bottled water. She couldn't look at them, fearing it was her father, fearing it wasn't, fearing they might see the entire night etched onto her face.

"Do you wanna go now?"

The voice belonged to a girl. When Guin checked, she saw it was the same girl that had propositioned her before.

"Please, just leave," Guin sniffed.

She slid to the other side of the bed, but the girl slid too, pressed on with an invitation: "I know a place that's better than this. It's safer, and you won't run into anyone you know." She cleared her throat. "Plus, you'll come out of it with a career. And if you keep your grades up, tuition will be paid for. Whaddya say?"

The offer sounded half-decent, but Guin was in no mood to digest it. "Go away."

"What else are you gonna do for money?"

She thought about Leighton, her botched volunteer job, her failing grades, and at the end of all that, she thought about her father. She couldn't ever face him again, and the 80% he promised was a no-go. If her dream of being independent was to happen, she had to make it happen.

"What's your name?" Guin asked, wiping her tears.

"I'm Sandi."

"Hi Sandi, I'm Guin. What's this safe place called?"

"The Institute." Sandi smiled.

Guin liked her, even trusted her. The dream could happen, so long as she worked hard. If anything, Guin was a fast learner.