- 7 -
The dogfolk receptionist holds the curtain as I step forward. There’s a small, office-like room on the other side. I notice there are no other doorways aside from the way we came in.
The office’s maroon wallpaper is dark but soothing; it draws attention to the large desk that takes up most of the room. There isn’t much decoration other than a small tapestry on the wall and a spherical crystal ball that rests on a taloned stand in the center of the desk. The décor is simple but professional. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
“Mistress Arlin,” the receptionist coos behind me. “I’ve got a new client for you.”
“Come in.” The boisterous voice belongs to an avian woman. Her white feather hair is slicked back, hugging close to her neck and shoulders before it dips beneath the high collar of her dress.
Mistress Arlin takes a piece of paper from the receptionist, then dismisses her with a nod. Her sharp hawk eyes swing to me, observing me with a piercing gaze through the pair of golden spectacles resting on her beak. My nerves spike—I have to resist the urge to itch beneath my collar.
This is not the kind of heat I was anticipating when I came to a brothel! What in Illustria’s name is she going to do to me?
“Have a seat, dear.” Mistress Arlin sweeps a hand with carefully manicured talons to a wide leather chair. “I’m afraid admin isn’t the sexy part, but we’re among the top pleasure houses in the Queendom for a reason. We keep things up to code here—nothing but the best for our clients and our courtesans. I trust you understand.” Her eyes flash to the paper in her hand. “Miss Lex Tinders, is it?”
“Yes,” I quickly lower myself into a leather chair in front of the desk. I’m not quite sure what to do with my hands, so I squeeze them together in my lap.
“A pleasure. Now, Miss Tinders.” Mistress Arlin taps a claw against the crystal on the desk. With a low humming sound, the cloudy interior of the stone begins to shift. I try not to stare too hard at it, but as the various facets inside catch the light, it’s hard to look away.
“If you’re not familiar with them,” Mistress Arlin says, “this is an honesty crystal. The skies within mirror the skies of your heart. It’s a gentle and non-invasive way to make sure everyone within the house is here for the same reasons. That way, we can focus on the fun. So long as you speak your truth, the skies will remain clear and the doors of the brothel, as well as the legs of the courtesans inside, will be open to you.”
Her phrasing catches me off guard—Mistress Arlin looks more rigid than I feel, and that’s certainly not the type of language I expected to fall from those sharp lips. Then again, even if she’s some kind of administrator, she’s also an employee of the pleasure house. The realization helps me to set aside some of my doubts.
“Ah, okay. I see.”
I lean forward. Within the curved stone of the crystal, the cloudy interior is grouping into bubble-like shapes that resemble clouds. Hints of a pale blue are slowly becoming visible between the patches of wispy white. It really does look like the sky.
Mistress Arlin continues, “You are free to say no or to refuse to answer, but doing so will prevent you from entering the establishment. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
With a smile, she pushes the spectacles up her nose and unravels a scroll.
“Now then. The Sapphic Satyr is a pleasure house run by women to serve the women of Lastonia. Our courtesans are here by choice, and have the final say in taking clients at any given time. Both clients and courtesans alike reserve the right to halt an appointment if they deem necessary. The brothel does not permit the use of conceptive spells on the premise.” She taps a claw against the crystal. The slowly-forming shapes begin to swirl in a clockwise motion. She looks at me over her spectacles. “Do you agree to follow the house rules and that you will respect the courtesans, staff, and fellow guests?”
“Yes,” I reply.
Within the crystal, the patches of white disperse. The stone takes on a rich blue color.
“Excellent.” The feathers around Mistress Arlin’s neck puff up before settling back down against her shoulders. “Everything is in proper order. You are free to proceed, dear.”
That’s it? I release a breath and sink into the leather of my chair. That wasn’t so bad. Seems like they really do take care of both their guests and their courtesans.
Mistress Arlin tucks the paper with my information on it and the scroll back into the desk. She straightens up with a smile. “Allow me to officially wish you a warm welcome, Miss Tinders. You may head back to reception. Bella will bring you to the lounge to meet the courtesans.”
At the word ‘courtesan’ the tension comes shooting back up my body.
That’s right.
The mundane paperwork distracted me, but with the real reason I’m here brought back to the spotlight, the nerves that were just starting to settle kick up again.
“Are you alright?” Mistress Arlin pauses, one hand on the desk. The strict lines of her brow furrow as she assesses me. “You look a little pale.”
“Yes,” I reply and stand up.
If I back out now, I doubt I’ll ever work up the courage to try again.
“Absolutely fine.” I smile back at Mistress Arlin. “Just a little nervous, is all.”
Mistress Arlin tilts her head to the side, then shakes her feathers.
“No need to be nervous!” she says. The feathers around her neck puff up again, this time swelling to almost twice their normal size. She practically radiates pride. “The courtesans here are exquisitely trained. Their talents for pleasure and seductive hospitality fulfill every desire. I am confident you will leave pleased, dear.”
Whatever happens, she’s right about that—I’ll be happy when it’s time to go home.
Mistress Arlin steps around the desk. Long tail feathers trail like ribbons behind her.
She lifts the curtain and steps to the side.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Farewell, Miss Tinders,” Mistress Arlin says as she extends her feathered arm to the lobby. “I wish you a pleasurable time at The Sapphic Satyr.”
