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When two male patrons stumbled out of Babette’s on shaky knees, they sneered under Sevika’s neutral, grey gaze. Not regulars from what she could tell, else they’d exercise more caution behind those upturned snouts and puffed out chests. All in all, the interaction didn’t faze her but did make her shake her head as she stepped into the brothel.
The lobby glowed a gentle crimson. A stick of lavender incense burned on an ornamental stand on a corner shelf. Giggling and half-faked moans echoed from the back rooms. The usual heady ambiance, one Sevika had grown to find familiar and comforting, one that made her mouth water the second she entered its embrace.
The Yordle Madame was decidedly missing from her front desk perch, in her place a young, human male with dark curls barely reaching his brows. When he looked up, he nearly did a double take.
“S-Sevika?”
“Miguel.”
“You’re here…? Today?”
“Yes,” she deadpanned, leaning in. “Now fuck off and go get your boss.”
Without another word, Miguel power walked to the back. It took less than a minute before Babette padded up to the front to greet Sevika.
“My favorite client. You are…” Babette wet her thumb and flipped through the large leather-bound schedule book. “…four days early.” She furrowed her brows. “Or did you need to see me in my office to talk?”
Sevika rested her bronze forearm on the desk. “Don’t need intel. I need a break. Silco’s been riding my ass the whole week.”
“Well, good, because it’s been unusually quiet lately. Not that I mind. But that, uh… problem you took care of over a month ago sure was a loudmouth.”
A former client and troublemaker who thought he could get away with shortchanging a worker and trying to put his hands on her. Sevika reveled in stalking him down the street and beating his ass within an inch of his life. Luck would have it that she was there to begin with considering Silco’s business association with Babette’s, but it wouldn’t have mattered; she’d have done it regardless whether the girls asked or not. All she needed was a description and time.
“You do look a little worse for wear, hun. More so than usual. I’m sure the girls will be more than happy to remedy that. And to thank you for that… incident.”
Sevika grunted. “Who’s available now?”
“Give me one tick.” Babette flipped through the book once more, mumbling to herself.
A door whispered open and shut in the background. Sevika glanced up and caught one of the lingerie-clad girls tiptoeing out. She was curvy, light-brown complexion and impossibly dark hair, with a smattering of freckles decorating her shoulders and a six-inch burn scar marring her right shoulder blade. An intricately carved grey wolf mask covered her face, one that she was aiming to move before she focused on the front desk.
She tilted her head. “Sevika?”
The mask gave her away instantly. Sevika remembered her from their second appointment a few weeks ago—the mischievous transplant who spoke before she thought. New at Babette’s. She was energetic and excitable, always eager to learn and submit. Her more haughty clients thought her inexperienced and easily pliable. She wasn’t. Years of delicate practice colored her every touch and kiss; Sevika herself had enough experience on the receiving end to tell. And by Janna did she know how to use that fucking tongue of hers.
“Ahh, look who it is,” Babette continued. “Lupe was just finishing up her break. She’s free now if you want her.”
Lupe sauntered over to Sevika who rose to greet her properly.
“Hi, Sevika,” she purred, slinking around until she latched herself on Sevika’s right arm. Her nails tickled Sevika’s bicep.
Sevika gave her a slow once-over, wetting her lips over the woman’s barely-contained tits. “Who else is free?”
Babette turned a page. “Only Xu and Harley for now. You… want all three? With your usual?”
“Yeah. All three. Two hours this time.”
Babette cocked a brow. “Guess Silco really did do a number on you this week.” She penned in the booking. “Okay. You’re set. Two hours with the girls. Let them know if you need more time. Ruby room is unoccupied downstairs.”
Ruby room, the biggest available with the largest bed. Naturally.
Lupe squeezed Sevika’s arm and pulled her towards the back. “C'mon. I’ll get you set up and get the other girls. You know they miss you, right? You haven’t been around the last few weeks.”
“Do they now?”
Sevika ducked her head as she descended the creaking staircase to the basement. The air was a touch cooler but the headiness still hung heavy. Though it was early in the day for the brothel, a handful of rooms were occupied with new whispers, gagged screams, and leather smacks to accompany them.
Lupe led Sevika to the back corner room and sat her on the sofa. Sevika relaxed into it, spread her arms across the back of it, and sighed. She shut her eyes, grunting in acknowledgment when Lupe said she’d be back.
The past week flashed through her mind. Whatever stick Silco had shoved up his ass had been lodged in there too far. Probably little Jinx grinding his nerves on top of the anxiety of closing the next few shimmer deals. Every minor detail was scrutinized and grounds for some form of snippy, backhanded remark or reprimand like Sevika was a goddamned child. She had far too much patience for her own good sometimes. Useful for keeping her own anger issues in check, but not so when even Ran had to verbally knock some sense into her in private. Yesterday, she finally had enough. One sassy comment and she snapped back at Silco until he adjusted his tie, half-apologized, and shut his mouth for the rest of the day.
Outside of today’s earlier business, he left her alone, so she took the rest of the day off. Hell, she’ll probably take tomorrow off too. Catch up on sleep or something. She deserved it after closing his deals and enduring his crybaby bullshit, and there was nothing of importance to worry about for at least the next three business days.
She thanked the universe when the Ruby room’s door opened and shut again. Three bodies loomed into view when her eyes creaked open, every one as delectable as the last. Each claimed a spot on the sofa—Xu nestled at her right, Harley tucked into her left, and Lupe between her spread legs, no mask.
Xu’s striped tail tickled Sevika’s fingertips. She grazed her claws from Sevika’s thigh up to the clasp of her poncho, undoing it as she dragged her fangs past Sevika’s jaw to whisper in her deep, sultry voice. “Hey, Sevikaaa.”
The poncho changed hands over to Harley, who folded it and set it aside for later. Submissive and demanding, she emboldened Xu’s possessiveness, attaching her own full lips to Sevika’s neck. “Mmm… we missed you, Sevika.” Her words released in an attempted purr that likely gave Xu a run for her money and a reason to roll her feline eyes.
Lupe cupped Sevika’s chin. Her thumb feathered over the arcane cracks, the softness sending shocks down Sevika’s spine. “I told yooouuuu.”
Sevika scoffed. She relaxed further into the couch save for the occasional twitch from Xu and Harley’s eager, roaming hands around her now-exposed torso and—when the hell did they undo her shirt?
“Please. You only miss me ‘cause I tip well.”
“You do tip well,” Xu chimed in. “In more ways than one.”
Sevika had a quip fired and ready to go, but the words died in her throat when Harley traced her happy trail down to muss the hair between her legs.
“Oooh, look who’s sensitive today,” Harley sang. “Betcha gonna make the two hours worth it?”
“Keep talking and I’ll make you tap out first.”
“So, what do you want to start with, Sevika? Massage sound good?” Lupe asked, a twinkle in her emerald eyes.
“Massage sounds perfect.”
The ladies immediately took to their roles—Xu slow undressing while Lupe and Harley prepared the bed and toys.
Babette had even said as much once. That the girls genuinely liked her and missed her on occasion. Flattering as it was, Sevika never took much stock into it. It was dangerous territory, succumbing to the siren song of the “girlfriend experience” that made most regulars question their life decisions. Entertainment and comfort was part of their job. Still, she’d eavesdropped on plenty of hushed conversations between client and worker on her visits—fake giggles to feigned hobby interest and everything in between. None of them ever spoke to her in the same manner, in the same faux-flirty lilt engineered to wrench out extra tips.
Luck, perhaps.
The notion lit a small flame in her core, though. For all the shit she endured, perhaps it eased her enough to know that somewhere in the dark streets of the Lanes she called home that someone—or some few—appreciated her presence and existence.
For once.