The Siren's Deception part 2
The sailors bunked at the The Fo'c's'le were mostly out till late, so it was easy to catch Mirabelle Monet for a private chat.
No rooms available, unfortunately, and she repeated her mantra to me about sailors only. That was all right with me as I was really there for information about Signy, Faustina, and Gweden Farm, and asking about a room was just an ice-breaker.
She had a funny look on her face when I asked, and halfway through telling me about how Gweden Farm used to be Gweden Cathouse. There was an agreement with the owner, Tsarrina, Mirabelle didn't cater to locals. Which suited her fine because she had enough clients and she didn't want trouble from wives anyway. Sailors were typically either unmarried or had plausible deniability of any wives back at their home parts.
"Are you sure I'm not boring you?" she asked again.
"What makes you ask?"
Mirabelle narrowed her eyes and had a sly smile. "You weren't sent by Maelona, or Gogan?"
"Who? No, I'm new in town," I replied honestly.
After a while sizing me up, she finally said, "So you are. I'd look them up, if I were you. The Anvil Watch can direct you, if that tells you something."
"Humph. The Watch needs a patsy."
"You're a bright one. You'll figure it out. Or you can ask around. It's common knowledge, really. Why come all the way here to ask me? I'm a whore and I'd know about other whores?"
"I--"
"My dear, I'm a whore. I admit it. I had the looks for it, and I'm not picky, so it was easy money. My looks are gone but I'm easy, so it's still easy money," she laughed.
"I don't know..." I said, and gently caressed her cheek. "I think you're a fine vintage and can only get better."
"Aren't you sweet. But don't try to manipulate me," she grinned.
"I'm being sincere," I insisted. I took her hand and kissed the back of it.
And honestly, I was being sincere. Mirabelle was past middle age (how do I always find the cougars?) but still handsome and had pride in her appearance. Ten years ago, she would have been drop-dead gorgeous no matter what her station in life.
It was a little sad to see how this boarding house was all she had. I do think she willingly chose this career, very possibly for the reason she said -- it was easy. I also imagine she'd had some regrets. And maybe some misfortunes along the way if this career hadn't been kinder to her financially. Nevertheless, she held her head high, and had a confidence and noble dignity about her.
"I don't know what's happened to Tsarrina to make her send her girls out like this. Signy's really a sweetheart, but girls like her have had heartache in her past. Faustina's very bitter. She's lost, that one. Be careful -- she's got nothing left to lose. ... There, I've probably said too much. Remember -- I never told you any of this."
Mirabelle got up to leave, having given me the scoop on the girls, which I was certain I wouldn't have gotten anywhere else. But I wasn't going to let her off so easily.
"What about you?" I asked, and placed my hand over hers.
"Me?"
"Where are you from? Who are you now? Where are you going?"
I held her housework-worn hand in mine, held her eyes with my own, and settled in patiently to hear her story. I had to resist the urge to gently caress her hand -- now wasn't the time to flirt with her, and she would have seen through it anyway. No, Mirabelle Monet had the soul of a lady, and deserved to be treated as one.
No rooms available, unfortunately, and she repeated her mantra to me about sailors only. That was all right with me as I was really there for information about Signy, Faustina, and Gweden Farm, and asking about a room was just an ice-breaker.
She had a funny look on her face when I asked, and halfway through telling me about how Gweden Farm used to be Gweden Cathouse. There was an agreement with the owner, Tsarrina, Mirabelle didn't cater to locals. Which suited her fine because she had enough clients and she didn't want trouble from wives anyway. Sailors were typically either unmarried or had plausible deniability of any wives back at their home parts.
"Are you sure I'm not boring you?" she asked again.
"What makes you ask?"
Mirabelle narrowed her eyes and had a sly smile. "You weren't sent by Maelona, or Gogan?"
"Who? No, I'm new in town," I replied honestly.
After a while sizing me up, she finally said, "So you are. I'd look them up, if I were you. The Anvil Watch can direct you, if that tells you something."
"Humph. The Watch needs a patsy."
"You're a bright one. You'll figure it out. Or you can ask around. It's common knowledge, really. Why come all the way here to ask me? I'm a whore and I'd know about other whores?"
"I--"
"My dear, I'm a whore. I admit it. I had the looks for it, and I'm not picky, so it was easy money. My looks are gone but I'm easy, so it's still easy money," she laughed.
"I don't know..." I said, and gently caressed her cheek. "I think you're a fine vintage and can only get better."
"Aren't you sweet. But don't try to manipulate me," she grinned.
"I'm being sincere," I insisted. I took her hand and kissed the back of it.
And honestly, I was being sincere. Mirabelle was past middle age (how do I always find the cougars?) but still handsome and had pride in her appearance. Ten years ago, she would have been drop-dead gorgeous no matter what her station in life.
It was a little sad to see how this boarding house was all she had. I do think she willingly chose this career, very possibly for the reason she said -- it was easy. I also imagine she'd had some regrets. And maybe some misfortunes along the way if this career hadn't been kinder to her financially. Nevertheless, she held her head high, and had a confidence and noble dignity about her.
"I don't know what's happened to Tsarrina to make her send her girls out like this. Signy's really a sweetheart, but girls like her have had heartache in her past. Faustina's very bitter. She's lost, that one. Be careful -- she's got nothing left to lose. ... There, I've probably said too much. Remember -- I never told you any of this."
Mirabelle got up to leave, having given me the scoop on the girls, which I was certain I wouldn't have gotten anywhere else. But I wasn't going to let her off so easily.
"What about you?" I asked, and placed my hand over hers.
"Me?"
"Where are you from? Who are you now? Where are you going?"
I held her housework-worn hand in mine, held her eyes with my own, and settled in patiently to hear her story. I had to resist the urge to gently caress her hand -- now wasn't the time to flirt with her, and she would have seen through it anyway. No, Mirabelle Monet had the soul of a lady, and deserved to be treated as one.
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