Hi Everyone - As always, this is FANTASY, and just meant to be fun and hot. Everyone here is, as always, over 18 years old. Please read The Femme Fatale's Curse, Ch. 01 for this to make sense. This chapter goes really hard on the mental piece of humiliation, and that very distinct humiliation you might feel if you were made to look ridiculous in front of someone you were very attracted to. This is a bit of a transitional chapter, so bear with me as we build this world out a bit more. That said, I hope there's still enough here to qualify as both filthy and fucking hot. Let me know, and I'll get at Chapter 3 here soon.
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Jace didn't arrive at Lady O'Leary's willingly that night. Eva used The Curse to get him there. Jace had doubted The Curse's ability to stay strong over a series of days during which he didn't see Eva at all, and did his absolute best to forget the fever dream nightmare that had been his first run-in with her.
He worked other cases. He frequented other bars. He poked around into all the seedier parts of Acidalia as the city baked in a summer sun hotter than anyone had remembered. He avoided Ludwig Abramov's calls, although he couldn't tell if that was something Eva had compelled him to do with The Curse or something he wanted to do himself, to avoid the embarrassment of telling the man he was off the case. All the while he intended to be somewhere else -- anywhere else -- other than Lady O'Leary's on Saturday night.
And yet here he was, in the darkened alleyway behind the shoe factory that served as a front for the place. Eva said she knew someone here -- a regular customer -- who might know where Zena Abramov was. They just had to play the part in order to mix with the crowd. And playing the part meant being her slave.
He knew the speakeasy was in the basement, but he didn't know where the secret entrance was. He would have preferred never to know.
"Well look who decided to show up," Eva's voice said from behind him, and he spun, then swallowed hard. Eva stood in the alleyway behind him, an ermine fur thrown over one shoulder, a fedora cocked at a theatrical angle, the clutch of pearls at her throat gleaming in what little light there was in the alleyway. "Tell me, boy, was it your own freewill that brought you here? Or The Curse? Or can you even tell?"
"You can rule out freewill," Jace said through gritted teeth.
She smiled, brought her body close to him, and kissed him on the lips again, slow, sensual. Then she hit him across the face, hard enough to make his ears ring. There were no gloves to pad the blow this time either.
He brought a hand to his face and scowled.
"Either way is fine with me," she said. "They say it's better to be loved than feared, but I find fear to be much more efficient. Especially for what we're about to do tonight."
She smirked, looked absolutely diabolical in the dimness.
"How's your ass, after last time?" She reached behind him and gave it a playful squeeze.
He jumped, unused to people touching him with such abandon.
"I thought so," she said. "Come on now. Follow me."
He did, as she slipped between a narrow hole between the wooden fence behind the shoe factory and the redbrick corner of the factory itself. High above them smokestacks and machinery stood dark and silent, ominous black patches against an otherwise clear, star-studded sky.
She knelt down to a basement window and rapped out a rhythm on the glass. They waited for a few minutes in the darkness -- the temperature had dropped down to a cool 88 degrees at last -- listening to the noises of the city all around them. Just when Jace was starting to think nothing would happen, one of the window panes opened upward and Jace could see -- by the flickering scarlet light of a filthy lantern -- the bright eyes of a woman, the bottom half of her face obscured by a bandana, the top half by a wide-brimmed hat.
"The Queen holds court in full regalia tonight," the woman said.
"May the king's knife chip and shatter," Eva responded.
The woman nodded; Jace watched her eyes shift from Eva to himself, watched suspicion cloud her gaze.
"He's with me, Nadia," Eva said.
"Does he belong to you?"
Eva smirked. "Yes."
"Will he be dressed appropriately?" The bandana-clad woman -- Nadia -- asked.
"Yes," Eva said, and Jace's blood ran cold. She'd said nothing to him about dressing appropriately. "We'll stop off at the dressing rooms on our way down."
This seemed to satisfy Nadia, who nodded and stepped aside, revealing maybe the steepest staircase Jace had ever seen.
"Welcome back, Eva," Nadia said, and turned to Jace. "And you, boy, behave yourself and listen to your mistress at all times."
Jace felt the blood run to his face, clenched his fists at this, the retort already on the tip of his tongue.
"Silence," Eva said, and snapped her fingers.
Jace found he could no longer form the words he'd wanted to say.
"You really do have to stay on top of them," Nadia said, helping Eva down the staircase.
"This one seems to have a good heart, he just has a hell of an ego," Eva responded. "We're still early in his training."
Jace waited a beat and then followed the two women down the staircase, careful not to make a misstep and send himself pitching forward into the darkness. Although a broken neck might be a blessing at this point.
"He's lucky to have a mistress as considerate as you," Nadia said as they alighted on a small landing at the foot of the steep, narrow stairs.
Jace joined them there, eager for more certain footing.
"You hear that, boy?" Nadia asked, turning to Jace now. She'd taken her bandana down; it hung low around her throat now. "You're lucky to have someone as kind as Eva in charge of you. If it were me..."
She laughed, let out a low whistle, and gave him a smack on the ass hard enough to make him jump, as much with surprise as anything else.
"Dressing rooms are through that door, Eva," Nadia said, pointing to a narrow wooden door to their right. "When you're ready to join the party, of course, just head on down."
She pointed down another flight of dark stairs, and now Jace could hear the muffled sounds of a crowded speakeasy -- laughter and shouts and conversation; the clinking and breaking of glasses; the muted tones of a jazz band; and, he now registered, the blunted sounds of smacks and slaps and the impact of whip on flesh.
Eva flashed a smile and opened the door to their right. "Thanks Nadia. Come along, boy."
