Holly Hampton: Scene 1
~ Dunhaven - Elysian Street ~
It'd been nary a year since Mr. Allender had purchased the decrepit estate that had come to be known to all in Dunhaven as the Sinflower--a former ruin now restored, at least as far as the street-facing exterior was concerned. As the mossy brick facade was cleansed of the build-up of decades of neglect, as its uneven stone stairways were replaced with pristine white marble, as its shattered windows had been restored to their gleaming propriety, and its unkempt gardens cleared of the tattered whispers of history, the establishment had risen again to become the talk of the town.
That talk is precisely what had drawn to it a young woman, a native of Dunhaven twenty-two years of age, with flowing, curly black hair, sensual curves, and deep, pale grey eyes. She wore a long-sleeved gown of pale olive green and white frilly lace fraying in places. Her face was hidden beneath a brown woollen cloak, and her cheek, reddened and bruised, she'd concealed beneath a layer of white powder. She'd come this day, guided by her dignity, self-respect, and healthy sense of self-preservation--and this despite the terrible danger.
"Best get inside. Quickly,"
she thought as she ascended the stairs to the estate, passing several young watchmen in black and burgundy.
The ground floor had seen the most work so far, with the reception room long since completely restored, though one could see the odd muddy boot print left by a passing workman here and about. Leather armchairs, a soft ruby-red carpet underfoot, and gas lamps purring contentedly on their metal wall mounts greeted her warmly as she approached the reception desk.
The lady sitting at the reception desk had blond hair down to her shoulders. She was in her fourth decade at least and, considering the establishment in which she was employed, wore a very modest gown of pale blue and cream-white. She adjusted her spectacles as she examined the evening's schedule. "May I help you?" she asked cordially.
"Yes," the young woman replied. "I'm... looking for employment. Is the owner in?"
"I'm afraid Mr. Allender is not seeing anyone at the moment. Your name?"
"Holly Hampton, Miss..."
"Oh, what a lovely name! I'm Nina, the receptionist. I handle all of Mr. Allender's appointments."
"May I enquire as to when he'll be available?" Holly asked.
"By her dress I would never have guessed, but she's well-born."
Nina pressed her fountain pen to her lips, nibbling its cap softly between her teeth. "The problem, Miss Hampton, is that the Sinflower is flooded with requests since we've opened. We've no room to accommodate more girls, and Mr. Allender is very picky."
She looked up at the receptionist with pleading eyes. "If I could just speak with him," the young woman said before adding, "It's urgent, Miss Nina."
The reception room was empty, as the sun had not yet set; clients would be arriving shortly, but, until then...
"Show me your face."
Holly pulled back her hood, revealing her sweet visage.
Nina's heart stirred lightly at the sight of her youthful, girlish beauty. "Let's have a look at your bosom, love."
Holly glanced about. Confident, and with no one to see, she pulled aside her cloak to reveal her breasts and curves. Her lack of hesitation was indicative.
"You've worked in this business before?" the receptionist enquired, almost certain of the answer.
"Yes, ma'am. I'd start working tonight if he wants." She rested the tips of her fingers to the desk and stood on her toes, accentuating her endearing disposition. Holly could sense that Nina was a way in. "Tell Mr. Allender I'm a hard worker. And I'm loyal."
"You can tell him that yourself," a fine, masculine voice declared.
Miss Hampton turned on her heels and beheld a tall, fine-limbed blond man in his third decade at most, dressed in a striking suit of raspberry-red.
Today, Mr. Allender wore white frilly cuffs, shiny gatorskin leather brogues of a deep bluish-grey, and a matching navy-blue ascot with a silver pin in its centre depicting the silhouette of a cat. "How do you do? I am Nigel Allender, the owner of this establishment."
"Good day to you. My name is Holly Hampton."
"Well, Miss Hampton," the pimp said in a jolly manner, "my delicate ears picked up the words 'loyal' and 'hard worker.' I'm quite busy, but," he said as he fished out his gold pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the hour, "I'll grant you one minute to convince me."
"Yes, of course. I--" Before the young woman had time to finish her sentence, however, her interlocutor spun around and walked off into the open garden. Holly was flummoxed. She looked at Nina, who gestured for her to chase on after him. Undeterred, she did just that.
The inner garden too had been restored, its only remaining point of contention being the fountain, whose water flow was still non-functional, much to Allender's consternation. The heart of the estate had been designed like the old Roman villas of yore, with one central open courtyard of flourishing verdancy from which three wings extended north, east, and west, with the main entrance to the south. And while the lush greenery had been entirely restored, with dutifully planted lilac bushes, pear trees, and even blossoming magnolia flowers from the Orient, the upper floors, which wrapped around the garden, the second and third floors especially, were still in a state of deep disrepair. The fresh paint, neat wallpaper, and pristine woodwork looked to be some species of undulating tide, creeping over the run-down and dishevelled surfaces above, dissolving the shroud of neglect that had layered over everything, at a speed too slow for the human eye to detect; it still had a long way to go.
Mr. Allender walked with his hands behind his back, inspecting the week's progress as he went. "So, you want to work for me."
"Yes. I do."
"And you've done this before? How long in the business?"
"It's been years," she replied firmly. "Will I be working here?"
Allender stopped dead in his tracks and chuckled. "Quite the brazen little wench we have here. Already picking out the drapes, are we?"
"I didn't mean to get ahead of myself," the grey-eyed girl uttered, feigning reticence.
"No, but you did so anyway," the pimp said, pivoting on his toes with a devilish grin. "I like a hint of forthrightness in my girls. Hmm... Perhaps there is a place for you here after all."
The pair passed by a group of men tidying up their worksite before heading home for the night. Allender addressed the groundskeeper, a rotund man with a monocle and moustache, who was instructing the workers on the morrow's tasks. "Good evening, Mr. Tindall. Gentlemen," he said, tipping an imaginary hat.
"Good evening, Mr. Allender."
"A progress report, if you would be so kind."
"Of course, sir," Mr. Tindall replied. "Room 203 was completed today, ahead of schedule."
"Sterling. What good news," the pimp declared, his mood elevated. "I think I'll take a gander at her."
"Certainly," the groundskeeper said, presenting him with the key. "Shall I accompany you?"
"That won't be necessary," the pimp replied, turning to Holly. "I'm already chaperoned."
The girl trotted along behind the long-legged man as he strolled along at a brisk, Germanic pace. As he left, he shouted out, "Oh! And rest assured, you will be paid last week's wages Friday evening, as promised."
They climbed the stairway nestled in the south-eastern quadrant, stopped on the second floor, and headed towards the recently renovated room. Holly leaned over the white stone railing overgrown with hanging plants; it was odd, peering down at the gardens and the workmen, the budding bushes and balding heads now a good twenty feet below.
"Here we are," he said as the lock yielded to its key. "Let's have a look."
Holly entered, stiffening as soon as she saw Allender closing the door behind them, fearing being alone with this stranger for what he might do.
He noticed. "Please, dear girl, I'm a professional. But, if it will set you at ease..." He drew the door wide open, rubbing his hands gleefully as he inspected the latest improvements to his estate.
Holly's jaw dropped.
The opulent little room featured a canopy bed adorned with rich, velvet drapes of a deep royal blue, framed by an exquisitely carved and gilded headboard of white maple. The coral pink walls were adorned with intricate gold mouldings and lush tapestries depicting scenes from classical mythology. Sparkling crystal wall sconces hung from their ornate brass fixtures, casting a warm ambient glow over the room. Luxurious silk curtains framed the frosted-glass windows, allowing the soft, natural light of the setting sun to filter in and illuminate the room's polished wooden floors and antique furnishings. A plush, upholstered armchair sat beside a marble-topped vanity, with a silver fruit bowl and wine pitcher completing the regal atmosphere. Every last detail spoke of opulence and grandeur, evoking the timeless beauty of the grandest of Frankish palaces.
"Marvellous. Wouldn't you agree?" the pimp asked aloud. "I love the Era Long Past. Such resplendence. Such grandeur. Only a handful of artisans in Angloria could replicate this style with such exacting craftsmanship. Take off your clothes."
The young woman was taken aback.
Allender checked his pocket watch. "The clock is ticking, Miss Hampton; if ever you hope to work in such a fine place as this, you'd best not delay. Tick-tock."
