Author's Note: This is a pseudo-sequel to Lowborn where peripheral characters from that story take a starring role. No need to have read it, but those who have will probably get more of a kick from some of the supporting cast and cameos.
This is a 9 chapter story, and it's already complete. Lit queue willing and the crik don't rise, chapters will come out twice a week.
****
Betty checked her figures one last time. It had been a good night at Alice's Kip. The new girl had certainly attracted some attention. She'd worked the whole night. Betty suspected that the poor girl would be walking bowlegged after that marathon. She was trying to prove herself, but she might have overdone it a bit. The other eleven girls had done brisk business as well.
It was a far cry from five years earlier, when she, Alice, and Cammie had arrived on their brave venture to Windsholme — which they'd nicknamed
Stingy Pussy
at the time. Cammie still took on a few men and the occasional woman who came in looking for sport, but Betty and Alice hadn't made their living with their legs in the air on the regular for a couple of years. Their clothing was more often stained with ink than cum.
The old Kip was now their private residence and office space. The new Kip was a beautiful two-story house with eight rooms that had real plastered walls, so men didn't have to listen to fellas rutting in the next room. Betty was rather proud that their brothel was nicer than the Cat — where they'd first plied their trade — and even rivaled some in Fightershaven.
It was only half their business.
Lots of girls with few options had shown up over the years, and not all of them were cut out for whoring. At first, Alice had put them to work cooking and cleaning for the working girls. Some of those girls were fine cooks, and many were pretty enough to ply their bodies but simply didn't have the temperament. Inspiration had struck one evening as the three friends recalled the harrowing journey that had set them on the path of independence.
The assassins who had been paid to kidnap and murder them — out of revenge for a powerful man's bruised ego — had used an eatery as a front for their hideout. Betty had suggested that they open one, having the girls cook and serve. It was Alice's stroke of genius that made all the difference, though.
During the day, the serving girls were dressed conservatively — though their dresses still emphasized their curves and legs. At night, those same girls wore gauzy gowns with deep necklines, short hemlines, and slits up to the hip. Heaven's Table did brisk business with men who were keener to look than touch. The food and wine were good enough to attract travelers even without the display of female flesh.
It was Cammie's idea to only serve wine, so as not to compete with and anger the local tavern keeper.
Betty didn't need to do the sums for the Heaven, because Hannah took care of it. She had been the first to join the three friends in the brothel and had proved she had skills other than humping in time. After only a brief stint taking care of the day-to-day operations at the eatery, it was obvious she should be running things there fully and permanently.
The increase in travelers — and thus coin — had earned the block of buildings at the edge of town and the people who occupied them a measure of acceptance. One other highly unusual factor had contributed to their success. Since the Heaven attracted travelers, they decided to turn away local husbands and boyfriends, and instead counsel them in ways to entice their women to spread their legs with sweet, unexpected gestures. The local women no longer glared at them as if about to form a torch-wielding mob, and some were even friendly.
With the sums finished for both establishments, Betty calculated her cut of the profit, added it to her tally, and smiled as she closed the books. She'd finally reached her goal.
Alice looked up from the letter she was reading when she heard the heavy, leather cover thump shut. "You're done already?"
"Mmm hmm. Good day at the Kip and the Heaven."
"Don't know how you do it," Alice said, giving a shake of her head, and then a chuckle. "I want to pull my hair out within a couple of minutes of looking at those books."
"I enjoy it a little. Having everything come up right is satisfying. Besides, Hannah does half the work."
Alice nodded. "You know, I think we may need to cut her in on things instead of just paying her a salary. She's too good to lose already, and she's getting more savvy every day."
"Sounds right to me. Ask Cammie when she wakes up tonight. You should probably start pushing Cammie to do a little more on this end of things, if she ever wants to strike out on her own too."
"
Too
?" Alice lifted her eyebrows and asked, "So, you're ready to set up your own place?"
She hadn't actually meant to let the news slip that very moment, but since the cat was out of the bag, Betty answered, "I've saved up what I think I'll need, and I have an idea of where I could go."
"Good for you!" Alice said as she stood and crossed the well-worn wooden floor to her friend's desk. She leaned down and hugged her. "So, where were you thinking?"
"There's a town about two days from here to the east called Hard Creek. Barely more than a farming village, but it's right on a road where one of Pompeil's men says there's going to be a lot of traffic soon. There's apparently some kind of melon they grow out toward the coast that's becoming popular in the cities."
Pompeil Harrold was a merchant of significant wealth and renown from Freeland, who had been caught up in the kidnapping plot because he was visiting the brothel when it happened. He recommended that his men seek out the services of the network of brothels the Kip was connected to, as part of the debt he felt he owed to those who had helped him escape that nightmare unscathed.
"Pomp doesn't seem to be wrong very often. Sounds like a good idea," Alice agreed. "Get in and established before things kick up."
"That's what I was thinking. I thought I might go there and have a look-see, though."
"And borrow a couple of girls to see how stingy the women are with the pussy around there?" Alice asked — knowingly.
"I was thinking about Jan and Lana."
Alice pursed her lips and nodded. The two girls had been working long enough for the
new
to wear off, but not yet long enough to have a large regular clientele. Being new again in a different place would be good for them, and for profits. "I think they might actually enjoy a change of scenery."
"And Ghent, to watch over us?" Betty asked.
A crooked grin spread across the blonde Madame's face. "You're sweet on him."
Betty rolled her eyes. "Last I noticed, nobody's been sleeping in your bed here for weeks."
Alice actually blushed. Olan was an older widower who had built the most recent house on the block for the girls working the Heaven, when the existing accommodations had grown crowded. Something had sparked between them during that time, and he'd asked her to step out with him. Eventually, she'd started spending the night at his place, and that had evolved to practically living there.
"He's good for you, I think," Betty said.
Alice gave a dainty shrug and said, "He's good to me. And he's funny. He makes me laugh so hard I can't breathe sometimes."
"Ghent too," Betty admitted. She shook her head and chuckled. "Listen to us. Two old whores acting like smitten little girls."
"May as well enjoy it while it lasts. Take him with you. The girls too. You can use one of the wagons, and take whatever you need. When?"
Betty considered the preparations she would need to make and suggested, "A week?"
"That will give me some time to get used to the idea of dealing with these for a while," Alice said and then saluted the leather-bound ledgers with a raised middle finger.
****
The week of waiting and making preparations had been one of the longest of her life.
Betty checked the wagon, making sure everything was in place. The trunks of their clothes were all loaded. The iron-banded, elaborately decorated wooden case holding the potions that prevented them from getting pregnant and falling ill was safely secured, along with one of the blessed healing potions she'd acquired after seeing the potency of the magic brew during their kidnapping ordeal. Right next to it sat the strongbox that would hold the coin she hoped would fill it in short order. The tent canvas and poles were in place. Three loaded crossbows were within easy reach.
The two new girls weren't particularly good shots with the weapons, and none of them save Ghent could reload them, but even a near miss would give an attacker pause. Betty had been practicing for years, and she was confident that she could hit her mark, even in the chaos of an attack. Being taken and facing almost certain death was quite the encouragement to learn how to defend yourself.
Most likely, the weapons wouldn't be necessary. As usual, they had arranged to travel with a two-wagon caravan that had hired guards. Jan and Lana would be making coin from the men who protected them before they even reached their destination. The wagoners got free ones as the price for the protection by the fighting men, but the sellswords themselves would have to pay.
In addition, each woman would have a dagger. The real danger of those weapons was surprise, as men rarely expected women to be armed. Every girl had at least a little training to use the weapons properly. That was a last resort, thanks to the rings they all wore.
Raven, the rogue who had assisted in their rescue — and who had provided most of the funds for them to set up in Windsholme — had managed to blackmail a wizard, and she had put him to work making the rings. A thought and a touch would put most any man into a deep, magical slumber. It was a handy thing for a whore to have, because guards could only move so quickly, even if they were just outside the door.
Also handy for a burglar who preferred not to leave bodies behind whenever possible.
Ghent arrived with two woven baskets, completing the preparations with food cooked at the Heaven for the journey.
"Everything ready, Betty?" he asked.
She gave him a cute smile and tousled his dark brown hair. "All good, honey."
Ghent was a mountain of a man, and he could back up his intimidating look with a thrashing when necessary. He was one of the first they'd recruited to act as a guard over the brothel in exchange for free ones, and Betty had usually been the one to spread her legs for him. She'd grown rather fond of him because he was funny, sweet, hung like a horse, and had enough stamina to actually get her there. Even though he was being paid in coin now, she still brought him to her bed almost every night.
She was about as close to being in love with him as a jaded prostitute could be. Perhaps, even a little more.
