The Garden of Virtue & Vice

(Author's Note : So, I realized I forgot to convey this in the previous posting, each of the chapters of the Auctionhouse series is going to alternate between Violet, and the head of the Garden of Virtue & Vice, Mikal. I'm glad to hear people have loved the first chapter, more is definitely... cumming. ;D )

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The crack of the flogger and the gasps from the man strapped to the table were the only sounds in the room. I surveyed the occupants. Aleksander was dressed in a nondescript outfit, wearing only a hood to cover his face as he beat the Bishop of Finchurch's back. Later, his Holiness would be having his insides plundered by the man bruising his back. His fantasy was not to know the gender of his partner. It had taken a week of preparation to get this organized just right.

Turning away, I pulled out my gold plated cigarette case. The scents of cinnamon, clove, and tobacco assaulted my nose, and smiled. Things this evening were running smoothly, and I couldn't be happier. If the Bishop had truly enjoyed himself at the end of the night, then the bonus that he would be paying to the Garden would reward Aleksander beautifully. Not to mention, it would line my pockets as well.

With a strike of a match, I turned and found my good mood already fading. Mr. White was approaching me with someone behind him. Not for the first time, I wished I wasn't wearing this damned collar so that man could find me. A long drag from the cigarette followed to light the dried leaves and paper, and I made my way to meet him.

The Garden wasn't too busy this late into the night, the sounds of laughter and screams traded out for throaty moans and quiet conversation. The sunrise was starting to brighten the sky above the conservatory's glass roof, and many of the exotic night-blooming flowers were closing their petals.

"Mr. White." I let the smoke I held in my lungs be expelled out as I spoke. "I am surprised to see you here. Looking to relieve the old stick, or just get a new one?" The man never came down to enjoy the pleasures of my den of desire. It was always a delight to discuss whatever he had jammed so far up his ass that it kept his spine straight.

"Mr. Sable," he replied, in his usual business-like tone, though I didn't miss the way his lips pursed extra tight at the sight of me. "I see it's a slow night. My condolences. If there is anything I can do to aid your department, do feel free to put in a requisition form."

"And yet, I will still bring in a more lucrative evening than last week. Quantity does not always make up for quality." Another drag from my cigarette as one of my men approached us. Dressed solely in a leather thong and harness, the man was a vision of muscles and beauty. Gently, I laid just my fingertips upon his shoulder, and his attention was on me in an instant. "Tristan, be a good boy and make sure room thirty has fresh towels and water without interrupting."

Tristan nodded and rushed off, and my attention was back to White. "My office then, since you clearly are not here for pleasure?"

My attention slipped to the girl standing behind Mr. White. Ah, another one. Petite, pretty enough, but looking around with wide, shocked eyes. I'd been getting a barrage of these over the past few months, and they never lasted. I'd had to pawn them off on other departments left and right, and had burned up much of my social capital hiring suitable replacements.

"No need, Mr. Sable. I'm due to meet the Auctioneer in fifteen minutes and am simply here to introduce you to your new hire, Ms. Violet. Ms. Violet, this is Mr. Sable, department head of the Garden of Virtue & Vice. He will take you through your onboarding." White nodded at the girl, then at me. "Have a good night. I will be back at noon for the weekly accounts."

"They will be ready for you upon your arrival. Go dance to our Master's strings; I have better things to do." I already dismissed the head of the White Gloves out of my mind. Stepping to the side, I let my eyes grab hold of Ms. Violet's. A fraction of the powers granted to me from my infernal parentage touched my voice as I spoke to her, "Ms. Violet, follow me please."

The way her eyes widened and breath caught, I could tell that she was fully human. No unearthly powers or immunity to mine. That, or a damn good actress. At least she was pretty, with straight black hair, a lithe body under her corsets and petticoats, and inviting lips. I could work with that.

She followed me without a word, eyes roving around the Garden until they fell on one of my girls pleasuring a client with her mouth by a gurgling fountain. After that, she kept her gaze on the floor, her cheeks bright red.

I kept my smirk at her astonishment to myself. I hoped she had better mettle underneath that embarrassed and seemingly shy demeanor. We entered my office, and I closed the door behind her. The room wasn't small, it only felt that way in comparison to Mr. White's. My desk was large and pushed into a corner; several cabinets and chests were against the walls holding everything I needed to do the job. The large four-post bed in the middle of the room dominated the whole chamber, though.

Violet stopped dead in her tracks. That wasn't unusual. I waited for the expected gulp, but her eyes weren't on the bed or the neat displays of whips and paddles against one wall.

"Is that

Bacchanalia of the Endless Summer

by Alonzo Latresse?" She asked, practically vibrating and up on tiptoes, as though about to launch herself clear past me and toward the large framed painting that hung behind my desk.

That was a different reaction than most. "It is," I said, taking a moment to examine her. She had arrived in a men's coat, shoeless, and I thought I could smell blood on her. I was wondering whether she was running to escape something or someone. "I purchased it four years ago and was going to put it within the Garden. I decided I liked it better here."

"May I?" She asked, attention still riveted on the painting. I nodded my consent, and Violent hurried over, getting as close to the famous piece of art as the furniture permitted. Her fingers rose, hovering a few inches from the canvas. "Exquisite. I saw it in a museum once, but since then, all I've seen are forgeries. The brush strokes here, though... they are so raw, where he painted the lovers touching. Their bodies are entirely in focus, but their faces are not. I've always thought it was so that the viewer could imagine themselves in the revels. Oh, dear. Oh! I never noticed. There are eyes in the shadows here and here. Is it true there's a poem written on the back of the canvas?"

She turned to me, whole face flushed and excited, right down her neck and across her cleavage. That wasn't an unusual state for people who came to my office, but it was usually because of what I did to them, not my taste in artwork.

I had to admit, she was showing herself to have an impressive mind and quite a bit of enthusiasm. Perhaps there was something worthwhile here after all. I wondered if Mr. White had any idea what he had given me? Unlikely. The man was as eager to get rid of me as I was to be rid of him. "It is true," I told her simply. I made no motion towards her or the painting, though. If she wanted to read the poem, she would have to earn it. "I assume Mr. White told you that the opening I have is for an escort, correct?"

Ah, there was the fear again. It made her already flushed skin shiver, her collar tight around her long, pale neck. "Yes. I... I am afraid I am not very qualified for it."

"Lucky for you, I will be the judge of that," I told her. "Before you do anything, in the room to the right of this one is a bathroom. You are to take a bath and wash off the day from yourself and eat something if you are able. You will not dally, but you need not be quick. You will return here with the answer to this question. Do you wish to show me what you are capable of upon your return, or stay in one of the Auctionhouse's hostels and show me tomorrow night? If you choose tonight, you may stay here. I should warn you that without chips, accommodations here are rather... uncomfortable. The sooner I can gauge your skill, the sooner you will be able to earn your keep. Food and two sets of clothing will be brought to you during your bath. The clothing you choose will tell me your choice." As I gave Ms. Violet her instructions, I only paused to take a small drag off of my cigarette. I moved over to my desk, tapping the ash off into an ashtray. "Enjoy your bath, Violet, but do not be long."