How long is a lifetime?
To Luc, it is eternal. Endless and excruciatingly meaningless. His existence on Earth serves as a punishment for the sins he has committed. Immortality is his shackle.
It would forever be that way if Luc didn't stumble upon...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Bessie could tell the girl's confidence and determination were back by the look on her face. The madam tut-tutted and gave Amelia a smile.
Finally.
What was the point of moping around in her room when the man was out there with his new sweet thing?
Bessie walked over to Amelia's wardrobe and pulled out two outfits, a sky blue taffeta dress with puffy sleeves and a magenta silk one with embroidered roses around its lacy neckline. Both were decent as day dresses, but could also work well as evening wear. Amelia should not look like a prostitute walking around in broad daylight but still had to sell her sex appeal.
"Either could work, but if you ask me, darling, go with the magenta one. You look ravishing in bold colors."
"That's what I thought too, Bessie," Amelia smiled and untied the peignoir's neck ribbon, letting a river of almost sheer material fall off her body.
Everything was flawless under the direct sunlight from the big window. Her exquisite curves glistened as if Amelia was a statue carved out from a single piece of quartz. Always a touch paler compared to other girls, she looked fragile, driving men wild with her innocent, ethereal appearance. What Bessie really liked about Amelia was her intuition and wit. The girl was willing to do what was necessary to get what she wanted. A realist and survivor, just like Bessie.
Amelia put on her undergarments rather quickly without help. Most working girls at the brothel didn't have personal maids, but Amelia was an exception. She could ask for one, and Bessie would gladly provide, but Amelia was the type that liked to do everything herself.
Amelia buttoned the front of her corset, pushing her bosom higher. After that, she put on a pair of matching bodice and skirt. They fit her like a glove. Amelia admired her reflection in the mirror and lowered the neckline a bit more.
"You might catch a cold at this rate, darling, but I can't say it won't be worth it," Bessie giggled.
Amelia chuckled dryly and walked to her coat rack. The weather had been unforgiving lately. She didn't want to risk her health any further.
A merlot redingote with a paisley pattern and mink fur lining was her pick. Amelia covered her elegant half updo with a black bonnet adorned with many golden and magenta silk flowers. A pair of black satin gloves and a few dashes of perfume were the final touches. Amelia never cared much for makeup. Neither did Luc.
The sun had been out full force, but it couldn't chase the cold away. Amelia didn't use Bessie's coach as the madam had offered. It would fuel all kinds of gossip at the brothel. Amelia didn't need more trash talk and jealousy. She already had enough on her plate. A cab would be splendid.
Society frowned upon ladies who traveled without chaperones, but since when had Amelia been a lady? She approached an older, grumpy-looking coachman who parked around the corner from the brothel's main entrance. Amelia had used his service before. The coachman touched his hat and nodded while opening the door for her with a lever next to his seat.
"Where to, miss?" he asked after she settled down inside.
"To the biggest house on Circus Row, of course." Amelia laughed, but no joy reached her eyes.
She felt heavy all of a sudden as if the whole world came crashing down on her. It should feel good to see Luc. She had thought about him day and night, but it didn't. Not one bit. Amelia didn't feel an ounce of joy, or anything for that matter, besides suffocating pressure. Her future depended on him. That was it. Amelia knew what little she felt for Luc was not love, couldn't be, but it was addictive. It reminded her that her heart was still beating.
Years had passed, and Amelia was still stuck on that day.
The coachman yelled at some kids running across the road, pulling Amelia back to reality. She squeezed the handkerchief until her palm hurt. Amelia inhaled and exhaled while leaning back on the leather seat, watching the light spots dancing on the coach's ceiling.
Showing up unannounced like this was a bad idea, especially with a man like Luc, but Amelia was impatient.
Outside the window, Bayport's busiest street unfolded. Lines of stores spread as far as one's eyes could see. Horse carriages and people filled the street with their sounds, smells, and colors, painting a complex picture of life. Amazing smells from different restaurants and food vendors stirred Amelia's empty stomach. It was a little past noon, the best and worst time of the day.
Amelia had been to this street many times before. Luc had surely never invited her to his place, but she knew where it was. Every living soul of Bayport did. His residence was a grandeur three-story house that stood out from the rest. It was painted warm yellow, but the unused storefront was dark and empty at all times of the year despite the trademark hustle and bustle of Circus Row.
Amelia couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head. The structure took after its owner so well.
Amelia wanted, no, she needed to see Luc today, but the man who spoke the sweetest words, with whom she had shared countless intimate moments, could give her such anxiety.
Amelia paid the coachman and got out of the cab. The maroon front door was right in front of her. Amelia approached it with caution as if it were a beast that could open its mouth at any moment and swallow her.
Her watery eyes stared back at her from the storefront glass, making Amelia sick. She traced the intricate number on the metal plaque while thinking about what to say. Amelia took a deep breath and then stepped up to the knocker.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It seemed that no one was home. One more time. Amelia bit her lower lip while staring at the house number. One more time, then I will leave.
It had taken her days to jump into action. This morning, with Bessie's encouragement, Amelia had finally made up her mind. She couldn't just leave like that.
Amelia knocked again, this time a little louder.
"Who's there?" A voice answered.
It was smooth and lazy, not low, booming with a thick Caelthyr accent as she had expected from Mr. Campbell, Luc's right-hand man. The sound made Amelia's heart race. She quickly fixed her bonnet, smoothened the nonexistent wrinkles on her dress, and straightened her back.
"What a nice surprise."
The door swung open and behind it stood the man who she had come here for.
