"These heels are killer!" Katya groaned, shifting her weight back and forth and fidgeted with her hands. Jannik had gifted each of the girls leather and wooden heels that had been stained red. Imogen glared at her.
Carlene nudged her and giggled, "Keep it together, he'll kill you if he sees you jumping around." Jannik had some of the girls lined up outside to "advertise" the club after sales had gone down. They were hardly looking appealing, though. Katya and her friends were complaining and fidgeting, Deirdre and her friends scowling, and the other girls looking disinterested at best. Lili, the tallest woman in the club, was leaning on the corner and braiding her blonde hair aimlessly. Viktoria, a woman who Rina once called a "three-penny-upright" - a cheap whore who lets herself get pinned up against a wall - was sitting on the filthy cement and adjusting the brassiere under her lace chemise. No man had even passed by them yet, as it was barely morning.
"Is this really what men want?" Deirdre grumbled to Sonje. Why would Jannik put Imogen in the middle of all of this bickering? She felt like a disgruntled mother surrounded by defiant teenage girls.
"No," Imogen said curtly.
"What do men want, Imogen? I would love to hear your answer," Deirdre lifted a brow.
"I try not to think about it," Imogen sighed, offering Deirdre a small smile.
"Are you... smiling at Deirdre?" Sonje peeked her head around Deirdre's shoulder to look at Imogen.
"She is smiling at me," Deirdre turned back to Sonje, nodding. "Why the fuck are you smiling at me?"
"I am far too complex for you to understand," Imogen quipped, crossing her arms and sitting on the windowsill of the club. Deirdre rolled her eyes, but her mouth quirked up at her response. Imogen thought about the detective's comments about her during their questioning, about her character and what the other girls thought of her. With Rina gone, she started to reflect on those years where the women of The Winking Mares would sneak out of their rooms at night to play cards or share secrets. Deirdre started working at the club not long after Imogen, they even used to be friends.
Deirdre had cracked open Imogen's door, asking to come in. It must've been an hour past midnight, but Imogen told her to come in anyway. She had her brown hair twirled in a bun on the back of her head, her usual look at night.
"What do you want, Spitter?" Imogen teased, adjusting her sheets and sitting up in her bed. When they first met, the first thing Imogen did was make fun of Deirdre's last name, Spitz. It couldn't be more perfect, really - a prostitute with the last name Spitz. She found it quite funny. Thus, the nickname Spitter was born.
"You are such a bitch," Deirdre shook her head. "You could at least pretend to be happy to see me."
"I am happy to see you!" Imogen feigned innocence.
"Yeah, yeah," Deirdre settled on the edge of her bed, "well, you will be once I tell you the news."
Imogen grinned, narrowing her eyes at Deirdre, "What's the news?"
"Theresia just left - in a horse carriage," Deirdre scoffed. "First time I've seen a damn horse carriage in The Underground!"
"What a hag!" The two women giggled. Theresia was the most stunning woman that Imogen had ever seen: her round, green eyes and bouncy, curly russet hair. She used to be in construction before her father died, which left her with a toned, muscular figure. It was stark in contrast to the thin, narrow frames of most women in The Underground. Rumors had begun swirling in The Winking Mares that Theresia would be moving to the surface, on the promise that she would become a rich man's personal hooker. Imogen dreamed of one day being as beautiful as Theresia, being valuable enough to be swept away by a rich man and taken to Mitras.
YOU ARE READING
LIBERTINE / LEVI ACKERMAN
FanfictionThe Winking Mares housed some of the best girls that the Underground had to offer. Whether you wanted them screaming, bowing or listening - it's a guarantee that their services would satisfy. Business is down, though, after beautiful women begin tu...
