Promises Not Kept

1

*Contains mature themes including prostitution and sexual encounters*

            The youngest girl, Bessie, a petite redhead was the first with the news. She came scampering into the shared room where the girls would freshen up between clients. Late, as usual, she had a wild look in her eyes.

"Tha's Thomas Shelby in the lobby." She gasped out and clutched at her coat. Stray snowflakes melted in her fiery hair. "He's back."

The rest of the girls were stirred up into a frenzy at the news.

"Again?"

"He's already had me 'fore, might be comin' back for me."

"Fuckin' pays well don't he?"

Bea, the eldest and most experienced out of the bunch blew out a drag of smoke. "'Course he does. The Shelbys own Birmingham and that means they're fuckin' dangerous.' She glared at the hopeful eyed girls. "None of you should be makin' ties with that lot. Best to stay unseen."

"Still, he'll be wantin' a fuck." Teresa shrugged and eyed herself in the mirror as she applied lipstick. "I ain't gonna turn him or his money down."

"Don't you worry," Bea turned to the young woman on her left. "He doesn't pick blonde girls."

Leah chewed on her lower lip and glanced at the vanity mirror next to her. Indeed, she had honey-colored hair, which usually did her well in her line of business.

Leah was twenty-five, a prime age for a London prostitute. Not too green but not worn out either. She found herself prostituting after a long drawn out mess of increasingly worse luck. Since 1918, she had been stuck in a downward spiral.

It could always be worse, that's what she reminded herself every time she woke up. She wasn't starving on the streets but she did feel like a piece of her died every single time she closed her eyes.

"Leah?" Billy stuck his head into the room. He was a good man, a hotel employee who was paid extra to introduce clients to the girls. The madam handled the rest of the transactions. But it was a classier transaction up front. The hotel provided a luxurious setting for the wealthy clientele who sought out the harem of girls. Women who were touted as much more than those of seedy whorehouses, although that's where they all originated. The illusion that the ten women were hand-picked goddesses, submissive in nature (unless a man preferred the roles reversed).

Respectful. Discreet. Beautiful. Expensive.

For Leah, the titillating façade wore off fast. She was still a whore. Men faked their love and affection or they didn't even bother. Despite the money, Leah always felt used. Yet she blamed herself. The naïve daughter of a chemist. Now just a whore.

"Mr. Shelby's requested someone new," Billy informed her.

The other girls went quiet for a moment. Teresa looked irked. "She's the only one he hasn't fucked yet?"

Billy, a gentle man, who looked out for the girls well being, nodded in confirmation.

"He doesn't like blondes." Bea retorted protectively. "He hardly even looked at Rose. Send Teresa out."

Leah's face went ashen. The Shelbys were not people she wanted to be involved with.

"He insisted."

She swallowed and stood. "S'okay, Bea." She faked a smile and touched the older woman's arm. "How'd I look?"

"Perfect." Bea nodded but looked visibly worried.

The other girls watched as Leah stood, tightening the ties around her peach-colored dressing gown. She followed Billy down the hall to one of the nicer suites.