36 Fall, 514 AV
21st Bell
House of Immortal Pleasures
21st Bell
House of Immortal Pleasures
There were certain things one had to take onto account when surveying a potential client. There seemed to be a common misconception that whores didn't discriminate -- if you had the coin, they'd take you. That was true, to an extent, but no whore was fine and dandy with servicing just anyone. That was how bad things happened, as evidenced by one of the newer girls who'd contracted some kind of disease from a greasy little fellow just a few days ago.
Cleanliness had to be considered, of course, for personal safety reasons. Health, too, was tied to that, though physical fitness was less important than the overall absence of illness.
After that came wealth and social status, and a whore's preference on this was expressly tied to her motivations. A rich client -- perhaps a fellow from the Lark family -- was often more likely to leave an extra miza or two for those whose performance was particularly impressive. On the other hand, a non-citizen could be potentially easy prey for anyone looking to gain extra income through more nefarious means.
There were, obviously, a variety of other things that whores took into account, most of which would vary from one individual to the next, though these qualifiers are rarely held in high enough regard to really impact the person's work.
Siobhan, on her part, had few standards other than those already mentioned. There was a particular apathy with which she approached her work, and it allowed little room for discrimination. It also provided Siobhan with some sense of efficiency. There was a job to do, and she would do it. She would play the part she was expected to play, carry out the expected actions, and say the expected words. She would put on the performance, then she would collect the reward. That was all there was to it.
Of course, she was also required to make the paying customer forget that it was all a performance. Which, in this particular instance, was going to take a feat of theatric inspiration on her part.
The man Siobhan was with now was named Jeb. He might have been attractive if he were thirty years younger and about one hundred and fifty pounds lighter, but it wasn't his physical attractiveness (or lack thereof) that was making it difficult for Siobhan to concentrate on doing her job. It was the way he wheezed with each breath (and he was breathing hard), the way his sweat pooled at the crevices in his skin, and especially the way his fat rolls lolled in the way of the one thing that was her only real objective. Those factors called forth non-too-fond memories of the greased pig races they had hosted in Sunberth.
Such undesirable situations were nothing new, however, and it assuaged her to know that the fellow was wealthy. The pants he had been wearing were brocaded with gold thread, after all.
Now, said pants were discarded on the wooded floor beside the bed, along with an ensemble of the other articles of clothing one would expect to see. Out of the corner of her eye, Siobhan could just see that hint of gold thread beneath a pile of solid black, and she idly wondered if Jeb had actually thought he was being fashionable or if he was simply trying to show off his wealth in a truly gaudy way.
Cleanliness had to be considered, of course, for personal safety reasons. Health, too, was tied to that, though physical fitness was less important than the overall absence of illness.
After that came wealth and social status, and a whore's preference on this was expressly tied to her motivations. A rich client -- perhaps a fellow from the Lark family -- was often more likely to leave an extra miza or two for those whose performance was particularly impressive. On the other hand, a non-citizen could be potentially easy prey for anyone looking to gain extra income through more nefarious means.
There were, obviously, a variety of other things that whores took into account, most of which would vary from one individual to the next, though these qualifiers are rarely held in high enough regard to really impact the person's work.
Siobhan, on her part, had few standards other than those already mentioned. There was a particular apathy with which she approached her work, and it allowed little room for discrimination. It also provided Siobhan with some sense of efficiency. There was a job to do, and she would do it. She would play the part she was expected to play, carry out the expected actions, and say the expected words. She would put on the performance, then she would collect the reward. That was all there was to it.
Of course, she was also required to make the paying customer forget that it was all a performance. Which, in this particular instance, was going to take a feat of theatric inspiration on her part.
The man Siobhan was with now was named Jeb. He might have been attractive if he were thirty years younger and about one hundred and fifty pounds lighter, but it wasn't his physical attractiveness (or lack thereof) that was making it difficult for Siobhan to concentrate on doing her job. It was the way he wheezed with each breath (and he was breathing hard), the way his sweat pooled at the crevices in his skin, and especially the way his fat rolls lolled in the way of the one thing that was her only real objective. Those factors called forth non-too-fond memories of the greased pig races they had hosted in Sunberth.
Such undesirable situations were nothing new, however, and it assuaged her to know that the fellow was wealthy. The pants he had been wearing were brocaded with gold thread, after all.
Now, said pants were discarded on the wooded floor beside the bed, along with an ensemble of the other articles of clothing one would expect to see. Out of the corner of her eye, Siobhan could just see that hint of gold thread beneath a pile of solid black, and she idly wondered if Jeb had actually thought he was being fashionable or if he was simply trying to show off his wealth in a truly gaudy way.
