The Fairy Gift (7 page)

"Um, I was wondering if I might … borrow some paper," I said.

The door opened, and Titiana stood menacingly over me, looking down her thin pointed nose. "Borrow?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows (which I was quite certain had been drawn on). "As in, you intend to return it to me later?"

"Er, no," I replied. "I, ah … need to write a letter to my parents. You know, so they know what's happened to me and can, ah … come get me."

Titiana continued to glare down at me. "I see," she said finally. "Paper is not cheap, you know."

"Er, no, I'm aware of that, but …" I trailed off. She seemed to be thinking of something.

"You'll have to do something for me," she announced after a moment. "And also, wash the sheets."

"Alright," I said warily.

"Tomorrow, I shall inform you of your task. When you have completed it," she sniffed, "I shall give you paper."

She slammed the door, and there was nothing I could do but wander wearily back into the kitchen, wondering about the nature of this
task
. I supposed I could always refuse and acquire paper some other way, but then, I didn't want to end up on the street. Really, it was only fair that I did laundry in exchange for room and board. Was paper really that expensive, though? Perhaps it was just some menial task that she meant. But somehow, I didn't think so.

The girl who had first taken me in—Aria was her name—and a few others were now sitting at the table, eating the gruel that Emie had prepared. Aria looked tired, and her dress had fallen off of her slender shoulders. She brightened up when she saw me, though.

"Hello, Marcus!" she said cheerily. "You look beat. Fancy a ride?"

It took me a moment to figure out what she meant by that, but then I blushed. "Um. No thank you."

Something seemed to click behind her eyes. "Ohh," she whispered, "You like men, don't you?"

I blushed deeper, and the other girls giggled. "Of course he does, Aria," one twittered at her. "Didn't you notice right away?"

Then Aria turned to me and sighed, quite obviously looking me over. "If you change your mind, though, Marcus … " She winked. "You can let me know."

"Um. Thanks," I managed to gasp out, and then fled the room as one of them called out something about a male prostitute.

Hailey was on the stairs chatting with a customer. The moment I passed, however, she turned her full attention to me.

"What did you want from Titiana?" she asked seriously.

"Oh, er, nothing," I said. "I just needed something. She said I have to … do her a favour tomorrow. Any idea what that might mean?"

Hailey looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shook her head and turned back to her customer, who I thought had been leering at me while I spoke to Hailey. I shook my head to clear it and headed up the stairs.

Draeden was back. He was sitting at the foot of my bed and neglected to move when I flopped down onto it. "Your friend Dante is a cad," he informed me.

"He's not my friend," I replied darkly. "What did you find out?"

"That he is quite rich," said Draeden. "For some reason, this seems to endear him to women."

"I don't want to know," I grimaced.

"No," Draeden agreed, "you don't. So I won't tell you. But just know that I had to see it. I feel I should renounce my rights as a Sex Fairy." He shuddered.

"I thought you were a Seduction Fairy," I said, wondering if I had gotten it wrong.

"I am." He glanced at me. "Seduction is a division of Sex."

"Ah."

"It's all organized you see," he added, and then fell silent, apparently not feeling the need to explain himself at all.

"So … " I prodded. "Is he attempting to find me in any way? Has he mentioned me at all?"

"Not that I saw," admitted Draeden. "No one seems to have expected or missed your arrival. It's very odd. You'd think he'd have at least contacted your parents."

"Well, that's what I'm going to do," I said. "As soon as I get some paper. I'll write a letter to Dante, as well."

"Good idea. Anything that doesn't involve me spying on him again is a good idea." Draeden disappeared without even a word of parting.

The next morning,
Hailey woke me by knocking on my door. When I'd opened the door, she said a little warily, "Titiana told me what your task is. Here, go and put these on." She was holding a pair of knee-high boots and some rather expensive-looking clothing, all in the modern style, of course. I looked at them dubiously, but she insisted. As I changed, she explained through the door in her soft, clear voice, "I'm entertaining a customer today—a very rich one. Recently, his wife discovered that he was seeing me. That's about the worst thing that can happen to a prostitute."

"I can imagine," I said grimly, reopening the door as I quickly buttoned up the flouncy silk shirt.

"You look nice," Hailey commented, before turning and leading me away from my room, while I combed my hair with my fingers. "Anyway, we thought we had lost our customer forever, but yesterday, I received notice that he would be visiting me at his regular time, and that he would be bringing his wife with him!"

"What?!" I squawked, suddenly aware of the reason I was being dressed in nice clothes. "No!" I cried. "I'm not sleeping with her!"

Hailey giggled, as did several of the other girls who were eating breakfast when we entered the kitchen. "You don't have to sleep with her, silly," said Hailey. "You just have to
entertain
her. Talk to her while the girls and I service her husband."

"I can't …  What will I say to her?!"

"Exactly what you need to," Titiana suddenly boomed from behind me. "I know you have a way with people."

I suddenly remembered Titiana listening in as I confessed my powers to Hailey.

"She must be happy when she leaves," continued Titiana. "Otherwise, she will not allow her husband to come back. If we lose this customer"—she glared at me, her face deadly-serious—"you
will
be out on the streets. I cannot afford to give free room and board to anyone I please."

"Marcus, you have to do this," pleaded Hailey. "We're not asking you to sleep with anyone. Just help us out."

"I can't," I sighed, before realizing that I was being selfish and spoiled. After all, Hailey probably didn't want to be in her profession (what prostitute would?), and she
was
being made to sleep with someone—many people, whose company she could not possibly enjoy. And she did it all without complaining. In fact I recalled her complaining about not being given enough customers! So who was I to gripe about having to entertain a woman for a few hours in exchange for not starving on the streets?

"Alright," I agreed. "I'll do my best."

"Good," said Titiana, "Unbutton your shirt."

"W-what?" I stammered.

"To your navel," explained Hailey patiently. "It's the symbol of a male prostitute."

Suddenly, I remembered vividly a time when, as a child, I had returned from gallivanting in the forest and appeared in front of my governess with my shirt unbuttoned. I still flinched, thinking of the swat on the backside with her broom while she explained to me that to not keep one's shirt buttoned high around one's neck at all times meant that one was an uncivilized and whorish man. I didn't know she had meant that literally.

Resignedly, I began to undo the delicate brass buttons on my shirt, until there were only two still clasped, and tucked the shirt into the tight waistline of the pants.

"You look dashing," Hailey said. "And also very expensive."

"
Very
expensive," agreed Titiana, sounding absurdly pleased. Then she continued on, business-like, "Mr and Mrs Edwards will be arriving at ten o'clock sharp. Marcus, you will entertain Mrs Edwards in the garden, while the girls will entertain Mr Edwards, first in Ellie's room, then Aria's, then finally Hailey's. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," chorused the girls.

"However, he's only paid for an hour, so that's all he's getting," continued Titiana. "Marcus, you
will
do whatever is needed to keep Mrs Edwards happy and distracted for that hour. Make her visit memorable."

"Yes, ma'am," I said as best I could with my throat somewhere in my gut.

Ten o'clock came far too soon.
I was in my room, tying my hair back with a long silk ribbon and trying to think of what I was going to say to Mrs Edwards (nothing came to mind except, "So, when did you first discover that your husband was whoring around?"), when I heard a cart pull up in front of the Parlour. I glanced at my reflection once, noting the way my eyes caught the light distractingly and determining to use it to my advantage, and then rushed downstairs to greet the customers.

Mr Edwards was a tall, professional-looking man with a thick blond moustache and a fitted, cream-coloured coat that looked expensive. He was young, despite his distinguished air, and had a roguish twinkle in his eye. His wife was a small, delicate woman with an aristocratic face and shiny silvery-brown hair. They both looked a little nervous.

"Ah," said Titiana, turning to greet me on the stairs. "This is Marcus. Marcus, this is Elanora Edwards."

I trotted down the remainder of the stairs and bowed politely, flashing what I hoped was a charming smile.

Elanora blinked a couple of times, apparently dazzled, and I watched her eyes as they followed the open line of my shirt downward. I noted the little shiver of excitement that she felt, watching me move, and wished that Titiana had let me keep my shirt buttoned up. I supposed that it would make the whole affair a little easier, though, having it undone.

"Would you like to come sit with me in the garden?" I asked, quite pleased with my ability to keep my voice even when I was as squeamish as anything inside.

"Oh … " Elanora blinked again. "Ah …  alright."

With a last glance at Mr Edwards, she took my arm, and I led her around through the front yard and into the back garden. We sat at one of the small wrought iron tables set up in the centre. Once we were sitting, and Emie had albrought us both tea, Elanora relaxed a little, and sat sipping daintily from her teacup and looking around. I knew I should be talking to her, or at least getting to work on seducing her, but I couldn't seem to make myself do anything but sit stiffly on the chair and look down at my hands, glancing up at her occasionally.

She finally initiated the conversation. "So you work here?" she asked, taking another sip of her tea and looking at me interestedly.

"Er, yes," I replied. "For now, anyway."

"And do you like it?" she asked, and then checked herself. "Well, I suppose you don't really have a choice, do you? It's a silly question, really. I told my husband that he shouldn't be coming here and taking advantage of girls who don't want to … well." She stopped and looked down at her hands.

"Actually," I said, "not to sound forward, but we appreciate the business. It is … difficult to find work nowadays, and … " I sighed. " … well, I suppose money is money. It's good to make an honest semi-professional living." I said the last with a small smile, although inwardly I was wondering when exactly I had formed this particular opinion.

"Oh, well, I suppose so." Elanora sighed, lifting her tea cup again. She seemed to be hiding behind it, using the hot liquid and fine china as a firm, impermeable barrier. I wondered what she was hiding and pressed on her mind a bit, teasing her to open up a little.

I couldn't be sure if she noticed it or not, but she immediately put her teacup down and leaned toward me. "It's not as if I really mind him coming here, you know. It's just that … well, he seems to prefer it … to me." She sighed again and leaned back in her chair. "I shouldn't be telling you this, really."

"Ma'am, I'm not exactly innocent," I assured her. I was lying through my teeth, of course, but she didn't need to know that.

"That's true," she admitted. She looked hard at me for a moment. I met her gaze, and then blinked. She smiled at me. "You have lovely eyelashes. Did you know?"

I smiled back. "I didn't. Not really. I … don't look at myself that often."

"Ah," she said, a little smile playing on her lips. "Modest. I've never known such a handsome man to be so modest."

I must have blushed a little, because she laughed and look another sip of her tea, smiling as she did so and looking up at me through her own blonde eyelashes.

"So tell me," I prodded, "what is it that distresses you about your husband?"

"Well …  He's never really been, shall we say, voracious." She smiled. "In bed. And, well, I was alright with that, heaven knows I was nervous enough on our wedding night. And I thought, well, you know, that was just how he was. He's such a smart, kind man, and he works himself very hard, you know."

I nodded, and she smiled, obviously very in love with her husband.

"But when I learned he was coming
here
." Her eyes darkened, "Obviously, you don't come to a place like this unless you are in need of something … something that your wife can't provide." She lowered her head and sat dejected-looking, her teacup in her lap.

I found I understood her completely. "Ma'am," I said seriously. "You are very beautiful. I am sure any man would be more than satisfied with what you can … provide."

Elanora smiled up at me, but looked sad. "Any man but my husband," she corrected.

"Well …  Sometimes, people get restless. It takes them a while … to see what's right in front of them. Look at it this way:  if your husband is … exploring, that gives you leave to, as well, right? Haven't you ever been curious?"

She started. "I, well … " She trailed off, and I shook my head, indicating that she needn't answer. Then, after a moment, she smiled at me and leaned forward. "Well," she said, "this is nice, just this. Having tea with a young, handsome man without having to feel guilty about it. I should like to do so again."

I nodded. "Anytime you wish."

Elanora seemed satisfied with that and poured herself another cup of tea, sitting back to drink it and enjoy the garden.

Then I thought of something. "Er, not to be boorish, but you live in the palace, right?"