Dreaming in Red

It was her first day. She looked around, unable to keep her cool on that rustic couch. She eyed the other women all around her, the occasional bruises on their wrists. The swelling around their faces sometimes were a good indicator as well, although it was hard to see anything through the clouds of cigarette smoke billowing in the air. She slowly stood up in her new red dress. It wasn’t red exactly, and it wasn’t exactly new either. The ribbon in the back tying her corset was slowly unraveling, but was easily fixed by burning the edges. The other women looked up at her, a young fool; she could tell they were all thinking the same thing.  

“Pour ‘amour de Dieu! Asseyez-femme!” The French woman in the room shouted. But Melody kept sauntering over towards the window. She saw all the men, piles of them, ready for the night to open its arms and embrace them in a lying pleasure. No one forgets their first night, so they made her feel special before, since no one else would, for the rest of her life here. Melody’s faint rouge was vibrant and irresistible, making her feel truly beautiful. A feeling that would fade before too soon.

“Ladies,” The head of the house, Madame Elise started to speak up, coming downstairs. “I do believe it is five more minutes until 8, let us all have a great night.” All the other women, too many to count, chatted and found their way to their feet and started heading towards the door. Melody silently followed to the open meeting area, where they were all greeted by at least 40 older men of all ages. Mostly middle age and upper class. The chatter becoming louder and bellowing through the hallways.

“Put a smile on your face, if I can do it after 17 years, so can you.” And older woman with too much powder nudged at Melody. She threw a smile on her face, just like slipping on a pair of shoes. Slowly, but once it was there, she worked with it, and it made a bigger difference than thought. All the men in line were looking at her with eyes of lust beyond this world. With such lust that even though she had her dress on, slowly slipping off her shoulders, she felt as if she were only wearing her under garments. Suddenly men were around her left and right, eyeing but not touching, as they knew the rules. Most of the older men were the ones surrounding her, amazed at a new young body. It was hard to look them in the eyes, for none of them wanted her eyes, or her heart, only her body. It was just that sort of business.

There was a young man, with stunning eyes, actually meeting her eye contact. His hair was swept over to one side, but he soon broke eye contact to step into line, being one of the first, as it seemed that all the others were too busy with admiration.

“Melody! Melody!” The line woman called out. It was her moment. Her first client. Her first time. Not ever, but just here, in a brothel.

She stepped forward, looking around frantically, almost excited even, with a sadness weighing on her heart.

“Melody, meet Sir Anthony Valentine. He will be yours for all night. Enjoy.” She said with a wink before quickly moving on to her next duty on a busy weekend.

“Bonjour.” Anthony  began.
Melody looked up, remembering what the other women had said, the experts.
"Don't grow attached, to anything here. The money, the people, and especially not the men at night. The men are trouble and don't care. Even if they speak useless words of 'love' and 'amour', most of them are married or lonely, why else would they come here? Thy only want one thing and one thing alone. To spend their money on sexual desires and sin. That is all."
But it was him, the one who was staring not five minutes earlier, with electric eyes.
"Bonjour," Melody said, a crackling voice. The other women told her to always stay strong, prepared and be fiesty; in control.
"Shall we head up to the room, Sir Anthony?" She said with appeal, although it was a rather forced question.
"Whatever you would like Madame." He said, kissing her left hand with such a delicate touch, one would think they were floating on a cloud. Melody led him upstairs to the room they assigned as hers. Not too elaborate but prepared for a weekend at the brothel. A bottle of chilled champagne ready if the sir wishes to pay for it as well. Because that's all the rotten place is about; the money.
She went to sit on the couch, but he grabbed her, not violently, but with a caressing touch, warm in fact.
She mentally prepared herself to avoid attachment, and be ready to be used for a while because that was just her occupation and she had come to terms with such. She was prepared for the couch, as he slip on top of her and kissed her.
He lowered his head closer to her ear, whispering, "I can sense your fear and nerves."
Which only made it harder to breathe and think. In control.
She needed to be in control.
Brushing his brown locks out of his face, "I wont hurt you, i promise."

~~~~~~~~~~

"He's ready for you, Melody!" Antoinette called up, taking the rest of the mens money, selling them women for prices out of this world.

"Sir Anthony, how are you this beautiful evening?" Melody chimed while coming down the stairs, wearing the red dress again. She had others now that she had money. It had been 5 months and the seasons had changed.  Men came and went, and Melody knew her way around the house. Although still new, she was no longer the newest, and now knew how to properly work the job. A sucessful, although sinful, life.

"Well the evening is only a figment of beauty compared to you, so to be so close to you, I suppose I am doing great!" He said, his shocking blue eyes meeting hers. They weren't on his bossum, breast, or bum, and she loved that. It was her favorite part of the job, seeing him. For five months he would come at least once a week, always friday nights for sure, Always first in line, and always the biggest spender, supposadly increasing his pay with every visit.

"Let us head up into the room." Melody pushed her brown wild waves behind her ear, and grabbed his hand before running up the stairs.

Once upstairs, she asked, "Champagne?"

"But of course, my love." He said rather sharply, he sat on the couch, and nodded his head back closing his eyes.

"What could ever be wrong?" Melody poured two flutes and sat beside him.

"Nothing!" he shouted louder than the normal silky voice Melody was used to. He opened his eyes and grabbed her by the hair, kissing her.

Melody stared into his eyes, they were frantic, as melody pulled away, concerned.
"Tell me," He started with a rough bite, "Why do you have to give love to other men when I am here? Some of them are crippled, and twice your age, tell me why!"

Taken back and in control, she slid back on the couch and kept her distance.

"My dear, " she began, "This is my job, this is what I do. This is how I met you." She broke it to him softly.She thought about his eyes and the truth within inem, and how they looked twisted right now.

 The part that everyone was confused about was just this. They never did it.She never fufilled her job with him so to say. They talked,and joked, and laughed and kissed. But that was all. After his time and a couple good laughs, he left and came back in a week or so.

"Why would you hurt me like this though? I would never!" He retorted with the craze in his eyes.

She patted his hand softly, "If you wish we can-"

"No! That's not what I want!" He interrupted her. "Marry me Melody, forget this life, and come home to love me!"

As far as she knew, he wasn't married, but they never spoke of this, as most men in a brothel would prefer not to speak of marriages.

"I can't, I'm afraid. I must work here, it is my job. This is just a part of my job."

He threw the flute on the floor in a rage, standing up, "That's not okay! I promised! I wouldn't ever hurt you though! Not like them!" And with that, he ran out the door, leaving Melody on the couch, confused and in shock.

She cleaned up the broken glass and finished the rest of her champagne before heading downstairs to get her next client.

"What happened to Mr. Valentine?" Antionette asked, Melody shrugged and grabbed her next client.

 

It was a long night. The changing from fall to winter made all the men want to feel warm so they came to the brothel. But it was 3 am and it was closing time.

"Goodnight ladies!" Antionette shouted upstairs.

"Goodnight!" Melody and a couple of the other girls shouted back down and the girls went to their rooms.

Melody looked out the window at the naked trees and felt a connection. They were both exposed and bare, with nothing but themselves. She thought about this as she began to undress, pulling the ribbon loose on the back of her corset. She heard a creaking noise near the door and jumped.

"Hello? Who is there?" She shouted into the darkness with a silent response. The silence settled  before Melody continued trying to untangle the ribbon on her corset. She finally got it untangled and let it fall to the groud. She reached down to grab the ribbon and that was when she saw the shoes. She jumped and tried to let out a small shriek, but it was muffled as his hand was cupped around her mouth.

It was the mildly caliced hand of Anthony, still soft, but becoming dry with the weather.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you like them." He whispered into her ear.

"I promised."

The monnlight shined directly on the knife in his left hand.

"Melody, sweet, sweet melody."

Tears were running down her face and you could barely hear her muffled cries. But they were still there.

He raised the knife up let the smooth blade caress her cheek before saying, "I promised!" and there was the blood. Spilling and fading into a camoflage on her dress.

The slash was on her face from the corner of her mouth  and running into her cheekbones. His hand still muffling her screams and pleas. His hand was dripping with her blood as he grabbed her hair with the knife hand, pulling her head back, "I Promised!" he cried, tears running down his face too. He took the blade and cut into the other side, shoving the knife into her mouth first and bringing it up, leaving a smooth flap where a beautiful face once was.

Now the blood was crawling out of those cheeks and the horror in her eyes as she kept trying to scream. He grabbed a hankerchief from his pocket, shoving it into Melody's mouth, ripping the sea of blood and anguish even further, and she choked a little as the hankerchief got caught in her throat slightly.

"WHY?!" he shouted. Finally taking the knife to her porcelin skin, currently stained with dripping crimson. He let it spill on him as he held her and watched the fear in her eyes, the dirty girl, he saw her as. The women he loved not loving him back.

The scream awoke the other women and he heard their footsteps through his sobbing. Now holding the body of the woman he loved, he took the same blade and violently ran it through his stomach with a sharp twist. The pain still did not compare though as he ripped upwards with the blade, slicing through his innards.

Laying there bleeding out, he dropped the knife with a shaking hand, and saw all the red in the moonlight and what he had done. It reminded him of the beauty of that red dress and the rouge that was once on Melody's lips. He fell into darkness dreaming of red and red alone.