Free Web NovelChapter 34: Madame Corsica
Nacho reached into his pouch and pulled out ten silver coins. He slid them across the table one by one, watching Pip’s eyes grow wider with each clink of metal on wood.
"That’s for the information. There’s another ten if you can answer one more question."
Pip’s hand hovered over the coins but didn’t grab them yet. Smart kid. Wanted to know what he was agreeing to first.
"What question?"
"Where can I find women who’d pay for... relaxation services? The discreet kind. The kind they wouldn’t want their husbands or families knowing about."
For a long moment, Pip just stared at him. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his gaunt face.
"Mister, if that’s what you’re selling, I know exactly where you need to go."
The Low District turned out to be everything the name implied and worse.
Nacho followed Pip through a maze of narrow alleys and crumbling buildings, each turn taking them deeper into the city’s underbelly. The smell hit him first, a potent mix of sewage and cooking fires and the particular funk of too many people living too close together without enough clean water to go around.
The sounds came next, babies crying, couples arguing, someone somewhere playing a stringed instrument badly. freёwebnovel.com
This is even worse than the Lumen slums. At least those had underwater currents to carry away the stink.
"The Velvet House is up ahead," Pip said, nodding toward a building that looked marginally less decrepit than its neighbors. It had actual windows, for one thing, with glass that might have been red at some point before years of grime turned it brownish-pink. "It’s run by Madame Corsica. She’s... particular about who she lets work under her roof."
"What does that mean?"
"Means she doesn’t hire just anyone off the street. You’ve got to prove you’ve got something to offer." Pip shot him a sideways glance. "Whatever you’re planning, I’d suggest being honest with her. She’s got a Talent for sniffing out liars. Literally. Something about reading the chemicals people give off when they’re nervous."
A human lie detector. Wonderful.
They stopped in front of the Velvet House, and Pip shifted from foot to foot, clearly reluctant to go any further.
"This is where I leave you. Madame Corsica doesn’t like me much. Something about a misunderstanding involving her daughter and a stolen necklace." He held out his hand. "That’s another ten silver you owe me, by the way."
Nacho paid him and watched the kid disappear back into the maze of alleys. Then he turned to face the building, took a deep breath of the foul city air, and walked inside.
The interior was a stark contrast to the exterior. Where the outside had suggested poverty and neglect, the inside was all velvet cushions and gilded fixtures.
Oil lamps cast warm light across walls covered in tapestries depicting scenes that made Nacho raise an eyebrow. The furniture looked expensive, the kind of stuff that would’ve been right at home in one of those noble houses he’d seen near the city center.
A woman emerged from behind a beaded curtain at the far end of the room. She was older, probably in her fifties, with silver hair piled high on her head and a face that had once been beautiful and still carried echoes of it. Her dress was purple silk, and her fingers were covered in rings that caught the lamplight as she moved.
"Well, well," she said, her voice a low purr. "What have we here? A pretty face wandering into my establishment without an appointment."
Nacho dipped his head in what he hoped was a respectful nod. "Madame Corsica, I presume?"
"You presume correctly." She circled him slowly, her eyes taking in every detail of his appearance. "You’re not from around here. That accent, the way you hold yourself. Siren?"
"Originally."
"Interesting." She stopped in front of him, close enough that he could smell her perfume. It was heavy and floral, designed to mask whatever her Talent was picking up from him. "And what brings a pretty Siren boy to my door? Looking for work? Or looking for something else?"
"Work," Nacho said. "I heard you cater to women who want... discretion. I have skills that might interest your clientele."
Madame Corsica’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What kind of skills?"
"Massage. Relaxation therapy. The kind that leaves clients feeling better than they have in years." He met her gaze steadily. "I ran a successful operation in Lumen before I came here. Had a waiting list a week long by the end."
"Massage." She said the word like she was tasting it, testing it for hidden flavors. "That’s a new one. Usually the men who come through my door are offering more... traditional services."
"I’m not traditional."
She laughed at that, a genuine sound of amusement that transformed her face briefly. "No, I don’t suppose you are." She circled him again, slower this time. "You’re not lying. That’s refreshing. But you are hiding something. Several somethings, actually. Your scent is all over the place."
Her Talent. She really can smell deception.
"Everyone’s hiding something," Nacho said. "Doesn’t mean those somethings are relevant to business."
"Perhaps." She stopped in front of him again, tapping one ringed finger against her lips. "Tell me, pretty Siren. Why should I give you a chance? I have plenty of workers already. What makes you special?"
Nacho considered his options. He could try to explain, but words only went so far. Better to demonstrate.
"May I show you?"
Her eyebrows rose. "Show me?"
"A sample. Free of charge. If you’re not satisfied afterward, I’ll walk out and never bother you again."
For a long moment, she just studied him. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face.
"Bold. I like bold." She turned and walked toward the beaded curtain. "Follow me. Let’s see if you’re as good as you claim."
The private room she led him to was smaller than the main hall but no less opulent. A massage table sat in the center, covered in silk sheets, with cushions piled at one end. Oil lamps lined the walls, their flames dancing and casting shifting shadows across the ceiling.
Madame Corsica didn’t hesitate. She shrugged off her purple dress with the practiced ease of someone who’d undressed in front of strangers countless times, revealing a body that had maintained its curves despite the years. She climbed onto the table face down and rested her chin on her folded hands.
"Well? Show me what you’ve got, pretty Siren."
