Ezra
I like it when you take control
Even if you know that you don't
What's a newly unemployed concubine to do, save drink?Even if you know that you don't
Look. I've been taught to do two things: look pretty and entertain. Okay, three things: look pretty, entertain, and fuck my darling Lord. But now I had no clothes to look pretty in, no court to entertain, and no Lord to fuck. Not since I was a wee lad living in my step-father's farm had I been anywhere so decidedly devoid of class, or found myself so utterly without purpose.
So, I drank.
And looked for work.
Or I tried to, anyway. I got as dressed up as I could, the thin robe cunningly repurposed into a one-shoulder romper, showing my carefully maintained chest and calves. My hair hung loose, over my shoulders and in my eyes ("Little Nymph," my Lord would call me when I wore the style). Mercifully I still had some bling, my gold medallion and silver rings and the emerald ear cuff My Lord had given me the year I turned
sixteen. All in all I made a pretty picture. Old Lola would have been proud.
Walking slowly into the bar, I sat down in a not-quite-corner, looking around doe-eyed at the passers by. I didn't know how money or any such shit worked here (or anywhere, let's be real) but I did know one thing: make people think they can have the thing between your thighs, and you've got a currency that works the world over, even in a place like this.
