Lone Star 02 (20 page)

“On your feet,” Mrs. Fitzroy said. She'd sounded bored. Jessie wondered how many times the woman had done this to other girls.

“W-why'd you leave m-me here like th-this?” Jessie cried. “S-somebody took my r-robe and—”

A look of annoyance twitched across Mrs. Fitzroy's seamed, pallid face. “Just shut up, girl. And get up.”

“How d-dare you talk to me like th-that?” Jessie whined, still crouched in her comer. She laced her arms across her bare breasts. “G-give me b-back my c-clothes!”

Fitzroy strode over to Jessie, grabbed a handful of her hair, and yanked upward, hauling her to her feet. “I told you twice to get up!” the matron hissed as she got a better grip on Jessie's tresses, in order to twist and pull.

“Ow! Please! Stop!” Jessie screamed in agony. It felt like Mrs. Fitzroy was going to tear her scalp off.

“Go on,” the matron chuckled, still pulling Jessie's hair. “Shout your lungs out. No one will come.”

“Ow!
Please!”
Jessie stood still, trying her best to appear docile.

Mrs. Fitzroy stopped. “That's better, child,” she smiled, her gray eyes glinting with pleasure. “Now stand straight. There's someone here who wants to see you.”

The door to the bathroom swung open. In walked a woman who had to be Foxy Muscat, the madam of the bordello.

Moore had somewhat prepared Jessie for the sight, but still, Jessie could only stare, awestruck.

Foxy weighed at least two hundred pounds, and was a mere five feet tall. She was wrapped in a bright red kimono of sheer silk that gaped open to her barrel-thick waist. She wore her thin hair in a tightly coiled topknot, making her head look about two sizes too small for her gargantuan lump of a body. Her flapping breasts and pendulous belly were melded together in what looked like one huge mass of tallow. Her face was powdered a garish white; two silver-dollar-sized spots of rouge dotted her flabby cheeks, and her puffy lips were smeared with rouge of a darker shade, almost purple.

“Well, what do you think of her?” Fitzroy asked proudly. “Isn't she everything I told you?”

“And more, Fitzy, and more!” Foxy's little-girl voice was filled with admiration. “Make her stand up straighter,” the madam ordered. “Arch her back.”

Fitzroy gripped Jessie's arms and pulled backward. “You heard her!” she hissed into Jessie's ear.

Jessie felt as if her arms were about to be yanked out of their sockets, but she continued to feign helplessness.

“Her breasts are splendid!” Foxy chirped. Her sausage-like fingers reached out to pluck at Jessie's nipples, while her sour, whiskey-sodden breath thudded into Jessie's face.

It was too much for Jessie. Involuntarily, she shrank away from the grotesque woman.

“Fitzy?” the madam complained in her tiny voice. “Hold her still!” She stamped her slippered foot. “Fitzy!” she whined. “Make her behave!”

Jessie felt herself being spun around to face Mrs. Fitzroy. Without a word, the matron pulled back her arm and slapped Jessie hard across the face.

The sickening
splat!
of Fitzroy's palm across Jessie's cheek reverberated off the tiled walls of the bathroom. As her head rocked back and her eyes suddenly filled with sparks and stars, Jessie felt herself toppling off her feet. She would have fallen, to crack her skull against the hard floor, if Fitzroy hadn't caught her in time.

Far, far away, she heard Foxy Muscat say, “Take her back to her room. You've done well, Fitzy. Our client will be so pleased!”

Then a roaring built in Jessie's ears, until she could hear nothing at all.

 

 

She awoke to find herself lying atop the still-made bed in her room. Mrs. Fitzroy was sitting on the edge of the bed, just beside her. Jessie's jaw throbbed. Her fingers gingerly explored her tender cheek.

“You'll live,” Mrs. Fitzroy said. “Sit up. And do it fast, if you don't want another—”

Jessie sat up before the other woman could even finish her threat. She most certainly did not want another slap like that last one. She looked around. As she'd expected, her valise was gone, along with her clothes. She resisted the temptation to glance down at where she'd slit open the mattress.

“Why are you treating me this way?” Jessie asked meekly. “Please give me my clothes and let me go ...”

“Not so soon,” Mrs. Fitzroy laughed. “But if you'd like to wear something, you can put this on.” She tossed Jessie a garment that had been lying across the foot of the bed.

“This is all I get to wear?” Jessie stared at the gauzy chemise, little more than a nightgown, really. “Why, I'll freeze!”

Mrs. Fitzroy smirked. “Not at all. Notice how warm this room is, for example. The entire house, with the exception of that bathroom, is steam-heated. Cost Foxy a pretty penny, it did, but then again, Foxy Muscat earns a pretty penny off of this place.”

“Yes, it is warm in here,” Jessie admitted slowly.

“Yep, and in the whole house. We've got too many females running about this place to ever let it get cold. The clientele doesn't much cotton to girl-flesh being all blue and goose-bumpy.”

“What kind of place is this?” Jessie pleaded.

Mrs. Fitzroy looked skeptical. “You mean you don't know?” She grinned. “You really haven't figured it out yet?”

“Oh, please!” Jessie said in exasperation. “I just want to leave.”

“You do, eh?” Mrs. Fitzroy laughed. “Well, first put that on.”

“I want my own clothes!”

“They've all been burned,” Mrs. Fitzroy gloated.

“Oh, no!” Jessie paled.

“So, you can put that on, or stay naked.” The matron shrugged. “It's all the same to me, child.”

Jessie grudgingly slipped the nightgown on over her head. No matter how hard she tugged at the see-through fabric, the gown barely reached past her crotch.

Mrs. Fitzroy tossed her a pair of high-heeled slippers, and watched, licking her thin lips, as Jessie put them on and tottered about the room.

“Excellent,” the matron hissed. “Your nipples are poking through the gauze in front, and in the rear, the way your bottom just peeks out from beneath the hem will drive the men wild.”

“Men!” Jessie cried, aghast. “You mean to say that men shall see me like this?”

“Of course men shall see you, and do a good deal more than just look at you, I might add.”

“Please let me go,” Jessie begged. “I'll do anything!”

“I daresay you will,” Mrs. Fitzroy drawled. “But why do you carry on so? You told me all about your beau, back in Chicago, remember? You don't mean to tell me you are still a virgin?”

Jessie thought fast. She could get away with a great many falsehoods, but claiming to be a virgin was not one of them. That kind of lie could very easily be checked by somebody like Mrs. Fitzroy!

“No ...” she whimpered. “He and I did it. Once ...”

Mrs. Fitzroy roared with laughter. “Once is all it takes! Lordy! You look good enough to eat, standing there half bare like that,” the gray-haired woman leered. “It's a good thing for you—” and then she stopped.

“What?” Jessie asked fearfully. “What's a good thing—”

“Never mind!” Mrs. Fitzroy grumbled. “You'll find out, and soon enough!” She grabbed Jessie's arm and steered her out of the room. “Come with me, I'm going to show you what the situation is, around here.”

She dragged Jessie down the corridor to an archway. Before, the archway had been open, but now, securely locked sliding doors had turned it into a dead end.

Mrs. Fitzroy rattled the locked doors. “Through here are the stairs that lead down to the front foyer, and the front door. That's how we came in, remember?”

Jessie nodded.

“Well, we keep that front entrance for the benefit of new arrivals like yourself,” Fitzroy explained. “It wouldn't do to have brought you in through the entrance our patrons use.”

The matron pulled Jessie back down the corridor, all the way to the other end, where there was another set of double doors, although these were unlocked.

“These doors lead to another staircase. On this floor and the floors above are rooms where the girls”—here Mrs. Fitzroy paused to tweak one of Jessie's nipples through the sheer fabric—
“entertain
their clients. Downstairs we have the sitting rooms, the piano, the bars, and the kitchen. All the way downstairs, in the basement, are the opium dens.”

“What about these rooms, in this hallway?” Jessie asked.

“We let the girls sleep in these rooms when they're not on duty,” Fitzroy replied. “Or when it's that time of the month ... The room you were in will be yours for the next couple of days, until you're used to things ...”

“Did you really burn all of my clothes?” Jessie asked timidly.

“Yes, indeedy! Those tawdry dresses aren't suitable attire for one of Foxy Muscat's girls.”

“But I'm not one of her girls!”

“Not yet, of course,” Mrs. Fitzroy sniffed. “But you soon will be. Training you is my job, you see.”

“B-but—”

“But nothing! Here's the facts, Annie. The door you came through is closed off to you forever. Downstairs you'll find plenty of other doors and windows, but those that aren't locked or barred are guarded by the men Foxy keeps about the place to keep order. And even if you do manage to escape, what good will it do you?”

Jessie shrugged. “I could go to the police.”

Mrs. Fitzroy threw back her head and laughed. “Why bother? Most of the department's top brass are regulars at Foxy Muscat‘s,” she said. “You've no money, Annie. And no clothes. You'd be wandering bare-naked on the street. The police would just pick you up and bring you right back here. Foxy would pay them for their trouble. And then I'd tan your hide.” Mrs. Fitzroy's steely eyes narrowed. “You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?”

Jessie shuddered. “No, ma‘am,” she whispered.

“All right, then,” the matron said, satisfied. “Remember one last thing. If you do try to escape, I have a special punishment lined up for you. I have your birth certificate, remember? I know your hometown, and the rather sordid circumstances surrounding your father's death. Run away, and I'll send news of what's happened to you to the Chicago papers, along with your birth certificate to prove my story. I can just imagine how all your friends—and your ex-beau—would love to titter about your fate here in San Francisco.”

Jessie hung her head, defeated. “I won't try to get away,” she whispered.

“That's a good girl.” Mrs. Fitzroy slipped her hand beneath the hem of Jessie's chemise, and patted her bare bottom. “It won't be so bad, you'll see,” she confided. “Once you're broken in and can begin to earn your keep, you'll be paid a beginner's wage, just like all the other girls have been paid. You'll get more money as you become more accomplished. You'll shop at the finest stores for your clothes ... You wanted to be a servant! Why, servants shall soon envy you, Annie ...”

“Then ... I can leave, for a little while, I mean?” Jessie asked plaintively, but only to stay within the confines of Annabelle's character. Moore had told her that even the new girls were allowed their liberty, once Fitzy had explained how foolish it would be to try and run away.

“Of course.” Fitzroy nodded. “Eventually.”

Jessie spun around. “What?” she demanded. “I mean, I—” The plan she'd made with Moore called for her to meet him at a prearranged spot tomorrow afternoon!

“We usually let our girls do what they wish with their free time,” Fitzroy was saying. “But you're a special case. You'll be serving those clients who frequent the opium dens. Don't worry, those men aren't interested in anything but fondling a woman now and then.”

“I don't understand,” Jessie mumbled, her mind working furiously. She had to meet Moore—

“No man shall have you, dear,” Fitzroy giggled, as if she'd been let in on some private joke. “Not right away, anyway. Your debut will be for the pleasure of a very special client. All of your free time will be spent with me. I've got to prepare you.” The matron licked her lips. “This client has certain predilections, you see ...”

Jessie stood silent. Her mind was blank. She felt helplessness sweep over her as Fitzroy opened the double doors that led to the bordello.

“Now you skedaddle downstairs,” Fitzroy ordered, pushing her through the doorway. “One of the other girls will show you how to light the opium pipes. Get used to it, child. You're not leaving here for a while!”