Chương 167: Chapter 165: The brothel

She does, by the way. She absolutely drags me to a brothel. First thing in the morning, in fact. I ask her why I'm the one who has to go with her, because she didn't drag anyone else along. She practically ripped me out of bed to go with her, but she didn't so much as knock at anyone else's doors.

"You'll love it," she says. That's all the explanation she offers me. I stagger along behind her, still rubbing sleep out of my eyes. I slept more last night than I think I've slept in months. Usually, I get only four hours of sleep. But last night, for whatever reason, I got a full eight. I even had dreams. I don't really remember them, because El ripped me out of a REM cycle when she banged on my door, but I think they had something to do with jelly beans and new swords.

She practically drags me down street after street until we come to what looks like a Chinese pavilion, standing all on its own. There are guards standing outside, each of them huge hulking men with huge hulking swords held in front of them, tips resting in the sand in front of them. They barely move enough to avoid confusion with statues, but their eyes are constantly watching anyone who comes near. For some reason, I wonder if they are eunuchs.

I remember a movie once saying that eunuchs become enormous after they are snipped, and these guys definitely qualify as enormous. I take a close look at one of them. G uard. Very rare rare elite dominus blood, level 60. HP: 60, 000/60, 000. Those are some very powerful guardians. El brings me past them, through a door made of hanging silks, and into the main room. Lounging around in the room are a ton of women and men in various states of undress.

I'm not sure any of them are what you would call'decent' if you were one of those people who cared about decorum and not exposing various parts of yourself.

"Look how inclusive they are!" El says, waving an arm at all the people inside. Not all of them have wings. A lot of them do, but there are definitely a few who don't. There are even a few who look like they are demon blooded. None with black or red skin, but at least one with a deep purple color infusing her flesh, her nipples an even darker purple as she sits at a table and plays chess with a winged man who is even skinnier than Vincent.

But it's more than just the variety of different species sitting around here. There are all kinds of body types, as well. Some of them have little curves like Gigi, some of them have big rolling curves. Some of them have little belly paunches, the way you'd expect from a belly dancer, and some of them are what you would call big beautiful women. And men. There are men who are built like football players, and there are men who are built like people who just drink beer and watch football.

Some of them are eating, all of them are sitting there with the utmost confidence. And then there are the customers. I can only tell the difference there because of how much they're all wearing. Most of them are in street clothes, but there are a fair number wearing matching robes that really look like they are made of terrycloth. They sit across from the people who work here, laughing and chatting, playing games, sharing meals, and generally having a good time.

There's a haze of smoke in one area of the room, and I can see a large group sitting in a bit of a conversation pit around large hookahs. El looks at me with sparkling eyes.

"Isn't this awesome?" she asks.

"It looks pretty impressive," I say. There have to be at least fifty people in this room. Maybe more. We're standing in the entrance for only about a minute before someone comes to see what we need. She's a very petite girl with strikingly beautiful features. Not really my type, as she looks like she might be on the edge of being too young to do this kind of thing. But I can appreciate, from a purely aesthetic point of view, how beautiful she is.

"Welcome friends," she says. Her voice is a bit deeper than I expected, and her eyes are much more mature than her body seems to be.

"May I ask what your pleasure is this fine day?" It then occurs to me that we're early in the morning. Like, it can't be later than eight o'clock. And this place is still pretty packed. The room looks like it could handle about double it's current capacity, but the fact that there are this many people here this early makes me think that a lot of money must go through this particular establishment. The guards outside make more sense. As do the ten or so other guards I see surreptitiously placed around the room.

"My friend here wants a massage and a conversation," El says.

"And I would like to have my fortune told." The young woman nods, the smile never leaving her face.

"We can certainly accommodate both of your desires," she says.

"May I ask your preferences in partners?"

"I don't have a preference," El says.

"Male or female is fine for me."

"Female, please," I say. I do consider myself heteroflexible, but my Kinsey scale still skews towards heterosexual. Though to be honest, I don't really care that much when it comes to just getting a massage. As long as they know what they're doing.

"So long as she knows how to give a good massage." The young woman gives me a slight bow.

"If it please you, sir, I have several years of experience giving massage, and would be honored to help you."

"How old are you?" I ask. I feel bad for asking, but it just slips out. I don't want to do anything inappropriate. I don't care what the standards are for this world; I'm only interested in adults.

"I am twenty nine summers old," the young woman says. And I have to reevaluate her. If she's almost thirty, then how does she look so young? And that's when I realize that it's not youth so much as it is androgyny. Her chest is almost completely flat, and I took that for being undeveloped. Her curves are subtle and gentle, which also made me think that she just hadn't come into her body yet. But I see that she is completely in her own body.

She stands with a certain confidence that is actually greater than the confidence I feel in my own skin. She exudes confidence. And happiness. I blush.

"Sorry for asking," I say. She smiles.

"It's all right," she says.

"I often get similar questions, because of my form. I am still developing into the body I was meant to have." Meant to have? Does that mean it isn't the body that she was born with? Some people are born in the wrong bodies. I've often wondered if I was one of them. Would I have been happier if I'd been born a woman? Would I have transitioned if such a thing were more possible when I was younger? Is that what happened here? Does this world have transgender people that are just accepted? That would be awesome.

She turns towards El.

"Our seer is currently with another client, but should be done in a few minutes. Could I perhaps get you something to eat or drink while you wait?" El looks over at the side of the room, where there is a bar with a topless bartender.

"I'll just wait at the bar if that's okay," she says. The woman bows slightly.

"As you wish, my lady," she says. Then she gestures towards the bar.

"I'm sure Sara will be happy to help you with whatever you desire." Then she turns back to me.

"Now, good sir, if you would follow me, I will take you to one of our massage chambers." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. She gives me a smile, then twirls on her toes and begins to walk through the room, not even looking over her shoulder to see if I am following her. I keep pace with her pretty easily, noticing the flowing way that she walks. There's joy in every movement, and it's kind of contagious.

By the time we get through the main room, I can feel the smile on my own face, and I can feel the tension already starting to drain out of me. While we're walking, I decide to observe the woman in front of me, to see what her stats are. Jellia. Very rare elite seraph blood courtesan, level 51. HP 25, 500/25, 500.

"That's a very pretty name, Jellia," I say.

"Thank you," she says, still not turning back.

"I chose it myself."

"Does it mean anything?" It probably doesn't; if it did, then polyglot probably would have translated it.

"I like to think it means 'pleasant breeze,' but it could be nonsense for all I know. I just like the way it sounds." That makes me chuckle a little bit. She leads me through the main chamber and through a door made of hanging beads. She holds them aside for me, giving me another smile. Her lips are thin, almost a sharp slash across her face, but her smile really lights up her whole figure. And the smile travels to her eyes, so I know it's real. It makes me happy that she's happy.

"Have you ever had a massage before?" she asks as she leads me down a corridor. The corridor is lined with doors, these ones made of thick wood.

"I have, yes," I say. I've never had a massage with a happy ending before. No ending is happy when it comes to massages. The touching stops, and that's not happy.

"All right then," she says. She stops at one of the doors and pulls it open, gesturing me inside.

"If you wouldn't mind, please strip down to your level of comfort and lay on the table under the sheet. I will give you a moment of privacy."

"On my back or on my chest?"

"That is up to you," she says.

"Eventually, we will do both sides." I notice there is no mention of pay. Again, that's probably what the guards are for. But I'm good for it; there's no way she's going to charge more money than I have. No massage is worth that much. I step into the room and start stripping, putting my armor into my spatial bag. My weapons are already in there, but I add the buckler and all my jewelry, my boots, and my undergarments. I've never had a naked massage before; I always left my boxers on. But I'm in a brothel.

Explicitly. It's clearly legal here, and the woman is clearly consenting. I'm not going to demand anything, but I do want to be open to all possibilities. I lay down on my back, and feel the soft padding of the table beneath me. I pull the sheet up over my waist, and I close my eyes. There's the sound of gentle music drifting in the air. I look around and see that there are slits in one of the walls, up towards the ceiling.

Too high to allow anyone to really spy on the room, but high enough that a musician playing on the other side of the wall would be able to have the music drift in. It's clever. A few minutes pass, and then there is a gentle knock at the door. I tell her to come in, and she enters the room, closing the door behind her.

"I am going to touch you," she says as she comes near. She rests one hand gently on my shoulder.

"Please tell me if the pressure is too much, or if you would like me to use more." All of this is pretty normal for a massage, so I just smile at her. She takes a bottle of oil from a shelf and begins to pour some of it on my chest. I'm expecting it to be cold, but it's actually pleasantly warm. I wonder how they manage that. Maybe it's magic. She starts to rub my shoulders first, and her fingers have the perfect amount of strength in them.

"I see that you are a swordsman," she says as she starts working my muscles.

"How can you tell?" I ask.

"Different weapons develop the body in different ways," she says.

"Yours are developed like a swordsman. Or maybe an archer? Your right shoulder is significantly larger than your left." I smile again.

"I am both a swordsman and an archer," I say.

"You're very astute."

"I have studied a bit myself," she says.

"Some clients like to fence, and I have the body for it." She does have a very lithe body. Very good for quick movements. And she's very graceful, at least in the way she walks.

"Can you tell me about the courtesan class?" I ask her.

"We are skilled in many different arts," she says, slowly working her way around my body. Her voice is soft and gentle, and the rhythm of it is almost hypnotic as she works. I let my eyes drift closed.

"Dancing, fencing, massage. Games of chance and games of strategy. We are well read, we are clever, and we are able to do whatever a client might want us to do."

"Do you choose your own clients?"

"I chose you," she says. I can hear the smile in her voice.

"I noticed you as soon as you came in. I don't often give massages, but I was determined to provide you with whatever services you desired."

"Why?" I ask. She chuckles a little as her fingers move along my muscles, working out knots that I didn't know were there. There's the slightest bit of pain when she presses, but it is quickly followed by the pleasure of relaxation when the pressure lets up.

"You are a very handsome man," she says.

"Even without wings."

"I'm not from around here," I say.

"Oh, I know," she says.

"You don't look like anyone from within a thousand miles of here. You're very exotic. That's part of why I like you."

"Just part?"

"Like I said, you're very handsome. But there is also an aura around you. You exude kindness and acceptance. I like that."

"Not everyone is accepting?" I ask. That makes me nervous. Are there people who are transphobic in this world? That would be awful.

"Everyone is entitled to their own tastes," she says.

"Some prefer specific parts on their partners. But I don't get that impression from you."

"I'm not interested in that," I say, honestly. I don't think I want to have sex with her. Not because of her body, but because I still just don't really want to have sex with anyone. If I can't handle it with the connections that I have to my friends, I definitely can't handle it with a stranger.

"I just want the massage."

"I'm not going to push you to do anything you're uncomfortable with," she says.

"My goal is to help you relax and enjoy your stay here. That is my only concern." She continues with the massage, and tells me more about being a courtesan. I think she senses that I am open to her talking, and so she just prattles on, her voice constant as she moves around my body. I can't help but let out a groan as she massages around my knees. I don't have the kind of pain in my body that I used to have on Earth, back when I was human and age was starting to catch up to me.

But it still feels incredible to have her nimble fingers work at my muscles. She tells me all about her time in the pavilion, and about the others that work there. There are apparently fifty courtesans employed here, though not all of them are working every day. They have a steady stream of clients, and they stay open more or less all the time, even overnight. She herself as been a courtesan for almost a decade.

Before that, she worked in the pavilion in a more maintenance capacity, cleaning and repairing things when needed. Clients are generally careful, but accidents do happen. There are some who prefer a rougher treatment, but there are also courtesans who specialize in such things according to their own preferences, both as givers and as receivers.

"Do courtesans ever marry clients?" I remember that was something that happened occasionally on Earth, and I wondered if it happened here as well.

"At times," she says.

"It's not very common, though. Most of us prefer working with multiple clients, and the idea of marriage is a bit of an anachronistic concept. Why settle for a single partner when the world at large is available? I myself don't plan on ever marrying, no matter what I am offered. I will continue to do this for as long as I am able."

"Is there a retirement age?" She laughs at that.

"Not a mandatory one," she says.

"We have clients who prefer the more experienced workers. One of my friends is nearing her sixtieth year working here, and she still has a regular load of clients. She only works two days out of the week, though. She is somewhat retired, I suppose." There are kinks of all kinds, and people like what they like. I suppose there is a market for everyone, if you're open to it. I like that.