see,” she drawled.
“Yes, but I’m not done yet,” announced Annette.
She led Suzette to the vanity where she sat down. Annette picked up a brush to work the tangles from her hair.
“Ouch!” Suzette screamed, protesting her rough pulling of her wet locks.
“You know, your hair is quite pretty. I love auburn with a tint of red. We have all kinds here, as you can see. I’m the fiery redhead. Nadine over there is the blond of them all! The darkies from Africa and the Orient, their hair is black as the midnight skies.”
“How many?”
“How many what?”
“How many girls does Madame Laurent have here?”
“Thirty,” quipped Nadine. “Thirty whores and thirty rooms.” She laughed. “You’re number thirty!”
Suzette glared back at Nadine’s reflection in the mirror, convinced she would never like her. In fact, she wondered if she would ever like any of them. They were no better than the hardened women of the washhouse. They only dressed better, smelled nicer, and drank more expensive alcohol.
With the final stroke of the brush, Annette pulled her hair behind her head and fastened it with a ribbon.
“There,” she said, looking proudly at her creation, “It should be dry by the time we get to the Bureau.”
“Mind if we borrow some undergarments?” she asked, walking over to a chest of drawers.
Nadine raised her brow in protest, but relented. “Sure.”
Annette pulled open her drawer and chose a few items, along with stockings. She then walked to the closet and rummaged through dresses.
“Here, try this one. Madame Laurent will give you an advance, and you can buy some new clothes. For today, wear this dress.” She laid the undergarments and dress on her bed, and turned to leave the room. “I’ll go get ready and meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
Suzette looked over at Nadine, who was staring at her wrapped in a towel. She wanted to get dressed in her room, not on the wet floor of the bath chamber.
“Would you mind not watching me,” Suzette implored.
“God, you’re pathetic.” She swung her feet around the edge of the bed, stood up, and headed for door. “You better get used to bearing everything.”
After the door opened and slammed shut, Suzette mumbled, “Good riddance,” and dropped the towel to the floor. She was determined to hold onto her last ounce of dignity as long as possible.
* * *
The carriage pulled up to the Bureau des Mouers located near the Prefecture of Police in the Île de la Cité. Suzette stepped out with Annette by her side and looked at the stark stone building looming upward.
Annette knew exactly where to go and what procedures needed to be followed. It was her responsibility to bring new hires for registration. She looked at Suzette and saw the uneasiness across her face.
“This is how it is, dearie. You’ll be interviewed first by one of the brothel inspectors. He’ll ask you questions, but I won’t be able to accompany you during that process. It’s no big deal,” she sighed. “The usual stuff—mother, father, where you live, and so on.”
Suzette nodded and willingly allowed Annette to take her hand as she led her up the steps. “Come on. Let’s get on with it.”
Once through the double doors, they stood in a foyer, and Annette stopped to give Suzette instructions before approaching the counter.
“They’ll ask you why you want to be a prostitute, so come up with something good, will you? We don’t want you getting rejected, now do we?”
Annette watched Suzette’s frightened eyes widen. “After you answer all the questions, he’ll give you a card to read with the restrictions, some of which are totally ludicrous, but we have to promise to be good little girls, or we’ll visit the local jail.”
Suzette felt like turning around and running out the door. The next bit of news nearly caused her to faint, while Annette, on the other hand, appeared to enjoy giving her the priceless details.
“After that comes the
“Yes, but I’m not done yet,” announced Annette.
She led Suzette to the vanity where she sat down. Annette picked up a brush to work the tangles from her hair.
“Ouch!” Suzette screamed, protesting her rough pulling of her wet locks.
“You know, your hair is quite pretty. I love auburn with a tint of red. We have all kinds here, as you can see. I’m the fiery redhead. Nadine over there is the blond of them all! The darkies from Africa and the Orient, their hair is black as the midnight skies.”
“How many?”
“How many what?”
“How many girls does Madame Laurent have here?”
“Thirty,” quipped Nadine. “Thirty whores and thirty rooms.” She laughed. “You’re number thirty!”
Suzette glared back at Nadine’s reflection in the mirror, convinced she would never like her. In fact, she wondered if she would ever like any of them. They were no better than the hardened women of the washhouse. They only dressed better, smelled nicer, and drank more expensive alcohol.
With the final stroke of the brush, Annette pulled her hair behind her head and fastened it with a ribbon.
“There,” she said, looking proudly at her creation, “It should be dry by the time we get to the Bureau.”
“Mind if we borrow some undergarments?” she asked, walking over to a chest of drawers.
Nadine raised her brow in protest, but relented. “Sure.”
Annette pulled open her drawer and chose a few items, along with stockings. She then walked to the closet and rummaged through dresses.
“Here, try this one. Madame Laurent will give you an advance, and you can buy some new clothes. For today, wear this dress.” She laid the undergarments and dress on her bed, and turned to leave the room. “I’ll go get ready and meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
Suzette looked over at Nadine, who was staring at her wrapped in a towel. She wanted to get dressed in her room, not on the wet floor of the bath chamber.
“Would you mind not watching me,” Suzette implored.
“God, you’re pathetic.” She swung her feet around the edge of the bed, stood up, and headed for door. “You better get used to bearing everything.”
After the door opened and slammed shut, Suzette mumbled, “Good riddance,” and dropped the towel to the floor. She was determined to hold onto her last ounce of dignity as long as possible.
* * *
The carriage pulled up to the Bureau des Mouers located near the Prefecture of Police in the Île de la Cité. Suzette stepped out with Annette by her side and looked at the stark stone building looming upward.
Annette knew exactly where to go and what procedures needed to be followed. It was her responsibility to bring new hires for registration. She looked at Suzette and saw the uneasiness across her face.
“This is how it is, dearie. You’ll be interviewed first by one of the brothel inspectors. He’ll ask you questions, but I won’t be able to accompany you during that process. It’s no big deal,” she sighed. “The usual stuff—mother, father, where you live, and so on.”
Suzette nodded and willingly allowed Annette to take her hand as she led her up the steps. “Come on. Let’s get on with it.”
Once through the double doors, they stood in a foyer, and Annette stopped to give Suzette instructions before approaching the counter.
“They’ll ask you why you want to be a prostitute, so come up with something good, will you? We don’t want you getting rejected, now do we?”
Annette watched Suzette’s frightened eyes widen. “After you answer all the questions, he’ll give you a card to read with the restrictions, some of which are totally ludicrous, but we have to promise to be good little girls, or we’ll visit the local jail.”
Suzette felt like turning around and running out the door. The next bit of news nearly caused her to faint, while Annette, on the other hand, appeared to enjoy giving her the priceless details.
“After that comes the
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