Sex and Vengeance Pt. 03

"She's not an easy one to pin down, my Lady." Tira reported, nervously wringing her hands as she stood before Karandreya in the drawing room. Three weeks had passed - three weeks of discreet inquiries met with stonewalling, feigned ignorance, and rare tidbits. Three weeks of sleepless nights worrying that someone would visit in the night to politely, but firmly, ask her to stop making such inquiries about the Lady Starshadow.

"I didn't ask if it was easy, Tira. I asked if you'd found anything out."

"A few things, my Lady. She rarely goes out to drink except at her club. Meals likewise, though there's one small place in the slums I heard she likes. It's the clubs that she mostly goes to."

"More than one?"

"Yes, my Lady. She's, erm, 'eminently clubbable', or so I was told. She's in at least a dozen - probably the most anyone is! But I did find out she mostly goes to two. There's Paradise - " Tira blushed at the mention of the notorious burlesque establishment, which wasn't quite a club but had more social standing than any ordinary bordello ought to. " - and then there's an odd one called the Locks, my Lady."

"I've heard of that one before... On the western end of Churchway, isn't it? Not exactly a prestigious location."

"Yes, my Lady. Lady Dawnglaze's lady's maid worked there for a few years as the - it sounds preposterous, but she was very serious - the groom of the chambers. The Lady Starshadow was there at least once a week. She founded it when the other ones wouldn't let her in."

"Typical. She couldn't take the message she wasn't wanted, so she did it herself."

Dreya shook her head with disgust and raised her cup of tea for a delicate sip. Lady Starshadow was a scandalous woman in every respect - bulling her way into male arenas and clubs, using her supposed links to the city's seedy underbelly to frighten everyone into allowing her presence and her position as a Senator to overrule dissent. That she'd start her own club when being rejected fit every rumour Dreya had ever heard about that most peculiar lady.

"If you say so, my Lady. Dawnglaze's maid told me she'll be there most nights she goes from two in the afternoon until dawn. She sleeps there, apparently - they have bedrooms upstairs. The good news is she assured me women are allowed to join, but..."

"But?"

"...but that the waiting list was three years long when she worked there and she'd be shocked if it wasn't longer now. And there's no way past it for love or money, she said. But if you're a guest you can go into the Stranger's Dining Room and the Petty Bar, so all you need is an introduction. They'll even take it as a written note."

"Do we know anyone who's a member, Tira?"

"Yes, my Lady. Lady Seawhisper is, or so Dawnglaze's maid says."

"Mm. Then we'll have to impose on her hospitality..." Another slow, delicate sip of tea. "Tomorrow, we'll visit Lady Seawhisper for afternoon tea, I think. Her absence at the ball is a good excuse. I'll pretend I'm there to inquire about the health of her little ones and bring her a small gift, perhaps, to celebrate their fortune."

She tried not to show her jealousy as she thought of it. A son, healthy and well-formed. She and Adrene had been trying for years without luck, like so many others among the Republic's highborn elite. The gifts of their blood and their long years came with the curse of long empty nurseries and cribs to taunt and mock them, especially with sons needed in the service of the Empire. It was another way the Starshadow pair could flaunt the norms. They produced children with such ease that half the aristocracy would line up to kiss their feet if they thought it might rub some of the favour of the Gods off onto them and give them even a fraction the fertility that cunt, Bliss, enjoyed.

"And the rest, Tira? Did you find out if she has a type, a scent she likes, anything?"

"No ma'am. She doesn't have a type, near as I can tell, other than not liking men terribly. Very diverse tastes so long as they're of the distaff variety."

"Go and pick out a suitable outfit for visiting the Locks later, Tira. Something that'll fit their dress code but still show plenty of cleavage. She must like tits - she married a woman who could put a herd of prime milkers out of business - so we'll play to that."

"Yes, ma'am."

As Tira slunk away, Dreya let herself sink back further into the plush upholstery of the sofa, her teacup clinking softly on the saucer as she relinquished it. Lady Starshadow's lack of a particular preference was both vexing and an opportunity. She wouldn't be able to disguise herself to suit, but it meant her own natural charms - and they were ample, she thought to herself - might be sufficient on their own, amplified suitably with make-up and a sultry seductress routine. Compared to Bliss they were small, but by any reasonable standard they were ample, with creamy peach-hued skin dusted with the faintest of freckles on their upper side to entice the eye.

Idly, her fingers ran over one of them, and she sighed softly, leaning her head back against the cushions. It was something of a thrill to even think about tasting someone other than her husband - someone new and exciting. That she'd be getting one up on the cunt who'd shamed her was icing on the proverbial cake. It was fashionable now to discreetly take lovers, but some stubborn remnant of decency had kept her from it. Now, with Adrene's betrayal a license to indulge, she thrilled to the thought of finally feeling someone else inside her. She'd been virginal when they'd married, and Adrene was perfectly adequate, but she'd wondered before if she was missing out. Finally, she'd have a chance to find out - if she could only persuade Seawhisper...

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"It really is lovely to see you, Lady Sunbough."

Seawhisper smiled over her tea as she spoke, and Karandreya obligingly smiled back. The afternoon calling was an old ritual now - a procession from grand house to grand house governed by rigid formalities. Tea had to be served, they must sit in the drawing room at a small round table, and only in exceptional circumstances should any visitor linger more than a half hour.

"And you, Lady Seawhisper. It's been entirely too long - not since before your fortune, I believe."

"That long? Goodness... I suppose I did get a little broody in my confinement! They told me it's not necessary, you know - an old wives' tale - but between you and me..." Seawhisper dropped her voice to a stage whisper, leaning slightly forward across the table. "...I was glad of it, between the sore back and my swollen feet and the unflattering clothes. I know some women flaunt it but I don't think that will ever be me - not like the Lady Bliss."

"A fine tradition worth upholding, Lady Seawhisper."

The tea was a delicate blend from the southern colonies, and Dreya used it to disguise her distaste for the mere mention of that cunt. Seawhisper said it like so many did, with a faint air of awe - as though she'd done anything more impressive than spread her legs and be fortunate in her fecundity. Setting her cup down with a slight clink of porcelain, she beckoned for Tira to attend her.

"I brought something for your little son - a gift for his birth." She explained, taking the package from her maid and placing it on the table. "And for yourself as well. I hope you don't mind they're in the same box - they're a set, you see..."

"Not at all, not at all..." Seawhisper replied, unlacing the ribbon and delicately opening the small card box. The afternoon light struck the inset black opals of the matched necklaces and set them alight with a shimmering fire that flooded the polished cabochon-cut stones. "...they're... Astonishing, Dreya. You shouldn't have."

They'd cost Dreya a pretty penny, bought at last minute from a jeweller - but the look on Seawhisper's face told her they were worth the investment. The lapse into her diminutive, the lapse of formality back into their finishing school days, said the rest. They were elegant pieces, simple white gold pendant frame settings with fine chains that allowed the thumbnail sized opals to do all the talking. One was sized for a woman's neck, the other for a child's (something she'd had their oddman attend to - it was a simple matter for him to open the links and remove some of the chain to shrink it to fit).

"He was born under the sign of the Phoenix, I believe, just like you - so black opal seemed appropriate. It's nothing, really - just a sign of how happy I am for you both."

"Nothing? No, Dreya, they're beautiful and... And I'd thought you must be furious at me after what happened at the ball with Adrene - but I see now I underestimated you. I was such a fool to think you'd blame us for it, when we were such good friends at school. I should have had more faith in you!"

Dreya took another sip of tea to once again hide her disgust as Seawhisper babbled, her eyes moist. It was unseemly, and of course, entirely wrong. She and her husband were at fault for inviting the cunt in the first place, and she doubted she'd ever forgive them. But Seawhisper had always been a romantic at heart, and romantics were easy to exploit.

"Think nothing of it. Anyone would think so, but that matter is between myself and my idiot of a husband. I should very much like to resume our friendship, if you'll allow me after so long apart. Is there somewhere less... Less formal, that we might go sometime? Like when we used to sneak off and bet with the other girls on which of the teachers was going to do some silly thing?"

"Less formal... Yes, of course! You must come visit me at my club sometime, away from the..." Seawhisper went quiet and shrugged. It was less a discrete presence so much as an atmosphere. A drawing room was a place of high formality even in its codified informalities - circumscribed in its topics, in its permissible friendships, even its thoughts.

"You've a club? I'd no idea - I'd thought perhaps a walk, but... That does sound thrilling!"

"It is." Seawhisper confided in her, leaning across the table and even taking her hand, beaming at her with a smile that could almost, but not quite, be considered a grin. "It's a remarkable world, Dreya - I can't believe they kept us out of it so long just because we don't have... Well, you know what we don't have! The conversations, and the gambling - they gamble on anything, it's incredible - the company."

"Which one are you in? I know there's a few now that let women join."

"The Locks, of course - it's simply the best of them. The rest only let us in certain parts or on certain nights, but not the Locks."

"Then I should be delighted to visit with you there, sometime! Are you going soon?"

"No, sadly not. I have my little Teyan to preen over. I'm terrible, I scarce let the nurse touch him. I know it isn't ladylike but he's too precious by half for all that."

"Of course - who can blame you? When I have mine I doubt they'll even see him for all I'll keep him all to myself. But if you're not to go soon... Do you think I could go, learn the lay of the land a little perhaps? With Adrene's... Indiscretion, a home away from home would be... Well. I'd be very grateful to you."

Seawhisper flushed with embarrassment at the reminder of the events, and nodded. "Of course, Dreya! I'll write you an introduction... They won't let you roam free, but at least you can enjoy the Strangers' Lounge and get away from him for a while. I really am sorry for what happened..."

"It's fine. You had nothing at all to do with it, Violetta." Dreya reassured Seawhisper as she rose and made her way to the small writing desk alongside the wall. "Speak no more of it - let us instead just be glad of our renewed acquaintance!"

"Yes! How lovely." Seawhisper replied over her shoulder as she scratched out the note on a piece of stock embellished in gilt with her crest. Returning to the table, she handed it over as carefully as if it were the finest porcelain, and Dreya took it just as delicately, handing it off in turn to Tira. The rest of the visit was a bore to her, but mercifully the arrival of the Gladebough's gave her an excuse to take her leave, begging off to visit again soon. She left with a smug smile and a growing sense of triumph. If it was that easy to get the introduction, how hard could the rest be?

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The Locks club loomed, a great monolith of granite and marble. Four grand columns stretched three stories high, supporting an arched portico over the front door, while grand windows glowed yellow from the upper floors. The bottom floor, queerly, had only a few narrow ones, perhaps for the privacy of its occupants. Karandreya shivered as she stared up at it and adjusted her chiffon shawl around her shoulders. It was far from the crackerbox she'd been expecting when she heard it was here in the unfashionable western end of Churchway as it could be.

It put more than a few of the clubs in the Northside to absolute shame, architecturally - there was a subtle beauty hidden in its initial monolithic construction that took her breath away. Delicate finials marked each corner and the raised segment of roof that supported the grand elongated dome while careful scalloped swirls and embellishments around the windows caught the evening twilight on colourful glazed terracotta inlays polished to a satiny gleam. Whoever had designed the Locks had done so without a budget, but with an eye to beauty rather than the garish.

"Ma'am?" The liveried doorman coughed, breaking her from her awestruck daze. She turned her slack jaw to a smile and sauntered up the four wide steps to the porch. The door, she thought, did not quite match the scale of the rest - it was of ordinary size and surprisingly plain.

"I have an introduction from the Lady Seawhisper."

She produced it from the small purse hidden beneath her bag and offered it to him. He took it, examined it for a moment, then handed it back, bowing and opening the door for her, and she wordlessly swept past him and into the hidden world of the Locks club.

The architectural beauty continued within, but not with the immense beauty of a great hall she'd been expecting. It was instead a rather small, but well appointed, reception room with several doors, outfitted in elegant carved wood panels inlaid with jet and amber, comfortable rugs, and a bored looking young woman in a footman's livery dawdling behind a desk with an enormous book laid open on it.

"You're not a member." She said, as a matter of fact - and quite insolently, almost a drawl - while making not the slightest effort to rise from her carved wooden chair. "So you must be a guest, if Dreyfus let you in."

"Yes." Dreya replied curtly, fighting down the urge to put the servant in her place. It was, she knew, entirely possible that here in Clubland the servants were above her, socially, as a mere stranger.

"Sign on the right, then. Name, referee, and purpose of visit. Oh, and you're only allowed through that door there." She pointed indolently towards a carved mahogany door with one elegantly manicured hand, and made the movement look as though it took entirely more effort than she felt Karandreya could possibly be worth.

Seething quietly, Dreya signed the vast ledger. There were several dozen names already inscribed on the left hand page, and only four on the right. For purpose of visit, she hesitated, then wrote 'Revenge' with a small, barely concealed smile. No one would possibly read it seriously, she was sure - it was to be her and the book's little secret that it was quite true.

"What's your name?" She asked as she set the pen back down on its stand, staring at the lady-footman.

"What's it to you, then?"

"I like to know who to complain about."

"Oh, look at Miss High and Mighty!" The lady-footman giggled, peering up at Dreya. She still made no effort to rise from her seat. "I know all the members by sight and you aren't one of them, so there's no one you could complain to who'd listen. The steward'd listen then throw it in the bin, the founder would laugh at you, and the trustees would bill you for wasting my time. So if you're quite done making a fool of yourself, through that door and that door only."

The sheer affrontery of the insolent servant left Dreya staring for a long moment. It was utterly unbelievable - even if the servants had more clout than a stranger, they couldn't possibly expect to get away with this! But that could wait, and shaking her head with as much lofty disdain as she could manage (which drew a giggle from the lady-footman, rather than the expected pallor) she turned and took the indicated door. It opened into a room rather more like she'd expected - a large, comfortable lounge outfitted with comfortable chairs, lounges, and a well-stocked bar. A handful of people dotted the room, drinking coffee and talking quietly or reading the newspapers.

As tempted as she was to go straight to that bar and order a drink to wash the taste of the servant's absurdity out of her mouth, Dreya instead slipped discreetly into the bathroom, conveniently signposted with a discreet brass plate. Inside, she stared herself in the mirror, and quickly touched up her lipstick. It was a rich, sumptuous red that made her lips poutier, promising sweet whispers and kisses. Together with her heels, her sleek red dress and embroidered black corset, and the careful arrangement of her dark hair, she was striking tonight. One final adjustment to her dress front to more fully emphasize her cleavage and she stepped back into the lounge and allowed herself to succumb to temptation, swaying to the bar.

"Gin and tonic, with rosemary." She ordered, turning away as the barman moved to satisfy her.

She discreetly surveyed the room and its eight occupants. Her prey was absent, but she'd expected that. They were, on the whole, a bland and boring lot to look at - ordinary faces, ordinary clothes (one even had elbow patches on his suit coat!) and ordinary bodies - and impossible to distinguish between guest and member. One of the isolated figures looked more promising than the rest, however - he was leaning forward in his seat with some degree of enthusiasm, eye set to the race pages, and a discreet padlock-shaped pin on his lapel marked him as a member, not a mere guest. With drink in hand, she sauntered to the chair opposite him, and boldly took a seat.

"Have you had any luck?" She asked, nestling her pointed chin in the palm of her other hand, resting her elbow on the overstuffed arm of the chair. She'd give the Locks one more small victory - they were terribly comfortable chairs.

"Hm? Oh, no. Dreadful picks yesterday." He replied with a polite smile, folding the paper and leaning back in his seat. His dark eyebrows and strong nose ruled his face in an unflattering way. "But that's all part of it, I suppose. At least Shareena was in attendance, so the five crown limit was in - I'm sorry, I don't believe we've been introduced! How rude of me to bore you... Sir Anton, at your service."

"Sir Anton. A pleasure." She smiled, and as he didn't rise, she made no effort. "I am Lady Karandreya Sunbough. Think nothing of it - I asked."

At her name, there was a faint glimmer that betrayed an awareness of her husband's latest scandal, but he hid it well and quickly. "Have you joined us at our little club, Lady Sunbough?"

"Oh, not yet, but I should wish to if the waiting list weren't so long. I've heard the most marvelous stories about the coffee room and the great salon upstairs, though I've not had a chance to see them."

"They are rather impressive. But, do you gamble, Lady Sunbough? Because the game tables here are most impressive as well, if you do - not the stakes, of course, but the tables themselves. Works of art."