by RW Krpoun
Tonya nodded as she took a sip of wine; they had progressed through basic personal information, the ‘Maren’s’ business interests, and the like while she sat with her skirt ‘accidentally’ riding a bit higher than would be considered proper, her chair definitely closer to Gerhard’s than a married woman’s should be. “How interesting. Perhaps you could show me an example?”
Gerhard winced. “I don’t keep any of it here, and none of the projects I’m working on are in any fit shape to show you.” The leather-worker jumped as Philip slapped the door from the workshop side and fumbled around to find the handle. Tonya let Gerhard see her sliding back her chair and causally flipping her skirt down.
“That was a trip worth the walk,” Philip announced loudly as he marched into the room. “Although it’s as dark as a money-lender’s heart in your workroom.”
The standard bearer’s heart skipped a beat: they had agreed that to use the term ‘money-lender’ meant a definite lead, although they had never used it to date.
“Master craftsman Gerhard has been kind enough to give me some very useful information on some of the better workers in Teasau.”
“Damn good of you, sir,” Philip kept his voice loud. “Are you done, then?”
“Ah, no, not quite, I should think,” Tonya murmured, giving Gerhard a half-wink. “But we seem to be out of chairs here. Why don’t you go around the corner to that little tavern we passed on the way here and get yourself a mug of ale, Peter, and I’ll be along in a bit. We can have lunch there.”
“Ale, eh? Capital idea. Good day to you, then, Master Stotz, and a pleasure it has been meeting you.”
“Peter is a good merchant, but frankly, he can be such a bore sometimes,” Tonya confided in Gerhard after the street door shut behind Philip. “And he’s never passed up the opportunity to get a drink in his life. I hope you aren't one of those narrow-minded men who break out in a sweat because they are behind a closed door with someone else’s wife, Master Stotz.”
“Call me Gerhard, please,” the leather-worker murmured, covertly wiping sweat from his brow, “No, er, no, I’m quite comfortable with..that is, I’m no prude, Dame Maren.”
“Tera, if you please, Gerhard. Now, tell me about this work of yours, these pleasure items.” Tonya moved from her chair to sit on the desk. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
Gerhard fumbled through the clutter on his desk, then turned and found the portfolio he was looking for on the drawing table. “Here is a sketch of an item I just delivered, an outfit, I suppose you could call it. As I said, my work is for those of, well, specialized tastes.”
Tonya flipped open the portfolio and found herself looking at a colored pencil drawing of very good quality. The picture depicted a beautiful woman of heroic proportions wearing an odd harness that consisted of a small leather strap covering her pubic region and running up to a metal ring; from the ring, which rode just below her navel, a strap ran around her waist to the other side of the ring, and two more straps ran up to a band that passed around her torso just below her breasts; from this band two patches of leather ran upward to barely cover the woman’s nipples, attaching to another steel ring lying at the top of her breastbone. This upper ring was fastened to a leather collar which circled the woman’s neck. The picture depicted the woman as standing hip-shot, an aggressive sneer on her face and a riding crop held along her leg.
She could feel her face burning, but she kept her eyes on the picture until she had a firm grip on herself. Looking up at Gerhard, who was back to nervously turning his cup, she shook her head. “My, my, my, what a naughty boy you are, Gerhard.”
“Ah, yes, well, sometimes.” He accepted the portfolio back and absently set it on a stack of papers, where it promptly slid to the floor.
Trying hard to make shock and distaste look like aroused interest, Tonya crossed her legs, letting her skirt rise a bit. “So, do you just make these toys, or do you play with them?”
“Yes, well, when I can find...the time, yes I do indulge. With the right partner, you understand. If you would be interested, there’s a club catering to people with this sort of interest that I go to sometimes; perhaps you would care to accompany me.”
“You are not just naughty, Gerhard, you’re wicked.” Tonya uncrossed and swung her legs as she tried to guess how this business should be conducted. “I must confess that I’ve never seen anything like that drawing, did you draw that, might I ask?”
“Yes I did; to do this kind of work you have to have some drawing skills.”
“As I said, I’ve never seen anything like that, but I have to say you’ve sparked my curiosity. Does one have to wear an outfit like that to visit your club?”
“No, not at all, and it’s an extremely discreet place; as a point in fact, many people choose to wear a mask when attending it for the first time, to make themselves more comfortable. I make such masks, and would be glad to provide you with one should it make you feel more comfortable.”
“That it would,” Tonya said with complete honesty. “But I don’t know; obviously I couldn’t tell Peter that I’m off to investigate some, shall we say, new experiences and expect him not to throw a fit. He’s a bit of a dullard, really, but as I said, a fine merchant.”
Gerhard immediately dug through his desk drawer and produced a small porcelain vial. “Does Peter drink at night?”
“Peter drinks whenever he’s awake.”
“Put this in a glass of wine, preferably when you’re in your rooms, and in a few minutes he will be fast asleep, and stay that way for the night. Perfectly harmless, I might add.”
“Really, Gerhard, you are a very forward man.” Tonya eyed the vial without taking it. “I’m sure I wouldn’t have a thing to wear to your club.”
“It won’t matter,” the leather worker assured her desperately. “Usually a dark dress, nothing fancy is the norm, it’s not that kind of place. People just sit at the tables, drink, and watch the show, is all.”
“Well, I don’t know, we may not be in Tesau long enough to really get to know one another...” Tonya put on a pouting frown.
“The club is open tomorrow night, I could pick you up in a carriage at nine,” Gerhard assured her.
“You’ll send a carriage for me, I’m a respectable woman,” Tonya advised him primly, taking the vial. “At nine, then, send the carriage to the White Lion to ask for...whom shall we say? Tessa, I think, something close to my name.” She stood and fixed Gerhard with a sharp look. “I should hope that you are a man of discretion and maturity, Gerhard; I despise a boaster.”
“My discretion is the mainstay of my being,” Gerhard assured her as he escorted her out the door.
“I found two rough drafts of a Company Badge in his trash bin,” Philip advised her as she sat down at the isolated corner table he had chosen. “The bastard apparently never cleans up. One even had colors on it where he was testing the mixes.”
“Good; he’s sending a carriage to pick me up tomorrow at nine, he’s taking me to some sort of club where women wear strange harnesses and carry riding crops. I’m supposed to put this in your wine just before then to knock you out.” She slipped him the vial.
“You certainly do good work,” Philip raised his eyebrows.
“Master Stotz is less than a prime catch, if you hadn’t noticed,” Tonya shrugged. “Apparently I gave a convincing impression of a bored wife looking for some excitement. Now I need to get a message to Elonia, see if she has any kind of suggestions for handling myself at this club.”
“We had better order lunch in case friend Stotz bothers to check up, and run this stuff to an alchemist, see if it would really work. I must warn you, I’m well out of my depth here.”
“You’re out of your depth? You ought to have seen what the bastard likes women to wear!”
The carriage arrived promptly at nine; clad in a deep blue dress and wearing a black lace shawl, Tonya climbed aboard and signaled the driver to go on, toying with her purse as they clattered thr
ough the street. Two blocks from the inn the carriage stopped and Gerhard climbed aboard, freshly shaved, barbered, bathed, and dressed neatly in a conservative green jacket and tan trousers.
“So, where is this club of yours?” Tonya asked after they had exchanged greetings and a bit of awkward chatter.
“Not far; we call it The Basement as it’s built in the wine cellars of a ruined mansion, quite a quaint place, really.
“It that the mask you said you’d bring me?” She gestured to a small package he was carrying.
“Yes, it is, would you like to see it?”
“Yes, let me put it on now so I’m used to it.” The mask covered her face from the hairline to just below her nose, a cunning work of black leather with subtle whalebone supports designed to look hawkish. Once she adjusted the straps it rode comfortably on her face and made her feel much better. “How do I look?”
“Like a bird of prey from a very sweet dream,” Gerhard gushed.
“You do fine work, at least so far as I have seen,” the Badger murmured.
“You will see more of my handiwork at the Basement,” Gerhard grinned. “I’ve filled many an order there.”
The Basement was just as he described it, the under-cellars of a long ruined building; after going through a guarded door, the couple descended a flight of worn steps and emerged into a brick-ceilinged room of generous proportions, the slightly domed roof sweating and fuzzed with old cobwebs. Tables were scattered about the room, a bar dominated one entire wall, and a small stage was positioned where everyone could see it. As a room, it appeared to be nothing so much as a typically quaint tavern chosen for atmosphere.
That was where the typical ended off: while the people sitting at the tables were dressed normally enough if one discounted the masks that over half were wearing, the serving girls that moved about tending the customers were dressed in form-fitting leather waist-belts from which a skirt of thin polished chains hung down to almost, but not quite, reach the bottom of their buttocks. More chains hung from a collar each wore, more to draw attention to their bare breasts than to do anything to cover them. Manacles and leg irons were bolted to the wall every few feet, and about half were occupied by young men and woman wearing the chain-skirts that the serving girls wore, and more than a few had welts boldly displayed on their backs and legs.
Tonya had served in the Imperial Army, and had thought she had seen the rougher sort of life; after all, taverns which featured dancing girls who went from fully clothed to nothing in the space of a song were a staple of any garrison town, but she had never seen anything like this, and Elonia’s note had not fully warned her. More than anything, she was glad for her mask and the soft lighting while she struggled to regain her composure.
Gerhard guided her to a table and ordered wine, remaining silent until the girl had brought their glasses and left. “Quite a place, eh?”
The Badger nodded shakily. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she admitted truthfully.
“It’s mostly just mingle and socialize at the moment, although the rule is that you do not speak to any other customers who are wearing a mask, privacy, you know. Some people like to...play with the people on the wall, but that’s far too public for me. In a bit they should start the shows.” He nodded towards the stage.
“Ah,” she tried to imagine what kind of ‘show’ this place would put on, glanced at the people chained to the walls, and decided not to even guess. She sipped her wine and watched as more people trickled in, most in evening clothes, but now a few couples were coming in wearing cloaks over harness arrangements that were similar to the drawing she had seen in Gerhard’s shop.
The leather-worker was well-known; numerous people stopped by his table to speak with him, and several complimented him on one ‘outfit’ or another of his that someone was wearing. They would politely nod to Tonya but the mask seemed, as Gerhard had said it was, to be a signal for privacy that everyone respected: no one actually spoke to her. The place grew livelier as it filled, and Tonya saw several people make payments at the bar and then commit any number of acts or actions upon the chained men and women. It unnerved her, but was hard to ignore, given the placement of the captives around the walls. The mask and lighting helped, but she was sure that Gerhard noticed her embarrassment and nervousness; twice he placed his hand on her thigh, and his own confidence was growing.
After about forty minutes serving girls dimmed the racks of lamps while others wheeled a small cart of props to the side of the stage, and the first ‘show’ began, an exhibition where various leather-clad men and women spanked, strapped, and whipped each other before forcing their victims to perform various acts. When it was over there was a considerable applause and the next display began.
The Basement had good indoor plumbing, likely Dwarven work, Tonya guessed. She excused herself to visit the water closet, where she hung her mask on a hook next to a mirror and splashed water on her face. She was badly rattled; the sound of leather on flesh brought back unpleasant memories of standing motionless in the ranks in full battle gear while punishment was dealt out to some Legionnaire who had committed some serious offense; the fact that most, if not all the people being beaten tonight were enjoying it didn’t make it any less sickening. Tonya had never tasted the lash while serving in the Legions, but she had sustained enough battle-wounds to know what real pain felt like, and had no interest in feeling any more.
Straightening up, she found a hard-faced woman a few feet away watching her as she buckled one of the six straps that held her leather corset closed, the corset her only garment aside from silk stockings held up by thin leather straps coming off the corset and low-heeled pumps. “Your first visit here?” the woman asked.
“Um, yes, does it show?”
“Pretty clearly,” The woman, a brunette a head shorter than the Badger and a year or two older, nodded, tucking the strap end back through the buckle. “You’re with Gerhard Stotz, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I thought so, but the mask’s facing the wall so I wasn’t sure.” She put a foot up on a stool and adjusted the line of a stocking. “He made this corset for me, expert work, and reasonable prices.” Straightening, she looked Tonya square in the eye. “Like as not he sprang this on you suddenly, he’s a vicious little worm that way; he’ll walk all over you if you let him see you’re shaken. Just keep your chin up, look him straight in the eye, treat him like dirt and you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you,” Tonya didn’t know what else to say.
The woman winked as she headed for the door. “We’re just here for fun.”
When she sat back down at the table, her mask firmly in place, Gerhard slipped his hand back upon her thigh. Meeting his gaze, Tonya sighed theatrically. “You’re really becoming tiresome, Gerhard. I’m not a public sort of person.”
He jerked his hand away as if burned.
In the carriage two hours later he leaned close. “You should stop by my house: I’ve an outfit that would suit you just perfectly, and I’ve a fine bottle of wine there, too.”
“And how would I get back to the Lion?” she demanded imperiously. “Peter will wake up eventually.” They had taken the vial to an alchemist’s shop, and for ten Shillings had been told that it would indeed work as promised, although testing had consumed the sample.
“I’ll pay the driver to wait, he can take you home later.”
“Hmmm,” she looked down her nose at him, tracing a square shape through the side of her purse, her hands unseen in the darkness. “You’ve been a very bad boy tonight, Gerhard, very bad and very presumptuous, too, I might add. I know I never gave you permission to paw me in such a manner.”
“I will be on my best behavior,” Gerhard nodded, eager to placate her.
“I think, perhaps, a bit of punishment will be in order if we’re to spend any more time together,” Tonya drawled. “Then, if I’ve decided you have learned your lesson, I might allow you to take me to the Basement again.”
&
nbsp; “I’m a quick learner,” Gerhard hastened to assure her.
“So you tied him to his bed?” Philip laughed.
“Strapped, actually, he had these manacles and leg cuffs made, you guessed it, out of leather, purpose-made you might say,” Tonya nodded ruefully.
“And then what?”
“Oh, I hit him about the buttocks and legs with a riding crop and this flat thing half the width of my hand made from two stiff pieces of leather sewn together in sort of a flat cosh shape, and then he did my feet...”
“Did your what?”
“My feet, he kissed and licked my toes and feet,” Tonya felt herself blushing. “It was common to most of the stage exhibits.”
“How’d it feel?”
“It kind of tickled. Anyway, I was talking sort of vicious to him throughout this, and then I unstrapped one hand, told him to stimulate himself, and when he was done I got into my clothes and left.” She gestured to a small leather bag. “He let me keep the outfit.”
“And you’ve a date for the evening of the day after tomorrow?”
“Nine sharp.” She held up another vial. “He even gave me another dose for you; this one we’ll hang onto, you never know when it might be useful.”
“On this job anything could be useful.” Philip shook his head. “But your suffering resulted in a success, hawk-woman.” He opened the lid on the shallow box and examined the impressions again. “Perfect.”
“Four large keys on the ring he used to open the house door with, and three small ones he had in his pouch,” Tonya nodded. “I almost didn’t have enough space for them all.”
“And you’re sure he didn’t see?”
“I did it while he was strapped face-down for the beating and wearing a leather blindfold; every time I would switch from the crop to the slap-thing I would do a key, talking so he wouldn’t hear anything. I even wiped each key on my stockings so there wouldn’t be a trace of wax left.”
