> Winds Are Changeling!~ Life of Booker > by Cholcer > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Introduction > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ~Introduction~ The light from the café twinkled on the wet puddles that had accumulated in the cracks and postmarks of the road. Their glassy surface occasionally interrupted by a carriage passing through the street. It had collected many uneven edges from the wheels that clacked against it, threatening to break the fragile looking spokes that the nobles glided on. Booker hesitantly strode forward toward the front door of a corner cafe, getting more nervous with every step. A close friend of his had put him up on a blind date with a friend of a friend. Weird right? At first she had insisted that he meet his date at her coffee shop, but he was not going to have her dorking out from behind the counter, and possibly making an awkward situation disastrous. Also this was a pretty personal subject, to be sharing and conspiring with your landlady over. Maybe it had hit him wrong, or struck on odd cord when she said that he needed to get out. He didn’t think he needed to get out more; he just didn’t have a lot of success. Romance just wasn’t his department. He usually didn’t think about it all that often. With his career choices, it didn’t leave much room for emotional attachment. The front of the restaurant was nice, the door frame was painted a basil green faded from time, and it’s once vibrant color dimed by the oppressive atmosphere of the city. Despite it decrepit outlook, when mixed with the windowsill flowers it created an impressionistic air, new life in a place of decay, much like mushrooms on a log? ‘Wow that was really weird Book? Where the hell did that one come from? A mushroom…? On a frick’in log? You have got to be shitting me right?’ As he got closer to the door, he looked through the windows to try and catch a glimpse of his date, but the rain drops trailing down the windows from the rain made it rather difficult, especially with the crude pane of glass. For those able to afford it, clear glass was available, but for those who worked harder for their penny, bottem line stock was all you could get your hands on. Turning the brass doorknob, he stepped inside to be introduced with a blast of warm air. The center of the room was filled with a long double sided shelf filled with product and sentimental merchandise. The wall facing the street was riddled with evenly spaced large windows down from the ceiling to knee height, and fit in with booths, providing some seclusion from the other customers in the place without losing sight of the outside. The inner wall had a rectangle window cut out showing into the kitchen, and a counter with barstools surrounded it. Oddly enough he had never stumbled in here. Living in the city, you tended to identify yourself by the brands you bought, or the places you ate at. He had never really stepped in this particular café. It was always that odd slightly out of the way type of place. In the paper he had read once they made a great oat omelet. In a booth by the window, Booker saw a single gray coated mare sitting down with a soda bottle. It was then that he noticed her eyes where scanning the room for her mystery date. Before he knew what happened, their eyes met. The whole room, for a fraction of a second, slowed to a total stop as he was encaptivated by her gaze. Her eye’s where a deep violet, the irises like the inside of a tiger lily. She had a long graceful neck, the delicate muscles straining to see over the heads of the other patrons. Her mane was a rich coal black shade, rolling down a little past her shoulders. A smooth petite jawline overshadowed by her bangs. As time started to return, his eyes wondered down her shoulder line to the luxurious curves of her waist and hips. Sure he saw plenty of pretty mares out there, but she pulled out all the stops, and damn it he was going to pass this night with flying colors. Her eyes seemed to be studying his figure as well, and a small smile graced her soft pink shaded lips. Probably an overpriced stick of CoverMare... Ya, he’d bang her… What? Her soft smile was all the invitation he needed to gather up the courage to walk up to the booth. “With a smile like, you’re making me feel underdressed for this date!” Cue suggestive wink, “I take it you are Fiona?” He tried to lace his words with as much honey and charm as he could muster. If his job had taught him anything, it was that first impressions where everything. “Why yes I am. How very naturally intuitive... I take you’re Booker?” She mimicked his line, completely ignoring his slightly cheesy pickup line. 'So you wanna play the game with just your eyes? Ok, we can work with that. After all, two can play at that game... “Oh I’m terribly sorry for not introducing myself, yes of course. My friends sometimes just call me Book if you prefer?” Her head flinched a little as if someone had tapped her nose, and her eyebrow rose a little at that last comment in what he presumed to be mild surprise. “Oh. So Booker, I hope I didn’t drag you out in the cold rain too much. I kind of expected clearer weather tonight, but you know how the factories make it difficult for the weather teams?” Before all the words where out of her mouth, he was already working expressions of dismissal, waiting for the right moment to interrupt and convince her it was not a problem. ‘Always make the client feel comfortable… Make them feel in control of the perceivable situation, focus on pulling the strings from the shadows…’ The words of the Madam rang in his head. As if to save her an over embellished verbal denial, the waiter showered up to take their order. His off color ginger mane covered over his eyes a little, giving him a rather dopey appearance. His expression gave off a disenfranchised and disgruntled attitude, almost like he was saying, ‘I hate this job and experience intense feelings of regret that I work here. She looks pretty, but you look like you’re going to tip cheap, since the guy always pays the bill… cheap bastard…’ Ok maybe that was just stress talking. But it helped none when he realized he had never seen the menu. ‘Shit I forgot to do my homework! What kind of food can you eat at a café that’s slightly dignified when you are eating it? Nothing like trying to make conversation, while your date plows his face with a… Street style Mayo and Hay Burger? Oh I know, how about giving your date sexy eyes while licking your fingers from… Coffee Grinders fried gratin balls with marinara? That’s a sure winner to set the mood…’ He rubbed his temples as his mind rushed to find something, anything that wasn’t a disaster to eat, good sounding or not. Goddess was a dignified normal stud about to order an overpriced salad? This date was off to a rough start, and it was going to be a long night… > Chapter 1 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- 'cold... why is my apartment always cold?' Booker looked at the ceiling, slowly analyzing the wood boards above his head. Dreams where often, but good dreams? ‘Hmm…’ Slowly sitting on his hunches on the side of the bed, the metal springs groaning almost as loud as him. A shower was definitely in order, a really super-hot shower. Walking himself to the restroom, he took a moment to look around his apartment, surveying his digs. He had an odd sense of achievement every time he saw his apartment. I mean it was a nice place. The building used to be a factory until the mine collapse. When the Iron stopped flowing into the city, so did the smithing and smelting foundries, and in lieu of its soot covered workers going in and out its doors, it was replaced by a more hipsterish crowd. The foundry's ground floor became a coffee shop, and the upper floors were turned into rooms for rent. The coffee was completely awful, and he suspected it might be the water they were using to brew the black gold, but it didn't matter to him. The room was a long rectangle, facing long ways to the street. In the back left corner was a small kitchen, squared off by the counters. In the middle of the back long wall was the descent of four cascading stairs that led to a hallway to the street, and on the other side of the main room it had temporary walls put up for a private bedroom and bathroom. The rent was cheap due to the impossible task of heating the place, and its less than clean and homely interior. Only those that had hit hard times, or didn't want to be found would consider it as a living place, and he was just one of those people. The main room was sparsely furnished, and the wall closest to the street was made entirely of windows, hence the heating issue in the winter. He didn't have any chairs, but he did have one couch. Chairs were the new fad from Canterlot apparently, in case you weren't up to date with the latest gossip magazine. They were terribly uncomfortable for anypony, but image must be upheld and fashion inflicted upon Equestria. But Gods did he love his couch... Side note, moving on! ‘Anyways… bathroom; right.’ Reaching into his medical cabinet, he extracted several bottles of supplements. Due to a money making smile, and a slight of hand a pony from Elite Nutrition had sold him on some supplements to improve his health, which now he had to painfully swallow every morning. Spilling out the various pills and turning on the faucet he swallowed them dutifully. However as he closed the cabinet door, his face in the mirror caught his attention. Maybe it was due to a hard night, but his complexion was less than ideal. The fur around his eyes seemed to take on the appearance of a bandit’s mask over his eyes, giving his reflection a harsh and cruel stare back at him. It was intimidating and discouraging, to receive a resentful look from your mirror image… ‘What am I doing with my life…? What the buck Booker! Common prep talk time you lazy bastard!’ He looked at his complexion from different angles, looking with hawk eyes for any imperfections a little makeup couldn't fix. Sadly you can’t hide weariness in your eyes. The client can always see sadness, no getting around it. ‘Pull yourself togethe-! Eh, together…? Fuck it. Would you do me? Ya I’d do me…’ He smacked his flank to emphasis his point. It is amazing the stuff you do in your house when you are alone. 'You now like that moment you have when you finally get your own house or apartment, and you claim it by walking around naked like you're King of Your Jungle now...? Too off subject?' However, as he returned his gaze to the mirror, the look in his eyes was still there… glaring back at him, presumably the only remnant of his consciousness left to tell him he was living a destructive lifestyle. And just like that, a vindictive whisper of truth, the kind that cuts through every wall, every mental cushion, every lie… ‘Whore…’ That was it! He was done. He had earned some bits, he could afford a bucking coffee! Leaving the bathroom and grabbing his coat on the way to the stairs, he virtually fled out of his room, from that voice... Gaa man that voice! '... It sounds sorta like that one guy who tries to be cool in front of his friends by taking the shot full on instead of sipping it, in part because he's too afraid to tell them he has never had hard liquor before, and speaks in the raspy voice after because his throat is on fire! Ahh.... good times... But AHHH that voice!' The stairs to the first floor exited out in an employee’s only hallway behind the café. Walking down the hallway and turning the corner into the café’s storefront, he glanced toward the barista behind the counter as he made his way over. She was brown coated mare with a personality as colorful as the aromas of the numerous coffees she boasted on her shelves; very bouncy and energetic too. Maybe it was because she worked in caffeine infested environments all day long? Her eye’s where the only thing a different color than her coat and mane, a translucent emerald. For some reason people never really noticed her eyes. Regardless though, with a reduced waist line and a dynamite ass, she still caught every eye in the room. When someone tells you about beauty in simplicity, she fit the bill, and her flank could cash the check. What! Hey I’m still a colt? Common, admit it, we all look, and that all studs agree on the 1-10 scale. “Morning Hazel… how’s the daily grind going? Any takers?” She turned to him while steaming some milk for the only customer in the store, who was currently looking at some of the coffee bags for sale. “Oh, hey Booker! Ya not so much; surprising for a Monday. The office guys usually poor in this place like locusts. Morning to you too handsome by the way…” she said with a smirk. Although nobody would admit it out loud, he knew a few of the older regulars sat at the bar stools just to ogle. As she handed the gent his drink, Booker made his way over the coffee bar. Hazel had a bar counter and some stools put in despite it being a coffee shop. It was an odd choice, but for those who wanted a good chat and some toast with their coffee, it was a great innovation. “I know, I know, I look like crap… I’m gonna need something really strong this morning. Got any creative mixes in mind?” An unsettling smirk crept on her face that seemed to shatter his steel resolve. “Oh sure, you mean like you want it even darker than you usually take it? I got just the thing for you, guaranteed to make an earth pony fly or your money back!” Trudging over to a stool and draping himself over the counter, the reviving smell of freshly brewed espresso shots from the previous drink quelled all his fears. “Now you’re either talking my language or scaring me. I am frankly too out of it to tell which. But for the record, I trust you… implicitly!” “Trust me? You don’t want to test my skill, trust that! I've been running this café for three years now, almost four. I know just how to cure your “disease”.” With a speed only obtained through the fluid motions of repetition, she steamed up a concoction of ingredients into an artisan drink worthy of only the most seasoned coffee goer. “Here we are my dear, my herbal remedy just for you. I call it Indian Spice Market.” Booker gave it a pensive look before raising it too his lips. Instead of taking a sip however, he conducted reconnaissance with the smooth streams of vapor rising from the wasn’t surface. He wasn't quite sure if he trusted it yet. As much as he wished he could say, Hazel had never steered him wrong. ‘But, victory does favor the prepared…’ Living above her café had taught him many things about coffee, but she still was able to create strange and bazaar elixirs of youth and energy from her grinder and syrup bottles. The excitement on her face now peeling away to anticipation, she decided he needed a push. “Well? Aren’t you going to try it? It’s getting cold numb nuts!” His eyebrows furled in reprisal to her verbal assault, yet gave no further argument or hesitation. ‘Calling a courtesan, ‘numb nuts’? Girl if only you knew what I did most nights, you have no idea…’ Head back, bottoms up, he took a sip. “Holy beans Hazel! What did you put in my cup?” She shrugged her shoulders with a smirk, “Oh just a little cinnamon, espresso, vanilla, black magic, things like that.” Booker raised his eyebrow quizzically and glanced back at his amber cream colored drink. “Well I’d believe the magic part. It’s so balanced. The roast flavor just carries strait to my heart.” She stretched her back and cracked her hooves “Well I’m glad I could be of assistance. All in a day’s work! On a different note, because I’m so awesome and you owe me $4.32 for the latte, I get to ask a question and you get to answer it without skimping on the details…?” Being a tenant meant he was subject to her experiments and imagination, and he had to accept that. Though he did kind of find her mannerism’s cute. When you are lonely, the need for companionship usually overpowers the barriers of friend zones. Its both annoying and fascinating, because you look in placed you never should have looked, but you also gain a new perspective. Eh, there where worst things to be subjected too. “You get one question…” he said with a smile. Her giddy smile was worth a thousand words. Bouncing in place, she practically jumping into a leaning position on the counter “How did… that date I set you up with go?” Hazel’s anxious smile was so hopeful, how could he disappoint a face like that? Alas the truth was truth. “You mean the date your mystery friendidn’tme up on? Ya didn't go so well. I think she was more in for the free dinner and an excuse to dress up than it was didn’t.” Her smile didn't go away, but the bright hope faded a bit from her enthusiasm, replaced by sympathy, “Free loafer than?” “It would appear so.” Booker rubbed his face, still trying to kneed the morning from his eyes. “Well they can’t all be winners I guess. Tell you what, coffee’s on me this morning, you deserve it.” The ears on his head flattened in shock, “Nah Hazel you don’t have to do tha-“ “Hey Booker, where’s your manners? Didn't your mother teach you not to argue with a lady?” “True, but you’re not much of the “lady” type, more the “steam-some-more-milk-for-another-sea-salt-caramel-latte” type…” A small chuckle escaped her lips as a blush rushed into her now rosy cheeks, “Alright! You have lived here, about my café… how many years? I may not put on a dress, but how do you know whether or not I don a mask in the cover of night and gallivant around subduing crime?” She tilted her head and put her hand over her face, then slit her fingers in half to reveal one of her eyes. Booker collapsed his head on the counter laughing as a retort came into mind, “Hazel, the only thing you have ever subdued is my desire for coffee!” She gave him a queer look slightly off put by the teasing, and rebutted in a more serious tone, no longer in the mood to play, “Well just you wait FIVE minutes, and you’ll be jumping up and down like a jack rabbit and pissing like a rabid dog because of the fucker in your hands…” Booker abruptly raised his head and looked at the mostly empty experiment with a fearful grimace. > Chapter 2 ~ Know Your Place > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ~ Chapter Two ~ The door to the Colts Room swung open with a weary creak, and an equally weary looking stallion meandered out. He had come to a point of personal relationship with the four corners of every restroom this side of East Manehattan during the last three hours of his life. Whatever Hazel had given him, had definitely lived up to its promise, almost poetic justice for Hazel, that her prophecy would come true. ‘If only she knew…? If only she knew a lot of things. I wonder how she’d react if I ever told her…?’ The espresso far from his mind all of a sudden, he found his mind entwined in sadness and intrigue. Of course he could never tell her what he was or what he did. He’d probably lose her favor, as he had the Madams so long ago, if Hazel found out his profession. ‘Whore!’ He yanked his thoughts violently out of his ponderings! On the bright side, the morning was no longer dragging his eyelids like a heavy suitcase with a broken wheel, and hopefully he’d make the Madam a pretty penny off of him tonight. Just as soon as he worked through that espresso… ‘There’s nothing wrong with what I do. I provide a quality service! Ponies need me. The Madam needs me! I am important. Booker is a good person, and you don’t need to rail on him! Who are you to judge me…? That made little sense… Shit I’m talking to myself… Lots of ponies talk to themselves. Normal, right? Ya, ya what was this…? Prep talk? Ya just was a prep talk. I’m good. Oat’s and frick’in honey I’m Booker son! What you look’in at! Can’t touch this! Can’t touch-’ Stopping mid-step he noticed he had already arrived at the back entrance to Sanctuary. ‘That was fast?’ The Sanctuary was a very large establishment, almost as large as it was vain and opulent. The entire complex was shaped like a triangle out of three connected building sharply cut into a street corner, and occupying almost the entire street strip down the sides. On the corner lot were the main doors and reception hall. This building had no second floor area, because RoseLuck thought that the four pillar Byzantium style vault would add elegance. Also, instead of a corner stone holding the vault, the Madam had the builders install a giant circular shaped glass floor, boasted to be two feet thick of the clearest quality glass. The bottom of the glass was paned one way with a crystal rose emblem, so she could look down at the ponies that entered, but they couldn’t see her. Such was the floor of the madam’s room perched above. On either side of the main entrance hall stood two connected buildings, where the first half of each wing was devoted to rooms, and the other to servant and staff quarters and a bathhouse respectively. The third floor’s attic space was all dormitories for the house workers. In the middle of the four buildings, the brick and mortar was perfectly curved to create an immense circular garden, with a giant glass dome atop the three story roof to keep the pollutions’ rank of the city air outside. Inside the glass dome, and an entirely uninterrupted three stories down, a chi garden intended for meditation and relaxation. By no means where customers to be allowed inside, except by the allotted view from the windows inside the rooms facing it. Underneath the carnal behemoth structure was a series of tunnels and basement areas. Some were traveled, such as the one he was about to enter. Back entrances such as the little ally dug he was about to disappear into where designed for discrete entrance and exit for employees or clients wishing to be discreet about their visit. However other areas were blocked off from non-staff employees, such as the floor workers. He knew that one of such area’s was where the butcher cut his own meat for the kitchens. ‘Maybe they want to hide the blood mess? Some ponies are just squeamish that way I guess…’ Making his way down the field stone steps to the ground floor, Booker tapped on the small rusty metal hatch for the door colt to verify. A muffled shuffling of a stool scraping against the polished tile floor inside could be heard, and a few brief moments later the hatch scraped to the side revealing two bleary eyes. ‘Hmm, enjoying employee benefits? I wonder if that’s considered sleeping on the job or sleeping with the job? ‘ “What be you’ar business tiss fine even’in?” ‘Godess what an accent! So rich and rusty! I wonder if you could use it as mortar in a brick wall?’ “Just me, Zoid. Common you’ve worked with me for like what? Six years? Ya, six long years… and you still don’t know my name?” “You’ar still just ‘on’a dem pretties in pantyhose,” he said with a snide smile. “Oh ha, ha, ha, real funny Zoid, now open the damned door!” He let out a bellowing bout of coughs Booker had now come to identify as laughter from the wiry geezer who was just as rusted as the latch he looked through every day. “G’its em ev’ary time! Com’on in love and give us a kiss…” Booker winced at the thought of touching, much less anything else he might have dredged up in his crooked mind. “Only thing you get to kiss is my dust as I walk past’ya, man. Have a goodnight!” “Yar too! … stu’ffed pigion arh! Soft…” Maybe it was his bad hearing, but his mumbling could always be heard down the brick arched hallways. It wasn’t offending or anything, if you really knew who it came from. The air was always cool, and slightly damp in the brick corridor leading into the kitchen and employee lounge areas, a refreshing change from the illustrious rooms within. The oil lamps evenly spaced glowed off the red brick, giving it the feeling of a giant artery going to the heart of Sanctuary. ‘… and I’m the blood that keeps it beating. Damn that was really a poetic thought if I ever did have one.’ Out of the hallway and in through the kitchen, past the cooks clothed in white coats making gourmet dishes of varying kinds. Pan fried parsley and marigold twists. Baked potato and sugar honey asparagus boats. Though the smells where beyond your average kitchen food, it held little appeal to Booker. He hunted bigger game. Off the black and white tiled floor and onto red carpet his hooves went. Scantily dressed coworkers adorned in various colors swarming around the many twisting halls on their way to and fro rooms. The familiar smells of oils and perfumes overpowered his senses, expertly masking the odor of sweat and sex, and the emotion in the room, oh how it washed over his consciousness, filling him with an unbelievable sense of contentment. The very emotions seemed to emanate from the walls, every room, every person, its own flavor texture. Despite some of the oblivious… what’s the word? Disadvantages, of working at a brothel such as self-esteem, or a sense of privacy, being an escort had its benefits. Such as being a highly lucrative business for instance. He had done so well in the madam’s eyes to even be able to live outside of Sanctum in own his own place. Though he’d never admit it to the Madam, the more he lived above Hazel’s café, the more he found himself looking at her seriously. Each time he would dismiss it in his mind, remembering that if she ever found out what he did for a living, or the madam discovered his interest, things would change between him and Hazel. For that matter, things would change considerably between him and the Madam! ‘But how much a price can you actually put to happiness I wonder. I’d be happy with Hazel… I think. She’s a nice mare after all… or for that matter if she even feels that way about me. That’s the million bit question. It’s at least worth a shot though, right?’ Making his way into through the winding halls and curling stair ways leading to secluded rooms where the famous face could disappear for a while, he finally arrived into the employee lounge area behind the lobby. Inside Mares prepared a little for clients, re-fixing makeup, body wipes, even a quick shower in the lockers if needed. Sex also happens to be a rigorous task, and sometimes you needed a little food in between. Clients sometimes would order food for the room, but typically they wanted to be in for the fun, and then get out the door before the house made a run on their wealth. When he was younger, you used to look at the glamorous girls with envy. Emotion was all he really needed, but one couldn’t discredit beauty. ‘Apparently something all of us can appreciate…’ Still in his thoughts, Booker didn’t notice one of his coworkers sauntering up too to him in her work garb with a new girl. Her coat was a dark gunmetal grey, complimented by a pitch dark mane cut neck length, an inside lock highlighted in dark neon blue. From the outside you couldn’t see the color, but if she looked at you dead on, the color grabbed attention in a stunning display… ‘And that’s how she hooks the stallions. The eye’s in the detail, and gets ’em every time.’ She usually wore red to give off an aggressive vibe… ‘Reel in the High Rollers if ya know what I mean…’ …but tonight she had opted for turquoise frills that barely rolled over the top of her voluminous rump. The outfit hugged her in all the right places that drove stallion’s nuts, and was kept down by garter straps holding up black stockings. The conflicting pull of the garter belt hiking up, and the stockings yanking down caused the stockings to push up the bottom of her rump giving it a bouncy, but extremely firm appearance. ‘Trick’s of the Trade too the trained eye, but a deadly hook to the unsuspecting prey,’ the words of the Madam rang in his head once again, hardened lessons from harder times when he was still growing up on the floors of Sanctuary. As she came closer, Booker felt waves of desire washed off of her. She wanted something, and he was pretty sure he was about to find out. ‘Desire in a brothel? Egad Booker! Real bucking fine detective work there!’ “Hey Booker!” To say he was a little leery of… of? ‘Feathery horse shoes! What the buck was her name…? Aria, Ora, Or’ah, buuuuuuuck!!!!’Running out of time here champ…’ “Hey! H-h-how you, I mean how are you doing…?” ‘It’s like right on the tip of my bucking tongue! Aer, nah… Ar? Um, Ara, huh... Aura! Ya! Aura, to say he was a little leery of his chance meeting with Aura would be an understatement. She giggled as he stuttered, unsure why the usually composed artist had lost his tongue? Brushing it off she decided to try and get this over with quickly and hopefully with success, “Ya, good! So this is Clover, one of our girls in training. I got an appointment in like, five minutes and-“ Booker could hear the whine in her voice. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was asking. “-And you want me to show her around the place before taking her up to the Madams….?” Her face light up a little since he put it up right out there. ‘It’s always awkward explaining a problem when you’re kind of hoping the other person to get the hint. As fun as it is to watch them squirm, I’m feeling generous tonight and save her the pain. Aren’t I seriously the best?’ She clasped her hands together and buckled her knees, wiggling her rump in a mock display of begging, no doubt trying to win him over with visuals despite working the same job. “Would you? I’m kinda in a squeeze!” It had the desired effect as Booker felt a tightening bulge below him, yet his mind remained, mostly clear? ‘Hey don’t judge, I’m still a stallion. Admit it, it works on all straight and strapping bucks, and if you don’t, you’re either going the wrong direction on the road or you have lost your eye for talent. And might I add my eye, is fabulous! …’ ‘Wow, that actually kind of sort‘a sounded gay. Undesired effect Booker, undesired effect… Where were we?’ All of a sudden he became acutely aware of Aura’s eyes washing over him in anxiousness still waiting for his reply… Even though he had not checked the schedule, yet, he was pretty sure a ten minute detour wouldn’t be too disastrous… emphasis on ‘too,’ he’d just use his infinite and highly refined charm to wally up to whomever he was late too, IF he was even going to be late. “Ok Aura, sure.” “Really?” her face relaxed instantaneously as she was relieved of her charge and started to refocus on her now almost-late-too-appointment. “Ya I’m game!” Making an about-face she started walking away muttering thank-you‘s and other gratifying utterings before he stopped her slyly holding up a figure for pause. “Ba’ba’ba’but! …” Her shoulders crunched up mid step as she tried to recompose herself thoughts back to the situation at hand. ‘Interrupting peoples thoughts during a discussion is a completely valid method at regaining initiative to achieve what you desire. Whoever controls the negotiations controls the prize.’ Booker, now that he had Aura’s attention, continued, “I’m going to need you to do me a favor in a few days, let me know when you have off?” She gave him a puzzled look, unsure of how to interpret his request… ‘Maybe I wiggled my rear a little bit too much…? Wrong vibe, oh Godess.’ … And just like that, she remembered why she was in such a hurry! Pushing aside her, understandable concerns, “Ya ok, gotta run!” … She was off! Booker watched her walk away with a critical eye, ‘Now you don’t sway your hips, ladies and gentle colts! I present to you ~ manipulation- 101! Typical bitch.’ Clover observed his mild scowl, “Is something the matter sir?” “Eh, this colts fine. You have to understand the establishment we work at and put it in perspective sometimes. The only ponies you call “sir” or “Miss” are clients. Oh, and RoseLuck is never RoseLuck. You will address her always as Mam or Madam.” She nodded her head, “Yes sir-ah, Booker sir, AH Booker!” “It takes a little to get used to for some ponies,” He grinned. “Now, let’s get walking, we’re a little bit a ways from where you need to go…” He eyed around the hallways they were in. Currently no one was here, but just as a precaution he ducked into the enclosure of one of the room doors. “The Madam’s Room’de’Luxurious sits at the very top of Sanctuary. Nopony is allowed in that area unless express order of the Madam, though I have seen it myself.” Raising his hoof and summoning a blurry vortex using his magic, it clarified itself into a little scry bubble showing a limited view of the rooftop room. As the image refined itself, small beguiling threads of green starting to appear and thrash in and about the spell. The previous decadence described shimmered to life before her eyes, as she was exposed to greater lechery then most mortal’s eyes had been save royalty. Booker watched with unperturbed interest as she peered into the whirling disk, and her expression twisted with wonder. ‘It’s cute to watch newbies stupor in amazement…’ Somewhere in between her bedazzlement, she noticed the color of his magic, and in an instant changed to one of irrefutable terror! ‘Bucking horse feathers, why are they so scared of what they don’t understand… eh, ok well there is actually a tone of merit to fear a marvelous person like me considering my talents, but not everypony notices. It’s not like they’ll ever get to see it anyways. I guess I just miss being able to use my magic.’ Acting quickly, Booker redacted a crossbred spell between stun and a memory reset. Usually this wouldn’t work, but when adrenaline floods the brain, it becomes very tunnel versioned, often forgoing attention to the exterior sections of memory peripherals. Namely this would be referring to background, color, time, and sometimes even who was involved. Changeling magic was special that way. The dark greenish sphere of magic burst forth and sailed through the air trailing smokey tendrils behind it. Only having enough time to dash a few steps, she was jolted to the floor as the dark magic crackled over her fur, its tendrils encapsulating her body! In a few seconds the room was still, save for Booker’s horn trailing dark wispy traces of the spell. It wasn’t a perfect execution. Then again he didn’t get much practice either. Sure he had manipulated memories a little among his fellow courtesans and Casanovas, but that was always small scale and over time, not necessarily so sudden and complete. In any case, only a few in Sanctuary knew of his… condition… and it was to stay so at the Madam’s pleasure. Small groans started to escape her lips as consciousness returned to her. ‘Well there is always next time, but its time to set the stage.’ Putting on his best ‘shocked!’ face, and trying to tip a chair over next to her. It’s heavy overly ornate legs croaked as Booker tried to tip it over- ’-next to her! Struggling here, this thing is heavier than it looks… and there we go! Ok, next to her,’ “Oh-my-gosh-oh-my-gosh-oh-my-gosh! A-Are you, oK?” ‘For those that have just undergone stress and trauma, it is highly advised one make their verbiage obtuse and overly emphasized, otherwise you risk the recipient not catching something important!’ Her eyes fluttered open, dreary as ever, and full of confusion… “Wh-what happened…?” ‘Cue mock concern, inward grin… we’re in business!’ “Oh it’s my fault, really! One moment you were distracted by my spell, and the next you lost your balance over that chair,” He pointed to the chair. Truly it was too heavy to tip over from a fall like that, but she’d most likely not notice. ‘If she does we can fix that too, ~aha~ ‘ “Are you feeling ok?” Booker asked, trying not to smugly laugh at his arrogance. As her referenced memory, her eyes widened a little as her body remembered the fear from before, but failed to connect a source, “I ah- I think I’m just a little flustered from my fall I guess. I’m fine.” ‘Buck’in “A” work there Booker! Moving on…’ Satisfied, “Shall we continue on our way then?” “Lead on,” she gave a mildly weary smile, trying to maintain the image of ‘ok’ when she most likely was anything but. ‘Poor lass.” “Alright, so you will be staying upstairs with the other girls. Sometimes you will find this job adding stress to your proximity to the other sex, so we keep colts and fillies in separate wings. However if you find no objections, the Madam has a communion table to eat breakfast and lunch at. Dinner is typically served separate when and if you get the chance to wolf down a morsel. Other times you may find yourself eating with the client, which is at the client’s discretion as per request. Any objections or complaints are to be given to your floor supervisor which you will be introduced too later...” Booker continued to give her the rundown of operations and expectations as they weaved through the hallways to a discrete stairs meant for staff to move unnoticed behind the elaborate walls and unseen. “The only customers you will find before five in the evening are those who stayed overnight or special guests and delegates who prefer to stay at our higher class establishment then some of the other lodging options in the city. We are after all, and pride ourselves to be, the highest ranking accommodations this side of the territory! They are not to be disturbed or herded in any fashion, image must be maintained and business allured!” She gave him a slightly perplexed smile as she tried to retain the information being departed too her, occasionally repeating key words and giving affirmations when he concluded a point. “Relationships outside of work, as well as within, are forbidden, lest you fall out of good graces. If you break this rule, your employment will be terminated among other things. There are several authorities you can be given here, but everyone starts at the bottom. When I first got here I was a simple room attendant. It took me a bit to climb my way up. First we have to have you see the Madam though. Once she’s sized you up a little, you will be assigned a trainer to help you become a floor worker. As such, you are expected to service walk-ins, and lower key cliental. Upper echelon workers…” ‘…such as my ~ esteemed self ~ ‘ “…get scheduled, and the gaps in the shift are usually filled by special request of clients with the appropriate billfold. With enough experience and good customer satisfaction, there is room for promo-“ “-And what are you?” she cut in abruptly. He stopped his walking progress suddenly, pausing for emphasis before slowly turning to her with a reprimanding frown. It wasn’t a major mistake or anything, rather a small show of disrespect. Besides, ‘Why would a little tart like you be interested in my job…?’ Her face faded from a shy curious to a gray shade of regret. Ignoring the question, he went straight into a reprisal to instill a pensive authoritative understanding on the young mare, “An expectation of you here is social tact and elegance. This is not a common prostitution barn; we practice a higher form of social art. The first lesson you will receive today I will take the liberty of delivering. We at Sanctuary have a personal creed of conduct! And the first part of for mentioned, is know is your place!” he spat the words at her, leveraging the regret to effectively establish his place in the hierarchy. ‘It’s always important to impress on the new people you are their tutors. Keepers of forbidden knowledge so have it. I don’t care what job you work, everypony pays their dues. I was the exception for the rule, but now I pay my penitence for cutting corners…’ The two continued walking to the top floor, though he imparted no more words, nor did she ask any questions. Perhaps she had resigned herself to walk in utter silence, in part because she was unsure of what might be considered as, “stepping out of bounds” to the strange stallion leading her. Oddly enough, Booker found it a comfortable silence, sensing the waves of submission cascade from her, informing him that he had hit the mark. Establishing authority is tricky sometimes without a show of force, ‘Many times, authority is not power physically possessed, but power perceived!’ An image of Roseluck examining a golden embroidered horse shoe with delicate gold chains rising up and then draped around a fetlock cuff, while a skilled jewelry smith fitted it, came to mind. At the time in his impoverished state emotionally, she seemed to seethe with confidence. He hungered after the totality of power she emulated in the room; and it drove his desire to feed, mad! A flash of green later and his little charade of a street colt was over. The teachings and memories of the Madam once again haunted his thoughts, though his steps never wavered, for he knew the path to her room by heart. Being what he was, once revealed to her, Rose had found value in an adapting asset in an evolving market. Many times he had found himself cooped up in her chambers for weeks on end in intensive study. Sanctuary being what it was, the arts of seduction came first and foremost. However as his promise became apparent too her, she had him study manipulation and political intrigue, honing him into a versatile tool for operations, outside that of the brothel. He had taken to it like a fish to water, starting out by keeping tabs on her workers and personal affairs. Soon he was not only serving the upper levels of Manehattan society, but searching out new avenues of revenue for the Madam to capitalize on. ‘Surely you didn’t think this kind of a building pays for itself, did you? Much akin to the art of seduction, appearance is merely the enthrallment that hides darker schemes and intentions…’ Though like so many given a long leash on a narrow path, he had found the edge promptly. It would be an understatement to say the Madam was less than pleased. Gathering from one of her many contacts a powerful mage with a high level of discretion, she had Bookers mind drawn and quartered, locking up any memory she deemed no longer safe in his care. Alas though, the muscle doesn’t forget a well-rehearsed motion, nor does the mind ignore the chains and locks twisted about, void of key or cutter. He was divulged of any thread of sanity for weeks, as his mind tried to recover from its trying experience. ‘Know your place…’ he whispered to himself as large French style doors loomed over him and his charge, embroidered with the finest quality red silk from Saddle Arabia, and Lump gold burgled from the mighty dragons in the south wastelands. Tossing his personal recounting aside and collecting his composure, apparently having shed a bitter tear or two, he shot a leery glance at Clover, “One last thing, do not approach until beckoned, do not speak until you are spoken too, and when you approach, for Goddess’s sake give a courtesy bow with your eyes firmly locked on the floor. You do this right… because you only get one shot. Take it from a stallion with experience.” With that he started walking back down the hallway, to the stairs, to make his way to the showers to ready for work. It took a few steps before her eyes tore themselves away from the mystique of the ornate door, to see her only source of familiarity walk briskly away. “Bu- Wait you can’t go!” Without turning around down the hall he called out to her, “Sure I can!” “What do I do now?” she exasperatedly called after him. “YOU KNOCK!” he yelled uncharacteristically, before turning the corner out of sight and sound leaving her to make her own wake in the ever turbulent sea of Sanctuary!