Chapter 2. Author's note: A surprisingly difficult chapter to write, actually. But comment anyway, please!

"Nightingale, do we ever get to take these off?" asked Rose, gesturing sadly to her identity anklet. They were in what was now Rose's room, talking. Rose was sitting tentatively on her bed, as though worried that the pillows would snap at her or the blanket try to suffocate her. Nightingale, with her distinct loathing of beds, was standing near the mirror.

Nightingale looked down at her own identity anklet, where it curled like an inky snake against the whiteness of her ankle.

"No," she replied to Rose. "But you'll forget it quickly. I never think about mine." Her stomach twisted with guilt momentarily. Well, she rarely thought about hers. Immediately, her thoughts drifted back to Michael. She was astounded at how often she'd thought about him in the two days since she'd met him, and how she enjoyed thinking about him. Men never occupied her thoughts unaccompanied by hatred.

"Is something wrong, Gale?" asked Rose, leaning forward.

Nightingale turned and shook her head. "No more than usual," she said. As she eyed Rose, she was impressed by how well she'd adjusted to life in the bordello. Nightingale had thought that Rose would be the kind of girl who would earn many beatings by her perpetual tearfulness, but that had vanished quickly.

Rose sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "When will I start work, Nightingale?" she asked.

"Well, you've been here two days, not counting today. It's Bobby's usual protocol for Inamoratas to start on their fifth day. Today you'll be learning from an experienced Inamorata," said Nightingale. She sat down across from Rose, winding herself sinuously onto the floor.

"And that Inamorata will be?" said Rose, looking hopefully at Nightingale.

Nightingale smiled ruefully. "Me," she said. "You'll watch me at work, using what I like to call the three Ss."

Rose looked mystified. Nightingale sighed began to explain.

"One: smile. Most clients like a slinky, sexy smile," said Nightingale. Rose nodded, flinching. "Next: seduce. Naturally, this takes practise, so Bobby won't be putting you with high-paying clients right away." Nightingale shuddered as she remembered her first clients. "The more experienced and talented you are, the higher the price and therefore the richer the client."

"Are you one of the more expensive of us?" asked Rose curiously, sounding as though she thought she shouldn't be asking.

Nightingale grimaced, her lovely face twisting into a snarl. "I'm the most expensive," she said flatly. "That's why Bobby wants me teaching you. And, finally: satisfy. I hardly need to tell you that this is the most important step. If you don't satisfy your client, there will be hell to pay."

"Um, Gale?" said Rose hesitantly, looking nervous.

"Yes?"

"What happens...if Bobby or a client is unhappy with you?" asked Rose, her voice thin with fear.

Nightingale sighed. "Your identity anklet does not only identify you as an Inamorata, but it can also deliver a very powerful electric shock. That's Bobby's favourite method of punishment," she said. Rose paled. "It leaves no marks. Visible injury is off-putting to clients, and God forbid we should ever put off clients." Nightingale's voice became bitter at the end of her sentence.

"Oh," said Rose. After a little pause, she said, "Have you ever been shocked?"

Nightingale began to laugh and had troubles stopping. She looked at Rose, who was cowering from the hysterical sound.

"Yes, Rose, of course I have! Not as often as some girls, but I've had my share," she said, still laughing sourly. "You can't escape the beatings, Rosie! You'll get them from Bobby, you'll get them from clients! My advice to you is to just get used to them!"

Nightingale stood and turned away from Rose, so that the girl wouldn't see that she was crying. Nightingale was glad when Rose made no move to get up and comfort her, and even more glad when there was a timid knock on the door.

"Come in," said Rose.

A young woman bounded in - Sparkle, one of Nightingale's closest friends. She took one look at the expression of bitterness and misery on Nightingale's face and, dropping the small bag she was carrying, immediately said:

"Stop crying, Gale, or I will too."

Nightingale smiled in a watery way and Sparkle bounced over to her. Sparkle was one of those rare Inamoratas who never lost her joie de vivre, no matter how awful her circumstances were. "Well, how can I say no to you, Sparkle?" she asked.

"You can't," said Sparkle, grinning proudly. "You can never say no to your best friend."

Nightingale laughed and once again sat on the rug in front of the bed. Sparkle joined Rose on her perch on the wide blanket.

"Say, Nightingale, you can come sit here," said Rose, patting the spot next to her. "There's room for you. You don't have to sit on the floor."

"Nightingale doesn't like beds," explained Sparkle quickly. Nightingale shot her a grateful glance.

"Why not?" asked Rose. Clearly, her social skills weren't fully developed. She didn't seem to be picking up on the just-drop-it-and-leave-it-alone glare that Sparkle was sending her.

Nightingale sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Beds are for clients. I've never been comfortable in them," she said quickly, trying to end the conversation.

Rose's mouth opened in an O and she said nothing. Her eyes got wide with anxiety and Nightingale knew what she was thinking. She was afraid that she'd end up fucked up like Nightingale. Nightingale smiled acidly and bowed her head.

"Hey, Nightingale!" cried Sparkle, obviously attempting to shift the mood. "Do you want to know what one of my clients left behind?"

"Other than his stink on your sheets?" snapped Nightingale.

"Gale!" said Sparkle, clearly wounded by Nightingale's snub.

Nightingale sighed and looked up at Sparkle. "Sorry. What did he leave behind?"

Sparkle smiled brilliantly, seemingly unaffected by her previous unhappiness. She reached for the small bag she'd been carrying and then, glancing around her to make sure the door was closed, yanked something out of the bag.

"Look!" squeaked Sparkle quietly.

"A book! Hasn't he come looking for it yet?" enthused Nightingale, springing forward on her knees to snatch the book out of Sparkle's hands. Sparkle let her take it, a broad smile on her face. Rose looked mystified. It was clear that she didn't understand Nightingale's excitement.

"What's so special about a book?" asked Rose. Her innocently curious tone softened what would have been otherwise a cool rebuff.

"I don't know," said Sparkle, smiling indulgently like a mother with an over-active toddler. She gazed down at Nightingale, who already had her nose in the book. "I've never understood Nightingale's adoration for them. But they make her happy," she added to Rose in an undertone. "And so little does that."

Nightingale wasn't paying them any attention, already smitten with her new book. She stroked its cover, feeling the firm cardboard under the tips of her fingers. She pressed the pads of her fingers into the embossed title, feeling the bumps and ridges of the words that spelled out: Cyrano de Bergerac.

"Thank you, Sparkle!" she cried, hugging her.

Sparkle laughed. "It was nothing, Gale. I'm glad to be able to bring you another. How many do you have now?" she asked. It was evident she already knew the answer, but was humouring Nightingale's passion.

"With this one, three!" she said excitedly. Before either Rose or Sparkle could say anything else, she jumped into a loving description of her two other books. "I have Macbeth, by William Shakespeare, and Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley. I've read them both cover to cover. I've almost memorized them." Nightingale's voice was proud.

"She does," said Sparkle, a little tiredly. "But don't ask her to recite. She'll go on for hours."

Nightingale glared at Sparkle, feeling affronted. "Don't shit on my interests," she said.

Sparkle laughed. "I'm not, sweetie," she said, patting Nightingale's head as though she were an animal. "I'm-"

At that precise moment, the door flew open on its mechanical rotors.

"What the fuck are you all doing just sitting there?" roared Bobby, charging into the room. Sparkle dove off the bed, squealing in terror. Nightingale shoved Cyrano de Bergerac under the bed. Rose remained frozen where she was.

"I'll go," said Sparkle. Bobby didn't even bat an eyelid as she scurried past him and out into the hall.

Nightingale sprang to her feet and began to apologize. "Sorry, Bobby-" she started, but he dug his remote out of his pocket and pointed at her. With the press of a button, he had the anklet deliver a shock to her. It was not enough to seriously injure her, but it did hurt like hell. It was more intense and prolonged than the ones she was used to.

Nightingale stumbled back into the wall and dug her fingernails into her palms to prevent herself from crying aloud. But she couldn't stop a small squeak of pain from escaping her clenched teeth.

"Shut up!" yelled Bobby. "I don't want to hear excuses, bitch! You're supposed to be teaching her!"

Nightingale was silent, though she wanted to give Bobby a good shocking with the remote and see how he fared. She grinned viciously when she imagined him on the ground in a little ball, weeping for his mother.

"And you!" roared Bobby, turning to Rose, who was still stony with shock. "That's what happens when you misbehave! I guess, though," he added with a sneer, turning to Nightingale. "You've been a good role model for punishment."

With that he turned and left, reminding them to be in the Club - the main room where the Inamoratas mingled with clients - in half an hour.

When he was gone and the door shut safely behind him, Rose stood and went over to Nightingale.

"Gale? Are you-"

"It's nothing. I've had worse. You heard him. Get ready. Put on what I showed you earlier," said Nightingale quickly, waving her hand dismissively to Rose. She backed away, her eyes bulging like birds' eggs as she watched Nightingale drop to her knees and remove Cyrano de Bergerac from its hiding place.

Nightingale took the book and hugged it to her chest, rocking back and forth, trying to soothe herself. She wondered why Bobby's punishment had got to her so much as she regarded her quivering hands gripping the book like a drowning man to a proffered oar.

"Nightingale, are you sure-" started Rose again, but Nightingale stood quickly.

"Leave me alone," she snapped at Rose. "Just get dressed and meet me in half an hour in the Club."

Rose backed away, looking hurt. Nightingale felt a little guilty as left the room, heading for her own. Rose clearly meant well and it had been wrong of Nightingale to snap at her as she did. Heaving a sigh that seemed to shudder its way all the way up from her toes, she attempted to enter her room but found the way blocked by a tall, statuesque woman with black hair and eyes.

"Magenta," said Nightingale, grinning. After a punishment, Magenta was just the girl to talk to. Magenta was the mouthiest of the Inamoratas, always giving Bobby lip that earned her frequent shockings. She currently held the record for number of punishments.

"Heard Bobby gave it to you just now," said Magenta.

"Was I that loud?" asked Nightingale. She entered her bedroom. Magenta followed her, but stayed on the threshold, leaning against the doorframe.

"Not at all, honey," said Magenta, grinning conspiringly. "I just recognize the sound of an Inamorata getting shocked, that's all."

"Of course you do, you cheeky bitch," said Nightingale affectionately.

Magenta laughed. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here. Bobby told me to tell you that there's been a request for you tonight."

Nightingale shuddered, but the situation wasn't uncommon. As the bordello's most popular Inamorata, she was frequently requested. But for this request to have come half and hour before she even went into the Club...this man must have been a regular.

"Thanks, Maggie," said Nightingale. Magenta grinned at the use of the pet form of her name. She only let other Inamoratas use it. "Did you recognize the client, by any chance? If I knew who it was, that would be helpful."

"Naw, the client wasn't with Bobby. He called ahead, apparently. Made the request before he got here," said Magenta. At her next words, she rolled her eyes. "And it's not like Bobby would tell me, anyway. We're not on the best terms, you know."

The two women took one look at each other and started to laugh. They had troubles stopping and eventually Nightingale forced Magenta from the room, pleading with her that she still needed to get ready.

As she put on her corset Nightingale smiled. It was a rare smile of pure happiness that lit up her face and made the woman in the mirror across from her look very much unlike herself. As she smilingly did up the hook and eye, she realized that that was the only good thing about being an Inamorata. The camaraderie.

"So, you're ready to watch and learn?" asked Nightingale twenty-five minutes later, fussing over Rose's hair. They were standing at the back entrance to the Club.

"Yes," said Rose.

"Now, you're going to be wearing this," said Nightingale, slipping a red ribbon around Rose's upper arm.

"Oh," said Magenta, looking wistfully at the ribbon. "It's been a long time since I wore one of those."

"God, I wish I still could," said Sparkle, eyeing the ribbon with a bit more jealousy than Magenta had.

"What? What's so special about the ribbon?" asked Rose, looking confused.

Nightingale found herself gazing wistfully at the ribbon as she fastened it. "This is probably the best thing that can happen to you here. It's Bobby's signal to the clients that you're on display only."

"Sort of a look-but-you'd-better-not-touch signal," added Sparkle helpfully.

Rose looked down at the ribbon. "I'd better hold onto it, then," she said, her voice deadly serious.

The Inamoratas laughed in unison. Sparkle pretended to be trying to steal the ribbon as Nightingale mimed taking it from Sparkle. Magenta, laughing, snagged a passing girl.

"Hey, Glitter, how important is Rose's red ribbon?" asked Magenta.

Glitter, a tall blonde with green eyes, looked incredulous. "Are you kidding me? That's the best thing that will ever happen to you in this shit hole."

Rose's already wide eyes widened even further and she clutched the ribbon close to her arm. The rest of the Inamoratas continued to laugh. Rose seemed to realize that their hilarity was directed towards her, because she looked offended and said:

"What's so funny?"

The girls all stopped laughing and looked at her, their mirth replaced by sadness.

"You just won't appreciate what that ribbon means until you stop wearing it," said Nightingale sorrowfully. "We're laughing because it's ridiculous what any of us would do to get that little thing back."

"Oh," said Rose, looking down. It seemed as though she didn't want to meet the eyes of any of the other Inamoratas.

"Alright, enough of that sadness!" said Sparkle, jumping up and down so violently that the other three Inamoratas started in surprise. "Let's just make the best of this, alright girls?"

"I'll second that," said Magenta, grinning.

Nightingale forced a smile and patted Sparkle's curls. She didn't share Sparkle's opinion, with unhappiness wrenching at her gut. But she smiled to comfort Rose. As she did, her eye caught the clock above the door.

"Ah! We're almost late! Let's go," she said, chivvying the girls through the door. "Bobby's in a pissy mood, and let's not aggravate it!"

Magenta, Sparkle, and Glitter paraded through it, their usual, comfortable strides turning into seductive sashays as they were greeted by cheers from the men assembled in the Club. But Rose hung back, looking nervous.

"Come on, Rosie, you have to go in," said Nightingale patiently, pushing her gently. Rose turned to her and shook her head. "You have to." Applying more strength, Nightingale shoved Rose through the door and was immediately assailed by wolf-whistles and shouting.

"Hey, Nightingale!" she heard a bunch of different men call. She flashed them all a smile, before saying out of the corner of her mouth:

"Rose. You have to go," she hissed. "Just watch me. And if I get taken away by some client early, watch Sparkle. Or Glitter. Or any girl except Magenta."

Nightingale moved away, ready to mingle - several men were leaning towards her, trying to touch her - but Rose grabbed her hand.

"I don't know what to do!" she whispered frantically.

"Rose, let go! You're holding me back from clients and I'll be punished!" snapped Nightingale, snatching her hand from Rose's. She hated to snap at Rose, but it was necessary.

"What do I do?" moaned Rose.

"Wait tables! That's it! Smile! Laugh when they grope you, but show your ribbon and you'll be fine!" snarled Nightingale. She stalked away from Rose. As she moved towards the reaching crowd, she turned back to Rose and smiled encouragingly. "You can do it, Rosie. And we're always here."

She saw Rose look a tiny bit more comforted as she headed towards the bar. Just as Rose left, Bobby approached her. Nightingale suddenly remembered that she'd been requested. That was a bit of blessing, in a way. It meant that she'd only have to deal with one man tonight, not ten or twenty before settling on the highest-paying client.

"Nightingale," he said, slapping her ass. He seemed to have recovered from his earlier mood and was now grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, Bobby," she purred, kissing his mouth. The men around her groaned in jealousy.

"Your request is sitting at the back," he said. "At table number eight. He's alone."

Nightingale nodded, sending a smile towards table eight. It quickly fell when she saw that the man was none other than Michael Castleman.