Aliyn Raven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aliyn_raven) wrote2023-01-13 01:10 am
aliyn_raven) wrote2023-01-13 01:10 am
Entry tags:
If you go hunting a tiger... (Chapter 4)
Summary: I never wanted to live in their world. They dragged me here by force. Well, let them learn to live in the reality that I will create from their world.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/330893564-if-you-go-hunting-for-a-tiger
https://archiveofourown.org/works/44014216
My frightened squeal was probably heard by the whole house.
One of the convoyer dragged me to the corner of the living room and pressed me to the floor, so quickly that I didn't have time to understand anything.
"It's not blood, it's red paint," Marco said after a few moments. "Everything in the dressing room is broken and smashed. And in the bedroom too."
"I will bring thinner, alcohol and butter," said Raoul, "to remove the paint from the mistress."
"Hey!" I yelled, lying, judging by the light scent of the lotion with the smell of cedar and leather, under Helmut. "Why the laundering? You will destroy all traces. Call the police!"
"That's impossible, Herrin Alex." Helmut got up and put me on my feet. "This is a scandal and discrediting of TGS, a fall in shares."
"Put my shit on TGS!" I was outraged. "There was an attempt on my life. What if it was sulfuric acid or poisonous gas?!"
"Fräulein Eleanor isn't very smart, Herrin, but even she won't do anything that will cause effects harmful to TGS. She just wanted to scare you, make you give up your status, and leave Terr Court and TGS."
"And has Dave," I was amazed, "already decided to transfer half of the shares and trust funds to me, give me a position on the board of directors? And all without the approval of the shareholders' meeting?"
"Summer," James intervened, "is not the season of high life, but there are three events that you cannot miss. There's a benefit evening at City Hall in a week, and that's where you'll make your debut as Lady Terrent. The official introduction of the successor to TGS. You don't have much time to practice, ma'am."
"Maybe, I do not have much time to live!" I was outraged. "If you don't want to call the police, call Dave!"
"The chairman will only laugh and punish us." Helmut looked seriously frightened.
"Now you understand, milady," James said, "why Miss Eleanor should not get TGS under any circumstances? She will ruin everything!"
"And do you understand that this world is full of other work besides washing other people’s toilets?"
"That's not up to you, milady!" James was instantly furious. Even the eyes of this sleepy fish sparkled, what a handsome man he has become!
"Yes, to your pleasure!" I said. "There are plenty of cleaning companies. Not Joyterr, but Joyfresh."
Helmut looked at me with teasing and asked:
"Do you want to lose a fight to a pampered half-smart hat rack?"
"For the last few days, this is all I want!" I cut off.
And Marco said:
"This isn't only about TGS as an expensive property. There is also Terre Court. More than a hundred people have been working here for five generations. All of them had never left the estate for more than a couple of hours a week since birth. Terre Court is their only world. And this world should not be in the hands of a scoundrel. And even more so, Joyterr should not suffer. This is the heart of Terr Court."
"That is, «never left»?" I did not understand. "What about schools, professional courses and universities, vacations and all that?"
"Terre Court kids are homeschooled. And they learn the profession from their parents. Or, like me, they are found in bad foster families and given to one of the Terr Court families. I grew up in Terr Cliff, the southern villa of Terr Cort, Donna Alex, and then was awarded a place in the central residence. Helmut was born here. James would have ended up in juvenile detention if Dave Terrent didn't vouch for him and was given a job at the north villa. James was sixteen at the time."
"And I," Raoul interjected, "was a fourteen-year-old drug addict in the municipal quarter of Paris. And only the TGS fund picked me up, dying of an overdose, on the street, took me to the hospital, and then placed me in a private clinic where drug addicts were actually treated, then paid for a closed private school. And after school, I got a job with a salary that even a university graduate could not count on."
I tried very hard not to swear out loud. The Terrents have been gathering people with destructive psyches for generations and turning them into willing slaves. And this means that there will be no legality here. I am in the thrall of a psychopath and a criminal who set me up for a rat fight with another psychopath because his sick brain cannot invent anything else. But if there is no point in even dreaming about revenge on Dave and his lackeys, then I can get a phone. There is no fortress in the world that gold will not take. Just I have to be very careful so that the convoyers don't guess my idea. And I said:
"I need to wash off the paint. And I want to get checked by a doctor, we don’t know if it is toxic. Bring me the maid immediately!"
"Gerrin, we serve you, and..."
"Find a girl!" I growled. "And you can go to a striptease, even to a brothel, but I won’t undress in front of any of you. I'll go to your fucking ball in a painted form and say that this is a protest against environmental pollution."
And before Helmut came to his senses, I still with the same pressure ordered James and Marco to carry to the neighboring apartment everything that even a little survived.
"It's still usable, and I won't let anyone be uneconomical." I am a shopkeeper for everyone, a poor, greedy freeloader, and therefore no one will be surprised at the order. I barked at Helmut that to strengthen it: "Did you freeze?! Do it! Everything in the bedroom of the new apartment! I don't want to live in this anymore!"
And I ran out of the living room into the corridor, opened the nearest door and yelled to my guards:
"Quicker!"
Even if they consider me as stupid and hysterical as Eleanor, and a rabble who has seized power, so much the better: they will follow me less.
Marco and James cheerfully dragged a pile of tattered and partially paint-stained stuff into the bedroom of the new apartment, separately putting what remained intact. But they were in a hurry, so unlikely they managed to photograph everything.
As soon as they finished, I slammed the door behind them and bolted it. Then I locked the door to the dressing room. There is no point in such an obstacle because there are service corridors, but this is a good way to confirm the order not to interfere. And a way to once again show that I'm a fool, which makes no sense to be taken seriously.
I hope at least there are no surveillance cameras in the bedroom: security can leak materials, and Dave hardly wants his guests to flash their bare bottoms and coituses all over the Internet. And nobody would have visited Dave.
I checked to see if anyone was in the bedroom. Here is the same layout that I had: from the living room there is a door to the corridor, to the bedroom and to the dressing room, which also opens into the bedroom, so that the inhabitants of the apartment have direct access to clothes, and the servants can deal with stuff without disturbing the owners. I wonder if the bathroom can only be accessed through the bedroom or is there a service door? I don't know. But that doesn't matter. The main thing is that now I'm the only one in the apartment.
I found the surviving handbag and began to stuff it with jewelry. I specifically bought only gold without stones, so everything can be easily sold as scrap at the nearest pawnshop. And the amount will be more than decent, here about two hundred grams of gold.
I expected that this would be enough for a lot of bribes, but, taking into account the recently discovered circumstances, all the available gold will have to be spent on one maid: at the sight of a sparkling pile of wealth, even such an ardent fan of Dave, whom Helmut will bring, will not resist.
I hid my handbag in the bathroom. If action movies are to be believed, the noise of flowing water doesn't drown out the wiretap that is tuned to the frequency of a human voice, but I hope Dave is not a complete maniac, and the wiretap was not installed in the bathrooms. And the door is expensive, dense, nothing will be heard through it in the bedroom.
Soon there was a knock on the bedroom door. Helmut brought a middle-aged woman dressed in a maid's uniform and said her name was Irma. Therewas a small suitcase in the woman’s hand.
And while she wiped my hair with a solvent, alcohol and oil, I cleaned the paint from my face and cracked about how I used to live in my own apartment at my own candy shop, how the granny-lark worked early in the morning and went out to have fun in the evening, and the owl-I did the second baking batch. I talked about neighbors who had their own dry cleaners, bistros, and a gift shop. And all the time I emphasized that everyone is the owner of his own house and his own workers. The second is an absolute lie, but the slaves do not want freedom, they want their own slaves. And I need to survive in this gilded prison. Fifteen minutes later, when the slave's ass was supposed to burn from envy of someone else's property, I told her to help me wash my hair.
Irma went with me and as soon as the door closed, I shoved my open handbag under her nose.
"It will all be yours if you bring me a cell phone. Anything, even the most used ancient push-button model, as long as it has a working function of calls and an advance payment for a hundred brangs."
Irma shook her head negatively.
"Nobody ever runs away from wealth."
Wow, she's smarter than I thought. I immediately understood why I needed a phone.
"My father was rich," I reminded him. "And his property belongs to me. It's convenient, compact and comfortable wealth without the hassle. I will live for my own pleasure, and no one will dare to command me! I won't have to work day and night to maintain a huge financial empire and think about how to avoid strikes and lawsuits from hundreds of thousands of workers. I will pay off my debts, hire the best nurses for my grandmother, rent a candy shop and go traveling. I will make stories about it. I will think about what kind of business and what kind of career I really want."
"Mr. Terrent will not allow a member of his family to be so disobedient and break the rules."
"And the press will bury him," I said. "My father's wealth will not be affected by this, since Terrent will have no choice but to buy back his son's shares from me himself."
Irma looked at me searchingly, thought a little and took out a tiny old push-button telephone from her bra and gave it to me.
"Few of the zoomers know how to use it."
Wow! Do Dave fans carry a secret panic button? Something is rotten in the state of Terrentmark. I wonder how long ago this started. And how much cheaper a mobile phone would cost me if I knew about it. But now there is no time to regret and reflect.
"Granny taught me," I said, checking if the phone worked and how much money was there. I made sure everything was in order and put it in my bra. "Granny said that a primitive can save a life, because the villains are either savages or use only advanced technologies, and everything plain remains out of the spotlight."
Irma smiled and nodded.
"The wisdom of a refugee?"
I shrugged. And Irma said:
"The chairman can turn master Albert's trust fund and the income from his shares to zero. But master Albert had a villa in the mountains by the sea, from which you can make a good hotel. This is the dowry of Master Albert's mother, Miss Fiona Lightwell. If all this is put up for auction, the Lightwells will pay more for the family property than it's worth. And even bidding will not be necessary, the Lightwells will pay in advance. They will not allow rootless tourists to have fun in their family residence, and that all control is in the hands of the..." Irma didn't finish.
And I realized belatedly, I have a share in the inheritance from the second grandmother, which I didn't even think about! After all, ordinary people do not care who their grandmother and grandfather are. But with these Lightwells, whoever they are, it's different. There is money for my share there. More precisely, Albert had a share, and I inherited it.
"There are more jewels," Irma said to the beat of my thoughts. "Master Albert received them as a gift for his future wife. But he was the owner, and this is also a family heirloom. And there are several paintings bought by Master Albert's ancestors. For all this, the Lightwells, Herr Terrent and perhaps a couple of other old families will give a very good ransom for it. But now, let me help you wash and cure your hair after the solvent." Irma began to get shampoo, balm and some other bottles out of her suitcase.
I had to cut off half of the length of my hair, but I never liked long tresses, and with the onset of the summer heat, I thought about cutting my hair that had grown to my shoulders, so I willingly agreed to Irma's offer to fix my haircut, to make it like one presenter from her favorite talk show. Whatever this lady wears, it will not be worse than it is.
But the haircut turned out to be very cute and really suited me.
"You could make a career as a hair artist," I said to Irma.
"I always wanted to sell dresses," she said. "I dreamed of dressing up mannequins in the hall, displaying accessories in the windows, showing women the outfits that suit them best. But they won’t take you to a boutique without experience, and in a simple store they pay pennies, this is a part-time job for students who are fed by their parents or a scholarship. And I had to support my younger brothers and sisters. But now…" She smiled dreamily, instantly looking twenty years younger. "When an investor comes to a boutique where the only employees are the hostess and assistant, it's a completely different matter, isn't it, Mx?"
I showed her my crossed fingers and the sign of victory. Irma nodded cheerfully. And she asked:
"Mx, can I take a couple of paint-stained dresses and handbags? I will tell your personal gentlemen that you ordered me to throw out hopelessly damaged things. We need to cover your gift. If I put it in a suitcase, they can check if I took anything, and in such a pile of junk, I will take your gift unnoticed."
"Of course! That's why I told the guards to bring everything to the bedroom. But..." I was interested in the expression, and I repeated: "«Personal gentlemen»? What does it mean?"
"This is more than keeping the room in order, ironing clothes and serving food, as ordinary valets do. Your personal gentlemen also protect you and provide information and provide the necessary pleasure for an unmarried lady without the risk of shameful illness, pregnancy and gossip about dissolute behavior."
"Eh?" I froze. And I muttered: "When an old woman buys a gigolo, that's okay. But a young woman? There is no problem for a girl to have at least one-time entertainment, at least a permanent sex friend without any mutual obligations, only for health and stress relief, or find a passionate romance with a wedding in the finale. But if you don’t want intimacy, so don’t fuck, sex is not a duty, love even more so. In addition, love happens without sex."
"I don't know, Mx. But since the time when young ladies from good families began to go into hippies or ravers, there has been more trust in a wife who has fun at home. Girls who keep themselves innocent before marriage have proven to be unsuitable for big business, as they cannot convincingly portray loyalty to new trends, which means they discredit their husbands at public events useful for business. Therefore, when a young lady from an old family comes time for a serious acquaintance, her house gentlemen leave for other positions. Or they guarantee the husband that his wife will not acquire an obscene relationship, and even incur from her lover."
I froze on this for the second time. And when she came to her senses, she clarified:
"Are they all sterilized?"
"They have enough sperm frozen that everyone can give their wife a dozen of dozen kids. And all thanks to Terrent. And for their ungodly positions, they get much more than a whore, a bodyguard and a maid put together!"
Oh, how lovely! When you try to stick a conservative little world to modern reality, a monster that transcends the boundaries of imagination is formed. The press will be thrilled. And revenge was found on Dave and his accomplices for my kidnapping and for forcing me to become an incomprehensible object from a person.
And also, it saved my life: had it not been for the envy of ordinary servants for personal gentlemen, Irma would not have helped me, and no gold would have seduced her - there are too many emotions in relation to my convoyers, Irma even trembles with hatred.
And by the way, why are there so many gentlemen? Even Wooster had only one Jeeves. How does a lady get along with such a harem?
But as soon as I thought about it, my hormones gave me an unexpected surprise. A juicy picture arose in my head of how one handsome man makes me a cunnilingus, the second caresses my breasts, the third feet, and I kiss with the fourth. The imagination played out and showed the final scene of the action, in which the guys pleased not only me but also each other.
Oh, how versatile I am! But more about that later. First I need to survive, gain freedom and not lose my money. And "later" will in no case be with those who kidnap people and keep them out of touch with the world.
I thanked Irma, escorted her, along with the junk which she was holding, to the servants' door in the living room (very useful to know where it is hidden!), and wanted to tell the convoyers to get out when there was a knock on the door.
"This is Mr. Terrent's envoy, little Miss," James emphasized the last word. "You must accept him."
*****
Ajax, thanks for the preliminary reading.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/330893564-if-you-go-hunting-for-a-tiger
https://archiveofourown.org/works/44014216
My frightened squeal was probably heard by the whole house.
One of the convoyer dragged me to the corner of the living room and pressed me to the floor, so quickly that I didn't have time to understand anything.
"It's not blood, it's red paint," Marco said after a few moments. "Everything in the dressing room is broken and smashed. And in the bedroom too."
"I will bring thinner, alcohol and butter," said Raoul, "to remove the paint from the mistress."
"Hey!" I yelled, lying, judging by the light scent of the lotion with the smell of cedar and leather, under Helmut. "Why the laundering? You will destroy all traces. Call the police!"
"That's impossible, Herrin Alex." Helmut got up and put me on my feet. "This is a scandal and discrediting of TGS, a fall in shares."
"Put my shit on TGS!" I was outraged. "There was an attempt on my life. What if it was sulfuric acid or poisonous gas?!"
"Fräulein Eleanor isn't very smart, Herrin, but even she won't do anything that will cause effects harmful to TGS. She just wanted to scare you, make you give up your status, and leave Terr Court and TGS."
"And has Dave," I was amazed, "already decided to transfer half of the shares and trust funds to me, give me a position on the board of directors? And all without the approval of the shareholders' meeting?"
"Summer," James intervened, "is not the season of high life, but there are three events that you cannot miss. There's a benefit evening at City Hall in a week, and that's where you'll make your debut as Lady Terrent. The official introduction of the successor to TGS. You don't have much time to practice, ma'am."
"Maybe, I do not have much time to live!" I was outraged. "If you don't want to call the police, call Dave!"
"The chairman will only laugh and punish us." Helmut looked seriously frightened.
"Now you understand, milady," James said, "why Miss Eleanor should not get TGS under any circumstances? She will ruin everything!"
"And do you understand that this world is full of other work besides washing other people’s toilets?"
"That's not up to you, milady!" James was instantly furious. Even the eyes of this sleepy fish sparkled, what a handsome man he has become!
"Yes, to your pleasure!" I said. "There are plenty of cleaning companies. Not Joyterr, but Joyfresh."
Helmut looked at me with teasing and asked:
"Do you want to lose a fight to a pampered half-smart hat rack?"
"For the last few days, this is all I want!" I cut off.
And Marco said:
"This isn't only about TGS as an expensive property. There is also Terre Court. More than a hundred people have been working here for five generations. All of them had never left the estate for more than a couple of hours a week since birth. Terre Court is their only world. And this world should not be in the hands of a scoundrel. And even more so, Joyterr should not suffer. This is the heart of Terr Court."
"That is, «never left»?" I did not understand. "What about schools, professional courses and universities, vacations and all that?"
"Terre Court kids are homeschooled. And they learn the profession from their parents. Or, like me, they are found in bad foster families and given to one of the Terr Court families. I grew up in Terr Cliff, the southern villa of Terr Cort, Donna Alex, and then was awarded a place in the central residence. Helmut was born here. James would have ended up in juvenile detention if Dave Terrent didn't vouch for him and was given a job at the north villa. James was sixteen at the time."
"And I," Raoul interjected, "was a fourteen-year-old drug addict in the municipal quarter of Paris. And only the TGS fund picked me up, dying of an overdose, on the street, took me to the hospital, and then placed me in a private clinic where drug addicts were actually treated, then paid for a closed private school. And after school, I got a job with a salary that even a university graduate could not count on."
I tried very hard not to swear out loud. The Terrents have been gathering people with destructive psyches for generations and turning them into willing slaves. And this means that there will be no legality here. I am in the thrall of a psychopath and a criminal who set me up for a rat fight with another psychopath because his sick brain cannot invent anything else. But if there is no point in even dreaming about revenge on Dave and his lackeys, then I can get a phone. There is no fortress in the world that gold will not take. Just I have to be very careful so that the convoyers don't guess my idea. And I said:
"I need to wash off the paint. And I want to get checked by a doctor, we don’t know if it is toxic. Bring me the maid immediately!"
"Gerrin, we serve you, and..."
"Find a girl!" I growled. "And you can go to a striptease, even to a brothel, but I won’t undress in front of any of you. I'll go to your fucking ball in a painted form and say that this is a protest against environmental pollution."
And before Helmut came to his senses, I still with the same pressure ordered James and Marco to carry to the neighboring apartment everything that even a little survived.
"It's still usable, and I won't let anyone be uneconomical." I am a shopkeeper for everyone, a poor, greedy freeloader, and therefore no one will be surprised at the order. I barked at Helmut that to strengthen it: "Did you freeze?! Do it! Everything in the bedroom of the new apartment! I don't want to live in this anymore!"
And I ran out of the living room into the corridor, opened the nearest door and yelled to my guards:
"Quicker!"
Even if they consider me as stupid and hysterical as Eleanor, and a rabble who has seized power, so much the better: they will follow me less.
Marco and James cheerfully dragged a pile of tattered and partially paint-stained stuff into the bedroom of the new apartment, separately putting what remained intact. But they were in a hurry, so unlikely they managed to photograph everything.
As soon as they finished, I slammed the door behind them and bolted it. Then I locked the door to the dressing room. There is no point in such an obstacle because there are service corridors, but this is a good way to confirm the order not to interfere. And a way to once again show that I'm a fool, which makes no sense to be taken seriously.
I hope at least there are no surveillance cameras in the bedroom: security can leak materials, and Dave hardly wants his guests to flash their bare bottoms and coituses all over the Internet. And nobody would have visited Dave.
I checked to see if anyone was in the bedroom. Here is the same layout that I had: from the living room there is a door to the corridor, to the bedroom and to the dressing room, which also opens into the bedroom, so that the inhabitants of the apartment have direct access to clothes, and the servants can deal with stuff without disturbing the owners. I wonder if the bathroom can only be accessed through the bedroom or is there a service door? I don't know. But that doesn't matter. The main thing is that now I'm the only one in the apartment.
I found the surviving handbag and began to stuff it with jewelry. I specifically bought only gold without stones, so everything can be easily sold as scrap at the nearest pawnshop. And the amount will be more than decent, here about two hundred grams of gold.
I expected that this would be enough for a lot of bribes, but, taking into account the recently discovered circumstances, all the available gold will have to be spent on one maid: at the sight of a sparkling pile of wealth, even such an ardent fan of Dave, whom Helmut will bring, will not resist.
I hid my handbag in the bathroom. If action movies are to be believed, the noise of flowing water doesn't drown out the wiretap that is tuned to the frequency of a human voice, but I hope Dave is not a complete maniac, and the wiretap was not installed in the bathrooms. And the door is expensive, dense, nothing will be heard through it in the bedroom.
Soon there was a knock on the bedroom door. Helmut brought a middle-aged woman dressed in a maid's uniform and said her name was Irma. Therewas a small suitcase in the woman’s hand.
And while she wiped my hair with a solvent, alcohol and oil, I cleaned the paint from my face and cracked about how I used to live in my own apartment at my own candy shop, how the granny-lark worked early in the morning and went out to have fun in the evening, and the owl-I did the second baking batch. I talked about neighbors who had their own dry cleaners, bistros, and a gift shop. And all the time I emphasized that everyone is the owner of his own house and his own workers. The second is an absolute lie, but the slaves do not want freedom, they want their own slaves. And I need to survive in this gilded prison. Fifteen minutes later, when the slave's ass was supposed to burn from envy of someone else's property, I told her to help me wash my hair.
Irma went with me and as soon as the door closed, I shoved my open handbag under her nose.
"It will all be yours if you bring me a cell phone. Anything, even the most used ancient push-button model, as long as it has a working function of calls and an advance payment for a hundred brangs."
Irma shook her head negatively.
"Nobody ever runs away from wealth."
Wow, she's smarter than I thought. I immediately understood why I needed a phone.
"My father was rich," I reminded him. "And his property belongs to me. It's convenient, compact and comfortable wealth without the hassle. I will live for my own pleasure, and no one will dare to command me! I won't have to work day and night to maintain a huge financial empire and think about how to avoid strikes and lawsuits from hundreds of thousands of workers. I will pay off my debts, hire the best nurses for my grandmother, rent a candy shop and go traveling. I will make stories about it. I will think about what kind of business and what kind of career I really want."
"Mr. Terrent will not allow a member of his family to be so disobedient and break the rules."
"And the press will bury him," I said. "My father's wealth will not be affected by this, since Terrent will have no choice but to buy back his son's shares from me himself."
Irma looked at me searchingly, thought a little and took out a tiny old push-button telephone from her bra and gave it to me.
"Few of the zoomers know how to use it."
Wow! Do Dave fans carry a secret panic button? Something is rotten in the state of Terrentmark. I wonder how long ago this started. And how much cheaper a mobile phone would cost me if I knew about it. But now there is no time to regret and reflect.
"Granny taught me," I said, checking if the phone worked and how much money was there. I made sure everything was in order and put it in my bra. "Granny said that a primitive can save a life, because the villains are either savages or use only advanced technologies, and everything plain remains out of the spotlight."
Irma smiled and nodded.
"The wisdom of a refugee?"
I shrugged. And Irma said:
"The chairman can turn master Albert's trust fund and the income from his shares to zero. But master Albert had a villa in the mountains by the sea, from which you can make a good hotel. This is the dowry of Master Albert's mother, Miss Fiona Lightwell. If all this is put up for auction, the Lightwells will pay more for the family property than it's worth. And even bidding will not be necessary, the Lightwells will pay in advance. They will not allow rootless tourists to have fun in their family residence, and that all control is in the hands of the..." Irma didn't finish.
And I realized belatedly, I have a share in the inheritance from the second grandmother, which I didn't even think about! After all, ordinary people do not care who their grandmother and grandfather are. But with these Lightwells, whoever they are, it's different. There is money for my share there. More precisely, Albert had a share, and I inherited it.
"There are more jewels," Irma said to the beat of my thoughts. "Master Albert received them as a gift for his future wife. But he was the owner, and this is also a family heirloom. And there are several paintings bought by Master Albert's ancestors. For all this, the Lightwells, Herr Terrent and perhaps a couple of other old families will give a very good ransom for it. But now, let me help you wash and cure your hair after the solvent." Irma began to get shampoo, balm and some other bottles out of her suitcase.
I had to cut off half of the length of my hair, but I never liked long tresses, and with the onset of the summer heat, I thought about cutting my hair that had grown to my shoulders, so I willingly agreed to Irma's offer to fix my haircut, to make it like one presenter from her favorite talk show. Whatever this lady wears, it will not be worse than it is.
But the haircut turned out to be very cute and really suited me.
"You could make a career as a hair artist," I said to Irma.
"I always wanted to sell dresses," she said. "I dreamed of dressing up mannequins in the hall, displaying accessories in the windows, showing women the outfits that suit them best. But they won’t take you to a boutique without experience, and in a simple store they pay pennies, this is a part-time job for students who are fed by their parents or a scholarship. And I had to support my younger brothers and sisters. But now…" She smiled dreamily, instantly looking twenty years younger. "When an investor comes to a boutique where the only employees are the hostess and assistant, it's a completely different matter, isn't it, Mx?"
I showed her my crossed fingers and the sign of victory. Irma nodded cheerfully. And she asked:
"Mx, can I take a couple of paint-stained dresses and handbags? I will tell your personal gentlemen that you ordered me to throw out hopelessly damaged things. We need to cover your gift. If I put it in a suitcase, they can check if I took anything, and in such a pile of junk, I will take your gift unnoticed."
"Of course! That's why I told the guards to bring everything to the bedroom. But..." I was interested in the expression, and I repeated: "«Personal gentlemen»? What does it mean?"
"This is more than keeping the room in order, ironing clothes and serving food, as ordinary valets do. Your personal gentlemen also protect you and provide information and provide the necessary pleasure for an unmarried lady without the risk of shameful illness, pregnancy and gossip about dissolute behavior."
"Eh?" I froze. And I muttered: "When an old woman buys a gigolo, that's okay. But a young woman? There is no problem for a girl to have at least one-time entertainment, at least a permanent sex friend without any mutual obligations, only for health and stress relief, or find a passionate romance with a wedding in the finale. But if you don’t want intimacy, so don’t fuck, sex is not a duty, love even more so. In addition, love happens without sex."
"I don't know, Mx. But since the time when young ladies from good families began to go into hippies or ravers, there has been more trust in a wife who has fun at home. Girls who keep themselves innocent before marriage have proven to be unsuitable for big business, as they cannot convincingly portray loyalty to new trends, which means they discredit their husbands at public events useful for business. Therefore, when a young lady from an old family comes time for a serious acquaintance, her house gentlemen leave for other positions. Or they guarantee the husband that his wife will not acquire an obscene relationship, and even incur from her lover."
I froze on this for the second time. And when she came to her senses, she clarified:
"Are they all sterilized?"
"They have enough sperm frozen that everyone can give their wife a dozen of dozen kids. And all thanks to Terrent. And for their ungodly positions, they get much more than a whore, a bodyguard and a maid put together!"
Oh, how lovely! When you try to stick a conservative little world to modern reality, a monster that transcends the boundaries of imagination is formed. The press will be thrilled. And revenge was found on Dave and his accomplices for my kidnapping and for forcing me to become an incomprehensible object from a person.
And also, it saved my life: had it not been for the envy of ordinary servants for personal gentlemen, Irma would not have helped me, and no gold would have seduced her - there are too many emotions in relation to my convoyers, Irma even trembles with hatred.
And by the way, why are there so many gentlemen? Even Wooster had only one Jeeves. How does a lady get along with such a harem?
But as soon as I thought about it, my hormones gave me an unexpected surprise. A juicy picture arose in my head of how one handsome man makes me a cunnilingus, the second caresses my breasts, the third feet, and I kiss with the fourth. The imagination played out and showed the final scene of the action, in which the guys pleased not only me but also each other.
Oh, how versatile I am! But more about that later. First I need to survive, gain freedom and not lose my money. And "later" will in no case be with those who kidnap people and keep them out of touch with the world.
I thanked Irma, escorted her, along with the junk which she was holding, to the servants' door in the living room (very useful to know where it is hidden!), and wanted to tell the convoyers to get out when there was a knock on the door.
"This is Mr. Terrent's envoy, little Miss," James emphasized the last word. "You must accept him."
*****
Ajax, thanks for the preliminary reading.