A Newcomer At Freeport

The beginning was a blur, a mosaic of half-seen images without sequence or sense. Imagination and memory merged with a will all their own, leaving only guesses and hints of truths behind to simmer in the girl's mind. One thing remained that was definite - a single word, the one thing that rose from the turmoil unscathed. It was the first thing the girl said to her rescuers...

The word was "Raven". The rescuers assumed it was the girl's name, and that was what it became, for she could neither confirm nor deny it.

Amidst all the inner chaos, one thing quickly became certain, and that was that Raven was not where she expected to be. None of what she saw, heard or experienced on those first few days struck any chord of familiarity within her - not that she could tell anyone what "familiar" meant to her. For her, there was simply no past, no memory, no sense of what she was, or where she had come from, upon which to anchor herself. It was a frightening time for Raven, and she kept very much to herself, hiding away in the cramped quarters her rescuers had set aside for her, deep within the bowels of a great wooden vessel, like a great sailing ship from a time long past...

Raven had mentioned that once to her saviours, adding in her strange, almost ghostly voice that such a ship never sailed amongst the stars, but the captain and his crew laughed off her comments, as though she was joking. To them, there was no other kind of ship.

With no sun to rise and set, it was hard for Raven to determine how long she spent on the great star-sailer. She gauged the passing of time according to her own natural rhythms, one day ending when she fell asleep and another beginning when she woke. By that measure, it was eight days before the ship sighted "land" - a vast mass of rock, floating free in space, one side green with vegetation and grey with the buildings of thinking creatures, the other bare rock, tapering to a blunt point underneath - and it was then that the ordeal truly began.

"If you have no history, and no skills that you can recall", the rusty-bearded captain had said to her, "then there are only two courses you can follow. Be taken as a slave, and do another's menial work, or make use of your beauty. The former offers nothing but a roof over your head, and enough food to silence your belly, but the latter is far from safe. All manner of creatures come to this place, and their appetites are endless in variation, and endless in perversity."

Those ominous words in mind, Raven prepared to depart, and take control of her life again. She had little to call her own, her own clothing reduced to tatters by whatever had befallen her and set her adrift upon the Star-Seas, but the captain's wife, a round yet pleasant woman, had offered the castaway the pick of what spare clothing the ship had picked up on its travels. From this collection of odds and ends, the girl had selected a long hooded cloak of dark blue velvet, in which she felt strangely comfortable, a white satin garment that combined a halter top with extremely short pants, and matching long gloves, which Raven again felt accustomed to.

"Be a dancer, my dear", the captain's wife advised. "You have the body and natural grace for it, and such lovely long hair as well. And if you're going to be a dancer at any tavern on Freeport Rock, you'll have to have a good pair of boots..."

From the chest, the captain's wife produced the most fabulous boots Raven had ever seen. Crafted from brilliant white synthetic leather, Raven found that they went easily half the way up her slender thighs as she pulled them on, the tops turning over to form graceful flared cuffs that swept down almost to her knees. The heels of the boots were as slender as the girl's little finger, and just as long, but yet again Raven took to them as though she knew such things well.

It was hard for Raven to say goodbye, yet the emotions her rescuers showed as she bade them farewell did not come so easily to her. It was as though such things were alien to her, something she had had to learn rather than knowing them as part of her from birth, but such thoughts were relegated to the distant recessed of the girl's mind as she walked down the gang-plank and onto the quay side, taking her first steps on a path she hoped would bring her peace, happiness...and maybe insight into the past that she had lost.

Just as the captain had advised, she headed directly for the "Office of Lost And Found", picking her way carefully through narrow cobbled streets, crammed between rows of looming wood-and-stone buildings that often seemed about to fall inward and crush the unwary. It all looks so...ancient, she thought as she hurried on her way. No - I feel it should be ancient, a world from the past, described in a history book, but this is all very much part of now, and much of it is almost new...

After a time, the streets began to open out, allowing more and more of the sunlight to reach the cobble-stones as Raven's path took her into the part of Freeport where star-sailors did business, and the buyers of their cargoes could pass their goods on to the public. The light from above was not exactly what Raven expected, there begin no single bright, blazing star to light the sky - instead, there were a number of giant glowing spheres, artificial devices of some kind that constantly circled the rock the port had been constructed on. Beyond them, and their light, there was no cloud, no blue sky...just the inky, star-speckled void of space.

In a side-street, better kept and constructed than the alleyways leading from the docks, Raven finally came across her goal. The Office was the place where items, and quite often people, recovered from the Star-Seas were taken, and where things that had gone missing were reported. There, she informed the authorities about herself, how she had been rescued, and by whom, and what she now intended to do.

The clerk at the desk peered over his wire-rimmed spectacles at Raven when she said she intended to take up a career in dance. "The Phantasia is looking for girls", he told her, in a rather off-hand fashion. "You could do worse than try there."

"I have no formal training", Raven admitted. "I..."

"You hardly need training to be able to shake your behind and swing your hair about", the clerk replied. "That's the only kind of dancing any girl does around here."

"You sound as though you speak from experience", she said in return. "You know such places well?"

The clerk returned his gaze to the heavy, leather-bound ledger on the sloped desk in front of him. "I have no...commitments elsewhere, so what harm is there in it?", he said coldly. "If you're one of the sort that objects to such things, you'll not get a dancer's job on Freeport Rock, that's for certain. The taverns don't want troublemakers."

With slavery the only remaining option, Raven knew she could not be judgmental. "My need is too great for me to harbour strong opinions", she said meekly.

The clerk's mind had already turned to other things, and he gave no further comment on the girl's plans. "There is a place free at 'The Foundlings' Nest' over on Falcon Street", he said flatly. "Mother Shamita will look after you for the present, but don't overstay your welcome. Vacate your bunk there when you can afford a place of your own - someone else may be in greater need."

"Then...then this happens frequently?", Raven enquired, anxious to learn as much as she could about the circumstances surrounding what had happened to her. "Do ships find a lot of people adrift...?"

"It's not my job to discuss such things, miss", said the clerk sternly. "You'd do better finding someone more qualified...in your own time. My time is too precious to waste on metaphysics..."

Raven kept her hopes to herself from that moment on, not wanting to make enemies so soon after her arrival. Once the clerk had finished with her, and sent her on her way, her spirits rose considerably, and as she stepped out into the street again, she left her hood down, letting the light from the constantly circling artificial suns shine bright and warm upon her smooth, straight black hair. For now, she was thankful simply to be alive.

She did not know what gods or spirits she should thank for that, but she knew she could not rely on them to make her path any smoother. That was something she had to do by herself...

The first thing that struck Raven about The Phantasia, as she walked through the double doors and started down the steps that led below street level, was that the establishment seemed totally out of place. Outside, the world looked to be almost medieval, with no indication of machinery or industry, whilst what lay on the other side of the club's doors was far more like whatever reality the girl was used to.

'The Foundlings' Nest', the girl's place of lodging, had employed oil-lamps for lighting, and a blazing hearth-bound fire for heat and cooking, but the lighting at The Phantasia came from numerous ceiling-mounted orbs of frosted glass, and the very air itself felt warmer. Electric lights?, she wondered. Heating, too? A luxury for those who can afford it, perhaps...

The concepts had that reassuring feeling of familiarity, which struck from time to time whenever Raven encountered something she knew from her past life, now lost to her, but any shred of memory was disappointingly fleeting. Whenever anything struck such a chord in her mind, the girl tried to grasp at it, focus upon it in the hope of sparking further, or even complete recollection, but her grip was always too weak, and the focus was never sharp enough to do any good. Each attempt to regain a piece of her past ended in failure, and the comforting sense of recognition never lasted.

These things will come in their own time, Raven told herself. For now, there are other, more pressing matters to attend to.

Most pressing of all was the matter of money, and to that end Raven had come to The Phantasia, an establishment of questionable purpose highly regarded amongst the devotees of Freeport's nocturnal entertainments. "The best girls, the best shows, the best surroundings", she had been told, and a club with such a reputation was sure, in Raven's mind at least, to treat those who made it a success - the dancers - with respect equal to their efforts. Certain that she would not be proved wrong in that assumption, Raven had come to the club with only the slightest sense of trepidation.

Healthy caution, she thought as she reached the bottom of the staircase, and stepped off it onto the lavish crimson carpet of The Phantasia's entrance hall. Someone had clearly spent a hefty sum on turning what had been the basements for a whole block of shops and houses in to one large underground chamber, furnishing it in a manner only nobles or princes would be accustomed to. From cellar to temple of decadence, Raven remarked inwardly. Quite a transformation. What kind of transformations can I expect for myself, between now and my return to wherever I came from? Will whoever might be waiting for me there recognise me when I find my way back?

Raven quickly put her musings aside as a figure emerged from one of the entrance hall's numerous side passages, all of which sloped gently downward into a number of larger chambers, where girls danced and patrons watched, drank, and generally enjoyed life in all its less savoury manifestations. Moving into one of the pools of light projected from the ceiling, the figure revealed itself to be a young woman, maybe no more than five and a half feet tall, with long reddish-brown hair, large, slightly slanted almond-shaped green eyes and equally large, pointed ears.

"You're here to audition?", the girl asked cheerfully. Her voice, Raven felt, was the closest to music the spoken word could get without becoming song.

"Yes", murmured Raven, uncertainty growing now that the moment of truth was drawing ever closer.

"Don't be scared", the girl told her. "There's no better place to work in all of Freeport than here. Make the most of what you've got, and you'll be okay."

The girl gestured towards the passage she had come from, and Raven followed without question. The sloping corridor took them both down into a rather small chamber, with circular tables clustered around a long raised walkway, extending from one curtain-shrouded wall. The ceiling above the walkway was one great bank of lights, shining only dimly for now, but Raven fully expected them to become dazzling when the need arose.

The other end of the walkway, at the centre of the room, was a circular platform, the main feature of which was a narrow pole of highly-polished metal, extending from floor to ceiling. As Raven drew nearer, she noticed that the metal was dulled in places, the shine marred by patches of what she hoped was only dried sweat.

"It's been kind of quiet today", the girl said. "There haven't been many dancers coming through Freeport of late. You might get the job even if you're not very good."

"I can't promise anything", the prospective dancer replied uneasily.

"Just remember who your audience is going to be", the girl advised. "They're not allowed to touch you, unless they pay for the privilege."

Raven's soulful blue eyes widened anxiously. "What...what do you mean...?", she gasped, already afraid of the answer.

"Private dances", replied the girl, almost giggling. "A special request, for an audience of one, usually. They can touch you then, but there are strict limits. What, were you expecting something else?"

Raven nodded. "Yes, to be honest."

"The Phantasia doesn't employ whores", the girl said plainly.

The hopeful dancer-to-be sensed an aura of disgust rising from her host. "I...I never meant to imply...", she spluttered.

"No offence intended, and none taken, sweetheart!", the girl said in a hurry. "Take it easy! You have to relax...and I haven't helped things, have I? You don't even know my name, for a start."

The girl extended a four-fingered hand. "I'm Ashyra", she said, smiling broadly.

Raven accepted the hand of greeting , grasping at it as though it was a life-line. "Raven", she replied. "I hope a one-word name is enough, for at present that's all I have. I can't remember if there's any more, or if that's even my proper name."

"Oh, you're a Star-Sea castaway", said Ashyra knowingly. "The Seas can play havoc with people's minds. We had one come through here a while back, and she could barely talk."

"Then I was lucky", said Raven thoughtfully.

"Luckier than you know", Ashyra replied solemnly. "My brother worked on a prospecting ship - thought he was safe with a deck under his feet...until he failed to come back..."

The girl's emotions were almost tangible to Raven, and she could almost share in her host's sorrows. "I did not mean to bring back any distressing memories", the prospective dancer said hastily.

"Don't worry about me", insisted Ashyra. "You're the focus of attention for now. Did you bring anything special to dance in?"

"What you see is all I have", Raven replied, unfastening her cloak and slipping it off her shoulders.

That gesture of revelation drew a whistle of admiration from Ashyra. "And you sure have a lot", she remarked, looking Raven over. "You're a tall one, aren't you? Great hair - it nearly reaches the ground. That's a big 'plus'. Nice boots, too..."

"You think I have a chance?", queried Raven.

"That's not for me to say", answered Ashyra. "I just dance here. It's the owner you have to impress. Talking of which, I better go get him - don't be afraid to get up on stage and get used to it. Warm up, try to imagine you've got a full house...then simply let yourself go."

Raven frowned, and looked lost. "I'm...I'm not very good at that - I think."

Ashyra winked back. "You'll learn."

Raven was on her own for only a few minutes before Ashyra returned, following close on the heels of a tall, slender man, with eyes and ears much like those of the dancing girl. Heels was very much the operative word, for one of the first things Raven noticed about the man was that he was wearing wicked spiked heels, attached to glistening black thigh-high boots. Following the boots upwards with her eyes, Raven found that they ended only an inch or so below the hem of a daringly short skirt of supple black leather.

Equally startling was the sudden presence of Ashyra's voice inside the girl's head. ***You're in luck again, girl***, said Ashyra, her voice now part of Raven's thoughts. ***This is Drasheel, the owner's son. He's in training to take over when his father retires, and he's very much the kind of guy you'll be performing for. Just do as he says, and make a show of that hair, and you should do fine.***

Raven did not respond as her eyes continued their upward journey. Drasheel's torso was enclosed in a leather waist-coat, lacing shut across his well-muscled stomach and chest, and a leather band with a red jewel in a silver setting encircled his throat, the gleam of the stone and setting matching the eager sparkle in his vivid amber eyes. Topping everything off was a thick head of hip-length dark hair that appeared black, only to reveal a peculiar hint of blue when he walked into the stronger light that shone down on the stage.

***Call him, "Master", even though he isn't - yet***, recommended Ashyra. ***May as well earn yourself points from the off.***

Drasheel remained silent throughout, the only sounds that came from him issuing from the lacquered leather than enclosed his legs, creaking and stretching as he stalked over to a stool, and sat himself down upon it, crossing those same legs in a most brazen gesture. Only when he seemed comfortable did he deign to speak.

"Ashyra tells me your name is Raven", he purred, his smooth and refined tones giving his words a seductive, silken quality.

"That it is...Master", Raven replied deferentially.

One of Drasheel's arched eyebrows rose, an outward sign that Raven had made a positive first impression. "And where are you from? One look tells me you're not from around here..."

Ashyra had already shown she had unusual abilities, and Raven thought it would be best to assume that such gifts were common amongst the dancer's people - one of which the "Master" outwardly appeared to be. Therefore, she was never anything but truthful. "I cannot say where I am from, Master, on account of the fact that I myself do not know", she said. "I was rescued from the Star-Seas. What came before that is, at present, a mystery to me."

Drasheel nodded thoughtfully. "It doesn't matter to any great degree", he said. "What does matter, though, is how you dance. Show me."

Ashyra produced a a rectangle of black plastic, covered with many tiny coloured button, from within the folds of the black satin dressing gown she wore and, pointing it to one corner of the room, pressed one of the buttons. At once, music filled the air, loud yet not deafening, slow and sultry but with a backbeat that suggested that the mood could change at any moment...

"Let yourself go...", Ashyra had said, and that was just what Raven tried to do, letting her hips move in slow circles as she settled into the rhythm. The rhythm soon became as much a part of her as her own heart-beat, and the girl quickly became more creative, bringing her arms into play as she performed intricate gestures, borrowed from a dance-style she could just vaguely recall from her past. It was a dance-style from a culture whose spiritual values had appealed to her the most, but there was no time to go fishing for memories. For now, the dance was everything.

Standing next to Drasheel's stool, a fascinated Ashyra watched as Raven's arms moved like tall grass in the wind. The new girl was clearly untrained, but she had a natural talent. Given time, and practice, Raven could shame even the dancers of the Star-King's harem...

She's special, this one, thought the dancer. Very special.

The tempo picked up suddenly, but Raven was not left behind. Now moving more at the shoulders and waist, the girl set her hair swinging, without intentionally doing so, and Drasheel sat forward on his stool, hypnotised by Raven's swirling ankle-length tresses. Ashyra noticed this out of the corner of her eye, and smiled inwardly. He sees the potential, too, she thought. Good...

Drasheel gestured to Ashyra, and once again the dancer sent her thoughts out to Raven. ***Take off your clothes***, she told Raven. ***Make a show of it. Take your time...***

The very idea shocked Raven out of her dancing-trance. I...I can't...

Ashyra seemed to hear the startled dancer's thoughts. ***It's what you'll be paid to do***, she replied. ***More often than not, you'll dance in nothing more than your boots. You better get used to it. Go on - you've made a good impression so far. Don't spoil things now!***

Raven had known from the start that this would be expected of her, and let the music submerge her apprehension. Slowly, she began to peel off one glove, then the other...when the time came to reach behind her neck and untie the strings that held her satin suit up, there was no hesitation. As she slid the silky garment down her body, and past the tops of her thigh-length boots, she could see the customers in her mind, many cheering, some leering, others doing things she felt she would rather not see, yet she felt no fear. She was the one with the power...

The music suddenly ceased. It took Raven a second or two to realise that, but when she did, and emerged from her trance, she found that Drasheel was standing on the stage in front of her, smiling slyly.

"You're hired, pretty birdie", he purred, his eyes never quite managing to meet hers. "You start tonight."

"The Foundlings' Nest" was hardly the most luxurious place on Freeport Rock, providing only the most elementary accommodation for those whose first port of call had been the Office of Lost And Found. Castaways such as Raven were not common, and so the lodging house made up for any short-fall in its income by providing a bed and a meal for those amongst the Rock's population that had fallen on hard times. As a result, Raven found herself sharing a room with two gaunt, hollow-cheeked children and a weather-beaten, short-haired woman whose right arm ended above the elbow.

The Phantasia's latest attraction had not even sat on the bunk she had been allocated, but already she was preparing to leave Mother Shamita's humble residence. Ashyra, the dancer she had met at the club, had graciously offered a bed at her own dwelling, a modest, yet apparently quite spacious apartment not far from their place of work.

"Just bring all your stuff with you when you come to work tonight", the pointed eared girl had said, and Raven would have laughed, had such a thing not felt so...alien to her.

"I'm wearing everything I own", she had replied, twirling on the spot.

Ashyra giggled enough for both of them. "I should have known better", she chuckled.

Raven's previous, and first meeting with Mother Shamita had been when the girl arrived at the lodging house, and nothing more than an exchange of names and a brief summary of Raven's predicament had passed between them on that occasion. A rotund woman of advancing years, the proprietress of "The Foundlings' Nest" was more bright and lively than most would think she had a right to be, and Raven found her to be refreshingly cheerful company when they met again, and spent a while in the kitchen simply chatting.

"I never expected you to be going so soon, my dear", Shamita said early on, bustling between stove and sink. "The Phantasia must be very keen on you."

"That appears to be the case", Raven replied, watching the dusky-skinned woman at work from a high stool, well away from the action. "My change of circumstances is due to the generosity of a new friend, rather than the club itself."

"Someone I might know?", queried the hostel-keeper, tossing a long plait of flour-dusted black hair back over her shoulder.

"Her name is Ashyra..."

"Aaah", said Shamita knowingly. "Yes, I heard all about that. She had a room-mate for a while, another dancer at The Phantasia by the name of Jaisma, but that girl made herself very unpopular with her fellows. Dancers are a very tight-knit group, you know - almost like family, until someone breaks the rules..."

"What did this Jaisma do that could merit such treatment?", Raven asked.

There was a brief, yet uneasy pause. "She was...ah, intimate with a customer", the hostel-keeper eventually said. "Strictly forbidden, you know. The poor girl took the chance, and fortune frowned. She ended by with child."

Raven didn't know what to think, or how she should feel. "It...it's her job I'm taking over, isn't it?", she said, rather than comment on the matter directly.

"I would imagine so, unless The Phantasia has dispensed with the services of another dancer lately, and news is yet to reach me", Shamita replied. "Irold at the Lost And Found would not have learned of a new vacancy before me, though - news filters upwards, not downwards."

"Poor girl...", sighed Raven, looking back towards the bunk-room she had just left. The girl whose job she was taking might soon find herself in the bed Raven had been expecting to sleep in. "I'm not sure I can stay with Ashyra now, knowing that a mother-to-be has been cast out onto the street..."

Shamita put down her rolling-pin, briskly shook the flour from her hands, and padded over to the girl. "Dancers are a funny lot, as you'll find out soon enough", she told Raven, grasping her by the shoulders. "The actions of one cast a shadow over all - the girls at The Phantasia won't be able to do private dances for quite a while without being propositioned by the customers, now that this sorry business is becoming public."

The hostel-keeper turned back to her work, sighing. "I just thought I should warn you", she said with a hint of sadness. "Don't be hard on Ashyra because of Jaisma's indiscretion. Ashyra is a good girl, who only did what her peers expected of her. Deep in her heart, she wishes she could have let Jaisma stay. In public, she'll seem scornful, but that's not the real Ashyra. Many people wear masks on Freeport Rock, my dear - in time, you'll learn to recognise them, and maybe even see what lies beneath."

Raven tried not to let Shamita's words get to her as she headed back to The Phantasia, when the light-spheres started to dim, heralding the onset of what passed for "night" in Freeport. She had her work to concentrate on, knowing how important first impressions could be, and she had both her audience and her fellow dancers to impress. If things did not go well, she could easily find herself to be the next outcast, ostracised by the others if her performance did not make the grade.

Now that she was an employee of The Phantasia, Raven entered through the stage-door, hidden away in an alley that ran down one side of the block of buildings whose basements had been knocked into one to provide the underground area for the club. Like the other dancers, she had her own key, but nearly dropped it as a shiver, part anxiety, part excitement, shot through her being. I know one thing that's certain about my past, she thought as she tried to calm herself, and that's that I've never done anything like this before. The past is the past, though - I have to be ready for now.

Nerves stilled, for a time at least, Raven stepped inside. The backstage area was quite dimly lit, but the was light enough for the girl to see that the management were not afraid to decorate their establishment in the same lavish fashion throughout. They must value their dancers highly, she thought. It seems that the girls aren't just flesh here...I hope.

The girl knew where to go - Ashyra had given her a brief tour of those parts of the club she needed to know about after the successful audition. The door to the dressing room stood ajar now, leaking brighter light and cheerful chatter into the passage, yet Raven found neither particularly inviting. Those who were within had already shown themselves to be judgmental almost to the point of cruelty, and the one who intended to join their ranks could feel the auras of vanity and arrogance given off by her soon-to-be fellow performers.

The chatter quickly died down to a whisper as Raven nudged the door further open, and entered. Only one of the numerous pairs of eyes that were turned her way had even the slightest glimmer of welcome, and those were the large, brilliant eyes of Ashyra.

***They've been expecting you***, the dancer said, speaking directly into Raven's mind as she had done previously. ***Just do as you're told, and everything will be fine.***

The dressing room was far bigger than Raven had expected. The room the dancers rested and prepared in was easily as big as one of the club's smaller performance halls, the walls lined with mirrors, make-up tables and stools, separated by a long clothes rail that ran down the middle of the chamber. On this hung a wide variety of scanty garments, various accessories - ranging from gloves and fancy belts, through to lengths of chain and an array of fearsome whips - and many pairs of boots, ranging from knee-high upward, but on the whole tending towards thigh-length.

Steeling herself against the frosty reception, Raven walked over to the unoccupied dressing table nearest to Ashyra. There were two, one on either side, but Raven intentionally kept clear of the table that showed signs of having been cleared recently, and in something of a hurry. As she sat down, the level of background conversation rose again, although it did not quite reach its earlier volume.

***Good move***, said Ashyra. ***That was something I should have mentioned earlier, but you're clearly smarter than half the girls here. That should make things easier.***

"I need all the help I can get", whispered Raven. "Feel free to educate me. For a start, what should I wear? I imagine it won't matter all that much, considering that I'll be expected to take it off again pretty quickly..."

Ashyra caught part of her lower lip between her teeth, and took a deep breath before giving a reply. "Ah...you won't need to worry about a costume tonight", she said, glancing along the row of seated women. "There's a little ritual for welcoming new girls..."

At the far end of the row in which Raven and Ashyra were seated, a tall, golden-haired woman stood up, and started to walk, with a pronounced swagger, towards them. A short dressing gown of red satin concealed her body from throat to knee, but it could not conceal the fact that a muscular physique lay beneath.

As the woman in red moved down the ranks of seated dancers, each girl turned on her stool to watch the statuesque female pass, and in her wake there was silence - silence save for the sound of her high heels on the floor-boards.

The woman stopped in front of Raven, and bent to whisper in her ear. "I am Skylla", she murmured, her breath warm, almost intoxicating, against the new dancer's cheek. "I am Centre Stage at The Phantasia. I speak for all the girls, when The Management need to be made aware of our...needs. I also see that unwritten rules are adhered to, and that tradition is upheld..."

Raven never heard, or in any way sensed the presence of the two girls Skylla had called over with a hidden gesture until they pounced, and pinned the new girl up against her dressing table. Quickly, they undressed her, removing her cloak, gloves and body-suit, yet leaving her her thigh-high boots, then Skylla snapped a sturdy pair of steel manacles, joined by a foot-and-half of chain, about Raven's wrists. The girl struggled, but as long as the stern, emerald-hued eyes of Skylla were upon her, she dared not strike out at her assailants.

She's watching everything I do, every reaction I give, Raven thought as Skylla gave another gesture, this time more openly, and girls gathered around them both, hoisting The Phantasia's newest employee up above their heads. If I do something wrong, I'll know about it, and quickly.

Raven let herself be carried out of the dressing room, and round to the front of the club through the passages only they and other privileged staff used. She sensed no desire to do her harm coming from the girls - instead, there was a wide variety of "shades" of merriment exuding from the other dancers, as though what was to come was something to celebrate. This is some kind of ritual, an initiation, she realised. There's nothing in this for me to fear...

The procession of giggling girls came to a stop in the main foyer, in which a large object shrouded in velvet stood, where nothing had been before. With a dramatic flourish, Skylla pulled the velvet cover away, revealing a piece of tree-trunk, mounted on a solid base, with a single branch extending outwards a few feet. A metal plate had been bolted over the cut end of the branch, and a hook, the point facing downwards, had been driven into one side of the branch halfway along its length.

"New girls go on The Tree on their first night", said Skylla slyly. She gave a quick nod, and the girls scurried about the strange apparatus, lifting Raven and guiding her arms so that the chains could be draped over the branch, and secured over the hook. Skylla watched closely at all times, and made sure everything was in order before the dancers were permitted to withdraw, and let Raven hang free, her feet a hands-length clear of the ground despite the high heels of her long white boots.

The girl gasped as her weight came fully to bear upon her shoulders and wrists, but Skylla appeared unmoved by any hint of discomfort. "You hang here, for everyone to see - and touch - until I finish my first shift", the golden-haired dancer announced. "If, by that time, your body has not failed you, and you have managed to maintain your self-control and poise, then you will be accepted into our ranks. Be strong, Raven - or be nothing..."

The other dancers began to leave, filtering away until only Skylla remained. The lead dancer of The Phantasia then slid out of her dressing gown, allowing Raven a full, uninterrupted view of her dancing costume - a scandalously brief two-piece outfit in sleek, glistening snake-skin, with matching thigh high boots and gloves that Skylla plucked from inside the top of one boot, then slowly slid into. Raven shivered as snake-skin-clad fingers traced a swirling pattern upon her bare stomach, then Skylla swept away as the club's front doors swung open.

A second shiver ran through Raven as the first customers of the evening descended into the welcoming chamber, and paused to look over the "new girl". The crowd was a bewildering mix of people and creatures, ranging from "real" people to scaly-skinned beings that were neither man nor serpent, and slanted-eyed and sparsely-clad human-like creatures with ominous bat-like wings rising from their backs, and eyes of all kinds explored Raven's helpless, naked body. Some, she quickly found, were not satisfied with just the evidence of their eyes...

It took just one curious hand, reaching up to touch Raven's smooth black hair, then hands were all around her - all over her. Some just brushed against her skin, others lingered longer, or even pinched or smacked her. No touch was ever intended to do actual, lasting harm, but as far as Raven was concerned, her admirers might as well have struck her with force enough to wound, such was the pain of fear and shame that built up within her.

The crowds began to thin out as the customers moved on, heading for their favourite themed dance-theatres and their favourite girls, but Raven was never alone for long. Those who approached her now, and throughout her ordeal took their time with her, carefully appraising her beauty and muscle-tone or setting her swinging with a push so that they could see her muscles react or her hair move. For a time, whilst such scrutiny was carried out, Raven did not feel as threatened as before, and her spirits brightened. A shift was not such a long time, after all, and Skylla would soon come to order her release...

It was then that the world conspired to crush Raven's spirits. She had been left on her own for barely a minute when hands coming from behind took hold of her left foot, and started tugging at her boot. One firm pull stripped the boot from her leg, then there was a clatter as the glistening item of precious footwear was discarded on the floor. The hands then grasped Raven by the toes and ankle, and a long, broad tongue started to trace a slow, slithering path along the sole of her foot.

Raven gulped down her dismay, and tried to maintain her self-control, but that control faltered, coming close to collapse, as the licking ceased, and soft, wet lips closed about her toes. The tongue returned, probing between the toes, tracing the contours around and under them...

Once more, Raven shuddered, and a trembling gasp passed between her lips. The sound was almost a sob, but she retained enough inner strength to keep back the tears.

A moment later, the girl's foot was released, the traces of saliva left to dry in the air as she hung upon The Tree. Raven's first thought, strangely, was for the whereabouts of her boot, and in her anxious attempts to locate it, she swung round just enough to catch sight of the individual who had used their mouth on the girl's foot. That individual was a she, a tall shapely woman with long, deep-red hair, from amongst which protruded a great pair of black-membraned wings.

"I like you", purred the winged female, her words too soft to be audible over the loud music, yet Raven still heard them somehow. "You show much promise..."

The woman strode over to where Raven's boot had fallen, and picked it up. She nodded approvingly, then brought the foot of the boot up to her face, allowing the soft, supple synthetic leather to slide against her cheek. The tongue that had explored Raven's foot now ventured over the surface of her boot, sliding along the toe and the side before tracing the length of the slender spiked heel, right to its tip.

In a gesture that suggested that many things other than food had been in that mouth, the woman then made something of a show of closing her lips around the heel of the boot, and sucked on it, all the while keeping one amber, slit-pupilled eye on the startled dancing girl. Smiling sweetly, and winking just once, the somewhat demonic female then carefully put the saliva-and lipstick-stained boot down on the circular base of The Tree, and walked away to sample the other delights of The Phantasia.

Raven drew one long, trembling breath once the wicked-looking woman was gone, but that was all the respite she was allowed. Already, someone else was approaching, another customer with strange passions to inflict upon her...

"I saw everything", purred Skylla admiringly, stepping up onto the raised platform from which The Tree "sprouted". "My, you certainly have what it takes, don't you...?"

"I...I meet your conditions...?", gasped Raven, all of a sudden feeling the stiffness and discomfort that had been building up in her shoulders and wrists, yet had so far gone all but unnoticed.

"You've earned the right to prove yourself, that's all", the Centre Stage dancer snorted gruffly. "You've pleased me so far, but now you must please them..."

Skylla jerked her head in the direction of the dancing chamber that was generating the most applause. "...and they are everything", the dancer continued. "The customers are your world. Everything else comes second. Never forget that."

That thought was foremost in Raven's mind as Skylla exercised the strength that came with her physique, hooking one arm about the girl's waist and lifting her whilst unhooking her chains with the other. The passing of that ordeal now meant that Raven was part of a new and, for her, unexplored world, and she knew she had to learn every lesson well, or her new world would not hesitate to punish her.

Raven's head was full of dreams of The Phantasia that night, living her experiences over and over again as she slept. After her time on The Tree, her duties had been quite light - she had done one shift in the "Red Lounge", dancing for an audience who were far more interested in drinking and chattering than watching the girls - and she had been sent home before closing to let sleep take the lingering discomfort from her wrists and shoulders.

The first thing Raven felt when she woke was the throbbing in those very joints, but the pain had indeed lessened, and the act of climbing out of bed was far from the ordeal she had expected. I hope that's the last time I have to go through that, she thought as she slid into a dressing gown and went in search of Ashyra. No matter how much I'm offered, I'd never willingly let myself be left dangling like that again.

The smell of something cooking drew Raven to the kitchen, where she was greeted by a radiant smile from her room-mate. "Thought you'd take a while to surface", chirped Ashyra. "First nights really take it out of you."

Raven tried to smile back, but a twinge of pain in her left shoulder took the cheerful veneer off the conversation. "I hope The Tree is a once-only experience", she said, massaging the unsettled joint.

"For most, yes", Ashyra replied. "Lajonda occasionally works on The Tree for special customers, but not regularly. If you work out properly, strengthen the joints and muscles, you can handle it."

"I don't know what's worse", said Raven as she took a seat on the kitchen counter, along from where Ashyra was cooking. "Hanging by your arms, or having all those people...touching you."

Ashyra winked over her shoulder. "I'll wager they did more than touch - they usually do."

The neophyte dancer shuddered as she thought back to her ordeal. "Yes", she murmured. "One of them pulled off one of my boots and licked my foot..."

"And did she suck your toes as well?", queried Ashyra. The way she spoke suggested that such a thing was far from unheard of.

Raven nodded. "I don't know what she was - she had wings..."

"Yeah, I thought as much", said the flat's owner. "That was Axerra. She's a Dyal - a false demon. There's quite a few on the Rock, and in this particular region. Take care around them, 'cause they can get really nasty if they feel offended."

"That's the kind of thing I need to know if I'm going to get on around here", Raven told her. "I have to know what to expect from whatever creatures I'm likely to encounter."

"You'll find no better teacher than yours truly", Ashyra said with a smile, "and there's no better place to learn than the Market Circle. You in the mood to shop?"

Raven shrugged. "I haven't been paid yet - all I have is what was thrown to me when I was dancing."

The ebon-haired girl slid down from her perch, and went back to her room to get the money the customers had tossed up onto the stage for her. "I have twenty-two of these", she said as she returned, holding up a thin square of embossed gold with rounded corners. "Some silver ones, too."

"Twenty-two Trading Gold on a first dance?", exclaimed Ashyra. "That's pretty good..."

"Then these are valuable?", asked the newcomer to Freeport.

"The crowd in the Red Lounge tend to be generous", answered the more experienced performer. "They're mostly ship-captains, back from trading runs, or noblemen. Ten Trading Gold'll buy you another pair of boots - you won't want to waste the ones you've got by just walking around in them."

"I suppose you're right", said Raven, "but I should really give you something..."

"Nonsense!", said Ashyra quickly. "I can wait. You've already gone some way to paying your way by just being here. A dancer living on her own can attract unwelcome visitors - the kind she can't handle on her own. You being here makes me feel a whole lot more comfortable."

"Glad to be of service", replied her new flat-mate, managing to produce a timid smile.

Ashyra turned away from the stove, lifting a large, flat dish away from the heat with hands clad in thick, padded gloves. "You've earned your breakfast, at least", she said, carrying the dish over to the small round table at the centre of the room. "Eat up, now - shopping's hard work!"

Reinvigorated by breakfast and her aches massaged away by Ashyra's skilful hands, Raven was very much up for the challenge of shopping as Freeport's morning merged seemlessly into the long, warm afternoon, that time when the customers of The Phantasia were hard at work building up an appetite for dancing girls. Taking Ashyra's lead, Raven found herself being led across the central market place and right over to the other side of the city, where most of the trading ships docked and discharged their cargo.

"This is where a smart girl does her shopping", revealed the pointed-eared dancer. "There are bargains as far as the eye can see - if the eye in question knows where to look, that is..."

The Docks Quarter was where many of the star-sailors either lived between journeys, or settled down when their sailing days were over, and many small businesses had sprung up amongst the narrow wooden houses, packed together in a web of street that were little more than alleys. It looked to be the last place any sensible woman would visit, but Ashyra knew her way around, and knew the people well.

***The shop-keepers here look out for their best customers***, Ashyra explained as yet another cheerful greeting was shouted her way from a shop doorway. ***There's a strict set of "Laws Of The Street" in these parts, and the Merchants' Guild have their watchmen at almost every window. If you get in trouble around here, help is only yards away.***

Raven asked what the city's law enforcers thought of the idea, and Ashyra laughed. "They gave up that silly idea centuries ago!", the dancer giggled. "The Law-Bringers got too full of themselves, and almost took over the whole place, believing that the only way to ensure the rule of law was for the Law-Bringers themselves to rule! They got kicked out, and each section of the business community took it upon themselves to police their own quarters of the city. The best kind of law comes from those most likely to benefit...

"Ah - here we are!", said Ashyra suddenly, coming to a stop at a corner, dominated by a large, low building with a heavily-beaded curtain filling the doorway. "Now - take a deep breath, 'cause you're not going to believe your eyes!"

Inside, Raven felt the urge to duck rather than gasp, for the ceiling was almost completely obscured by low rafters dripping with countless pairs of boots on silk-padded hangers. The variety was indeed breath-taking, with just about every colour and style imaginable on show, in sizes ranging from smaller than Ashyra wore to big enough for someone more than twice Raven's height.

"Everyone gets their boots here", Ashyra told her, as an elderly woman stepped out from the rear of the warehouse-cum-shop and approached them, smiling. "Even Drasheel!"

"Good day, Ashyra, my dear", said the woman, pushing wire-framed glasses up her narrow nose with an even narrower, bony finger. "I hadn't expected to see you again so soon."

"I've got a girl here in dire need of your services, Shendra", Ashyra responded. "Who knows? You might show her something she might not like, but might just tempt me to unknot my purse-strings."

"Based on your form to date, I don't know why you bother knotting them at all", beamed the shop-keeper. "Perhaps you should just send your pay straight here!"

The woman turned her attention to Raven, her smile never once wavering. "So, my dear, what can I do for you? You're a tall girl, but we're certain to have something to fit you."

"Me, and others far taller, by the look of things", replied Raven, casting a glance over her shoulder at a pair of boots much like her own in style, but easily as high as she was tall - and that estimate did not include the vicious-looking foot-long spiked heels...

"It pays to keep everyone happy, including prospective customers for those", said Shendra, with some anxiety, which Raven could feel as well as hear. The dancer could also see that unease, in the way the silver-haired boot-seller repeatedly massaged a wrist that showed signs of having been broken, then not quite properly healed.

***Shr'Ganti***, said Ashyra telepathically, by way of clarification. ***You'll know them if you see them, and thanks to their size, you'll more likely see them before they see you. Steer clear if you can.***

The warning chilled Raven's previously buoyant spirits, and she tried to remedy the matter by immersing herself as best she could in the shopping experience, with Ashyra always on hand with cheerful advice. "Go with what works", she recommended, as her companion experimented with various colours, and degrees of decoration. "The cuffed ones, in white, really look good on you. Those, and your hair, make for a good image."

Raven, seated on a velvet-cushioned stool, extended long legs encased in brilliant scarlet patent leather and watched the way the lantern-light flickered across the glistening boots as she turned her feet inwards. "I shall defer to your expert judgement", she said, lowering wickedly heeled feet back onto the rug on which the stool stood.

A pair of boots closely matching those Raven had been given by her rescuers were soon tracked down, Shendra's assistant receiving unexpected help as Ashyra almost flew up the ladders, and even walked along the rafters with the agility of a squirrel, despite her high spiked heels. These new boots had marginally shorter and closer-fitting cuffs, and were a little more loose at the ankle, but Raven could not have been more pleased, earning herself a small discount as her friend succumbed to temptation, and bought herself a pair of long white boots, of a style Raven had dismissed on account of the laces crisscrossing all the way up the fronts.

"Part of the fun of boots is getting into them", chuckled Ashyra, pulling the laces tight each time they crossed over.

"That I can appreciate", Raven replied as she strode back and forth in her new boots, getting to know just how the fit of the boots influenced her movements. The feel of the boots, clinging to her legs and creaking softly as she moved, was strangely hypnotic, veering close to an almost sexual experience...

"Here's a tip", chirped Ashyra, springing to her feet with the same nimbleness she had exhibited on the ladders and rafters. "People - men and women - will always pause to watch long boots being pulled up, even when you don't need to do it. Learn how to do it right, and make a show of it, without being obvious. It's good for publicity - and tips. People remember a good show, on the street as well as off."

"You'll have to teach me", Raven said.

"Your lessons begin on the way home", said the little dancer, a typically cheeky smile developing.

"A great honour", added Shendra. "Lesson from the master..."

Ashyra then demonstrated her skill. First, she let her left leg bend slightly whilst focussing her weight on her right foot, then placed open hands on her boot at the knee. Those hands then ran up the front of her thigh, clearly luxuriating in the sensation, before hooking their thumbs into the top of the boot and giving a long, firm tug, both hands at the front to begin with, the left hand sliding round to pull at the back a few moments later.

"A work of art", sighed Shendra in admiration. "Learn well, young Raven. Such knowledge will serve you well."

"Learn, or perish" seems to be the rule here, thought Raven, soberly until she glanced down at her new boots. If only all my lessons were this enjoyable...

 This page hosted by - Get your own Free Home Page