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The (Un)Usual Business

Part 2

For Dreixes

By Draconicon

Some girls loved the sounds of heels; she loved the sounds of her own talons. Click clack went the sharp nails as she pounded the pavement, making her way down the sidewalk to the great wooden building that was the Hawthwaites Society. Alicia held her head high, her black dress sweeping back and forth across her thighs, showing everything that she was allowed to show in public. The secretary bird knew that there were eyes on her from all across the university campus, and she did her best to make sure that each and every pair had plenty to remember.

She strutted right up past the line that was waiting to get into the building, the black dress shimmering as it slid a bit across her breasts. The bouncer at the front held out his hand, and she slowed.

"Sorry, ma'am, but this is a gentleman's club. Unless you're working here -"

"You obviously do not know who I am," she said.

"Rules are rules, ma'am. I don't know who you are out here, but at the Society, this is how it works," the Doberman said.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but collected herself quickly. The rules. Yes. It had been a long time since she thought of them.

In a way, Hawthwaites society was a perfect hiding place for a man that wanted to enjoy time away from his family. There was no way for anyone but other males to enter the building, no way for anybody else to find him once he had gone inside without breaking a few of the club's rules. He had nearly as complete anonymity there as her daughter did, though of less of a supernatural nature.

And she couldn't call out her daughter's name, either, not without breaking the rules if she was working here. If Felicia had taken this, even as a part-time job, then her name was sacrosanct. To say it would be to reveal who she was inside, to risk stripping her of that very anonymity that kept her protected.

Remember your own time here...

Alicia took a deep breath, shaking her head, her headdress pulling at her feathers behind her head. The rest of the line was muttering at her, waiting for her to get out of the way so that they could get back to waiting for their turn for the pleasures inside. She knew that they would get ever more annoyed the more of a scene she made...

And that was her way in. She smiled.

"I'm here looking for a man with a wandering eye."

"..."

The Doberman arched an eyebrow, and she knew she had him. There were loopholes to the Society's rules, of course. It was meant for men that had an arrangement with their wives, for those that were single, and for those that wouldn't cause issues. She remembered one time in her period of employment where a woman raised unholy hell for her husband being there, cheating on her, and had even gone so far as to expose two of the girls before a gag order had been leveled on her.

Hawthwaites had endured, of course, as it always did, but they had changed some of the rules since then, or rather, enforced them more stringently.

"My husband has been making his way down here without permission for the last few months. Surname, Deckard."

"Ma'am, are you...certain?"

Certain that she wanted to push this, Alicia was sure he meant. Certain that she wanted to open this can of worms and see what her husband was doing. That was something that she was quite certain of, of course.

"Yes, I am."

"This way, please. James, take over."

The Doberman gestured for a St. Bernard to take his post, and then led her around the side of the building. Hawthwaites was a large structure, one that had a bigger footprint than it needed on the campus grounds, and it stood several stories tall to allow for all the different rooms that the girls working inside needed. She remembered most of them, but she imagined that a few of the turret rooms off to the side were a little new.

Her escort said nothing as he took her around the building, keeping as quiet as the grave as he led her to a side door that she remembered from her time there. A place where the girls could quietly exit if they had a paramour waiting outside in hopes of catching them out, or just wanting to see who she really was outside of the glamor of the club.

Alicia had never used it, so she had almost forgotten that it existed. As the Doberman held it open for her, she bowed her head to him, and then slipped inside.

As soon as she passed through the wall, she felt it. The same power that had always come down as soon as one entered the old Society was still there, and she let off a pleasant shiver that ran from the top of her head down to the spur on the back of her foot. The dress slid a bit along her shoulders, and she allowed it, a bit more of her bosom coming into view.

No sooner had she relaxed a bit than one of the matronly managers came around the corner, fire in her eyes and fury in her gait. The elegant French dress that she wore was on the verge of wrinkling as she stormed down the hallway, the dove managing a surprising imitation of a hunting falcon with such emotion.

"You! Who do you think you are, girl?"

"I am Alicia...though you might remember me as Alette."

"Al-" The dove froze in mid-step, and Alicia chuckled.

"Yes, Alette. You might remember me, if you were here about, oh, a decade or so ago. I was still putting in performances around that time."

"Yes, I remember you...they had to replace several tables after what you did to them."

"I was hoping to leave a mark. I'm glad that I did."

The secretary bird rested one hand on her prodigious hips, looking the dove over one more time. There was definitely experience there, the eyes of a woman that had seen too many men, too many clients in her lifetime. There was a tiredness to her, too, something that was common to the Hawthwaites girls that needed to retire for a time before coming back, those that burned out or had seen others burn out.

More than that, there was something else there, a compassion, a kindness that was lacking in too many that worked the management position without actually having worked their way up the ranks. This one was an old hand, someone that had worked the floor, worked the men, just as much as the other girls had. And this one had seen some hell.

Alicia gathered all that in nothing more than a glance, and she nodded to herself.

"I'm here for two reasons," the secretary bird said. "One is a husband who has been breaking our deal."

"You mentioned to the guard," the dove said.

"Yes, I did. But we'll get back to him in a minute; he's really quite secondary in all this," she said with a dismissive wave.

And she realized that was true, despite everything else that was going on. She felt that his involvement in the whole thing really was secondary compared to what was happening with Felicia. Whether her husband was cheating on her with her daughter or not, there was something about Frankie's infidelity that merely felt...inevitable, she supposed, something that she should have seen coming from a mile away rather than something that would be surprising to her.

She would deal with him when the time came, but for now, there was something far more pressing.

"My main concern is my daughter."

"That is outside of your concern," the dove said.

"And you think that you can stop me? How droll."

"You know the rules here."

"I do, and I know there are ways around them."

"Do you really want to start this?"

"Do you think that I wouldn't be here if I hadn't considered it? If there is one thing that this place teaches, it is the long view."

She had come through the sexual pleasures of the Society better than she had been, but that was not the case of every girl. Some of them came through it wrecked, giving into the addiction of anonymity and the constant pleasures that came from men wanting them, adoring them, begging for them. The way that the club worked, they were always in demand, always allowed to give what they wished to those that were willing to pay. It was casual sex, prostitution, even, but in a way that was on their terms rather than on anyone else's.

Those that were like her, and hopefully like Felicia, were able to come through it with a sense of control over their lives, a voracious hunger for new excitements that was channeled through a self-control that allowed them to get what they wanted. Those that were not so lucky, however, were often put through hell as they realized how much time they had given up, how enslaved they had become to their own body.

That was the fate that she feared for her daughter, the fate of giving in and finding oneself unable to resist the hungers that came with this sort of freedom.

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossing under her breasts as she fixed the dove manager with a stare of her own. Their wills clashed, and the dove managed to keep her gaze up, not looking away despite the hard stare that Alicia was able to summon.

The long view. They all gained an idea of how to work their lives through that. Even the broken ones, the ones that gave in to the pleasure and the addiction, were able to see where their lives were going. They could see what would happen, how to plan it out, but they lacked the discipline to stick to that plan, to move forward and keep making their lives better.

She knew the risks of this, knew the fallout that could happen. She knew that this was a good way to start pushing the end of her marriage, and knew that there was a possibility of losing her daughter to this if she handled it the wrong way. If she was right; she probably was.

Finally, the dove groaned.

"You aren't going to leave, are you?"

Alicia shook her head.

"You know that you won't recognize her if you see her. The Society -"

"Yes, it will mask her, but I will know those that are supposed to be meeting her. And I can confirm it from there."

"..."

"You know that you can't deny me the right to see if my husband is here, now that I've named him."

"...you are risking her. Risking her in a horrible way."

"I know that you have the back tunnels, the little passages that let you spy on all the goings-on that are happening in the club. You can take me through them, and nobody will be any the wiser."

"Ugh. This is why we don't let your sort come back."

"Because we know the rules?"

"Because you abuse them."

"Abuse is merely another way to use. Now...if we are agreed?"

She knew that the dove was going to be angry for a while, but she didn't particularly care. The whole thing needed to be done, and if someone else was going to be angry about it, well, that was just tough. This was required work at this point, and she wasn't going to let someone else guilt her out of it just because of the way that the Society worked.

As the dove turned and gestured for her to follow, however, Alicia had to admit that she was rather excited to be back. There was something about being in Hawthwaites that was different to being in the world outside. There was a magic here, an excitement that was always missing. She remembered being here, feeling the full power of the magic around her, knowing that she could do anything that she wanted and nobody would be able to tell it was her. That there would be no consequences.

She remembered how it felt to strut through a room, to pull every eye to her. The way that the world had turned to revolve around her when she worked here, how different that had been to her daily life as a maid, and then as a scholar, and then as a housewife. She had been someone very different in those days, lacking the confidence and the power to take control of her life.

Hawthwaites girls went one way or another. They either became trophy women, girls that were willing to do anything for their man, women that would give themselves to the worst of kinks and sins for the sake of pleasure, or they would turn into something better. They would turn into women like her, managers of their own lives and others, able to take control when the world wanted to take it from them. She had become the latter.

And now, she was using that to make sure that her daughter didn't become the former.

As they entered a cunningly disguised passage, moving an old grandfather clock to the side, she felt the power of the club settle on her fully. The dove was no longer quite so falcon-esque, but rather walking with the grace of a French woman from the old court of Versailles. Even though they were passing through a narrow corridor that prevented that sort of movement, they were still giving off that sort of style.

She felt the little bits of anger on the other woman's face fading away, saw something that was more seductive, more powerful, more womanly compared to what she had been seeing before. Something sophisticated, sensual, something that enticed the eye and pulled the heart towards her.

Yes, the magic is still working...but she isn't as good as it as I was...

Alicia had drawn more than the eye of men when she had been at work. She had drawn the eyes of the other workers, those that had been under the same magic as she was. In her time here, she hadn't needed that power to get her clients, but it seemed that some did. Some needed that extra little push.

She snorted slightly under her breath, finding it almost comical how up herself she was being. She knew that she was better, yes, but that was getting a little out of hand. She needed to get a rein on her self-confidence, or she was going to run herself right into the ground.

They passed by a number of different little hidey-holes, places where they could peek into the side-rooms, or out onto the main one. There were different VIP chambers throughout the Society, and she knew that most of them catered to very specific tastes, tastes that would leave a mess in the main chamber, or would chase off some of the other clients. There were others where girls could take the time to be outside of the rules of the Society's magic, where they could do things that weren't really legal in the strictest of senses, but where things were weak enough for them to try something more...adventuresome.

Those had been her personal favorites, but she doubted that Felicia would have worked herself up to that just yet. She had to be in one of the more lower-level rooms.

And she was right.

The dove stopped, gesturing to one of the sliding wood slats. She arched an eyefeather, and then opened it up.

On the other side, she immediately spotted her husband. The gray goose was leaning back on a wooden bench, his hand wrapped around his cock. Well, around part of it. His paunch had made it sink further and further into his body, making it all but impossible for her to make out the actual size of it, and making it hard for him to do more than wrap the first few fingers of his hand around it. It was too small for a full fist, these days.

She glanced past him to the other male in the room, a pigeon that was built a bit better than he was. The white-and-gray feathered creature was a bit more feminine, though, with a wider pair of hips and a thicker rump. That didn't keep him from being more...endowed, however, than her husband was, sporting a shaft that was a good hand and a half bigger than the one that she had seen in her bed for the last few years.

And there, kneeling before the pigeon, worshiping him as her husband called out encouragement, was a secretary bird.

The magic tried to veil her, but that didn't mean anything to Alicia. She could see her daughter there, could see the headdress that made it impossible for it to be anyone else. Even with the attitude that she was trying to hold, the younger secretary bird was still the same petulant girl that her daughter had become.

Others, she was sure, wouldn't recognize her. Frankie definitely wouldn't, considering that her daughter and her husband had been completely distanced from one another for the last year, but she knew her daughter. She knew the sort of woman that Felicia was.

The magic of the Society veiled her face, veiled some of the certainty, but with the other bits of evidence that she had been able to pull together, she could tell it was her. She had the logic, even if she didn't have the same visual certainty...

Felicia...you should have told me...

On the one hand, at least her husband wasn't committing incest - at least not directly - with their daughter. He had someone else here, doubtlessly another one of his apprentices, one of his interns that was under him from the company. That meant that it was a little more forgivable...but only a little.

What kept it from being unforgivable was that there was no way for him to know that this was Felicia. He was talking about her, how she reminded him of her mother, how she was a hot little piece of ass, and that was not the way that the father talked to the daughter. That was not how anyone talked to their family, and she knew that he didn't know that it was his daughter that he was talking down to.

However, that didn't stop him from being clear that he'd like to do it. He just didn't know that he was within inches of doing it.

Alicia shut the slat, and then leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to her beak. The dove tapped her talons in annoyance, obviously wanting to be off, but the secretary bird had to think this through, had to decide how she wanted to play this.

Because there was a play that needed to be made here. Her husband had overstepped himself, massively, and her daughter had gone off to do something stupid without talking to the one person that would have been able to guide her through it. And...

And yet, she felt something that she hadn't felt in some time. She felt horny.

Alicia stroked her feathers up her beak to her forehead, pinching at the place where her beak met her face. She knew that this was yet another part of the Society's power, another part of the club that pushed the girls to do more than they normally would. The hunger that came from being here, the arousal that came from doing all these things, was its own sort of reward. The more pleasurable everything was, the more that you wanted to explore and try something new, and the more that you were willing to do that might not be a good idea.

She could feel that hunger again, feel the heat burning between her thighs, the urges that she hadn't felt for years running through her once more.

Wonderful...the first time that I feel attracted to someone since I was pregnant with Felicia, and it's a pigeon that Frankie's using to live out his fantasies...

She sighed under her breath, shaking her head.

"Are you quite done?" the dove asked.

"Nearly."

"Nearly?"

"I'm not going to cause a scene, if that's what you're afraid of."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I'm...not sure yet..."

She could feel the urges between her legs rising, the horniness down there definitely something that she was going to need to take care of. Her dress felt tighter in the chest, too, something that made her feel the hardness of her nipples more.

Careful, careful. Consider the long view...

She had already known that this was likely what she would see out here, but knowing that she'd probably see it and actually seeing it were two very different things. She could already feel the anger and confusion subsiding, and she knew that was down to the Society's magic again. It always made things 'okay', even if it didn't make them happy. It made everyone feel 'okay' with what they were seeing, making it feel almost normal, like there were parts of the brain that questioned things that just didn't work.

Even those women that worked at the Society were not proof against that influence, though they were less affected by it than the men that used them. It was part of their security, part of what kept them from feeling depressed at being used like a hunk of meat. It turned it around, made it hot...

Hot as all hell...

Just as Alicia was starting to feel rather turned on at the idea of her daughter making her husband feel attracted to her, of being...cheated on...

Oh, ho ho ho, no...

Alicia stopped her hand before it could do more than run along her thigh, holding it up and staring at it. She closed her eyes, shaking her head with as much of a smile as a beak could offer.

No, no, no. We are not getting turned on by that. Let's turn that around. Let's make that a little more...us...

She wasn't getting turned on by being cheated on. She was being turned on by the pigeon proving himself a better man than her husband. And she was turned on by the thought that her daughter was that much better of a prostitute than she should be.

Yes. Pleasure through pride. That was much better.

The secretary bird turned her head back to the dove, still wearing that slight smile.

"Tell me. Is there a position open for a manager right now?"

"You - oh, no, no no..."

"Oh, yes, yes, yes."

"You can't be serious."

"Darling. I am never anything but serious."

"This is wrong."

"Honey. Do you really think that I'd be coming back to the business if I thought that it was anything but the right thing to do?"

"..."

"Besides..."

The secretary bird turned, already following the path back to where they'd come, her tail feathers rising slightly and pulling the back of her skirt up with them.

"What is 'right' without a bit of 'wrong'? What is 'good' without a bit of 'wickedness'?"

It didn't take long to find the dove's supervisor, and as soon as Alicia managed that, all it took was a glance at her old record to find a reason to put her on the rolls again as an employee. This time, however, she was someone higher up.

There was no French maid dress for her. Instead, she had the gown, a great, beautiful gown that had a dipping neckline that ran all the way down to her middle, with a skirt that flowed and shimmered like a waterfall of dark silk running down her lower body. It spread slightly towards the end of her legs, allowing her feet and talons room to move so that they would not cut the skirt, and even show a bit of her leg to tease others. While it was more immediately modest than the short skirts of the maids, it had an elegance to it that fit with her maturity.

She kept the headdress, though. That was required for a secretary bird, particularly in this place. One might be able to change other body language, but the language of the little quills at the back of the head were universal, and anyone that saw them would start recognizing her if they had seen her before.

Alicia smoothed out her skirt as she stood in front of a mirror, adjusting her breasts in the dress. They looked even more voluptuous than before, and she thrust her chest forward, then pulled back, trying several different stances to see exactly what she liked, what she preferred compared to what she had done before.

It was different to be a manager in the Society, she knew. Unlike the floor girls, the managers were responsible for more than merely the physical satisfaction of the clients. They were responsible for that too, of course - there was not a female in the Society that was not able to work at that role - but they were also responsible for the safety of the girls, for dealing with problem clients, and most of all, they were responsible for seeing to it that anonymity was protected.

Now that she was a manager, she was responsible not just for her own safety, but for the safety of every girl that was put under her, as well as the happiness of every client that they took in. If she was to deny a client service, then she needed a damn good reason for it. Mere dislike wouldn't suffice; evidence of causing harm or planning to cause a girl harm was required, and it needed to be overwhelming.

So, there was no way for her to remove Frankie from the premises...but now that she was a manager, she no longer had the urge to do that.

So what if he was cheating on her now? So what if he had been doing it for a while, even if by proxy? She had known what he was at the start, and she had only been fooling herself to think that he would ever change, even if she changed for him. Now, it was time for her to get back in the business that he'd been so offended at her working.

I wonder if he'd be able to recognize me if I walked through that door...

Alicia imagined that he wouldn't, despite the fact that they had been married for nearly two decades now. Just as he didn't recognize Felicia, he wouldn't recognize her because he no longer knew her.

That was, if he ever did.

That should have brought her some dissatisfaction, but she dismissed it with surprising ease. The fact that he had abandoned her meant that she was free to abandon him in the same way, and that was freeing to a girl like her.

The power of Hawthwaites Society was already flowing through her, filling her with a different sense of strength, purpose, and confidence than the working girls had. She was more than just the pair of hips and pair of breasts that she had been in the past. She was a manager, now.

She was a mama.

She was a MILF manager.

Alicia smirked as much as a beak would allow in the mirror, pushing her breasts up one more time before letting them fall again. Yes, this would be a suitable look, a suitable position, and an eminently suitable situation for her.

"Are you quite finished?"

The secretary bird slowly turned, looking back at the dove. They were of similar rank, now, but her experience as Alette before trumped whatever the dove had. Alicia nodded.

"Yes, I believe I've found my proper look."

"Good, because you need to get to work."

"Ah, so eager to have me out of the way?"

"I'm not keen on you being back. You shouldn't have done this. There are...protocols."

"Yes, and there are protocols about the daughter of a former worker getting in without her mother's consent."

Loose protocols, to be sure, but protocols nonetheless. It was one thing if a girl turned up and none of the family had worked there before; they were allowed in with a simple interview, and then they were put to work. However, someone that had worked there in the past was usually given the courtesy of being informed, even questioned briefly on whether they thought that their daughter was ready for such a thing.

Such a courtesy could be revoked, of course, and if the daughter made it clear that the mother was a threat, or overly controlling, or something of that ilk, then the parent might be avoided completely. Alicia knew that, but she knew that required some proof on the part of the daughter.

To be completely cut out of the loop like this meant that the Society had either made a simple mistake - something that wasn't good, but forgivable - or someone in management had remembered her, and been somewhat jealous, and deliberately gone out of their way not to inform her.

Either way, it meant that she was owed something, and she'd taken this.

"Now, I believe that I have my first problem client," Alicia said, smiling to herself. "I'm going to go deal with Frankie now."

"He is not a problem client."

"Oh, trust me...he is."

"He has paid in full every time, and there's never been a complaint."

"Not here."

"What are you -"

"I know Frankie, honey. I know how he works. And I know what he does to those men that he brings down here. The abuse is not what you'd call 'friendly.'"

In fact, it was anything but. Frankie was more than keen to demean those that worked under him, though now she knew why they bothered to put up with it as long as they did. They were getting their dicks wet, they were getting the chance to have fun, and all they had to do was put up with him demeaning them.

It usually lasted anywhere from two weeks to a month before the intern dropped out and he got a new one. She might not be able to kick Frankie out for being a problem customer to other customers, but she could certainly make sure that she was in the room.

She started walking, the dove following her for a moment before one of the other supervisors grabbed her and pulled her off to the side to deal with something else. All for the good, as far as Alicia was concerned.

No, not Alicia. Alette, again.

It would be fascinating to see whether her husband even remembered that name, considering that it was attached to a working girl rather than a manager. She stood a little taller, carrying herself in a different sort of way than she did as Alette the maid. Now, she was Alette the matron, a woman of power. She did not walk with the sultry air of a girl that was looking for a good time, but more the slow, steady pace of a mature woman that knew that the young men around her were hers for the taking, knowing that she merely had to pull her skirt up a little to have her pick of them.

As she walked through the main chamber of the Society, eyes turned from the young girls to her. Some stared at her chest, almost like they were willing her breasts to jump out, while others looked at her hips, fulsome and wide. Some looked at the ends of her legs, as if imagining her talons wrapped around intimate parts, while others seemed to marvel at the full package as she moved through the room.

She heard their whispers as she left, knowing that they were asking the name of the new matron manager. There would be requests for her company again, she knew, and they would be quite heavily considered.

But that would be for later.

Alicia, Alette, the secretary mistress, rested her hand on the door to her daughter's room. She collected herself, and then opened it with all the confidence in the world.

"Hello, Fayette," she said, as all eyes turned to her in shock...and only one pair with knowledge of who she was.

The End