FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The single shout snapped Willem's head up. His ears turned and strained into the silent moments that followed. An urgent, muffled thumping confirmed someone needed him in the worst way.

Hurling his bulk from the chair, the horse stomped across the parlor, accelerating to a sprint by the time he reached the stairs. Each quick step echoed through the house, the deafening rumble a signal he was coming. He reached the door, twisted the knob and found it locked. With one lunge Willem put his hoof to it, splintering the door with a crack as loud as his kickIt swung open to display the scene in full.

Petra knelt on the bed, still weakly pounding a fist on the wall as the wolf strangling her from behind with a scarf or a stocking. Their commotion stopped only long enough for the two to glance Willem's way--the sheep with her watery brown eyes bulging, the wolf's ears flattening in surprise--before Willemwas beside the bed and lifting the wolf up by an arm.

"But I paid-" the wolf barked and let go of the scarf.

Willem's throw sent him through the door, into the hall and smacking against the wall. Before the wolf could shake the stupor off his face Willem stood over him and glared. "Go," the stallion grated.

"Do you know who... I-I will have you know that I..." The wolf tried to stand and pull his pants up, and shaking fingers failed at both. It's likely no one had ever shoved him around even once in his life.

Willem itched to hurt him, but wasn't allowed unless the customer didn't leave or stop when told. Rich men didn't take punches like real men, leaving with their ears down to never come back; no, they made problems well after leaving.

Finally the bastard got himself together and when Willem took another step closer, he bolted down the stairs. After the front door slammed, Petra came out of the room, rubbing her throat. "Thank you," she said with a voice raw and scratchy.

Willem enjoyed throwing customers out, but even more he took pleasure in hurting them. Though he didn't like it for the same reason men like the wolf liked hurting girls like Petra. No, the way the sheep now looked up at him turned Willem's chest into a lantern. It wasn't the look of pity, or the discomfort of the other girls, or the superiority of everyone else in the world. Instead, in those moments of brutality he showed them his true worth. He was more than manual labor. He could see in their face they remembered it and were thankful for it. Sad, how their appreciation could only come after abuse.

Lorelei stormed around the corner and came to a stop at seeing them, her sharp green eyes taking it all in. "Are you well?" she asked Petra.

The sheep coughed and swallowed. "No pretty talk for me, but I can work fine."

"Good."As Petra returned downstairs Lorelei gave Willem one of her rare genuine smiles. "Good work. Now fix the door."

Willem pointed at the door. "Why do we... l... l-lo..." He frowned.

"Lock?"

He nodded.

The snow leopard considered a moment. "Sometimes the ladies and the gentlemen are not noisy, so we need some way to signal the room is in use. Also, a guest who feels he can break the rules of decorum may try to peek in to watch, and the interrupted customer could rightly demand his money back. Especially our guests who have things they wish to hide and the wealth to make it an issue."

With a nod he knocked his knuckles against the broken door jam, turned and kept his clopping to a minimum on the way down the stairs. The same effort went into keeping his face plain all the way into the basement storeroom. Once alone in the quiet darkness he stomped and snorted, punching the air.

Why did he bother asking? Why risk saying a stupid word he hadn't said in years?

.He hated tripping over his words--which he always did--even in front of Lorelei, who hadn't reacted the tiniest bit to his since Willem was a boy and his mother ran the house.. Even when it was a word he knew well, it would come out slowly. Often he mumbled through them or they fell apart near the end. While Willem thought as fast as anyone else, to others speaking slow meant thinking slow, and the horse hated being seen as dim, or worse treated like it. Since the age of ten he adopted the oath of "Never Speak", but curiosity or the situation often ruined his best efforts.

At least he could put his anger to work, take out his frustrations with a hammer. Lighting the lantern, Willem gathered spare wood and his tools before returning upstairs with the added light.

#

Before any of the night's customers arrived, Lorelei took Willem's arm. "I have an important job for you. Follow me."

At the bottom of the stairs Lorelei passed the storeroom to stop at an always-locked door. "Olaf is sick with the shakes, and I need someone to take care of this." Removing a key from about her neck, she slid it home and opened the door. At first he thought she revealed a closet. Inside, a door sat on the tiny room's opposite wall next to a lever. "Fetch the lantern."

Willem pondered the discovery while he complied. Having lived in the big house all his life, the horse knew about the door, but his mother wouldn't tell him what was inside, and he never bothered to ask Lorelei. Sometimes clients and someone else--usually Olaf, the male whore who otherwise served drinks--disappeared down into the basement, only to emerge an hour or so later, on occasion the guest needing to be helped or carried out.

When he returned with the light he paused, gawking at what it revealed--the door in the little alcove had a window made of glass. Actual glass!

"See this bar here?" she said, tapping the lever. "Any time you step into this room, make sure it's up like it is now." To drive the point home she stared into his eyes. He nodded, but she kept on looking for a moment more before opened the door with the window. "Good."

Stale air with a hint of something odd sifted out to meet them. Lantern light exposed walls barren except for the occasional candle in a holder, a naked stone floor, and something in the middle. It called to mind the plug at the bottom of the claw-foot tub upstairs, only much bigger. The broad iron thing could have filled half of a wagon, sat as tall as his knee, and was round, set flush with the floor. Cut into it, facing the door, was a seat. No doubt about it--a cushion sat in the niche, and in front of it stood an upholstered footstool.

The snow leopard walked around it, the long fluff of her tail twitching, a sign that always put Willem on guard. "See this hatch here?" He brought the lantern over. Atop the metal plug he found a little door, no bigger than a slice of bread. "Every day you will fetch a bucket of water, open this hatch, and pour it in. Once you do, close it immediately." Well, that explained what Olaf did with that bucket every day. "Understand?"

He nodded, and spared a glance down at the iron plug in the floor. Up close he could see long, thin slots in the metal, folded to look like shutters on a window. "Why?" Was there a plant inside?

"You don't want to know." With that she padded to the doorway and he dutifully followed. Once she closed the door with the window, Lorelei turned back to him. "When a special guest requests the most secret and costly of pleasures, you'll bring them down here, light the candles in the room, and close the door. Only when the door is closed will you pull this stick down. I'll give you an hourglass, and when the sands run out, you come back and check on the guest, help them up the stairs. You may need to clean up, too. Think you can do this?"

When Willem nodded she passed him the key. The sound of the front door opening upstairs and voices drew their ears. "Good. Lock the door once you've watered it," she said and prowled up the stairs.

It? He glanced back at the dark window for several moments before following behind.