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Every vein in Cash’s body ripples. Power thrums from his hands, gripping the pole with ease, to his well-defined calves. The point to his toes is worthy of a ballet dancer, but there’s nothing dainty about his commanding movements. From the very top of the pole, Cash walks his legs through the air, body extended horizontally. A singular spotlight remains on him at all times, the rest of the club falling into darkness.
From my seat, front and centre as promised, I have a full uninterrupted view. Those behind me whoop, roar and quack as Cash spirals downwards, now in nothing but a tight pair of pants. White with spades littered across, the fullness of the spotlight shining straight through. His feet touch the floor, toes first and the rest follow slowly. His green eyes find mine instantly. While one hand stays on the pole, his fine body rolls, highlighting each muscle in his crafted body.
I’m drooling into the skirt of my dress. No judgements needed – I went for the corseted powdered blue dress Cash picked out for me. Helpfully dry cleaned and hanging in his wardrobe, it seemed rude not to. Black under-netting fans out the satin skirt, the boning cinched tight either side of the white panel up the front. The black sash at my middle is tied into a splendidly large bow at the back, matching the one fixed into my hair. Oh yes, I went for the whole shebang. Elbow-length gloves on my arms, white stockings to my crossed thighs, and blue heels upon my tippy tappy feet.
Bending low, Cash slinks across the stage on his hands and knees. Lifting one of the black roses that were thrown at him, he leans across the gap of the stage and hands it to me. Various hisses of jealously sound and I smile, accepting his offering. The audience are appeased when Cash crawls away, his back dipped and butt popped out. I sneak out of my seat, going in search of a drink while he’s distracted. A stiff one to douse the heat Cash has pooling in my core.
The fox-tenders make a point of avoiding me, even though there’s no one else at the bar to serve. Fair enough, I’ll help myself. Reaching over the polished surface, I grab the first bottle that my hand touches and pull it free of the shelf it was hidden on. Ooh, champagne with a gold cork – I’ll take that. Untwisting the wire cage, one of the fox-tender’s now wants my attention but I hold up a hand.
“Don’t panic, I’ve got this. I grew up in a country manor house that hosted parties for royalty. If there’s one thing I know, it’s the art of sabering.” Pulling out the butcher’s knife from Cash’s kitchen that I stashed in the back of my bow, because you know…bitches be crazy, especially around hot men, I push my thumb into the indentation at the base and strike the knife upwards. The entire neck of the bottle shatters on impact, spraying glass shards over the foxes instead of bubbles. All that’s left in my hand is the jagged base around the size of a large mug. Perfect.
“Hmmm, maybe I’m out of practice,” I shrug, sipping around the cracked shards. Liquid fizzles over my tongue, as crisp and fruity as I remember when going on a bender from my dad’s drinks cabinet. Those parties I mentioned - I was not actually invited, but I sure had a blast. The fox-tenders pick glass from each other’s fur and the rest of the crowd are facing the stage, so no one but me notices the main door peeling open. A slender girl with black hair slithers inside, a bag of turnips clutched to her dirty dress.
Mary Ann.
She yelps when I rush at her, broken champagne bottle in hand. Dropping her turnips, she tries to flee and I wrap my arms around her.
“I’ve missed you,” I hug her tight. She stills but doesn’t reciprocate, reminding me of the many nights I would praise my doll, Polly. She never cared for my soppy moments either. Jeez what was in that champagne? Or is it just becoming easier to let my true nature rise to the surface? Either way, I release the poor maid and tell her to drink the champagne while I collect up her turnips.
“For the Queen, I’m guessing?” I ask, handing the bag to one of the foxes. Mary Ann nods, her brown eyes wide like a frightened mouse. Placing the smashed bottle on the edge of the bar, she tries to leave but I grab her slender arm. “Hey, stay with me a little while.”
“I-I’m not allowed to be here. I have to get back,” Mary Ann whimpers, her voice small. Sadness befalls her delicate features and I set my jaw. Nope, not today.
Keeping my grip on her arm, I tug her behind the bar and spot the outline of a hatch in the wooden floor. Prying it open, I shove Mary Ann down the steps underneath and she has no choice – descend or die. Might seem like an exaggeration, but a girl as frail as her would never survive the fall. The foxes snarl at me and I give them both a middle finger, hopping down onto the steps and disappearing into the cellar.
Mary Ann has found the light switch, a single bulb swaying above our heads. Barrels to the right, wine racks to the left, the ground and walls in between are pewter stone. Mary Ann’s quivering has intensified, probably from the chill sweeping through the basement. Unravelling my bow, I wrap the thick ribbon around her shoulders and rub her arms. It’s not much, but it’s all I have.
“I want to help you, Mary Ann, truly. But you have to let me know what I’m up against. What did you do that was so bad - that they’re forcing you to be a slave as punishment?” For a long while, I don’t think she’s going to respond and my arms drop.
“I-I was sold, to the King of Clubs,” she whispers, practically inaudible beneath the pounding of music overhead. But I heard enough to roll over a barrel and sit her on it. I prefer to pace, my hands clenched behind me as I tell her to continue.
“He was horrible. An old, fat man that forced me to…well, he-he wanted an heir, you see. It was all he talked about, all he desired. I was locked in his bedchamber, tied to the bed. When I wasn’t ovulating, he…used me for whatever he liked. Mostly as a release for his anger.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, not needing the details but she surrendered them. I have no doubt this is the first time someone has listened to Mary Ann’s story, and I’ll be damned if I ask her to stop now. Owning her truth is the first step in her recovery. I continue to pace as Mary Ann tells me every sordid detail she is willing, and only once her sobs overtake her words do I drop down by her knees.
“What happened to him, Mary Ann? The King. Where can I find him and cut the dick from beneath his pot belly and feed it to-”
“It’s not…you won’t find him. He’s dead. After…after I miscarried, he went mad. He wanted to impregnate me again, that very day and I just, I just snapped. I grabbed the letter opener from his bedside table and stabbed him in the neck until he stopped moving. And then some more,” she ducks her head, an ashamed blush coating her cheeks. I lift her chin back to face me, drying her tears with both hands.
“You did good, sweetie. So damn good,” I reassure her. Just then, the hatch above is cranked open and the bitchier of the two fox-tenders drops straight down, landing on her feet.
“We’re out of white rabbit wine.” She shoves Mary Ann backwards off the barrel and kicks it towards the steps. I grab the fox’s tail and yank her backwards, my temper already at the end of its fuse. Linking my arm around her neck, I twist and drag her to the floor, levelling a punch to her snout.
“Try some fucking manners next time.” Releasing her, I help Mary Ann to her feet and ease her behind me for when the fox-tender stands to brush her fur off.
“Figures the two rejects would seek each other out. I’m surprised you’d be willing to miss the show though. It’s heating up on the stage,” she bops her orange eyebrows at me. I scowl, not giving two shits if Cash was doing a fan dance with a lettuce leaf. Some things are more important than my libido.
“Do you know why she’s been enslaved?” I ask, throwing a thumb back in Mary Ann’s direction. The fox chuckles.
“Of course, the entire realm knows. It was our first voting poll when the democracy was introduced. A beheading seemed too…swift for her punishment.” The fox narrows her eyes and hisses through her sharp teeth at the girl over my shoulder. I step-side in the way to regain her focus.
“So, you all turned her into a slave for killing a rapist asshole? I’d have given her a medal and a public holiday.” I cross my arms.
“To kill a member of the royal family is treason of the highest order. And she’s guilty of it twice, or did she miss out the part where she murdered her own child too.” The fox barks a sneer. I falter in my stance, peering behind me.
“It wasn’t a miscarriage,” I mutter, seeing the shadow of Mary Ann’s small head shake. Understanding dawns and I stiffen in front of the fragile girl once more. Reaching back, I take Mary Ann’s fingers in mine. “How far along was she?”
“Does it matter?” the fox growls. “She took a drug-induced oyster from the Walrus and in doing so, eliminated the life of the future heir. For that, she will forever be a slave.” A slender claw is jabbed in my direction and I whack it aside.
