psl - 100% just a shameless teahouse au

[enthraller]

Once upon a time in the country of Ivore, there was a little brothel called the Teahouse.

~~~
Arguably the finest establishment of its kind in the capital city, the Teahouse, owned by a Mr. Xanthe Atros, sits neatly at the edge of the noble's district. It offers a range of pleasures suited to any customer, upper class or common, provided they have the coin. For the right price, customers can enjoy the services of its courtesans, be it for a few hours, a night, or a more lasting arrangement. The men and women of the Teahouse are highly regarded for both their attractiveness and their "talents" even outside the city itself, or so its most dedicated patrons would have one believe.

Upon entering, customers are greeted by a lavish main hall with lovingly polished marble floors and grand, sweeping staircases leading off to a number of private rooms. A handful of servants keep the place in pristine condition, fit for even the royal family were they to ever deign to visit. A quiet and professional bouncer stands vigil unobtrusively out of the way, protection in the odd case of a violent visitor, and at any hour at least one or two of the brothel's courtesans are lounging on the main hall's plush seating in wait of potential customers. It pays to be proactive, after all -- the higher earners are granted the best ammenities and perhaps the occasional outing into the city, sweet treats for those whose lives belong to the Teahouse.

Comments

[serpentking]

Foreign and visiting nobility were hardly uncommon in the capital: or in the Teahouse, for that matter.

Tzilan told himself that as his local hosts, other young men of his age, swept him into the grand, brightly-lit foyer. He was only too painfully aware that the brightly-polished floor cast up no reflection of him back up at himself, and kept his chin high above his stiff, starched collar. Unlike the taller men about him, who rushed in a happy, wine-drunken babble to explain the rules, and the process, he was silent, gliding over the sussurus they made.

This isn't appropriate, he thought, while flashing a pained, faintly awkward smile at one of the men who'd drawn him along. "And so," his quiet voice cut through their chatter, "You... pick which... individual you desire? From the line?"

"Well, ordinarily yes! But we've come to a great agreement today, we were going to be serviced as a group. We often just lo--"

Tzilan's gloved hands twitched at his sides, and his smile slipped a little, just half an instant. And then his dark-skinned features smoothed, and he beamed up. "Now now, that would be quite inappropriate. Before the first transaction, and the ink has dried? In my homeland it's considered bad luck, you know, to celebrate to early," but there was a salacious cast to his eyes, something sharp in his smile--

"So you'll leave us wanting, just for that?" Complained the blonde, wetting his lips briefly as the group of them came to a pause.

"It's only good business to keep you wanting a little," assured Tzilan-- voice pitched to a whisper so that he wouldn't speak over the well-dressed fellow moving forward to greet them across the marble floor. Tzilan's eyes flit from him to the decor, affecting a politely curious interest to mask the anxiety that had his stomach in knots.