Private It's a Sex Worker Thing

[Malcoma Hesse]

~ Shae ~​

The Star Lounge was filled with a soft cadence of jazz lulling Madam Hesse nearly to sleep. She could relax here, between the music and the tabac and the spirits, in a way that she never quite could at Eden's—even when alone in her own suite. Most of the offerings and facilities here were the same or comparable as to what they were there with one major atmospheric difference:

Malcoma wasn't in charge.

There was a time and place to let up on the reigns of a high horse for even the largest of power trippers, of which Malcoma was one; that time was now, the place here. The let up pressure of fading expectation and responsibility exfoliated her like a granitic dike. She sat all but melted into the booth leather enveloping her form lounging slightly back. She dragged directly from a cigarra, then pulled it away from her mouth. When she had emptied her lungs, she sat up, batting away the swirling smoke with her free hand. "Thank you, baby," she cooed at Damris sitting across from her.

He met her halfway as she reached over the table to return the cigarra, which he took and tucked between his lips. He spoke with it puffing smoke there. "The thanks is mine," he replied. "For letting me tag along on your day off."

Malcoma laughed. "I didn't have a choice."

He took a datapad out of a briefcase hidden below the table on the bench beside him. It illuminated his face dimmed blue under the Star's mood lighting. When he glanced up, his smirk sent a jolt of warm anticipation through her stomach. "Maybe if you had been a good girl, you would have gotten one." A jab at her recent misadventures, both of which had landed her in hot water without him around to play lifeguard. She had managed to get out of each situation unscathed, but he had still not been happy. He evidently still wasn't, though the fact he was flirting about it suggested he was forgiving if not forgetting.

Another laugh. "Say it like that again and I won't be sorry anymore..."

Malcoma's flirt trailed off as her eyes caught to movement in the lowlight. Half the length of the room behind Damris, a pretty little thing glided up to the bar. She claimed Phaelix's attention too, the Zeltron bartender, and he turned towards her to take her order. After nodding confirmation but before turning away, his eyes shifted to Malcoma. The madam threw her own nod back his way, telling him to put her drink on her tab.

Damris turned around to follow his boss' gaze. "Hah."

She tsked her tongue as he reclasped his briefcase closed and got up. "Don't take it personal," she teasingly pleaded.

"From you?" He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. She slid a hand onto the far side of his head up into his slightly curly hair, and pressed into him. "Never. Call me when you're done."

"Stay close, baby."

With a smile, he left. She was always a little needy when she was exhausted.

 

[Shae]

It had been some time since Shae had gone hunting for business, but with the fall of the Confederacy her little black book had been slowly emptied of many of her best clients. It was difficult to say whether they had been one of the many casualties, or had lost their fortunes and businesses, or even their minds, but the details did not particularly matter. What mattered was the credits were starting to run dry, and that meant a trip to Coruscant.

The double doors of the Star Lounge opened, washing her in a wave of soothing music that she could feel in the depths of her chest. Enveloped by a thick curtain of cigarra smoke and pulsing light, Shae's first task was a drink. Something to tickle the senses and encourage her confidence. Things had been so good for so long she had forgotten all about the thrill of the chase. About the adrenaline that built up in tandem with the beat of the music. It was dangerously addictive.

The bartender's attention was hers the moment she leaned forward on the counter to order her drink. She felt the goose pimples on his skin as her fingers brushed against his hand in thanks. Zeltrons were immensely fun to tease. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he slid the rounded tumbler across the counter toward Shae. She slid her credits toward him in payment, but he shook his head.

"From an admirer."

Shae was about to open her mouth, to thank the bartender politely, but to refuse. It was a matter of principle. She paid for her own drinks, that way nobody felt like she owed them anything. After years of being in the business, it was the most infallible way Shae had found to stave off some of the less desirable clients. However, before she had the chance to say anything to him, he motioned to her benefactor. Naturally, Shae could not help the curiosity that dictated her gaze as it followed his finger across the room.

A pleasantly surprised smile curled the corners of her painted lips up. She had expected it to be a potential client, but what she found instead was a work of art.

The chink of the glass as the bartender moved it closer did not break her gaze. Such a marvel required time and attention to truly drink in its beauty. Shae did not often take female clients, purely because the majority of the time they were such a pleasure for her that it felt like a sin to charge them for it. But this woman wasn't a client. The way she held herself, her breathlessly stunning appearance and the appeal that poured from her like fine wine told Shae all she needed to know. She would know one of her own anywhere.

Turning to thank the bartender with a light nod, Shae swept her glass up and took the first icy sip to soothe the fire in her stomach. This wasn't the type of game she had expected to be playing, but Shae had never been one to refuse such an enticing invitation. She pushed herself off the bar, waving goodbye with the tips of her fingers to the bartender's exhilarating gaze as she swayed through the crowd toward the blonde.

"I would thank you for the drink, but…" Shae smiled as her shimmering emerald gaze drank in the details that distance had hidden. Her teeth latched over the corner of her lower lip and nibbled for as long as it took for Shae to satisfy her curiosity. "…the pleasure is most certainly all mine."

Malcoma Hesse ​

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

~ Shae ~​

Malcoma's laugh fit right in with the soft jazz melody. "I'd forgotten what it feels like to be truly flattered," she cooed. That truth hit a little hard in some part of the madam's heart that somehow hadn't been completely blackened yet, some part she could tend to latter.

Or, as it seemed, tend to it now?

She almost motioned to the seat Damris had just occupied, across for her, but at the last moment opted for an option more intimate. Of course it could always get refused, but she didn't think it would be. Scooting sideways, she patted the leather bench beside her. "Malcoma Hesse, love." If Shae took the invitation, she would give a peck on the cheeks rather than a handshake. Those got so boring, but she would reach her hand over the table if her fellow companion had situated herself across the way.

"Madam of Eve Escorts. And you are?"

Was this how men felt on the chase? The feeling was intoxicating, like all the room's smoke had drawn across her mind itself.

 

[Shae]

When Malcoma laughed, Shae could not help but smile. Not only was it as beautiful as the woman herself, but it was musical. Almost indistinguishable from the lulling beat that surrounded them. There was a true joy in making someone else laugh. It was one thing to make her clients laugh, so the credits kept flowing freely, but another thing entirely to make someone laugh simply because it delighted you, and it delighted Shae greatly.

She took the seat beside Malcoma gratefully and stretched her body out to make one long elegant line from tip to toe. The kiss that was delivered in greeting, which was accepted with no hesitation, left behind the faintest red blush where her lips had grazed Shae's skin.

"Malcoma Hesse…" Shae tasted the name on her lips with a smile. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Whether or not that was her real name or her companion name remained to be seen, but it did not matter to Shae. She hadn't spoken her own true name in years.

"Shae." She replied, following it down with another sip of her drink. "I'm from an… independent contractor." The crone did not have a name, nor did she wish to be known beyond the whispers and dealings of street urchins. "I don't believe I've heard of Eve Escorts before, but I haven't had any reason to travel to Coruscant for a long while. Is it new?" Somehow, it felt like a sin to be wasting Malcoma's time on boring topics like work. Or wasting her time on conversation at all.

Shae could think of far better things to be doing than that.

Malcoma Hesse ​

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

~ Shae ~​

Malcoma took a moment to consider the question. "Not new per se," she finally settled on. "We took our business off world for some time, but now we're back." Sighing, she leaned back into the plush back of the booth. "It's good to be home."

The sentiment was honest. Though she hadn't been born, or even spent most of her life, on Coruscant, the shining ecumenopolis had quickly grown to feel like a home. Wandering from the Core to the Southern Systems before they fell to the Outer Rim had certainly been an exciting change of pace, it had also been traumatic in many ways:

Losing a girl to a crazed killer's spree, another later to her own devices. Never settling into true safety. Being bled dry of much of her money without much return.

Her space odyssey had reminded her each and every night in her dreams of younger days. While the latter had been much worse, the situations had been comparable.

She shook away the far-off fog that had drawn over her blue eyes.

 

[Shae]

Shae found her face crinkling somewhat. Home was not a word often found on the lips of women in their profession. Rarely was it used to describe their work environment. It did, however, mean that the galaxy's timing was once again impeccable. If their business had still been off-world somewhere, Malcoma would have never been sat in this booth. She never would have sent Shae the drink, and Shae would never have accepted it.

"Then perhaps we have the fates to thank for our meeting today." Shae said with a smile as she turned at the waist to properly face Malcoma, but she wasn't listening.

Shae tilted her head to drink it in more clearly. It was never easy to guess what someone was thinking, even less so when all you had to guess from was a facial expression, but she could have taken a logical stab in the dark. There had been countless times she had seen that look cross the face of one of her clients. A distant, hazy look that quietly stole all their attention and focus.

The nature of the crone was never to pry. Information was hard fought for, and even harder won, but it was more valuable than any number of credits anyone could offer her. Malcoma was not a client though, and the same tricks of the trade did not apply to her as they did to others. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you seem a little troubled." Shae said, between a sip of her drink. "I'm not interested in details…" She followed up quickly, knowing that if someone said something similar to her, Shae's first thought would have been yes, but it's none of your business.

Shae shuffled then. Closer. Until her thigh pressed lightly against Malcoma's and she could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. One of her hands reached up to sweep a strand of pure blonde hair from her face with practised, tender fingers. "I just want to know if there's anything I can do to help take your mind off it."

Malcoma Hesse ​

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

~ Shae ~​

One of her own hands floated from her lap to cradle around Shae's waist. Her lips just barely brushed over her cheek on a path to her ear. "You can follow me somewhere private," she whispered. Malcoma was perfectly comfortable with the prospect of putting on a show for the patrons lucky enough to come to the Star today, but this wasn't her digs. Her last bit of good judgement was just barely still hanging on against the picking up velocity of desire, and it told her that the owner might not appreciate such an intense show of affection. They'd better take this elsewhere.

Shae would have to get up first, as she had slid in last, but before she could Malcoma's lips dropped to her neck. One kiss, two, three. Shae'd have to pull away too; the madam wouldn't stop herself now. When she was made to—when Shae pulled away—the hand on Shae's waist slipped into her hand. Malcoma giggled another of those ringing laughs, scooted off the booth, and stood up. She stooped to grab her black handbag from under the table before leading her new pretty little plaything up the stairs to the private seating balcony.

Winding through rows of booths mixed with rows of free-standing tables, they duo left the dining section of the room and began walking down a hallway. At the end was a door. Malcoma stopped and dropped Shae's hand to peruse in her purse. Finally, she pulled out a jet black card imprinted with a silver tree. She swiped it through a nearby card reader, making the door beep and unlatch. She threw the card haphazardly back into her purse and likewise threw it on the bench in the entryway as she pushed through the door.

 

[Shae]

This was quite a thrilling taste of what life was like on the other side of the table. Shae could quite understand why the chase was so thrilling now. The adrenaline was almost addictive.

Her heart fluttered in her ears as Malcoma drew closer. Her scent was almost as intoxicating as the swirls of cigarra smoke that dominated the room. The lingering heat left on her skin where Malcoma had been turned into a bright flush that coloured her cheeks. The giggle as they both stood to leave was like music to her ears, and Shae couldn't help but notice that all eyes were on them as they trailed out together.

Once they were free of the booth's constraints, Shae took to dutifully following behind Malcoma, who seemed to know the layout of this club far better than she. They reached a corridor, and a door. Though Shae was loathed to release her hand so she could unlock it, she was far more eager to be on the other side of it.

An acceptable trade-off.

Following behind, Shae shut the door behind them, drowning out the hum of the club and the thud of the music. Leaving the two alone to enjoy a night of passion not out of necessity, but out of want.

______​

Shae rolled over on the silk sheets, exhaling a cloud of cigarra smoke as she passed the slowly shortening stick toward Malcoma. The lights had been dimmed to keep the mood, but thin tendrils of early dawn light had begun to break through the partially closed curtains. Normally, Shae would have been out of the door by now. But much like she had been loathed to let her hand go at the door, she was loathed to let the relaxed and alluring embrace of Malcoma go too.

She finished her sigh, blowing out the last of the smoke with a little force as she spoke. The conversation had turned to Eve Escorts, and Shae had found her curiosity peaked. "So, where did you end up?" She asked, turning on her side to face her properly. "When you took Eve Escorts from Coruscant?"

Malcoma Hesse ​

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

~ Shae ~​

Malcoma hadn't giggled like this in a long, long time, the sound not weighed down by worry or altogether fake. She had also not so thoroughly enjoyed sleeping with anyone since...well, not really ever.

She was sitting up in bed against the headboard, wrapped loosely in part of the oversized sheet, absent-mindedly braiding her hair. When Shae rolled over to pass the cigarra, she abandoned her hair for it.

"871 ABY, The Eves: ​

Elami, Avan, Sherma + Antha"​

"Christophsis of all places," she sighed as she took a drag. Shae didn't have enough context to understand the true weight of that answer, but Malcoma's tone implied nothing good came of this bit of history—which it hadn't. Normally, the madam wouldn't have elaborated. Normally, she would have kicked herself for already saying too much. The way she preferred playing her pazaak hand was close the her chest rather than out on the open table, but in this particular circumstance it didn't seem so wrong to give Shae an honest peek.

Reaching out, Malcoma swept a stray tress of sleek black hair behind Shae's ear. "Let me show you something..." she said before putting the cigarra back in her mouth and shifting her body to swing her legs out of bed. She untangled the sheet from her body and stood. She was only out of the room for a few seconds until returning with a folded slip of paper in her hand. She offered it out to Shae. A picture of four near-human girls hid between the sheafs. Cursive, High Galactic writing bordered it in black ink.

"This was my first group of girls." She was practically beaming and not just from their afterglow, but then a cloud passed over her countenance as if one had over the window. "Only Avan," she leaned to point at an Arkanian who had died her hair gold, "and Elami," then a redhead human, "came with me." She sat back. "The other two... I can't find the records, but they were probably arrested. A CSF raid was what forced my hand."

While prostitution was technically illegal in Galactic City, the CSF had bigger fish to fry, all crime in the Underworld considered. Thus, if Shae knew anything about the Coruscanti legal code, something would not add up about the madam's story. But she wasn't there yet.

"Neither of them are here now." Malcoma shifted back against the headboard, the first move in a fight against her sudden distress. "I assume Avan is alive and well, but I know Elami's not." She handed the cigarra back to Shae. Dangerous to hold onto that for too long now. "She was murdered in a Chaleydonian hotel room."