The Crimson Lantern

Helen's Journal, cont.

I sighed, and started to mix my blushes and rouges. My alabaster skin made almost any heavy makeup look doll-like. I chose a dark red for my lips, and lighter orangish red for my cheeks. For my eyelids, a strong emerald was applied. I started to twist my hair into the Italian harlot's double braids at the corners of my forehead. I forewent wearing a shirt at all, instead putting on my black and emerald corset and letting my bare flesh be exposed. Next, I slid took a deep breath, and slid my dress on without bloomers or underwear. If I was to appear to be a whore, I must be able to pass inspection. As a finishing touch, I wore a black silk choker. Perhaps, if I am extremely lucky, the killer will be enticed by it.

I shall go to the Crimson Lantern, and seek out the lovely Turkish girl, Nasira. I wondered idly if she see me without a fee. My logic is that while he may only kill three times per year, he certainly will have relieved his tension with rented company during his stay. I only hope that, should I be so lucky as to flush him out, Mr Barlow and his big Sikh will be near to swoop in and rescue me.

I left the hotel, and soon was walking the streets of lower Kanda. The occasional reminder of colonial life accented the Velocicarriages and whatnot, but this city was dreadfully British in its dourness. Cobblestone streets, gray buildings, swinging metal signs advertising businesses, and the typical hat, overcoat, and umbrella or cane for the gentlemen; bowler hat and threadbare suit for the ruffians. I hadn't made it more than a block when one such cretin smacked my behind as I passed. Instead of chastise him, I had to remain in character, so I smiled. It was then I spotted Mr Barlow and Kamal, both of them dressed incognito as warehouse workers, following me a block away. Had I not been looking for them, they would have blended in quite, quite well.

The smack turned into a grope quickly enough. "How much, dear?" he asked, his rough hand and lewd gaze upon me. He massaged my ass with great squeezes and rubs, pulling me close to him so his crotch was pressed against my leg. I could feel his hardening member through my dresses.

"Sorry, love. I'm a contract girl. You probably can't spare the coin." I said, his hands still upon me. Soon, I had my back against a wall with him blocking my escape with one arm while the other hand roamed my exposed, ample bosom. I kept a caustic smile on my face, and he sighed. My ruse had worked. He dropped his arm and nodded. I patted his cheek, and ducked away from him to continue on my way.

The streets of Kanda are where the romanticism of this colony meets the harsh reality of what it takes to make it possible. Hindus, Arabs, Africans, Viets; citizens from all corners of the Empire. With them, the "new" British subjects from Old France, Germania, Greece, and Russia. Hardfaced men and women working long hours at the floating docks, or in the warehouses makes everyone slightly gruff and seem to be hurrying somewhere.

The large, red lantern announced to the world just was sort of establishment Nasira worked in. The Crimson Lantern was a three story, narrow building with a rather gruff looking door man outside. At his feet lay a Rajah-Dog, which is not really a dog at all, that was relaxed but for its long, pointed ears. He looked me up and down, and nodded. "Master Felix will want to have a look at you." he said, chewing on a stubby cigar. I thanked him, and walked through the now open door.

The Crimson Lantern is absolutely stunning upon entrance. Everything is decorated in red and black boudoir. Lumawood glowing faintly from the crimson upholstered furniture. Velvet covered walls, dark walnut and glowing flowers. The girls, oh my the girls! They are the loveliest creatures I've ever seen! Exotic beauties from all corners of the Empire walking around in lingerie with gentlemen on their arms, breasts exposed as they negotiate the terms of the sale. I navigate through them, looking like a cheap streetwalker compared to these women.

Mr Felix sat at a table in the lounge, watching two of his girls take turns fellating a customer. I couldn't help but stare. He noticed me, and called me over to the table. I walked, a deep and troubling arousal setting in as I could still see the trio out of the corner of my eye. I mention this here because all the victims showed no signs of struggle. I suspect the plants give off an aphrodesiac.

After questioning him and passing inspection, I was informed that I could use the "Day Room" as I was unexperienced and unlikely to attract the more specialized clients. I thanked him, and sat out to look for Nasira. There are 10 rooms per floor on the upper floors, and hers was the third room I tried. She was with a customer, and rather than risk being mistaken for a true whore, I went to the Day Room and waited for her. I'd need someone to watch my back if I was to get out of this place with any useful information and my maidenhood intact.

The Day Room was obviously for girls who hadn't earned a room for themselves, or for quick, dirty encounters. It was sparsely decorated with peeling wallpaper, and a mattress with busted springs. I sink and soap sat in the corner, but not the large, clawfoot bathtubs of the other rooms.

It was in here that I was assaulted, Mr Barlow will not need me to recount the state in which he so gallantly, but unfortunately not expediently, found me.