The Desert Rose Bordello - Printable Version

+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Science Fiction (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=69)
+--- Forum: Misc Sci Fi (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=79)
+--- Thread: The Desert Rose Bordello (/showthread.php?tid=534)

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - megs - 11-11-2014


They said when the dollar went to shit, the oil would dry up soon after. Sure enough, barely ten years time, there were land wars waged for that sacred fuel source, causing countless casualties and endless property damage. Bombs and tanks and guns, and in a pinch, bottles were all used to destroy the foundation of modern society, setting the once all knowing, all seeing government scurrying back to it's rat hole. That's when the gangs took charge, wrangled the law into their grubby meat hunks, and set in motion a sort of bartering system to ensure you got what you paid for.  

Pucker up, Princess, you have a customer waiting. 

The Desert Rose isn't just a brothel; it's a way of life. 


Picture the desert dry and barren, scarce a sight to be seen. A traveler such as yourself comes north or south a spill, through the tumbleweed pass and up empty highway stretching as far as the eye could see, and you're met with a vision of decadence (if there is such a thing anymore). The wooden structure, four stories high, is covered in painted scenery depicting various lewd acts upon various sorts of people. It's almost akin to the murals of old, but with legs spread and backs arched like the rise of great nations from the bosoms of serving girls. Men kill one another for a place in the bed chamber of these broads, and say broads with no disrespect, because they'll just as soon kill ya as they'd kiss ya if you're caught talkin' down to them.  

Not just women, but men as well. They employ the finest in flesh from the Rio Grande to the Mississippi, sparing no expense to shuttle out the newest and most delicious courtesans you've ever had the pleasure of plowing. Were you not a god fearing type when you walked through these doors, you'll learn belief after you've straddled one of these beauties and felt every worry of the wastes lifted from your thoughts. There's gambling in the first floor, cards, dice, and wives - but the upper three floors are for nothing more than private confession. Haven't sinned yet? We can guarantee you will before you leave. 


Our rules are simple ones. You come and enjoy yourself all you want, but no always means no, and you either take it as a finality, or you're asking for a face full of buckshot. Otherwise, services are attained through bartering services. Got smokes? Clean water? Clean linens and cloth? If you've got the stuff, the Desert Rose had a pair of lips waiting to part for you. 


You can stay in a room all to yourself if you keep up your end of the payments, and this may or may not include an employee, if they happen to take a liking to you. Guests can go where they like, so long as they stay out of other patron's rooms. That's likely to get you shot as well, though we let people fend for themselves in that case. All in all, it's a foolproof system because all the fools already took hot lead to their domes and ceased to be a problem.

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - Kat - 11-11-2014

Kismet only worked weekends, seven to five, and never missed a free drink. Her eyes told lies, embellished on small and best forgotten truths, and made promises they couldn't keep. She had a way with words that made her sultry tones passable as purrs. Men flocked to see her fuck, even if they weren't involved, because it was something of an art form. Intricate patterns of movement, choices of where to put her appendages when, and certainly her knack for making her customers beg for release. Kismet didn't limit herself to only men. Women were also given the opportunity to be taken and made hers, if only for the span of a few sweet hours. An old wind up alarm clock worked the issue commands, and when it sang it's shrill metal song, it was time for patrons to pack up and get the hell out of her room. No refunds, and no thanks needed.

She was simply doing her job.

Tonight would be no different, and as her long bare legs crossed back and forth at the thigh, the blonde nursed a cocktail so strong, one would likely smell it from the door. the early evening hours were hers to take advantage of, and as alcohol was something of a luxury during these hard times, Kismet relished in her beverage like it was planning to make her a star. A little social lubricant to start off what could easily turn out to be a rather productive evening. Though, as her Saturday waned, the clock on the wall pointed out she had a few moments left of freedom. A throw of dice and a hoot of a patron was enough to remind the buxom beauty there were other means to preoccupy one's self with, if one really needed something to do. Kismet was content to wait, and to think, and above all things, to gloat.

If this weekend was anything like the last, she would be able to afford a new wardrobe with the materials she gathered. So long as her fellow employees didn't hop on whoever walked through the door before she had an opportunity to assess whether or not they were a ripe choice.

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - thedarkwyrm - 11-12-2014

If the interior of the bordello differed in temperature from the desert outside, he couldn't tell.  Stepping through the wooden doors into the building, he was wrapped from head to toe in garments, layers of cloth that kept him insulated against the heat of the sun and sand, but which also kept him from feeling the cooler air of the bordello.  A long strip of red fabric wrapped around his face, tucked into the red trenchcoat he wore beneath his outermost, flowing cloak.  A pair of dark, tinted goggles covered the narrow strip of his face which the wrap did not.  

He walked up to the counter, slowly stripping the wrap form his head, draping it around his neck like a scarf.  His hair was pure white, almost silver, and fell over his ears with casual grace, as though it hadn't spent the past several hours bound against his head.  He lifted the goggles up into his hair, revealing a pair of red eyes that surveyed the bordello with a casual intensity that bordered on predatory.  

"Good afternoon, ma'am," he said to the woman behind the counter, in a voice rich and smooth.  To women as experienced with the world as the employees of a bordello, it would be immediately obvious that he spun honeyed words with a silver tongue, but the sharpness behind his eyes left no doubt that he was more than empty words.  With one gloved hand, he fished into the inner pockets of his clothing, emerging with a pack of high-end cigarettes from before the war, still sealed in their plastic wrap.  "I assume you use some manner of chips for your card games.  How many can I get with this?"

His eyes roved over the occupants of the bordello once more, and his tongue briefly ran over his lip.  "And which of the ladies here is the most unobtainable?"

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - Kat - 11-12-2014

"Unobtainable?"

Eight minutes. At first, Kismet didn't bother looking to the stranger, with his offerings of cigarettes for services, though something of a smirk spread across lush lips. "Thought the whole point of this joint was so women like me were obtainable to men like you." Her voice was pleasant, even when her snark wasn't meant to be. Raising her drink, the women straightened her posture and took a deep breath, bare thighs again shifting so that barely existent dress of hers rode precariously high, threatening to expose more than just hourglass curves. "If you're looking for something new, we have it. Something old? Got that too." Tilting her chin in his direction so pale green orbs could give him a side glance, she added, "But unobtainable only means you're broke, and if you're throwing out treats like that, I'm sure that isn't the case."

Flashing a dangerous smile, Kismet nodded to the tables where the gambling took place, the other patrons seemingly oblivious to their conversation at the bar. "I'll get you started, Sweetheart." Placing her glass down, the woman leaned over the counter, in which her ample bust pressed tight to the polished wood while a very shapely rear end rose in the air. He would have a chance to make out, in detail, the lace negligees beneath the hem of the dress, the color of fresh lavender blossoms with darker stitching at the seams. The swell of her ass was exposed while she searched, but it was as intentional as anything else the woman did. Fishing for something on the other side, Kismet returned to sitting service side holding a moderately sized box, which snapped open with a metallic spring. Counting chips, he was dolled out 25 of them as two 10s and a 5er, which could be broken if he was adamant about penny pinching.

"Poke around and you'll find someone."

6 minutes.

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - thedarkwyrm - 11-12-2014

The man flashed a grin at the tone of the woman's words, collecting the three chips and lightly playing them over his knuckles like a magician. His canines were unusually perfect and sharp, Hollywood-white like all the rest of his teeth. "Oh, of course. But unless this bordello is different from every other bordello in the world, there's an unspoken hierarchy to the girls here. I just want to know what it is."

Those predatory eyes ran over the girl's body as she moved, darting the uncanny precision to the exact spot where her skin was revealed with every movement. "Like you, for example. I'd imagine you sit pretty high on the list here. No one moves with that much grace unless she's making embarrassingly large amounts of money."  His tongue lightly ran over his upper lip.  "Not that you even need it.  On looks alone, you could name your price with most men."

He was grateful for the layers he wore.  In addition to protection, they also hid his arousal.  Hiding it on his expression and action was easy enough, and years of practice had let him hone his poker face to perfection.  No amount of training, however, allowed perfect control of one's unmentionables.

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - megs - 11-12-2014


When William Callahan had laid claim to a dilapidated inn and a chunk of land at the end of a town in the middle of the desert, the last thing his young daughter expected was for her daddy to turn it into a whorehouse. 

Pardon. A bordello. 

(It sounds classy, is what he would say).

It was a dust colored saloon, just like the cowboys would go to. "Just like in the movies," her father would tell her. She would only smile with forced enthusiasm, as he continued to prattle on about a time before the war that now only existed in her imagination. She had never seen the movies. Would never get the chance. The battle was over, because there was nothing left to fight for. There was nothing left of anything. Lives and resources had been expended in equal measure, and all there was left for anyone still alive to do was to claim a piece of something far away from everyone else, and try to live out their days in a relative amount of peace and quiet. But, once again her father had done exactly what she had not expected and turned the run-down tavern into a noisy oasis in the desert, and then he died.  

She was older now, and when Cashmere Callahan looked back on what her father had done, the accomplishment was admittedly impressive. The middle ages had spices, the modern world had thrived on oil, but in the aftermath of the calamity sex was the world's greatest commodity. The Desert Rose had plenty of it. You would be surprised to witness what people were willing to barter for a wet hole or a soft mouth, but thanks to this, the tavern's alcohol stores seemed to never run dry, and she was able to put food in the bellies of her friends. At least there was that.

Pushing open the swinging door behind the bar, unwilling owner and full-time bartender, Cashmere exited the kitchen and made her presence known. Her cinnamon colored hair was tied up in a pony tail that bobbed as she walked, and she wore a tight black tank top over tighter denim jeans. Regardless of how evocative this may be for some, it also made it obvious that there was a gulf a mile wide between herself and the other women employed at the Rose. Though, employed was a loosely used term. She housed them, and fed them and in exchange they sometimes used their services to acquire goods for the benefit of the establishment.  The saloon had managed to become a bit of a rest stop between the previous town and the next. Lucky for them, because it meant there was always a nightly flourishing of fresh faces and fresher goods. Unoccupied escorts and courtesans littered the bar floor, waiting for the night to pick up. 

None of them were at all surprised that Kismet would be the first of them to find herself entertaining a guest, even if it was six minutes before her shit, Cashmere noticed.  She would have been disappointed that she'd missed greeting a customer if she had cared at all, but still, she watched the exchange with hawkish, hazel oculars; dangerous games were played when goods exchanged hands. 

Cashmere did not like games.

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - Kat - 11-12-2014

It was strange. The other girls seemed to scowl at the curvaceous blonde when she was spoken to by the newcomer, but there was visible annoyance that came with his comments. Kismet always sat on the same stool at the far end of the bar, away from the general populace, and always had the same whiskey-esque beverage to cleanse her pallet before AND after her shift. Like clockwork, Kismet had a routine set in stone for every single work night, which meant this gentleman was talking to her as an equal, rather than addressing an employee. For five more minutes, at the very least. "Sure, hon. You caught me. I'm queen bitch." Another flash of teeth, pearly incisors all neat and clean as though aiming to back up his accusations. Not only did the golden haired vixen get by, she was pampered and preened and doted over like the long lost lover of every poor sap who thought they had a chance.

In all fairness, they did have a chance - they just had to pay for it.

Back straightening as the last of her drink was downed with a throaty swallow, Kismet's hands moved to adjust her cleavage nonchalantly, where those perfect breasts pushed suggestively against one another, pleading to be released from their restraints. Flesh smelling of citrus and vanilla, hair long and curled in neat twirls of spun sunlight, and a body that demanded attention; all wrapped in her presently uninterested package. "Oh, you think so?" Shifting where she sat, the blonde faced the stranger and ran her gaze up and down with an almost possessive show of her jewel-like eyes. He wasn't a terrible build, but with all those layers, who was she to decide whether or not he was her typical choice? "And if you were to throw out goods, what am I worth to you?"

Attention shifted just as quickly as Cashmere made her entrance, and in the flicker of the other woman's sights, Kismet caught them and gave an amused raise of her eyebrows. "If you're still looking for unattainable, that's the boss lady. I'd put money on that not working out for ya." Depending on his answer to her previous question, Kismet was tempted to take him for a spin, but only if the price was right. Though, if he really was looking to crack the safe for the cash and prizes, she wasn't some starry eyed new girl. She just played one in the bedroom.

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - thedarkwyrm - 11-12-2014

He raised an eyebrow, chuckling.  "I don't have a problem with bitches.  A bitch is just a woman who knows what she wants, takes it, and doesn't care what anyone else thinks."  The poker chips continued dancing over his knuckles, and he flipped them through the air to his opposite hand without missing a beat.  "And I like my women to have spines."

His gaze ran over her much more slowly after she asked him what she was worth to him.  Red eyes scanned her, analytical and almost critical, though the faint curl of his lip left no doubt that he appreciated what he saw.  "Tough to say, really.  When possible, I prefer to pay after, based on actual talent.  Looks can be so misleading.  But for you..."  He closed his fingers around the poker chips, resting his hand on the table.

"It's more difficult to assign a value, now that the world runs on barter, but I'd be willing to give up some very hard-won favors to set up a deposit for you with some merchants I know.  I can get you fresh water, or a small amount of oil, whichever you need."  He flashed her a grin.  "In other words, a few months of specialized work in exchange for a... weekly subscription to the woman of the year." 

He glanced at the owner as she came in, a flash of interest in his eyes, but he almost immediately returned his gaze to the woman he'd been flirting with.  "By the way," he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it lightly.  "My name is Kirai."

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - Kat - 11-13-2014

As the clock ticked, Kismet kept a mindful eye on the hands, letting them move along with fluid strokes while her company answered. "And I like my men packing heat." Running her tongue along her bottom lip, the action shifted to a nibble of the roseate skin while she smirked his way. "Unfortunately for you, we're not the kind of place to take someone up on faith. Though, if you keep making big claims, you'll make me blush." Standing with a stretch, her hand was extended for the gentleman by the time he took it in his own, allowing for the kiss he pressed upon the back. The  buxom blonde used this opportunity to move in closer so he would find himself pressed tight to her and that form fitting outfit. Breasts swelled when she breathed, visibly rising as her other hand made an adventurous drag along the front of his shirt. "My shift started just now..." It drifted lower and lower on his torso, seemingly unafraid to sculpt his figure through the fabric while her own body threatened to expose his arousal early by ensuring their hips met.

"You can call me Kismet." It was little more than a purr, sweet and low and dripping with another set of promises he would probably like to hear. "If you're so sure of your goods, I can agree to the terms. Weekends, you have your pick of the time, and in exchange..." Breath hot against his cheek and jawline, her lips drifted along the course towards his ear where she flicked her tongue playfully. "Oil." Kismet didn't need to give it any more thought. Oil was the best one could hope to get when it came to exchanges of goods and services. Oil meant wealth, and wealth meant power: Things Kismet Vereaux felt destined to attain, so long as she dotted the I's, crossed the T's, and wrapped those juicy lips around a few choice shafts.

Fingertips stopped at his waist, maybe where a belt sat, and hovered as she asked in a whisper, "But how badly do you want to fuck me right now? Are you thinking about forcing me down and pinning me under you?" No one else would hear what she said, words exchanged so quietly, it was hard to tell she was speaking at all, save for the fact her lips remained near his ear lobe while she did so. "Are you thinking about tasting me? Maybe about how bad you want that thick cock of yours forced inside me?" Finally taking the plunge, her experienced fingers delicately groped through his jeans, encompassing the bulge of his member as discretely as possible when she asked, "Are you going to follow me to my room?" The strain against his denims made her sigh, and he was released from the hold, free to do as he pleased without any more questions.

Kismet simply wrote the name 'Kirai' in a log on the bar counter with a line through the time, indicating her night was taken. "It's your call."

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - thedarkwyrm - 11-13-2014

The sudden move on him was unexpected, though, in retrospect, it made sense.  With the beginning of her shift, and his promise of vast wealth, she would want to secure him immediately.  He grinned as he felt her press against him, though he didn't touch her just yet, merely enjoying the sensations of her hands on him.  "It's been a while since I made a professional woman blush.  I would consider it a high compliment if a lady as elegant and lovely as yourself were to blush for me."  

"Kismet, hm?"  He finally lifted his hands, slowly running his gloved fingertips along her sides to her back, tracing her spine.  "No wonder you're at the top of the chain here.  What chance would any other woman stand against fate?"  His head tipped against her lips and tongue, exposing his neck to her flicking tongue.  "Smart, too."  Choosing oil was the obvious decision, no matter how small the amount.  He'd seen human lives traded away for no more than a hip flask full of oil.

Another sudden increase in intimacy.  He inhaled deeply, smelling her as she whispered in his ear.  Her words came quickly, meant to arouse, to inspire.  He doubted she expected a response, at least not a spoken one.  All the response she needed came from the obvious arousal she felt when she gripped him, eliciting the faintest of groans from him.  He looked into her face as she pulled away, running his tongue over his teeth.

She sashayed away, leaving only his name in the book and an invitation hanging in the air.  He growled softly, straightening his clothing.  "I'd be a fool not to," he murmured under his breath.  Pocketing the poker chips, he pushed off the counter and followed her to the back of the bordello, to her private room.  

He followed her into the room, leaning back against the door as he closed it, hearing the satisfying click of the latch.  With an easy motion, he shrugged off his outer robe and then his trenchcoat, hanging them both on the coatrack that stood beside the door.  Thus disrobed, clad only in black pants, boots, and a black button-up shirt with a leather harness of it, his physique became evident.  He didn't have an excessive amount of mass, being rather slender of build, but what he did have was all muscle, tightly packed and sculpted like a Greek god.  Hanging on the harness was an assortment of knives, six small enough to be easily thrown, two almost long enough to be called swords, and two in between.  The polished metal of the handles showed signs of being well-used, though he clearly took exceptional care of them.  

"What do you think, milady Kismet?  Enough heat for you?"

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - Tindome - 11-13-2014

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - megs - 11-13-2014


Cashmere found herself continuing to watch Kismet and the newcomer out of boredom than anything else. You would think in the apocalypse there would be more important things to do than watch a courtesan's game of seduction, but you would be wrong. In all honesty, things weren't really that bad. Sure, some resources were scarce, but the things the world missed the most had always been luxuries, but like most things, no one noticed until they were gone.

She called it a tavern out of habit, because of it's appearance, but the Rose was about as modern a hotel as could be. The wild west saloon look was just for show, and thanks to her father's hard work the building still had running water and some rooms had electricity. Though sometimes, the water smelled like sulfur and tasted like hard minerals, and the electricity flickered more than it was constant.

Kismet signing off on the log, drew Cashmere's attention it. When the other woman finished, the bartender walked over and spun it around she could see who was working and who was available; gotta be aware of all the going-ons. She leaned against the bar, cheek resting against her palm as she flipped through pages like there was something interesting within them, until the door opened again and a man entered, followed by a dusting of rust-colored sand.

She straightened her posture, pulling the thin fabric of her tank top back down, as she held his gaze since he was apparently staring at her. Which was unusual, no one ever looked at her when they entered the bordello. With scantily clad men and voluptuous women scattered across the room, why bother wasting time looking at her?

When he spoke, she finally blinked and her eyes shifted over the interior briefly. "Depends on what you're looking for, I guess. I like to think we have a little bit of everything. Food and drink, women, and men," she waved a hand before crossing her arms. "Take your pick."

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - Kat - 11-13-2014

If Kirai intended to make Kismet blush, he would have to do better than flattery.

No one stood tall against fate. Even time inevitably looped and repeated, as destined. As fated by whatever gods one chose to believe in. The blonde certainly didn't seem interested in wasting any more of that preordained time they were booked for, but only hurried when it came to getting them out of the open. Kismet directed them towards the stairs, and as her caller followed, he would be presented with the rhythmic sway of hips, plump ass peaking playfully from beneath the hem of her dress. In a culture rampant with moral pollution, confusion, injustice, and a discriminating caste system, Kismet had carved herself a rather large slice of the pie. One could only imagine how good it tasted, seeing her confidence trail seductively with every click of her kitten heels on the polished cedar steps.

The pair entered with a lazy swing of a battered pine door, and the internal mechanism in the handle locked afterwards for privacy sake, though few dare interrupt Kismet with a customer. Seemingly harmless, the courtesan had been known to educate less informed employees on her policies with force, thus her reputation within the Desert Rose wasn't all sugar and lace. Bright orbs moved to digest all she could about Kirai, making a slow and detailed scan of his person while he moved to undress, which earned a surprised coo that rolled affectionately over her tongue in typical teasing fashion. "What else are you hiding?" Sashaying past her company to take a seat on the edge of her mattress, her attention seemed to linger on his display of cutlery, though she didn't reprimand the show of weapons.

No one came through this part of the desert without being prepared. Kirai seemed capable of taking care of himself in that regard. The question was whether he was capable of living up her expectations?

Returning her gaze to the male's face, as if seeking the answers to unasked questions, Kismet spread her thighs ever so slightly. Lavender lacy panties were just a sliver beneath the rising material of her strapless dress. "Are you shy?" It wasn't asked as an insult, but as a way to gauge just what he was expecting from his rented lover. Countless men of the debaucherous west had barreled through the bordello and had their way with Kismet, who was best when taken in the arms of someone far larger and more possessive than herself - yet she wasn't opposed to playing hard to get, and if it might earn pleading affections from her partner, she would gladly deny him to see how riled up he could get. Graceful digits danced along the neck of her dress, along the swell of her breasts, tempting him to move closer to see what he was paying for in full.

The bed was a simple canopy with four posters and a plum bedspread, but that didn't mean they couldn't find exciting things to do in their time within it. "It doesn't matter what I think. I want to know what you're thinking about... You're paying a hefty price for my company, after all."

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - thedarkwyrm - 11-13-2014

"I've been called many things in my time.  Shy was never one of them."  He unfastened the harness, as well as the shirt beneath it, and dropped them beside the foot of the bed, slowly approaching the woman who teased him so.  His bare, rather pale, torso was chiseled like a marble statue, albeit one covered in dozens of scars, from weapons of all types.  There were bullet wounds, blade wounds, burns from electricity and fire and acid.  Despite the apparent severity of them, his movement and physique seemed entirely unhindered. One by one, he pulled at the fingers of his gloves, then tugged them from his hands and dropped them beside his harness, reaching down to trail his fingertips along her thighs.  His eyes never left hers, deep and penetrating, as though he were a hunter and she were an elusive prey.  

"You want to know what I'm thinking?"  His tongue flicked out over his lips again as he leaned over her.  "Since I have you for the night, I'm thinking I want to make another deal.  A much more... intimate... deal."  He leaned in and slowly kissed her neck, right under the ear, then bit gently into the soft skin, leaving a small mark, a small sign of his possessiveness.  "I promise not to harm you, and you promise to trust me."  His breath was warm against her skin as his hands moved up to her wrists, gripping them gently, but firmly, suggesting why he might need to confirm her trust before he moved forward.  

With significantly more strength than his build would suggest, he pushed her down to her back on the soft bedspread, his body pressed against her soft curves, hard muscles contrasting against her sensual body.  His grip on her wrists tightened slightly as he gazed down into her eyes, grinning softly, a bit darkly.  "What do you think, Kismet?  Am I paying you enough for trust?"

---

The Desert Rose Bordello - Tindome - 11-13-2014

---