Clash of Tides (A merman story)

AS I CONTINUE TO undress down to my undergarments, Mother picks up the shift and stay from the bed in front of me.

Once I’m done, she hands me the shift, and I put it on, placing it above my head first and pulling it down. Next, I slip my hands through the corset, and my mother ties the back, making sure it’s tight. Posture is important. We may not be noblewomen, but we need to behave like them to get the most money. That is another rule my mother taught me.

“You will look lovely tonight,” she says, ruffling the dress and placing it over my head. Without saying anything, I pull the dress over my body and then flare it out. Once it’s on, I walk over to my mother’s mirror and stare at my reflection.

The dress is beautiful; it’s one of her gowns from when we had money when my father was still with us. I almost feel like a noblewoman, dignified, and not poor, dark, or worthless. On the dress, a pattern of roses trials from the narrow neckline down to the hem. Gold trim lines the edges, and there are ruffles on the sleeves by my hands. Maybe in another life, if my father had stayed with us, I would be a noble rather than a whore.

I sigh as I stare at my amber eyes and black tresses looking back at me. My mother walks behind me and picks up the hairbrush from her vanity.

“Sit down, Elena,” she says, giving me a sweet smile. I do as she orders, lowering my body to the cushioned stool.

Soon I’ll be at the brothels...maybe it will be quick and painless.

I clench my hands into fists, preparing myself. A man will soon climb on top of me, caress me, and take my body for his pleasure. As haunting images creep inside me, I fight back the tears wanting to flow from my eyes.

My mother starts to brush my hair, getting the tangles out and smoothing it down my back.

“Do as we practiced, and you will be the belle of the house! Remember, for tonight, your body belongs to your buyer. Give him want he desires, and he will return for more. The happier you make him, the more money you will receive. One may even take you as a mistress,” she beams, smiling down at me.

I avoid her gaze and say, “Yes, mother, I remember. Stay quiet unless they want to hear me. And even then, I must make the noises they want to hear.”

She nods her head in acknowledgment and grins at me.

She continues to brush my hair and says, “I do not want you to have the life I had, Elena. I want better for you.” She starts to hum as she primps my hair. “Your grandmother never cared about me.” For a moment, there is sadness in her eyes, and I stare at her, curiously. My mother rarely mentions my grandmother. When she does, I always wonder about her and how she treated my mother as a child.

“What was she like?” I ask as I watch my mother put down the brush and pick up some cosmetics.

She snarls at me. “It is nothing,” she waves her hand, dismissing my question, “after I met your father, Sarah Ann supported me.”

Sarah Ann...I know I have heard that name before, but where?

“Enough talk, Elena, the carriage will be here for you soon,” she says as she powders my face, blushes my cheeks, and puts a red tint on my lips. Once she finishes, I look at myself in the mirror again. Before me is a girl I don’t recognize; a girl pretending to be something she’s not, all for money and wealth. However, if it can save my little brother, then my sacrifice is worth it.

Suddenly, I hear a loud banging at the door and get up.

“The carriage is here, hurry!” My mother ushers me out of the room, and we walk downstairs, stopping in the kitchen.

Quickly she fixes the loose strands of my hair. Standing here makes me think of Seidon and Assan. Images of the dress Assan gave me come to mind, and the way he looked at me. I wonder what he would say now, looking at me dressed as a noblewoman. I think of Seidon and the words he said to me. I don’t want to be with Edith. He said, but compared to Edith, I’m nothing.

“There, you are ready,” my mother says, snapping me from my thoughts. A banging noise rumbles from the door again, and in haste, my mother runs and opens it.

“She’s coming now.”

Standing in the doorway was an older man, white. He had a black square hat on, along with a black coat. “Tell her to hurry, Mag does not like clients to be waitin’,” he says, looking past my mother to me.

“Yes, of course.” My mother gestures me forward with her hand. I swallow the lump in my throat, realizing this is it. I am like a tiny kitten that becomes a cat.

As I exhale a deep breath, I walk to the doorway, ready to play the part I trained for. Outside, I see a small carriage in front of my house, just big enough for one person. This must be how they pick the women up for the night. My mother used to tell me a pretty lady walking through the streets in the darkness is risky, as other prey could get the spoils before the nobles who paid for it.

I lift the sides of my dress, ready to walk outside until I ask, “Where is Joe?” I am and always was going to do this for Joe. I want to know he is safe and not being used for my mother’s whims. I still have to be the mother bear, protecting my cub even if I die.

My mother studies my face as if trying to read my thoughts. “Joe is safe; he is with a friend. I would think now he’s in bed, tucked away,” she pauses and shakes her head, “do not worry. You have returned now, Elena, no harm will happen to Joseph. Once you have secured a position as a mistress and gained money from tonight, all will be well.” Her lips tug into a smile, and as before, she tells me I am the hope.

I do not say anything. Instead, I lower my head and curtsey as she taught me. Sai, are you truly getting married in two weeks? Why didn’t you tell me?

My chest aches. I want to cry, to run away and die alone, but I can’t. Joe needs me; my family needs me. Sai has a secure future. He told me he doesn’t want to be with Edith, so who does his heart long for?

I walk to the carriage. The door is already open, and I step in, settling myself in the seat and then shut the door.

“I will join you later in the evening,” my mother calls out, before closing the house door.

Now, I am finally alone, riding to the brothels dressed like a beauty who is really a whore.

I hear the reins snap. We start to move, picking up speed. Before, I was determined to run away, but now I will give my body away, how ironic. When I was with the mermen, Dylan tried to take me, but Assan stopped him, claiming dominance. I wonder, if Assan was here, would he claim me even now.

The carriage goes faster, whipping around curves and increasing its pace. There are no windows, so I cannot lookout. The only thing around me is darkness, with a blank wall before me. If I can’t see where I am going, I have no way of getting back home; maybe that’s the point of getting picked up.

“Hold!” The driver says as we slowly stop. Soon, the carriage door opens. My eyes adjust to the light coming from the outside, seeping into the carriage.

“This must be the new girl, come on then!” An older woman with wrinkles surrounding her face says. She ushers me out of the carriage, but I do not want to go. I am scared, frightened of what will happen tonight.

“Out with you, the clients are waitin!” She bellows, reaching for my arm.

“I’m coming,” I whisper. I slowly exit the carriage, making sure not to ruin the dress. Once I am bathed in light, I see everything clearly.

Before us is a wooden building, tucked away in an alleyway. From the outside, I can see many rooms and people. Around the building, white men loiter, each one with a woman at their side. Some of the men look dirty, like sailors from boats. Others are more dignified, dressed in fine jackets and nice slacks with no holes or smudges on their faces.

The women cling to the men, whispering words in their ears and caressing their skin. The men are smiling, holding the women tight like they have won a prize.

“Mag is waitin’. We’ve needed another one like you, a mixed breed,” the old woman says as she leads me into the building. I follow behind her and flick my eyes around. Some of the men stare at me, licking their lips in lust. The women glare, eyeing me suspiciously.

Quickly I lower my gaze, staring down at the cobblestone street. As we walk inside, it’s more crowded than I thought. Women align the back wall as men take their pick. The women, and a few young girls, are wearing pretty dresses. Their faces are painted, bringing out their features. In the open area, there are wooden tables and women serving drinks. The servers are older—older than my mother—well past their prime. The young women service the men, and the older women get them liquored up with drinks.

For the noblemen, this must be a paradise. Here, they can act out their desires and buy the women they want.

I stay, standing in the lobby until an old woman with a humpback walks up to me. She drinks in my form as she circles my body. She nods her head, mumbling to herself. The contours of her face have wrinkles, and her brown eyes stay on me. The hair on her head is white like snow, thin, but she isn’t bald.

“You must be Leona’s daughter. Very nice indeed, the men will like you. I will make this quick, girl. My name is Mags, and I run this brothel. When you get a buyer, you do as he says, you understand?”

I fight the urge to shake in fear and say, “I understand.” My voice is barely audibly.

“Good, we all have our limits, though, and if you do not like to be touched around the back hole, you best steer him to the front one,” she says, in an old raspy voice.

For a moment, I stare at her, confused, wondering what she is referring to.

She then huffs at me and shakes her head. “Virgins,” she sighs, “you’ll learn, girl, let’s hope not tonight. Go to the back wall.” She points a slim finger to the distance, where the other girls are standing in line. I don’t fight or resist since I know there is no point. Seidon will leave me, Mika has secrets, and I don’t even know if Assan thinks of me.

Slowly I walk to the back wall, passing the men sitting at the tables, drinking. Each table has candles that help illuminate the room, lighting my path. Before I step to the wall, the other girls stare at me, with sadness lingering in their eyes. Maybe it’s the first time for all of us.

I exhale, placing my back to the wall. In front of me are the wooden tables, men, and candles. The older women wearing simple dresses serve the drinks, and from the corner of my eyes, I see stairs. Men and women walk up and down. Some I can tell just got serviced or are about to be serviced.

A younger, more experienced looking woman walks in front of us. Her hair is brown, pulled back into a bun. She is wearing a gold dress, highlighting her brunette hair and pale skin. Like the others, her face is painted and beautiful.

“Gentlemen, these are our newest additions, unspoiled, untouched young women. Come, take your pick, but only the best price will win,” her voice is smooth, capturing the crowd. The men cheer, raising their mugs to the air.

After they take a drink, some of them walk up to us, taking in our forms. I avoid their gazes, staring down at the floor instead.

“I was told you know how to pleasure a woman, is that true?” I hear a female voice in the distance, giggling.

I look up and see a man and woman walking together, talking. Both of their backs are facing me; however, the man has raven locks, stopping a bit past his shoulders. For a second, he gives me a sideways glance, and I am stunned. The eye was green, or maybe. I shake my head, questioning myself.

Assan isn’t here, don’t be a fool.

Unable to resist, I shift my gaze back to the two of them. The man is dressed in a dark blue jacket with matching slacks. His black hair is combed, every strand in place. However, I can’t see his front. The woman takes his hand, entwining their fingers together.

Images of Assan enter my mind: his raven hair, sadistic grin, and multiple color eyes. I take a step forward, but I don’t know why. Assan isn’t here; he is a merman, not human.

I maneuver back to my spot on the wall, still thinking of Assan. It’s strange, why am still thinking of him? He’s gone. I left the undersea world behind.

Still, as I watch them walk hand-in-hand, something within stirs.

“Look straightforward, girl,” I hear an old, male voice say.

Fixing my composure and regaining my senses, I look in front of me. Standing before me is a man, old, with a powdered white wig on. Like the older women, wrinkles line his face. His eyes are grey, serious. A frown is etched on his lips, and his aura is cold, stoic.

I stare at him, and fear fills my body as it’s clear what he wants.

The brunette woman walks up to him, with a wide smile tugging at her lips.

“I’ll take this one,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me into his embrace.

“A fine choice, my good, Sir, right this way.” She gestures to the stairs with her hand and starts walking.

The man keeps me next to him, holding me tight. I feel like a slave being sold and bought. As we start walking, two men follow behind us, both muscular and quiet.

The brunette woman stops and spins to face the powdered-wig man. “Will they be joining you?” She asks, nonchalantly. I guess what my mother said is true; some men do like to watch. I shudder.

“No,” the man answers, his tone blunt. He glances at the men, and they nod in acknowledgment before walking off.

Who are they?

The woman then smiles and flicks her gaze to me before continuing her stroll up the stairs. We keep following her, ascending the wooden staircase. Along the hallway, walls are pictures of naked women and candles to illuminate the path. Once we get to the end of the hall, we stop, and all turn towards the door.

“Our best room for one of our best customers, Magistrate.” She bows, flashing teeth and a sweet grin.

The man tips in his head in acknowledgment and then flicks his gaze to me.

“Come, girl, and don’t disappoint me. I paid good money for you.” I can hear the coldness in his voice, the tone of superiority.

The man opens the door, leading me in. The brown-haired woman walks away, leaving us alone. A Magistrate is a high nobleman. He influences the courts, and yet he likes prostitutes.

I want to snarl, to show disgust, but you must show your buyer affection.

He releases his grip from me and walks over to the bed. As I rank my eyes around the room, I am rendered speechless. The room is grand, bathed in wealth, and luxuries. A candlelit chandelier hangs from the ceiling, dripping with crystals. Across the floor is a red and gold carpet, similar to my dress. There is red wine, glasses, and fresh fruit sitting on a table beside the bed. I want to eat, but I dare not to. Also, a scent of lavender lingers in the air, hitting my nostrils.

I shift my gaze to the man; his face is still stoic, containing no emotion. For him, this is just relations, nothing more. For me, this is for Joe—my only true family. I will not be my father.

I swallow the gulp in my throat and say, “How can I serve you?” I bow my head, acting as if I am noble, a woman of class.

“Get on the bed,” he says, or more like orders. Tension spreads through me, and fear overtakes my form. I tremble but comply with his request. Slowly I walk over to the bed. If Seidon knew, no, Seidon has Edith now; soon, I will be nothing to him. And yet, I want to run to the door, out of this place and back to him. To be free, to run away.

Freedom is not for one like me.

“Go on,” he says; his voice is louder than before. He places a hand on his head, removes his wig, and then throws it on an empty chair. The true top of his head is empty, bald, but for flesh. Without the wig, I can see the truth of his age. Wrinkles line his face; his eyes are droopy, and his age’s fragility shows when he moves. When I get a closer look, I can tell he is old, older than my mother.

Despite my inner feelings, I place my bottom on the bed in a sitting position and wait for his next request. Instead of speaking, he walks up to me as he unbuttons his jacket and then undoes his belt.

Upon closer inspection, I can see his wrinkled, dry white skin, and silver chest hair. My first time could have been with Assan, but instead, this old man will take me, enjoying my youthful body.

Once he undresses down to his undergarments, he gets on the bed and caresses my cheek. He runs his thumb across my lips, and I flinch. I was trained for this, to be his everything for his payment. As he touches me, I think of Seidon and Assan—both of them. My heart aches, but why? Why even now do I think of them and long for their touch?

“I like your kind. I’ve done many such as you, but I have never been blessed with a virgin.” A lustful smile spreads across his face, and he pushes me down on the bed. I yelp, trying to move, but he kisses me on the neck. A cold chill runs down my spine, and I force myself to stay quiet.

I tighten my legs by closing them, but his hand demands entrance.

“Tell me that you want me. That you enjoy being mine,” he murmurs against my flesh. I avert my eyes away from his hairless head, trying to fight back my tears.

“Well,” he growls out, his voice loud with anger. His digits slide up my leg, easing their way to my core. He forces his fingers near my warmth with a quick thrust, fighting his way to find an entrance.

Instead of whimpers and tears, I say, “I want you…” The words cause bile to rise in my throat, but this is what I trained for.

“That a girl. Show me you want me,” he says in a husky voice that makes my skin crawl. To his words, I raise my arms and embrace him, hating every part of myself.

“That’s right; give yourself to me,” he mummers against the flesh around my ear.

As he continues to glide his callus hand on my thigh, all I can think is: This is my best chance, our better way of survival…

He lifts, settling himself on top of me. On each side of my waist is one of his legs, holding me in place. His eyes flash with lust, and the flesh between his legs pokes under his undergarments; he’s getting ready. I shudder, knowing what comes next. This is my best chance, I repeat the words over and over inside my mind, hoping it will ease the pain from the man who will soon enter me. This is my best chance, my only way of survival, I repeat the words again as a prayer, preparing myself for his manhood to claim my body.