The hallway turned sharply and now they could make out a bright light at the end. A man stood there, resplendent in a three-piece suit, and he pointed the first girl to a door. Syria slowed down, as did Mia. The man watched them approach. He, too, was Asian, with thick black hair and sly eyes. He missed nothing, Syria could tell, appraising the women much as she might when considering an angle to photograph. She tightened the bag against her body. He turned to Mia. “You must be Madam’s new submissive.”
Mia nodded. The man pointed to another door in the corridor, but when Syria tried to follow, he caught her arm. “Submissives only. She will be prepped.”
Mia halted. “Oh no, she’s coming with me.”
“Madam will not be pleased.” The man’s brows furrowed together, his eyes dark.
“Madam can shove it up her back door.” Mia’s eyes flashed, her cheeks pink. She linked her arm through Syria’s. “We’re doing this as a favor.”
They pushed through the door and immediately stopped. The room didn’t match the rest of the warehouse at all, plush carpeting on the floor, a massage chair, gold fabric draped on the walls, a bright makeup table. And people. Several people.
A woman in a red kimono, hair piled high above a bright friendly face, reached for Mia’s hand. “You are just as the Madam described.” Her movements were fluid and graceful, leading Mia to the makeup table with gentle firmness even though she was petite.
Syria hung back at the door. Two women began removing Mia’s coat and brushing her hair. Red Kimono turned to her. “You must be Mia’s friend, the photographer.” She glanced down at the oversized bag, and Syria felt unmasked. “I am sure she is so glad you are here. The first time can be unnerving.”
She gestured to a chaise lounge. “Rest here. I am Kana, the Madam’s assistant. You may remain with us until the time of the exhibition.”
Syria sank into the plush chaise, carefully setting her bag beside her. The women were intricately braiding Mia’s long black hair. A third woman began powdering her face.
“Shall I take your coat?” Kana asked.
Syria’s face flushed, remembering the sheer halter. “No, no. I’m a bit chilled.” The room, actually, was quite warm, but she couldn’t bear to wear such a slinky outfit among their gorgeous Japanese formality. All the women were in ceremonial dress, glimmering kimonos with the funny socks that allowed their sandals to go between the toes. Syria tucked her knees tightly together, glad for sensible boots and not the tramp heels Mia wore.
But the women quickly removed the shoes, setting them carefully on a cart. Mia faced a mirror in her sweater and boy shorts. The makeup girl stepped back and with a nod, the other women pulled the sweater over Mia’s head. Her black bra stood out sharply in the soft room, like a blight. With a quick snap, it fell away.
Mia caught her eye in the mirror, and Syria attempted a smile. The women pulled Mia to standing and tugged down the shorts. Now she was naked, but only a moment before Kana covered her in a shimmery gold robe.
The makeup girl returned to her position and Mia was given an artful look, dark lashes and deep color on her lids. The lips were brushed plum and her cheekbones stood out. She looked beautiful, exactly right for her hair and skin, like a goddess with the braids.
A side door opened and a larger bustling woman in a plain white kimono entered with a tray of bottles. She waved the others aside and untied Mia’s robe, pressing her hands against her thighs and arms and waist. Mia caught Syria’s expression yet again, amused.
The women pulled Mia up and the robe came off and now the woman rubbed something along Mia’s rib cage, her upper arms, and then along her thighs and ankles.
Pressure points, Syria realized, and probably something to assist with the places the ropes might chafe her. She bumped her bag in just the right spot. She couldn’t hear the click but sensed the camera had taken the shot. She had no idea if she was getting anything, but the image was amazing, Mia, naked, surrounded by the women in their resplendent costume, anxious and bemused.
The woman stood, satisfied and the gold robe went back on.
Kana waved to Syria. “It is time. You will go with me to sit with the audience. Because you are a woman, you will have to sit in the back. I understand if this does not fit with your idea of how you would be treated, but this group, while not strictly Japanese, likes to abide by certain rules. We hope you will obey them so that you might come again.” She smiled, and Syria was reminded of a butterfly, her face was so open and kind, the color from her kimono reflecting on her face.
“Okay.” Syria didn’t know what else to say but picked up her bag and followed Kana out through the door. The other women led Mia another way. “See you soon!” she called out.