“We just replaced the rocks in the tubs. You don’t find it too hot?” Aryana asked.
I shook my head lazily with a slight smile. She reached over the tub and tested the water.
“It would be best to only sit in it for a few minutes then move to one of the cooler tubs. Too long in the heat could make you ill,” she cautioned.
“You have very pretty hair, Benella,” Ila whispered, reaching out to touch the wet strands hanging over the edge of the tub. “Would you mind if I oiled it and brushed it?”
Mind? I vaguely recalled my mother doing that when I was young; but after that, I’d struggled with my own hair, often tearing through tangles to braid it without combing it.
“I wouldn’t mind,” I assured her. She stood smoothly, left the room, and walked upstairs.
“Come.” Aryana stood. “Let’s move you to a cooler tub before she returns. You’re looking too red in the face.” She held out her hand, and I hesitated. “I promise you, I’ve seen all manner of parts on my sisters, and yours are no different.”
They might not be so different, but they were parts never seen before by anyone. She was right about the water, though. I could feel sweat beading my upper lip.
“Maybe another rinse bucket would be beneficial before going to another tub,” I suggested, accepting her hand.
I stood and avoided meeting her gaze or moving too quickly. Everything they did was slow and measured. I didn’t want to do anything they would consider aggressive or manly. I wondered what they would think if they knew I often wore trousers and a shirt. Inside, I laughed at the thought. They probably wouldn’t say anything. They wore nothing, after all.
As I stepped into the trough, Aryana spoke.
“You are very beautiful, Benella, and when you fully realize that, I pity the men in your path.”
The sincerity in her tone had me raising my eyes. She gave me a gentle smile then bent to pick up the rinse bucket.
“Ready?” she asked with the bucket poised over her head, her breasts lifted high, their rosy peaks taunting me with my own inadequacies.
I didn’t think of myself as unattractive, just unendowed. Everyone else sported nice round breasts while mine seemed a bit smallish.
“Ready,” I whispered.
The cool water rushed over my head, putting out a fire I hadn’t noticed. I sighed in relief, and she laughed.
“I thought you looked too warm. Come, you still have time to relax while we oil your hair.”
Nine
Long before the first client stepped through the door of the Whispering Sisters, I found myself walking toward the estate’s gate. After leaving the sisters, I’d known I couldn’t go home. My hair smelled too nice for Bryn not to notice and start asking questions that I didn’t want to answer. Father didn’t like me knowing where he worked; I could only imagine how he would feel if two of his daughters knew.
If not for my growling stomach and the lack of food and coin at home, I wouldn’t have come. The beast hadn’t expected me today, and I wasn’t sure of my unplanned welcome.
Standing inside the gate, waiting for the gathering mist that heralded the beast, I reflected on the new friends I had made. They’d taught me so much in a short period of time. When I’d left, they’d invited me to return any day before ten for another visit. I knew I would return. Their veils begged to be questioned.
“You have returned,” he said.
I smiled slightly at his puzzled tone.
“I hope you don’t mind. Do you have work for me? I’m really hungry.”
The barest scrape of his foot on the ground behind me warned me where he stood. I’d grown so used to his cloaked presence that I felt no fear, just uncertainty. Perhaps the relaxing morning had something to do with my mood as well.
His hand touched my hair, and I heard him inhale deeply.
“No cleaning the kitchen today.” His voice clicked with agitation. “Do you read?”
The question surprised me.
“Yes.”
“The pages often tear when I try to turn them. Today, you will read for me. Come.”
He led the way to the estate, his outline always just on the edge of my vision. We entered through the kitchen door. The mist swallowed all of the light indoors.
“I cannot see,” I said. Hearing my own whispering voice, I wondered if I should try speaking softly to the beast. Perhaps he might growl less.
“Take my tail,” he said with an agitated growl.
Something thick and heavy whacked against my side. I reached out and curled a hand around his thick, furry tail. He waited a moment before moving, walking slowly so I could keep pace without tugging on his appendage. While we walked, I couldn’t help but bring my other hand to his tail to touch the coarse fur. When he’d carried me, I’d been too hurt to notice his fur, and I couldn’t recall much detail from when I’d slept on it.