A Most Charming Prince

Five: A House of Ill Repute

Maggie and Nina were on look-out duty in the second floor balcony that afternoon. A hot, boring job if there ever was one, but attracting the customers was better than actually entertaining them.

As the young ladies brooded and sulked, lounging about under sun umbrellas, sipping ice-tea in their lacy underthings, a figure appeared, cresting the nearby hill. Between the trees and in a pool of dazzling light, the rider came.

Maggie swallowed her tea sideways and started choking. Nina's straw stuck to her lower lip as she lifted her head to stare. The clip-clop of the burnished war-horse's hooves made sweet music on the road and the dust being kicked up refused to sully either horse or rider, rather it coated the bent, huffing ruffian following closely behind.

The knight's black hair gleamed in Pantene perfection, he sat straight and proud in the shining saddle, his shoulders spanned the road, his brow glowing bright as the sun itself. His square jaw and bow-shaped lips like a king sized-bed with two fluffy pillows.

He was approaching the edge of the brothel's property. The ladies jumped into action. They waved and pouted, leaned over the rail to expose their marketable goods.

The rider slowed...and smiled.

In a sudden flash of heat between her legs, Maggie's underpants burst into flames. At the same time, Nina squealed in surprise when her own panties tore themselves from her hips and flew away—quite like a bird flapping its wings. Maggie tossed the carafe of ice-tea on her chest, in case her corset got any ideas.

"Excuse me, my fair ladies," the rider called, "But would this be the House of Il Répoute?"

They stared at his face which was obviously chiseled by angels. They blinked.

"Yes, yes, your lordship," said the wheezing servant, catching up with the rider before he doubled over to catch his breath. "This is the place. All you can eat buffet and everything, if you know what I mean."

Nina wilted in a dead faint. Her prone body tumbled in slow motion over the balcony rail. The horse and rider knew what to do, though. No emergency was too much to handle for our impeccably coiffed pair. As the horse lunged forward, the prince reached up and caught her falling body with the ease of a Mardi Gras reveler earning her beads. Then, with the unconscious Nina hanging in his arms, he dismounted and strode boldly up the wooden steps to the front door.

***

Rebec stooped to collect the freshly washed sheet, wooden pins sticking from her mouth. As she flung the sheet on the line, a strange polka-dotted pink bird flopped weakly to the ground at her feet.

Except it wasn't a bird.

She glanced around. Someone must have tossed their panties in a fit of passion, but there weren't any bushes nearby to hide behind for such snickerdoodling tom-foolery. Rebec picked them up. Having just done an hour's of washing, she was sure she hadn't washed these, which meant they weren't fresh.

Ewww.

Follow a line of dirty linens...

For a moment, they came back to life and struggled briefly (forgive the pun) as if trying to fly off again. She pocketed them, scoffing. Nonsense. The only thing she would follow was a one way-ticket out of this joint.