Virgin Heart Ch.1-Pt.3

            The tall man's eyes bore down on the master of the Teahouse, but Atros seemed completely unfazed. The two men stood unmoving for a moment, their gazes equally matched. Rory was comforted that this man wasn't wholly unchallenged. Atros would be able to stand up to him if he did anything . . . Rory looked down at his shoes. Don't think about that, just don't think about that . . .

             "I think I have another room that will be more to your liking." He heard Atros say with his usual calm. The man didn't make a sound in response; he simply stood to his straightest and crossed his arms again. You had better, Rory could imagine him saying. The master of the Teahouse stepped aside to allow the guest precedence over the door, but the man didn't stir. After a long and uncomfortable pause, Atros arched his brow and went ahead. Only then did the stranger progress out of the unadorned bedroom. Rory glanced back over his shoulder as he walked to the door. He had a number of mixed feelings about leaving his room. There was some sense of relief that at least this last sanctuary wouldn't be tainted by the memories of this night, but mostly the fear of being dragged even further from his comfort zone. He had no choice but to follow as a boy behind two equally daunting men.

            Atros lead them to a room on the opposite side of the hall. He gestured to a pair of servants walking past with folded laundry in their hands. The two women glanced at each other and then noticed Rory. Their eyes widened. Rory winced, and quickly looked away. The young prostitute felt his face grow even redder from this new shame and looked down at the floor to save himself seeing the two servant's expressions change from that first look of recognition. He heard Atros exchange a few words with them before unlocking the door. Then he collided with the man's back.

            He was quick to clamp his hands over his mouth to hide his gasp of alarm, but there was no way to hide the mistake he had made. His eyes rose up to see what this man would think of him then. The figure turned his head and his eyes traveled slowly down his nose to rest on Rory. The boy quivered, fully expecting some sneer or a scowl, some belittling indication. Instead, the stranger raised an eyebrow. Not even a look of surprise, it was almost as though he was laughing behind his static façade. Rory blinked as the man turned away. He hadn't imagined that sort of impression could come from this sort of person. The boy straitened and smoothed the creases from his jacket.

The two stood side by side, the man with his hands folded at the small of his back and Rory with his hands folded meekly in front. Atros was overseeing the preparations done to the room as one maid put sheets on the bed and the other wiped down every smooth surface with a rag. After they had both finished it was the master of the Teahouse who made the point of adding the final touch by turning on the lamp next to the bed. Atros held out his arm, inviting the guest and his purchase into the room. It was a surprisingly welcoming gesture considering his own invariable strictness.

            Rory peered in around the stranger's arm and was suddenly intrigued by the beautiful bedchamber. Compared to his own humble sleeping accommodations, this room was a palace within itself. It naturally had the tall, vaulted ceilings kindred of the Teahouse, but it still wore its own unique aura that Rory couldn't place. A historian might complement the almost Greco-Roman carvings in the headboard and table legs, the dark cherry shaped to the leaves akin to a Corinthian column. An artist would look upon the long parallel lines formed by tall, velvet curtains and the posters of the bed with an affirming nod while politely commenting on the warm color-scheme of rich crimson and gold. Rory could only stare in awe, but to suddenly think that he would be spending the night in this room made him even more shy and nervous. Perhaps the way it struck him had something to do with its daunting grace. As the mysterious man stepped into the room Rory realized why it frightened him so, it was very befitting to this man.

            The patron took in the room with a slow turn of his head before running his finger over the table surface. He rubbed his finger and thumb together looking critically at his dark gloves. He seemed satisfied, but it was nevertheless hard to tell.

             "It will do," was all he said.