Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty-Six. Unpleasant Recollections.

Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty-Six. Unpleasant Recollections.

Bob had grown up in what could be, generously, termed an economically disadvantaged area. He'd had to skirt around junkies as a kid, and had been indirectly exposed to drug addicts who had reached rock bottom.

The drug den he was walking through carried notes of that same sickly sweet song of despair, but it didn't carry the same rancid, unwashed desperation. The people partaking of the various perception-altering substances, or spells, were clean, and well kept.

"This is where people come to get fucked up," Yorrick said, gesturing broadly across the building. The drug den was setup in a multistory warehouse, and the interior had different areas separated by curtains, although Bob could clearly see someone throwing themselves around inside of the areas and bouncing off the curtains, which raised a suspicion that there was some magic involved.

"Good afternoon," a voice said quietly from behind them. Bob turned and found himself looking up at a tall, slender figure. He was guessing some sort of reptilian species, but it wasn't one he'd seen before.

"Gharn," Yorrick turned and smiled, "This is Robert Whitman, who has recently joined the Empire as a citizen. I'm showing him the dark underbelly of our society, and the men and women behind us are recording it, so that a full and truthful account of the Empire can be shown to the people of Earth."

"Welcome to the Parlor of Perceptions," Gharn gestured broadly across the warehouse. "Here you can find nearly any perceptual alteration you'd like. I'm afraid I can't offer you a tour, as our rules prevent inspection or interaction with any of our clients by anyone who isn't employed to see to their needs."

Bob steeled himself. "What kind of drugs do you sell here?" He asked.

Gharn huffed. "Clearly nothing you'd partake in," he sighed, "but we have substances or spells that can elevate or depress your mood, accelerate or decelerate your heart rate or metabolic functions. We also have hallucinogens that range from adding afterimages, or heightening the sense of touch, to complete replacement of all five senses."

"How addictive are they?" Bob asked. He'd heard that all it took was one dose of heroin to become addicted.

"Physically, they aren't," Gharn replied. "We've worked very hard to ensure that even those substances which would normally be addictive, are not. Of course, from a mental standpoint, they are as addictive as the user allows them to be."

"Awesome," Bob muttered.

"We've only had a few people from your world visit us, but they've enjoyed themselves, I can assure you," Gharn said.

"Nothing personal, I just grew up in a place where drug addiction destroyed a lot of lives, a place where those same drugs often offered the only escape people could find, so I'm predisposed to dislike them," Bob tried to smile. "I understand that things are different here, but it's not something I think I'll ever be comfortable with."nove(l)bi(n.)com

"Of course," Gharn nodded, "I could smell your unease and discomfort. I wish the best on your exploration."

Bob nodded in turn, and made a beeline for the door.

Stepping into the street, he shook himself.

"Sorry," Yorrick said quietly. "I hadn't realized this would bring up any bad memories, although I should have read between the lines."

"Yeah, that place is..." Bob shook his head. "Not good."

"I prefer The Buffet myself," Yorrick admitted, "but The Parlor answers a need."

"How many indentures can you tie to it?" Bob asked. "Because even if you remove the physical addiction, the psychological addiction is still there."

"No more than any other vice," Yorrick replied with a shrug.

"Excuse me," one of the camerawomen, Ellen, interrupted, "one of the things we should probably include is the cost of going to that place, in terms of crystals."

"Something mild, like your marijuana, would be a single crystal an hour," Yorrick explained. "While a full sensory substance would be more along the lines of twenty."

"Thank you," Ellen replied, stepping back.

"What's next?" Bob asked.

"The Pleasure Palace," Yorrick sighed. "This one is probably going to bother you," he paused, "I know some of the activities there bother me."

"Trauma survivor," Sierra appeared to roll the phrase around in her mouth, somehow managing to make the term sound sensual. "Yes, it does more aptly describe his condition." She shook her head. "No matter, we cater to all of our client's needs." She smiled gently, "You should come back to us when you have more time," her eyes flickered to the camera crew, "and more privacy. We can help you work through your troubles."

Bob clenched his jaw for a moment, biting back a retort. He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and tapped a text message, then offered the phone to her at arm's length, the message unsent on the screen.

'Please bathe, or have someone who has just done so provide the tour. The smell brings back bad memories.'

Her eyes widened for a moment, and she passed the phone back. "I'll have to ask your forbearance for a short while," she said with a smile, and then languidly turned and glided through the door at the rear of the lobby.

"Sorry about that," Yorrick whispered to him, "I didn't realize the degree to which this place might impact you."

Bob nodded stiffly.

Sierra returned several minutes later, now wearing a dark purple dress in the same style.

"Please, join me," she murmured, gesturing for them to follow her out of the lobby through a door to the left.

They entered a long, broad hallway. There were comfortable chairs next to each doorway, although all were unoccupied.

"We've cleared the hallways of waiting patrons," Sierra explained as they approached the first door, where she knocked twice.

A young woman emerged, smiling brightly. She was tall and voluptuous, with long black hair and bright blue eyes. She was also completely nude.

"Mistress Sierra," she said happily, "these must be my future clients."

"Leah, for the moment, they're merely interested observers," Sierra replied. "Please explain your specialty."

"Well, I for one don't mind voyeurs," Leah's smile turned wicked, "although it seems a shame that there's nothing for them to watch." She shook her head and sighed theatrically. "Such is life. My specialty is pleasure," she drew out the word. "Even the most demanding client will find release in me. Well," she amended, "within this vessel. Most of us don't offer our actual bodies here, although when you're summoning a perfect copy of your body, and directing it with your will, experiencing what it experiences," she licked her lips and her eyelids fluttered, "is there really a difference?"

"So you summon a copy of yourself?" Bob asked curiously.

"Sometimes more than one," Leah winked at him. "I invite you to imagine what you could experience with three of me." She pirouetted slowly.

Bob frowned. "How many copies can you summon? I've found that once you surpass your tier, even a heavy investment in intelligence and wisdom isn't enough to handle the stress of the mental links, although barrage obviously extends that to a considerable degree, with the caveat that the control and feedback becomes more akin to delegating instructions to a group, and again the intelligence and wisdom of the group, as well as that of the caster, has a significant impact on the manner in which the group interprets the instructions."

Leah blinked, and Yorrick hid a chuckle with a cough. She cupped her breasts in her hands and inspected them for a moment, then looked up at Bob and sighed. She then glanced at Sierra. "He's no fun," she complained.

"He's not here for fun," Yorrick said smoothly, "although keeping in mind this is going to be seen by billions of people, I can assure you that the business will come."

"Those are my assurances," Leah winked at Yorrick, "and thank you for that setup. To answer your question, I'm limited to seven, which is my tier."

"You aren't under any sort of coercion to be here?" Bob asked.

"Oh, darling no," Leah shook her head. "From the direction of your questions, I gather you're a summoner as well, so let me assure you, I'm here because I love this." She shivered, closing her eyes, goosebumps covering her skin. "The feeling of power as men give themselves to me, offering me their everything is intoxicating. As a priestess of Vorax, their offerings go directly to my Goddess." She shook her head. "I donate all of the crystals I earn here to the Church, as I easily meet my needs by delving one day each week." She opened her eyes and ran her hands over her breasts, tweaking her now stiffened nipples. "You should come delve with me, I might have a few tricks to show you," she licked her lips.

"You do wear armor, right?" Bob asked with a frown.

"Hedon preserve me," Leah muttered and slouched, crossing her arms under her breasts. She glared at Bob, then at Sierra from underneath her eyelashes. "Yes," she pouted, "I wear armor, I'm not an idiot."

Sierra coughed.

"Sometimes, I wear armor," Leah amended.