Page 14 of Rescued

But all he could do was wait as the clerk filled out the form…

TWELVE

SONYA

The three headed Trollox in the corner of the lounge was staring at her with all seven of his yellow eyes—the middle head had three eyes instead of just two—and it was throwing Sonya off.

“Love has no pride, when I call out your name…

Love has no pride, when there’s no one but myself to blame,” she sang, trying to ignore the greedy, lustful look on all three of the monster’s faces.

Luckily, she knew the old torch song cold. Back on Earth, before the Scourge had come and taken over, she’d sung at an old-fashioned lounge called The Speak Easy in Ybor City, the historic district of Tampa, every weekend. The gig had gotten her through grad school and Sonya had enjoyed it—she loved music. It was her joy and her relaxation…but she’d never thought it might also be her salvation.

Music—and her voice—had saved her when the Scourge had finally caught her.

After years of running and hiding, living off scraps and crouching in abandoned buildings, her luck had finally run out. The huge, soulless monstrosities the Scourge called soldiers had cornered her along with a group of other squatters who had been hiding in an abandoned warehouse. They had herded the lot of them into a ship owned by a Saurian slaver—a being who looked like a walking, talking gator, to Sonya’s Florida girl eyes—and she had ended up at the Flesh Bazaar.

“If you have any ssspecial talentsss, now isss the time to come forward,” the gator-looking slaver had hissed. “I can sssell you for more, but you may benefit as well. It isss better to be sssold as a skilled slave than a common laborer or whore.”

His words had galvanized Sonya into action.

“I can sing,” she’d said, stepping forward at once. “I mean, I can really sing—not just karaoke or singing in the shower. I used to perform professionally.”

“Give me a demonstration,” the slaver had commanded.

Heart in her throat, Sonya opened her mouth and belted out Cry Me a River from start to finish. It was one of the songs she’d been required to sing at the Speak Easy and she gave it everything she had.

When she finished, the Saurian slaver had nodded his long, scaly snout thoughtfully.

“I sssee. It is not the kind of sssinging that my people enjoy, but I believe humanoids and other bipeds may like it. I will make note of your talent and sssell you accordingly.”

And that was how Sonya had come to be one of the many “flowers” in The House of a Thousand Flowers on Yonnie Six. The slaver had her sing for the owner—a disgusting looking creature named “Oozle” who looked like a slug if it was six feet tall and standing on its hind legs. (Did slugs have legs? Sonya didn’t know, but that was what Oozle looked like.)

His long, blobby antennae had pulsed in time with her singing and he had declared—in a burbling, underwater voice—that she would be the “brightest bloom in the bouquet” and the headliner act at the Flower Lounge.

Of course, just because she had a special status, didn’t mean that Sonya didn’t have to “entertain clients”—which was what they called sex work here at The House of a Thousand Flowers. On the contrary, she was a “top-tier flower” which meant that she earned more for the establishment than ninety-nine percent of the rest of the girls put together. Luckily, so far she’d mostly attracted males who were interested only in her vocal abilities.

She’d spent time with an Urfull—a tall, thin creature with ears all over his chest and abdomen. He had only wanted her to hum softly to him—after he had removed all of the wax earplugs he was wearing first, of course. Loud noises were painful to him, he explained, but soft, tuneful humming was considered extremely erotic. While Sonya hummed, he rubbed his various ears until he seemed to achieve an orgasm—or maybe in this case it was an eargasm? At any rate, he loved her humming and had visited her several times.

She had other “clients” too. There was a Bosporous—a male with green skin and a nose like an elephant’s trunk—that wanted her to sing three pitches loudly over and over as he trumpeted along with her on his oversized nose. Sonya had complied. What else could she do? It certainly wasn’t the most unpleasant thing she’d been asked to do to entertain a client since she’d come to The House of a Thousand Flowers.

Speaking of unpleasant, she hoped she didn’t have to entertain any more Zoporans. The one Zoporan client she’d entertained had insisted on sucking her toes into his gummy, toothless mouth while she sang any song she wanted to him. Sonya appreciated the artistic freedom, but not the horrible feeling of getting her toes sucked and coated in slime. She’d taken a long, long bath after that particular “session.”

And yet, that still wasn’t the most uncomfortable time she’d had. That award went to the three headed Trollox who was currently watching her with all seven of his greedy little yellow eyes, Sonya thought. Sir Grox, as she had been instructed to call him—(though each individual head had names she couldn’t pronounce)—had first visited her the night before.

But first, Master Oozle had come into her room with no warning as usual. Sonya couldn’t even hear his footsteps in the hall outside, since he oozed everywhere, leaving a trail of slime behind him. For this reason, he was constantly followed by a little robot vacuum, not unlike a Roomba, which cleaned up after him. But even the robot was silent, so she never knew when her new owner, who was also the manager of the club, would come bursting in on her.

“You’re about to have a very special and important client,” he told her in his burbling voice with no preamble. “You must treat him extremely well and give him anything he wants.”

“What choice do I have?” Sonya demanded. She tried not to let bitterness rule her life, but she didn’t like being “owned.” Or being forced to sing on command and let strange alien males suck her toes or whatever it was they wanted to do to her!

Oozle had waved his antennae at her warningly.

“Be careful how you speak to me, girl! You may be a top-tier flower now, but I can cast you down to the bottom tier any time I wish if you displease me. Would you rather spend your days on your back entertaining client after client in the basement? Or do you want to keep your lovely penthouse view and sing more than you fuck?”

He gestured with one slimy hand—which was more like a tentacle—to the view of Downtown Opulex with its high, shiny spires and gleaming glass buildings visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows that walled the corner apartment on two sides.

“I’ll keep the view,” Sonya said shortly.

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