You're so fun, but I've got bills to pay
I don't love any of these men
Just want to feel the most I can
Night, 4th January, 1895 — The Painted Lady (brothel side), Hogsmeade

Ester had never worked at The Painted Lady herself, but she was familiar with most of the girls there – they had crossed paths at one degenerate party or another. She had come here to work today: not like the girls, but as a model. Her photographer friend was scouting other bodies, so it had been a convenient location for the shoot as anywhere.

He was in with one of the other ladies now, posing her for a while. Ester was always a little miffed when she was hired and then hardly used – was this intended to be some sly reminder of her aging grace? – but she was trying not to let it get to her, and entertaining herself in one of the plush entertaining rooms of the place, drinking wine and catching up with friends.

“Now, I don’t believe I know you,” she called out, beckoning lazily at a pretty young thing with long flowing dark hair, a gesture that she ought to join her on one of the sofas. “And I know everyone. What’s your name, pet?”

---

It was one of those nights Hazel roamed the Painted Lady. Her arrangement was more part time compared to some of her colleagues. Not that she minded this. It meant that she could be a little more mysterious and selective when working. Most of the time, she would ignore the majority men clientele and allow those with more exotic tastes a try. Very rarely would Hazel see women looking for a time to explore themselves but when they did appear, Hazel was very willing to oblige.

Having just finished up with a regular of hers, Hazel had swung by the bar to grab herself a drink to decompress. Some time of respite was always needed. After taking a sip from her glass of wine, she gave the bartender a small nod before heading back to the floor. Wandering just for a moment, she heard herself being called. Not a women she had met before but based on who she was hanging out with some of her colleagues. Putting on a smile, Hazel gave one of her work friends a wink before sitting down on the sofa.

"I'm Hazel but most just call me Zel around here." Hazel would try to smile more before taking another sip from her wine. She wasn't exactly comfortable with crowds. She could always feel people looking at her. Come on, try being social. You've had enough to drink. "And whom you may be? Just visiting or looking for some entertainment?"

---

Ester didn’t miss the wink the girl had thrown at one of the others – it might have been in relation to something else, a shared inside joke, or perhaps in relation to her invitation, but either way, Ester was duly intrigued.

“Zel. A pleasure. Ester – Essie, if you like,” she trilled merrily; they may as well be on familiar terms already, strangers as they were. In a place like this, for whatever reason one crossed the threshold, one could not escape becoming friends or intimates in a very short space of time. “Oh, I’m here for work, of a kind,” she explained languidly, cocking her head in a satire of a pose (though of course her body was more important in these types of photos than her face). She gestured to one of the doors leading off from this room, in case Zel had seen her gentleman friend flitting in and out creating all manner of lewd scenes for his photography. “I’m a model, you see. But I do like being entertained,” she teased, smiling. (But even a friendly chat or a little flirtation would do very well for her break, she supposed.)

---

"Work you say?" Hazel was intrigued. Model work? Well, that's a different reason for being at the Painted Lady. If one was taking a certain type of photos, one would have to travel France where such thing might be more acceptable. If one wanted to take those type of pictures, Hazel figured it be easier to find that at the Painted Lady. All of the girls were selling the body in one way or another. Smiling a bit, she twirled her hair a little. "Well, a model in such a place?" It was more of a rhetorical. Hazel knew why she was here.

"Well, if you are looking for some entertainment, you've come to the right place." Some of the other girls around them giggled a little, understanding what Hazel was getting at. Hazel's sexuality was not much a secret amongst her colleagues. Placing her hand a on the sofa, a little closer to Ester, Hazel gave her a sly look before asking "What sort of entertainment are you looking for, Essie?"

---

“Well,” Ester said, at the question of her modelling work, with a conspiratorial smirk – only the girls here would not be offended by the subject of her photographs, unlike the rest of polite society. “When a gentleman can’t get down to The Painted Lady, he must have something to tide him over, you see.”

But – judging by this Hazel’s general demeanour, Ester was hard-pressed to imagine she was much interested in gentleman. Or, like Ester, she was an equal opportunity lover. Either way, she had picked her company well. “Oh,” she answered, returning Zel’s look under her eyelashes, and letting her fingers drift a little further along the sofa, until she was idly brushing over the younger woman’s hand, “I’d say I’m open to anything... but I would like to get to know you better.” This was sincere as much as it was also a line – a little warm up would serve her well for her next shots, but Hazel was charming and entirely new to her, and Ester was a sucker for novelty.

---

Hazel would nod a little, remembering encountering such sort of photos when she was a little touch starved. She guessed that it was some gentlemen were in more still pictures. Maybe they were magic pictures so they would show some motion. Regardless, not something she indulged in too often. "Mm, I've encountered one of those from time to time. Not my personal style even if the pictures are very pleasing." She gave off a little playful sigh before taking another sip of wine.

"I think that's a great idea, Essie." Hazel relaxed a little more on the couch. Mulling over a few thoughts, Hazel decided to add a little more to her introduction. "Well, I like wine as much as I like my women. I blame my Ottoman father for that. My mother always says I inherited his tastes." Hazel giggled a little, some of the other girls joining in. "Outside of pictures for your boss, do you do you indulge in other types of modeling? I imagine a pretty women like you is always very busy." Alcohol sure does wonders for Hazel's otherwise abrasive personality.

---

If Ester could not take personal credit for the younger woman beginning to open up, then the wine was certainly doing its job: she was getting chattier by the sip.

“Oh, he’s not my boss – well, just for the evening – but I’m freelance,” Ester explained: she was an artiste, who picked up these pornographic modelling jobs here and there, or anything that suited her tastes. “An actress, sometimes. And a free spirit in most things.” She batted her eyelashes.

“And if I’m pretty, I simply don’t have the words for you,” she protested, teasing the woman by skimming her hand through a lock of hair that framed Hazel’s face, tracing the line of her cheek and her jaw. She must have inherited her dark hair and looks from her exotic Ottoman father, too. Ester was a little jealous of her, of her youth and good looks and the shape of her smile. “I have at least six artistic friends in London who would love to paint you. But then,” Ester added, in a low tone, “perhaps I’d rather keep you a secret just for me.”

---

"Oooh, an actress. That sounds lovely." Hazel hadn't met an actress before. She had seen a play with one of her associates the last time she was in London. The name eluded her as she was mostly there to discuss shop with her associate. Lady Windermere's Fan? I think that was the name. Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt Ester's hand running through some of her hair. Blushing a little, Hazel offered a warm smile before meeting Ester's hand with her own. It's been a while since she felt comfortable around someone.

Tracing a little heart on the back of Ester's hand, Hazel softly rested her hand on the back of Ester's. "It's been a while since I've been in London, it would be nice to go." It's been a while since Hazel had enjoyed herself, even if it was temporarily in her line of work. Some of it was her own doing. She was picky after all. "Maybe we can both be each other's secrets?" Hazel would whisper, moving a little closer to Ester.

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