For a moment the poor tutor felt as if he would rather sit right back down, for the stress was mounding directly within his legs, making it almost impossible for him to pick up his feet and start down the long tumbling tiers towards the dance floor. Nevertheless John felt rather silly with his toes dangling and his heels planted, and so finally he eased himself with a large step down onto the lower tier, and then another, until finally his shoes settled upon the marble and he was faced with the crowd of dancers. From here the door looked much more daunting; at eye level it appeared to be much taller than the average man. John looked back at Victor, twisting only his neck and straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of his host. He was surprised that Victor was not looking back, instead he seemed to be draining the rest of John's wine into his own glass, as if to save every last drop of the expensive drink. John pursed his lips and set his sights back upon the door, taking the first of many steps through the dance floor and across the other side. The dancers were now moving in a large circular shape, easy for cutting through and zigzagging. As the dance sent the couples one way John side stepped, allowing their twirling dresses and flailing arms to move right past him. The flashes of bright colors were in his peripheral vision, the music growing louder and louder and pounding against his vulnerable ear drums. John's limbs now felt quite like stones, as if he had filled his extremities with cement and tried to continue on walking with the same stride and posture as he always wore. He was brushed by a stray elbow, kicked by a foot which was dancing to the beat, cut off and nearly toppled over by a couple who seemed to be unfamiliar with the dance and therefore swaying in the opposite direction than all the rest. And yet he continued on, keeping that door in sight, only that door. The red lines which had once been so full and striped were now branching off, as John grew closer they divided into smaller lines, dashed across the white paint in a crackling pattern, like human veins wrapped around an essential organ. John stepped forward, emerging from the dancers with his hand hovering just above the brass handle. One twist and he would have separated himself from the outside world; one step inside of this door would be to seal his doom. Whatever would follow on the other side was now unavoidable, though the longer he waited the more visible he became. Suddenly John could feel the eyes on the back of his head, the gentlemen within the dance floor, the women longing on the tables on the upper tiers. Each one staring down upon him, the scared boy who didn't know what he wanted any longer. They must have been laughing, they must have pitied him. They must be disgusted. John summoned his courage, using every last drop of daring within his blood to finally turn the handle and force himself inside. He was closing his eyes as he stumbled forward, afraid that he would walk in and immediately be forced to look upon a naked form. Though as John recollected himself, as finally he allowed his eyes to peer open into the semidarkness...well he was surprised to see that he was not alone. An older gentleman stood next to another door, a black door, one which was separating this small entry way from whatever lay behind. The man was dressed in a formal tuxedo, holding within his old hands a silver bowl which was filled to the brim with dollars and coins. His face looked quite tired, though upon the appearance of John he carefully held out the bowl for the donation which John could offer.
"Name, sir?" the man wondered in a stuffy voice, his words deep and scratchy as if he had been smoking each day of his long life.
"Do I have to?" John wondered nervously, feeling as if he would be added to a list and promptly arrested.
"It is only good manners." The man assured, thankfully not sounding too taken aback by John's hesitation. Undoubtedly he had dealt with men more important than John, and certainly they had been tempted to use pseudonyms as well. John wobbled back and forth upon his feet, wondering if it would be a good idea to just make up any old name and decide to be called that for the night. Though something about the butler's appearance made him feel a bit safer, something about his demeanor made it feel as if this was a truly trustworthy spot. Everyone under this stage had something to lose, did they not?
"John Watson." John admitted at last.
"Very well, Mr. Watson." The man nodded, still with the bowl outstretched. Finally John got the idea, realizing that he wasn't just demonstrating how much money this evening had already made, he was insisting that John add to the pile. Quickly John forced his money into the bowl, settling it on top of the other smaller bills so as to demonstrate just how much buying power he had on this particular night. Ten whole dollars was not something that was thrown away so easily, and even as John set it into the bowl he wondered why he did not just pocket the donation and run, perhaps go and spend it on something he actually needed rather than something he really shouldn't have. The butler looked satisfied, finally withdrawing the bowl and turning towards the door, giving it two knocks of warning to prepare the Porcelain Doll for John's arrival. The tutor shoved his hands behind his back, his stomach doing loops of anxiety as he tried to think of what he ought to say when he first arrived. What did you say to someone if you were only there for one thing? Was there an introduction to be had, any small talk at all? John had never done anything so bold before in his life, oh he should have asked Victor what sorts of manners were involved with prostitution! John didn't hear any answer from behind the door, though the butler stepped back and gave John a nod of approval.
"Very well sir. You may go inside." The butler declared. John clenched his teeth; nodding more to himself than to the man he shared the hallway with. He needed motivation now more than ever, and as he took his first steps towards the black door he could feel his fingers shaking. There was no going back now. John grasped the handle, turning the knob with a sharp yank of his wrist and stepping inside before any intuition could lead him astray. He had agreed to it, he had paid for it, and now he would receive the reward. John tried to tell himself to stop worrying, he tried to remind himself that he was the only one in this situation who was taken aback. Whores were not surprised by another customer; they knew how to handle each and every man. The first thing John noticed was the lighting, it being much brighter within this room than he would have expected. While the lights were oil lamps gleaming from brackets on the wall it was still fairly consistent, and when compared to the dark entrance way and the red tinted dance floor John had almost imagined the Porcelain Doll to operate completely in the dark. The room was larger than he would have imagined, equipped not only with a large king sized bed but also with a vanity and mirror, a small desk as if to write letters, and even a bar which was decorated with all sorts of half-drunk bottles of liquor. Perhaps those drinks were for the Doll only, considering John's drinks were supposed to be paid for on the other side of these strangely painted doors. The bed itself was furnished with all the usual pillows and blankets, a golden bedspread laid across a comfortable looking mattress and made up as if it had not yet been slept in. John only imagined that there was a maid who came to tidy up between customers, to give each man the feeling that he was in some way special. John knew he was not the first man to step into this room tonight, and he knew full well he would not be the last. Though the way the place was arranged almost seemed as though they had been waiting for him, not daring to touch anything for fear of making a bad impression. Of course John hadn't paid to see the décor, as pleasing to the eye as it might have been. The room was only a compliment to the star of the show; it was only here to host the most glorious animal in this zoo. John's eyes were immediately drawn to a figure seated upon a low bench at the vanity, a shadow so dark that John almost mistook it for a long fur coat that might have been hanging in a peculiar position in the room. It must have been some sort of black silken robe draped across the Doll's shoulders, for white arms suddenly protruded up into the air, with long and delicate fingers stroking across a head of greased hair. The arms were much more defined than John would have guessed, and the fingers curled so gently over the back of the exposed head that John could almost feel the touch upon his own. His fingers clenched at his sides, worried that he was going to have to call attention to himself rather than let this Doll figure out that it had company. At first John was trying to determine just what he was looking at, for the head that he saw positioned against the mirror and the reflection of that same person seemed to be contrasting quite differently. From behind John saw a person, he saw a humanoid shape with dark and shining hair, trimmed short and greased so as to curl upon the back of the head like a matted helmet. However the reflection in the mirror showed not only the Porcelain Doll, but also the supposed ghost of the Holmes manor. John's heart nearly stopped to see the unmistakable resemblance, for as he stared upon the picture in the glass he saw the same white face, the same expressionless creature which he had confronted in the moonlit hours upon his first night. There it was, that blank face which had been carved to resemble that of a human's, those dark and sunken eyes which were worn so deeply into the face that there may very well be nothing behind them but shadows. Each and every feature which John had once described as a ghostly appearance instead turned out to be some costumed whore! It was a deafening blow, and for a moment John wasn't entirely sure if this was a joke or not. Perhaps Victor had set him up for a little prank, seeing not only how low John's morality could sink but also just how thin his bravery was. Oh he was so stupid, so stupid for asking everyone throughout the house of the identity of this 'ghost'! Here he was asking them each about a prostitute, only making it more obvious for everyone that someone had summoned this Doll to the manor that evening. Whatever introduction John had prepared was suddenly erased, for he felt that the two of them were already somewhat acquainted. They had met together within that hallway; they had stared into each other's eyes through the darkness and reflected the same sort of fear which was bubbling now with John's heart. He stared at the figure, realizing with a jolt that if this really was the same ghost, well that would mean...
"How much have you paid?" asked a deep, muffled voice from behind the porcelain mask. It sounded as though each syllable was impeded by the mask, as if the Doll's lips were squished against the very material which gave it its name.
"Ten...ten dollars." John whispered, his voice now caught within a bubble in his throat, nearly choking him as it tried to force its way back down into his voice box. He didn't want to speak; he didn't want to draw any more attention to himself. Certainly the Doll had not realized their connection just yet, though what would happen when their eyes met for the second time?
"Ten dollars? Generous." The Doll chuckled. "That can get you anything."
"It wasn't...well it wasn't my money." John admitted in a faint voice.
"Even stolen currency is valid with me." the voice assured, the arm now looping down around his neck and dragging under the neck of the black robe. It was almost taunting, as if the Doll wanted to make it very clear that John's hand could be doing the very same within a moment of time. John's heart skipped another beat.
"You're a man." John declared at last, finally connecting that deep voice with the physique he had seen silhouetted against the moonlight. In some ways that only made sense, in some ways he expected no less from a recommendation of Victor Trevor's. A deep laugh came from behind that mask, and at last the Porcelain Doll began to shift, his fingers wrapping around the curves in the wooden vanity and twisting his long, elegant body across the bench to face his new client. There might have been some kind of a speech prepared for this moment, the way he had glided so effortlessly made it seem as if this gender misconception was a very common thing in new customers. The Doll knew what he was supposed to say in this moment, and yet there were no words at all. The mask pointed now in John's direction, the eyes so dark and void of emotion that he wondered if perhaps there was a human hidden away behind it at all. He could not see any telltale signs of reaction, he couldn't even determine if the Doll had noticed him yet or not. The only thing John realized, suddenly as he bathed within the room of dead silence, was that this Porcelain Doll was just as surprised to see him. This man, whoever he was behind the mask, was speechless perhaps for the first time in his entire career. It was a long while until either of them was able to say a thing, for John felt as if he was carrying a five pound weight within his mouth, weighing down his lower jaw and forcing him to gape instead of speak. He couldn't think of any words which would be appropriate, whether or not he should confront the Doll about their first encounter, whether he should speak his name so as to at least get on a first name basis. How was this evening supposed to continue on if both of them were too afraid to make the first move, or even say the first word?
"Does this deter you?" was at last uttered from behind the mask, those carved lips not moving yet providing a glorious octave which floated like music through the thick air. John hesitated, wanting to say yes, wanting to run out the other way, wanting beyond anything else to act as a normal man might within this situation! Did it deter him...or did it excite him? John took a sharp breath, clenching his fingers against his thigh so as to keep himself centered, to alert some pain within his body to at least keep himself conscious.
"No." he declared at last, trembling and shutting his eyes even as he managed such truth. "No...it doesn't."
"Then I think we shall get along quite well." muttered the Doll, at last rising to his feet to reveal the full height of his stature, the impressive and towering figure which he protected behind this perfected mask of stone. The black robe was tied loosely across his body, with a cord secured with only a simple knot, one which may very well fall out of place if enough time was allowed. From beneath that dark fabric John could see that familiar chest, that white skin which protruded in such contrast from the silk which surrounded it. The man's frame was dangerously thin, and yet perfectly elegant all the same. It was as if he starved himself if only for the pleasure of demonstrating the perfection of his bone structure, from the curve of his collarbone right up to the alignment of each of his ribs. The man was built in such a body that a single blow might break him apart, and yet John was beginning to wonder if ten dollars might give him the honor of doing so. This man, this specimen...this beauty could be bought.
"What is your name?" asked the mask, stepping closer in a rather uncoordinated step. It was strange that the body could be attached to such a blank, unfamiliar face. It seemed as though the mask should fit to an inhumane creature and not a perfectly molded man, and when the long white limbs moved it seemed as though the mask should have stayed still. Nevertheless, both parts of the Porcelain Doll approached. And John stood still, letting the gap between them shrink.
"John." he admitted quickly. He was intimidated by the man, as if his brain still hadn't realized that he was here only for love. John's head had been turned almost completely around in shock from the time he had stepped foot into this room, it would seem as though he was still expecting some other person to arrive. For some reason even as this prostitute approached him, well John couldn't imagine that anything would come from it.
"What is your full name?" the Doll clarified, as if the use of first names would be much too uncivilized.
"John Watson." John answered truthfully. The Porcelain Doll hummed, as if he was agreeing rather than commenting upon the fact. "What is yours?" John asked, figuring he should draw out the same amount of personal information that he was obliged to share.
"None of your business." The Doll whispered, coming closer once more with his arms dangling from the sleeves of the robe, those long elegant hands hovering within the air and swinging ever closer to meet John's waist.
"It would only be polite." John pointed out in a struggling voice, his confidence draining with every step that man took in his direction.
"It would only be unnecessary." The Doll corrected. "Now tell me, Mr. Watson. What do you want from me tonight?"
"Nothing too...well nothing too overwhelming." John decided, speaking his heart's truth before his mind had the chance to veto it. Well of course he was much too afraid to allow the entire routine to be performed, though with ten dollars he was probably allowed to ask for it all. Some part of him was still afraid; some part was hesitant to allow this man to take him onto that bed. After all this was not shaping out to be the evening he had expected. He might as well leave with some dignity, even if he would allow a portion of his honor to slip away into these polished fingers.
"I thought you said you were not afraid?" the Doll clarified, at last stepping so close that John could almost make out what lay behind those dark holes, he could almost make out the gleam of a human eye when the light caught in the correct position.
"Part of me is not." John admitted. "The other part...the other part is hesitant."
"Never been loved by a man before?" the Doll presumed in a purr.
"No." John agreed, speaking as if that should be an obvious fact. Certainly this Doll did not expect each and every citizen of New York to give into such strange fantasies?
"I'm sure you will be, in due time." the Doll promised.
"What makes you say that?" John exclaimed, trembling now from head to foot as he felt that gaze penetrating into his very soul, staring deep into his eyes and reading each and every thought he was ever blessed with. There might have been a smile behind that face, and yet to John he saw nothing but an expressionless glare. There might have been humor, though John was met with carved indifference. He was not talking to a person; he was taking with an object.
"I see it in your eyes, Mr. Watson. The look of a man prepared to return." Finally the Doll extended his hands, wrapping his fingers around John's wrists and securing his arms within the delicate touch of carefully manicured skin. John's body heated up, suddenly his forehead swam with moisture and his knees struggled to keep him standing upright. The touch of this skin made it feel real; it made it feel...well as if this was not a dream any longer.
"I will make it worth your while." The Doll promised in a soft whisper.