The Business of Literate Whores

originally posted July 27, 2005

The last few hands, in addition to the myriad of duties prescribed to a Poet, Playwright, Master of a Love-slave, Self-Proclaimed Whoremonger and (by necessity) Companioned Gentleman, I have been able to see the more menial aspects of running a business in today’s society. The Lady Jenny has taken ill. I believe it is stress related, but I am finding such things can debilitate a body as certainly as poisons, the bite of foreign insects or dressing improperly in inclement weather. And while I have ‘seen’ the more menial aspects of running a business in today’s society, I have not actually tended to them. In short order, Jenny will be up and about to deal with the missives, scrolls, urgent memos and other whatnots piled about an a’hil high on the desk in the office of The Boarding House.
“Why did you not just make me a slave?” She often asks this when the servitude I force her to endure under the heavy brocaded weight of a free woman’s garment begins to vex her.
“A slave would not be permitted to run my business,” I remind her.
I know she will be overjoyed to find the work waiting for her right where she left it.
I have decided to teach the whore, Evona, who is called ‘Four Copper’, how to read and write. She is an Earth Girl, a barbarian. Such privileges are not often afforded her kind, but I am not always the most predictable fellow when handling slaves. She now recognizes and can write enough letters of the alphabet to be able to decipher most simple words and phrases. She would be flummoxed at this point by a lengthy epic or treatise on economics, but I do not think she will have very much trouble reading the signs that hang in shopkeepers windows. Indeed, her first phrases, spoken with much difficulty, were read across the curve of Sana’s ass. I think the embroidered words of advertisement, stitched on the hem of teal-colored silk were a fine and fitting start to her career of literacy.
“Have Me. Boarding House. Anbar.”
Portia, too, another illiterate woman, will not be denied the opportunity to improve herself. I am not fond of her reputation as a Former Panther Girl. She uses it as a crutch to entice men and, for the most part, it works. There is more there, however. She is no longer a Panther Girl, nor a Kettle Girl or even a Debtor. She is a whore; a slave who may be purchased by the ahn. It will not be necessary to instruct her page by page through the primer as I did Four Copper. The dark-skinned slut kept herself close during those lessons and used her time of obeisance at my feet to soak up as much knowledge as she could. Some might be disturbed at her duplicitous motives. In this case, I was actually pleased by them. She will, of course, be held accountable for what I perceive her to have learned thus far. It will be in her best interest to study hard and practice feverishly in every spare moment she has off of her back or belly beneath the patrons of The Boarding House