Summary: Lady Veronica Carrington upsets a prostitute. The prostitute decides she needs to be knocked down a peg or two...
She turned the key, hoping in vain that this would be the twist to get her car going. But the engine was dead - she dropped her head, and let out a little scream.
What was she going to do?
And where was she?
Her name was Veronica Carrington - well, Lady Veronica Carrington, to be precise. Born into an established English family with a long pedigree, Lady Veronica had a lot of money in her trust fund and a stately home that was the envy of most of her social set. Everyone who was anyone knew her, and no social gathering was complete unless Lady Veronica was there.
And, to top it all off, she was also stunningly beautiful.
Lady Veronica's face was framed by her long auburn hair, straight and hanging just below her shoulders in a natural look that was perfectly calibrated. She had brown eyes, a button nose and pouty lips, always covered in dark red lipstick and with a smirk that exactly hit that nook between confident and sexy.
Carrington women had a definite look, and Lady Veronica was no different. At just 25, the world was her oyster.
But her wealth, her reputation, her beauty - none of those were of any use at the present moment. None of them would get her car going.
Urgh, she thought, this isn't how my evening should have gone. Just two hours ago, she was sharing drinks and stories with the Rochesters, a charming family she'd known for years. They were good blood, and she thought that their son William was even flirting with her a little bit - if he played his cards right, it was possible she would even consider a proposal. He wasn't unattractive, she thought, and his connections would help her rise even further in the world.
And then, driving home. It should have been an easy prospect, that same familiar route, but she was forced into the middle of who-knows-there due to roadworks and diversions. She trusted the sat-nav to guide her safely back, but it led her into a very unsavoury-looking part of town before her car decided to give out.
She went to call for help, and found her phone was out of charge.
So, she was in the middle of nowhere. Her car and phone were dead, and no-one knew where she was.
She knew she'd have to go and try to find some help.
Lady Veronica stepped out of the car, one long leg after the other, a delicate gesture perfected long ago. She'd decided on green today - she wore a simple green dress that complemented her curves perfectly, and a pair of two-inch green heels. They were decorated sparingly - a broach, a clutch bag, a belt - and she chose to leave her hat in the car.
In a place like this, she certainly didn't want to draw too much attention to herself.
Lady Veronica thought the best course of action was to check each street, remaining as near to the car as possible. This looked like some kind of industrial area, she thought, so there was bound to be someone on the street, some car passing by that she could flag down.
She started to walk, knowing that help would be just around the corner.
Lady Veronica's assessment was wrong.
It was the middle of the night, and a cold one at that, and she'd seen no walkers or cars at all.
She'd walked further and further, abandoning the car entirely, just hoping to find someone to help her home.
Her feet were throbbing from so much walking, and her body felt frozen. It was really only force of will that kept moving forward.
Finally, a sign of life. She heard the sound of a car door closing around the corner, and she hoped she could catch the driver before they pulled away. Even if they didn't have a phone she could use, they'd be certain to help her, through either the kindness of their heart or the enticement of the money in her clutch bag.
The driver was pulling away - Lady Veronica waved her arms and shouted to them, but she had no luck yet again.
Or so she initially thought, until she became aware that she wasn't the only person on the street. There was a figure in the shadows, a small red light in the darkness indicating that they were enjoying a cigarette.
"Excuse me," Lady Veronica said in her refined tones, "may I ask for a moment of your time?"
The figure stepped into the flickering light of a broken lamppost, and Lady Veronica was unable to conceal her surprise.
It was a woman - she was young, perhaps a similar age to Lady Veronica. Her face was laden in make-up - she had bright red lips like the heiress, shining with a hint of glitter, but that was where the similarities ended. Whereas Lady Veronica thrived on her natural beauty, there was nothing natural here - layers of foundation, dark eyeshadow in excessive quantities, giant false eyelashes - decorated by a nose ring, hoop earrings, and all framed with straight platinum blonde hair.
And that outfit - huh, she almost openly snorted with disgust - what outfit? The woman was dressed, but barely so, in a white tube top her ample breasts were threatening to spill out of with every movement. She wore a black wetlook miniskirt with stained white panties clearly visible, and a leather jacket that had seen better days. On her long legs, fishnet stockings poked out the top of white thigh-high heeled boots.
She looked, Lady Veronica thought, so common.
"A moment of my time?" she laughed, a street-weary tone in her voice. "I don't normally do lesbian stuff, but I can make an exception for someone so," she gave the heiress a quick once over, and smirked at her body "impressive."
Lady Veronica's eyes widened, and she felt the colour drain from her face.
Oh God, she realised, she'd found a - she struggled for the word - a prostitute.
"You didn't need to make such an effort for me, love," the woman laughed.
"No, no, no," Lady Veronica waved her hands in front of her, as if trying to shoo the idea away, "I'm not after any -" she couldn't even find a word. "No, I need a favour."
The woman raised an eyebrow in disinterest.
"My car broke down, and my phone's dead, and I just need to call a recovery service or one of my people or someone. Anything to get me out of this... place."
The woman's face hardened.
"So you wandered into Hooker Alley, asking for a favour, and I'm supposed to believe you just want to make a phone call. What's your angle?"
"You too ashamed to admit you want a bit of action, your majesty?"
"It's Lady Veronica," she said, indignant.
"They call me Chloe," the woman shrugged, "and I don't care if you're the king of Sweden if you're going to pay."
"What I've told you is the truth, I promise you," she started to feel a little annoyed with the woman, "I wouldn't be in a place like this speaking with a trashy whore like you if I could help it."
"What do you mean by that?" Chloe demanded.
"I'm the daughter of an earl," Lady Veronica was annoyed, and she snapped, "I have a reputation, and I'm hardly likely to be acquainted with a half-dressed gutter woman like you, am I? Carringtons don't associate with half-dressed streetwalkers who'll jump in bed with any passing trade."
She realised what she'd said the moment she said it, and she immediately regretted it once she realised what it meant for the prospect of using Chloe's phone.
"I'm so sorry..."
"Why don't you sod off? I'm out here to make money, not be insulted by uppity bitches! We can't all live on daddy's money, can we?"
The heiress attempted to apologise, but Chloe was furious and swore at her. Chloe's attitude reinforced Lady Veronica's internal prejudice just a little bit - this woman was from the gutter, and she was certainly acting like it.
Lady Veronica turned and went to walk away. She'd made it a few steps before realising that, no matter what happened, no matter how much she hated it, Chloe was still her best option for making it home. She could go walking, but this was a rough area, it was freezing cold and the middle of the night. All she needed was a phone, and Chloe would have one - she daren't risk going further when a potential salvation was already there.
The heiress attempted to stifle her disgust and she returned to the prostitute.
"Look, I'm sorry, but you have to help me." There were tears in her eyes, and she brought her hands together, ready to beg, thinking that would give Chloe enough of a feeling of superiority to get some results. "Please, I'm desperate."
Chloe gave her a once-over, an idea forming in her mind. She dropped her cigarette to the ground, and sighed as she crushed it with her boots.
"Fine," she said. "I'll help you, your majesty. Come on, let's get you to the knocking shop, get you somewhere to sit."
"The knocking shop?" It took Lady Veronica a moment to process that. "You can't mean - your whorehouse? I can't go there - I have a reputation. Is there nowhere more befitting of someone of my status?"
"Look," Chloe crossed her arms and glared at the heiress, "I don't give a damn what you do. Stand here on the street and freeze, for all I care. But I can take you somewhere warm and get you a phone to get you back to your palace - that's what you want, isn't it?"
Lady Veronica really didn't want to go to a brothel, but she needed to get home - hell, at the moment, she just needed to get out of the cold - and this was the best bet.
"Fine," she said, "lead the way."
Lady Veronica had never been in a place like this before, and she hoped she wouldn't have to remain here for very long.
It was a hotel, but not like the upmarket places she was used to staying in. She loved the Ritz - a place full of glamour, only the most exclusive clients and all your demands serviced.
She didn't like the idea of getting room service here - she shuddered at the thought.
It was so brown, so dingily lit, so foul. There were so many scents in the air, none of them pleasant, and the heiress shuddered as she attempted to avoid imagining what had happened behind some of the many closed doors. Or what was happening now, she realised as she heard disgusting, vulgar noises.
It was awful. She tried to avoid retching, running far away, but she held her nerve for the moment.
Sure, she was grateful for the warmth, but that gratitude would only go so far.
She needed a phone and quick.
Chloe had taken Lady Veronica to one of the bedrooms, promising it would be unoccupied. She'd left the heiress, telling her that she needed to grab her phone and that she'd make the freezing woman a coffee.
Lady Veronica stood still, and took a moment to survey her surroundings, looking for the least objectionable place to sit.
None of the options were particularly pleasant. A large king-size bed was in the centre of the room, made with brown sheets coated with stains. A dirty toilet positioned near to the door - white in a former life, perhaps, but the enamel had given up. In the far corner, an old chair and a dressing table - she could make out a box of condoms, and an ashtray half-full with used cigarette butts.
She decided on the latter. She carefully manoeuvred the chair and sat daintily, looking at the door, waiting for Chloe to return and trying hard not to breathe in that awful mix of urine, sweat, sex, smoke and other smells she didn't want to place. She kept shifting her feet, a mixture of impatience and fear they'd wind up stuck to the hideous threadbare carpet.
Chloe entered, clutching two cups of coffee in one hand and a black bin bag in the other. She'd changed outfits, but certainly not into something more befitting of the company, Lady Veronica thought - she'd opted for stiletto heels, a denim miniskirt and a red tube top, and a cigarette was hanging in her mouth.
She dropped the bin bag by the bed, and placed one of the cups next to the heiress.
"Here you go, your highness," she said. "Get this down you - it'll warm you up."
Lady Veronica took the cup in her hands and sipped, watching as Chloe took up a seat on the bed and had some of her drink, alternating between coffee and smoking.
"Have you brought your phone?" she asked.
"Jesus, not even a 'thank you for the drink'," Chloe groaned. "Didn't they teach you manners at the palace?"
"I'm sorry," she said, "and I don't mean to be rude, but you must acknowledge how surreal this situation is. Someone like me, here with someone like... like you."
Chloe smirked, and looked at Lady Veronica with an air of frustration in her eyes. She wanted to be annoyed, but she knew that the best was yet to come, and so she held her tongue.
"Look, just finish your drink, and I'll get you where you need to be."
The heiress smiled and nodded slightly, a habit she'd picked up at formal affairs, and she enjoyed the coffee. It was nice - though she hated admitting it to herself, it was much nicer than any coffee she'd ever had before.
How could a place this horrible have such nice coffee, she wondered?
It was so nice that she sat there for what must have been a few minutes, her mind away with the fairies. As she forced herself back to reality, she realised that Chloe was simply sitting and staring at her. She had that customary smirk on her face, but there was something different in her eyes - something she didn't like.
Lady Veronica wanted to stand up, demand that Chloe bring her a phone so she could get out of this place once and for all.
But she found that she couldn't quite make herself move. Her limbs felt too heavy, and her mind was starting to feel foggy. She winced in pain, and was conscious that Chloe was smirking at her.
"My drink," Lady Veronica groaned as she realised, "what do you put in my drink?"
"Oh, nothing much," Chloe smiled. "We call it the change maker. We keep on hand for clients who aren't too compliant, police officers who sniff around a little too much - it's good for getting in their minds, making them a bit friendlier to what we do here.
"And, if we're running a little low on numbers, we also use it for recruitment. So many girls are a little lost, but if you reshape their worldview a bit, you find they make excellent whores."
"I'm not a whore," Lady Veronica said, no force in her voice as she struggled to keep her mind clear. "You can't do anything to me, and you can't keep me here - people will look for me."
Chloe laughed, and lit a cigarette.
"Yeah, you're right," she took a drag. "It would be too much of a risk to keep someone so important here. And I don't even have enough change maker to warp your mind fully."
The prostitute smiled.
"But you know what, Ronni - I think I do have enough to have a bit of fun with you for one night."
"It's Lady Veronica," she said, struggling to keep her head upright.
"Nah, not tonight. You could do with being knocked down a peg or two," Chloe smiled, "and I think Ronni is the kind of name a gutter woman should have. Don't you?"
The way Chloe stressed the words 'gutter woman', Lady Veronica realised what a mistake she'd made being so rude. You're so stupid, Ronni, she thought. No, not Ronni, Lady Veronica - remember who you are, she thought, as it became harder and harder.
"You want a smoke, Ronni?" Chloe asked, pushing the pack towards her.
"I don't smoke..."
"Course you do, Ronni. You've smoked for years, don't you remember? Hell, I think maybe you even taught me a few tricks. You love smoking, Ronni."
With every word out of Chloe's mouth, new memories started to fill Ronni's mind.
"Here," Chloe said, carefully and tenderly placing the packet into her companion's hands, along with a lighter, "why don't you take a drag?"
Ronni sat still for a minute, before slowly extracting a cigarette and placing it in her mouth. She ignited the lighter, and brought the flame to the end of the cigarette.
She believed in, inhaling heavily and coughing as a result. Her mind wanted to rebel, but Chloe's encouragement overcame it.
"See, I told you you were a smoker, Ronni. Breathe it in, whore - you love smoke, don't you?"
"I love smoke."
"You love smoking."
"I love smoking."
In between drags, Chloe kept forcing Ronni to repeat these phrases, helping the change maker exert its temporary but all-too powerful hold on her mind.
Ronni finished the cigarette, and stubbed out the butt in the ashtray.
"You smoke at least two packs a night, Ronni, so I'd better get you some more for when you head out to work."
Chloe stood up, and pulled an expression of fake surprise.
"What are you wearing, Ronni? You're not going to pull in many punters looking like that, are you?"
Ronni rose to her feet, and looked down at her outfit. The green dress was nice, but Chloe was right - it wasn't the right kind of outfit for her work, was it? She looked like she belonged to a different world - a world that a voice in the back of her uneasy mind screamed was familiar, far too quietly for her to hear.
"You're right," she said. "Where are my clothes?"
Chloe beamed, a big grin, and she put the bin bag on the bed.
"Well, I had a great idea, Ronni. You see, you're a trashy gutter whore, aren't you?"
"Say it - tell me what you are."
"I'm a trashy gutter whore."
"Louder," Chloe demanded. "Say it with pride - you're not ashamed."
"I'm a trashy gutter whore," she shouted.
"Tell me what you love to do."
"I love getting fucked for money. I love selling my body to anyone who can pay, sucking cocks and getting my holes filled. I love being out on the streets night after night, picking up punters and getting fucked. I love being a cheap, garbage, gutter whore."
Chloe smiled - the change maker had done its work, and hearing Ronni proclaim it in that plum upper-class accent made it all the sweeter.
"In that case, let's get you back out to work. Why are you in here, chatting with me, when you could be out getting fucked? Take off your clothes."
Ronni practically tore her dress off, and she kicked her heels away - the unappealing prospect of a sticky floor no longer frightened her. Chloe licked her lips when she saw the fancy black lace bra and panties the former heiress wore. She may have to hold onto those, she thought.
Ronni slowly and sensually unclipped the bra and slid the panties down her legs. She was clean-shaven down there, Chloe noticed - as if she were always meant to be a whore, she smiled.
"You say you've got some clothes for me, Chloe?" Ronni asked.
"Yes, that's right."
Chloe picked up the bag, and upturned it. The outfit was familiar - it was the same one Chloe had been wearing when she first encountered Lady Veronica.
"You told me that this outfit made me look like a half-dressed gutter whore when you first saw it - well, if the shoe fits," she picked up the boots, "wear it. Time for you to get dressed, Ronni."
Chloe smiled as Ronni picked up each item of clothing and slowly, sensuously, slipped them on. And, with each item, what little that remained of Lady Veronica was pushed to one side for the night.
She pulled on the pair of well-used white panties which, just earlier that evening, had prompted such disgust. They were followed by the leather miniskirt, and the white tube top - Ronni started to feel aroused as the material rubbed against her nipples. She slid the fishnet stockings up her ample legs, and then the long white boots. Ronni stood tall, and Chloe nearly gasped as she pulled on the leather jacket.
Sure, she'd noticed that Lady Veronica was a classy form of beautiful but, with the change maker in effect, the heiress was Ronni, and she was hot. This was a woman she'd have hated as a rival, but tonight, she was simply an extra pay packet - paying for her rudeness and her snobbery.