The New Girl at Silver Street

1.

	It was half past three in the afternoon, and Jessamine hadn’t had a single bite all day.  Elizabeth had asked her to stay inside, for reasons the old vixen wouldn't explain, so she’d spent the afternoon holed up in the tiny House bar while, outside, the rain turned to snow and the sky turned grey as slate.  She watched every potential customer walk past the House, some of them with flattened ears and their heads turned away.  She knew she ought to be relieved.  She hated spending half her life on her back, under the desperate grinding of lonely males, but without the money they brought in she would never be able to buy her freedom and leave the city.
	Now that Jaspertree had grown up into a proper city, with a hospital and a real school, the Houses were falling out of favor.  The Church, which had even set up a few Houses of its own only a few years ago, had turned around and declared that prostitution was a sin.  That got them money and support from all of the uptight, moral citizens eager to feel good about themselves, and left her to rot.
	She turned back to the bar and waved at the little tabby cat who ran it to give her a refill.
	“Do I look too old to you?” she said.
	Samantha gave a noncomittal swish of her tail and pulled a fresh bottle of water off the shelf behind her.
	“I never was any good at telling, with mice,” she said.
	“Or with weasels,” Jessamine said.
	It was a dangerous thing to say.  Samantha was friendly, but she didn't belong to the House.  Most of the girls owned by Silver Street knew she was a mixed-breed, but they accepted her as a sister in Hell.  The rest of the city could afford a bit of prejudice.
	“I don't think I've ever met any weasels,” Samantha said.
	“You'd be surprised.  So tell me.  How old do I look?”
	“I know you’ve been here longer than me, but you don’t look much more than sixteen.  Maybe twenty,” Samantha said.
	“You’re a bad liar,” Jess said.
	It was a comforting lie.  She was thirty-three, and she knew she was in better shape than anyone else in the House, because she worked hard to keep it that way, but, except for Lady Elizabeth, who ran the place, she was the oldest girl in the House.
	“Are you certain you don’t want something to drink?  It might make you feel a little better, and I hate to see it going to waste.  I bought a whole case of gin just before that nasty little bishop made his speech, and nobody’s touched a drop of it,” Samantha said.
	“I don’t dare.  One drink would turn into several, and what would happen if I’m too drunk to perform if a customer does come in?” Jess said.
	Samantha’s ears drooped, though she tried to hide her disappointment by busying herself at the bar.  Jess felt a stab of guilt for refusing.  Samantha didn’t do anything except serve the drinks, but she was suffering just as much as the rest of them.
	“You know how Elizabeth watches us.  How about I buy you a drink instead?” said Jess.
	“She doesn’t have to worry any about you, does she?  I’ve never met a girl who was as straight as you.  Between that, and all the money you must be making, it’s a wonder you’re still here.”
	“Things just go wrong for me, that’s all,” Jess said.
	That much was true.  On the day her mother had died, and the family debts had become hers, all the money she made had begun to vanish as soon as she got it.
	While Samantha poured her drink up into a frosted glass, she studied herself in the mirror over the bar.  There were streaks of grey in the brown fur around her muzzle, and she had to wear her glasses all the time now.  She thought she looked too plain.  Except for when she forgot and smiled, and showed her teeth, she just looked like a little brown mouse.
	“You enjoy it, don’t you?” Samantha said.  
	“No, of course not.  Why would I?  The males who come in here are just interested in fucking something,” she said.
	“But they pay a lot.  Especially for you, or so I’ve heard.”
	“That only makes it worse.”
	“They’re lonely, that’s all,” Samantha said.
	“I don't think so.  The ones I get are the kids who think they have to prove something by screwing me.  The rest just want to hurt someone,” Jess said.
	“We all want to, sometimes.” Samantha said.
	Jess snorted, and turned back to watch the street.  The snow was falling harder now, in thick, wet flakes that clung to everything they touched.  The House was kept hot, for the sake of the exotic girls, who didn't wear much at all, but Jess shivered and folded her arms around herself.
	“I can't do anything.  I have to lie there and take it all with a smile,” she said.
	 “It isn't really their fault.  Most of them are just stupid kids.  They just don't know anything else,” Samantha said.
	Jess was just considering giving up for the day, when someone stopped and peered in through the window at them.  He was a tall, skinny fox with scruffy fur, and the nervous tilt to his ears that was a sign of a first-time customer.  But he was obviously one of the rich ones.  His clothes were rather worn, but they were still better than anything she could afford, and his fur looked recently washed.  He paced up and down the sidewalk a few times, peering at the ground like he had lost something.  When he was certain nobody else was around, he ducked inside and slammed the door against snow and guilt.
	Jess tugged her collar open one more button, and brushed her fur smooth.  The fox stood in the middle of the thick blue carpet that covered the first third of the floor, looking uncertain.  She glided up to him and took his arm in her hands.  He was almost as short as she was, and he smelled of whiskey and privilege, which set her teeth on edge.
	“Hello, dear.  Why don’t you come in and have a drink while you get dried off?” she said.
	She saw Samantha smirk, and had to bite back her anger. It wouldn't do to let a client know how she really felt about him, and of course Sam couldn't resist making it harder on her.  The one time she had, she'd been chained to a post in her room for a month.  Jess turned her back to the bar and made a show of having to use both hands to encircle his arm.  He tensed up at her touch, but when he looked down at her, his lust was obvious.  The black dress she was wearing hung loose on her shoulders, and bared quite a lot of her breasts.  His eyes never once met hers.
	“Is this the Silver Street House?” he said.
	“That’s us.  We’ve got hot drinks to help you recover from the nasty weather out there.  And soft, warm beds, too,” she said.
	The tips of his ears colored with embarassment, but he let her guide him over to the bar.  Samantha had already set a mug of hot chocolate on the counter and lined up a few bottles of her best liquor behind it.  He nodded when she pushed the cup towards him and let her add a generous amount of rum.  Jess sat him down on the stool she’d just abandoned and pulled his coat off of his shoulders.
	“I was told to ask for a girl named Jessamine when I got here.  Is she here?” he asked.
	Now it was Jess who felt her ears grow hot.  Nobody outside the House had ever known her name before, and nobody inside the House was rude enough to use it.  But she gave him her best smile, and pulled him gently closer to her.
	“I’m right here, dear.  But why don't you call me Jess,”she said.
	He turned and actually glanced at her for the first time, over the rim of his mug.  He looked surprised, and a little unsure of himself.  Everyone in Jaspertree seemed to know who she was, and half the city wanted to bed her, including a surprising number of females.  But they always expected something different than what they got.  It would have been irritating, except that it only seemed to make her more popular with all the people who wanted to see for themselves.
	“Will it be okay?” he asked.
	“Everybody asks that.  But I’ve been with males a lot bigger than you, and none of them have hurt me.  You don’t have to worry about anything,” she said.
	He took a deep drink of his chocolate and grinned at her, showing all of his teeth.  She smiled back at him, careful to keep her teeth hidden, and she knew she could get him to pay any amount she asked for.

	When Jess and her client went back to the private part of the House, Samantha cleared the bar.  She dumped all of the drinks down a sink under the bar and set the glasses aside to be washed.  Then she poured a double shot of whiskey and pushed it across the bar, as she reached up and pulled a black, braided cord that hung overhead.  A bell rang in the upstairs apartments, and a little red light came on over the door.  The Mistress of the House was coming.
	Before the bell had finished ringing, a door swung open behind her.  It was hidden in the floor-length mirror behind her, and when it was shut, nobody from this side could tell it was there.  She pulled the door open the rest of the way open herself, and stood aside to let the head of the Silver Street House come in.  The Madame's name was Lady Elizabeth.  She was a handsome old vixen, with black and silver fur and one pale blue eye.  She wore a plain black patch over her missing right eye, but she let the scar show to remind people of the way things had been when she was younger.  Elizabeth picked up the glass of whiskey, dipped a claw in the liquor and let it drip on her tongue.
	“It’s really a shame.  Alcohol this good shouldn’t be wasted on the kind of person who thinks it’s okay to make a girl to spread her legs for money.  But I can’t fault your taste,” Elizabeth said.
	“I should hope not.  I’m not about to embarrass myself by serving the watery shit the other Houses give their clients,” Samantha said.
	Elizabeth put the glass back down on the bar with an almost reverential gesture.
	“Our young guest seemed to like it, too, almost as much as he liked my little Jessie,” she said.
	“You're lucky he turned up when he did.  Your girl will be here in a few minutes, and you know how nervous the new ones can be,” Samantha said.
	“Already?  I hoped I could talk to Jess first, and warn her.  Or at least calm her down.  She's not going to like the idea of any girl going into a private harem,” said Elizabeth.
	“What about the rest of it?  Do you think she'll join us?” said Samantha.
	Elizabeth ran her fingers over the patch across her eye, and her mouth twisted in a kind of smile.
	“Only Jess can answer that.  She isn't a revolutionary, at heart,” she said.
	“What about all the girls she's freed?” said Samantha.
	“That's nothing but ordinary rebellion.  It keeps her sane, by letting her think she's doing something good in the world.  It's not the same as cutting the President's throat,” Elizabeth said.
	Samantha couldn't keep herself from wincing at the thought, and she wondered if she'd have the nerve to do that herself.  She had only joined the rebellion because she'd overheard Elizabeth and Captain Thomas talking one night, and it was that, or lose her position.  She believed in what they were doing but, sometimes, Thomas frightened her as much as President Keppler did.
	“It’s a shame I can’t be honest with her about these things.  But I think she’ll probably understand.  In the long run,” Elizabeth said.
	“Maybe.  I still think you're doing things the wrong way.  You don’t have to sneak the girl in, President Keppler wants us to take her.  He would drool all over himself at the sight of her walking through the front door.”
	“Then we tell him it was a test.  You can’t be too careful, not when there are people out there in the city now who would cheerfully burn every House to the ground tomorrow,” Elizabeth said.
	Samantha shivered and glanced at the door.  There were only rumors, right now.  Sometimes clients came in with stories about a group of religious zealots who had burned a House down with everyone inside.  Details were sketchy, and every time the story was told it had happened to a different House, but nobody wanted to take any chances.
	“I just think that we have enough problems without giving the most powerful fox in Jaspertree a reason to stick his nose into our business,” she said.
	“Really Samantha, I’ve never known a cat who was this afraid of a dog.  You have two good witnesses to say you were here the whole time. So just keep quiet and let me worry about our good President,” Elizabeth said.
	“You’d better get back, if you’re going to do this.  I wouldn’t give Jessie's new puppy more than a few minutes, if that,” Samantha said.
	“My little Jess is very good at what she does.  She can hold him as long as she wants to,” Elizabeth said.
	the old vixen vanished up the stairs at something approaching a run. Sam shut the hidden door and wiped the mirror down to clear away their fingerprints, just in case.  It was a silly precaution.  It was against the law for anyone to search a House, and there hadn't been a raid on one since she was a kitten.  She'd been six at the time, and had sat on this same bar all night, watching her mother serve drinks to city soldiers.  They had been polite, and made no arrests, but some lessons stayed.
	She leaned against the bar so she could watch the street and drank the double shot of whiskey in little sips, grimacing at each one.  She wasn't used to drink, because the first thing a bartender learned was to keep a clear head, but she wasn’t about to let good alcohol go to waste a second time in less than an hour.  She kept an eye on the street, too, and held her breath every time someone walked past.

	Jess lay on her back in the middle of the stale-smelling bed, staring up at the ceiling tiles while the fox on top of her handed at her and shoved himself into her body with teenage lust. She writhed like she was supposed to, and clawed at his back the way he’d said that he liked,  though she was careful never to draw blood.  Predators always had such thin skins, and though they weren't supposed to hurt her, some of them forgot.
	She bit his neck when he came, because he'd asked her to.  A lot of males liked for her to hurt them in interesting ways, and some even paid extra for this service.  Every time she did, she could hear the voice of Alice in the back of her mind, urging her to sink her teeth all the way in to sever the artery.  If she wasn't careful, all the rage and rebellion she thought she'd buried so carefully rose up in her heart, bringing the weasel with them.  Years of practice and self-denial let her get away with only nicking him so that a single drop of blood fell into her mouth.
	She held him in her arms while he caught his breath, like he actually mattered to her.  Males seemed to enjoy lies like that, and sometimes they asked for her by name the next time they visited the House.  That got her extra money, or a few extra privileges for the week, and the freedom that these things gave her were almost worth the sticky dampness between her legs.  After they were finished, she got out of bed and sat on the wobbly stool in front of her dressing table to brush out her hair, which was long enough to reach her waist, and which tangled easily.  She didn’t need to see herself, and usually she preferred not to.  She went through the same routine so many times a day that she could do it if she were blind.  But the mirror on top of the table gave her a way to watch her clients without being obvious about it.  Males didn’t like for her to look at them after they’d fucked her.  Either they didn’t want to think of her as an actual person, or they were scared of being reminded where they were.
	She rubbed some salve on her nipples, which were sore from where he’d bitten them, and sprayed on a little perfume to mask the smell of the medicine.  She shook two small white pills out of a bottle on the stand, and swallowed them dry.  They were supposed to protect her from getting pregnant, and, so far, they had always worked.  This didn't stop her from worrying that they might not, and she took them after every session, instead of once a week like she was supposed to.  Most girls didn't need to worry, if they weren't in their Cycle, but House girls were so over-stimulated that they could come into heat without realizing it and she wasn't taking any chances.
	Her latest male was a red fox with a narrow muzzle, and a lot of guilt lurking just under the way he grinned when he looked at her.  He was handsome enough, in a bland sort of way, but he was no more than a boy.  This was just the sort of client that she normally saw.  She got the ones with money because of the performances she could give them, and she got the young ones, always first timers, because she knew how to soothe them when they were scared.
	“You’re very good.  For a mouse, I mean,” he said.
	As if he had any way of knowing what was good or not.  But compliments were rare enough that she caught herself smiling anyway.
	“I’m flattered you think so,” she said.
	“I didn’t think you’d be that flexible, either.  And your teeth…  Even my father would be impressed, I think,” he said.
	He rubbed his neck where her teeth had bitten him, and Jess watched his face for the first signs of anger.  But he only smiled at the little drops of blood that coated his fingers.
	“Next time, I want you to wear more jewelry.  I like to see a girl sparkle when she moves,” he said.
	Jess touched the ring she wore on her left hand.  It was made of tin with a green glass stone, and she never took it off.  It had belonged to her mother, and it was the one thing that really belonged to her.
	“I don't own anything nice,” she said.
	“We'll have to see about that, then, won't we?  Every girl should have something pretty to wear,” he said.
	“Most of us would rather have our freedom,” Jess said.
	The boy's ears colored, and Jess braced herself for the lecture that was sure to come.  One of these days, she knew, she'd have to learn to watch what she said.  He just fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, leaving them mis-matched from halfway up.
	“I’m surprised you’re still here and not in some private House.  Didn’t you ever want to try to do better than this?” he said.
	Jess dropped her hairbrush, and made a show of squatting to pick it up, so he wouldn't see her look of terror.  The thought of going into a private harem made her stomach turn.  The girls who let themselves get caught in that trap were given gold and fine clothes, and they had everything they wanted, except for hope.  Public service had its own problems, but if a girl was clever and careful with her money, she could eventually buy her way out.  Harem girls stayed with their masters as long as they lived.
	“I think I'm better off here.  None of the private collectors would want a girl like me,” she said.
	“If you’re sure,” he said “With all of the mills and factories that have opened up, the air in this city isn’t fit to breathe anymore.  It’s much healthier out in the country.”
	“So I’ve heard.  It’s a pity I’m not allowed to leave,” she said.
	When he was dressed he took a tooled leather coin purse out of his pocket.  It was one of the fancy new ones with a combination lock built into the zipper, and it had the city seal on the side in silver leaf.  That, she thought, was very interesting, but she didn’t let her curiosity show.  The only male she knew who would carry the city symbol on his personal belongings was President Keppler himself.  Since this fox was too young to be him, that meant he was Richard, the president’s son.
	She kept her eyes on the mirror and kept brushing her fur in long, even strokes.  He turned his back to her to open the pouch, and when he turned back around he was holding three silver five dollar pieces between his knuckles.  He tossed two on the bed as payment for his visit.  He held the third one out to her.
	“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” he asked.
	“Why would I?  You paid for your time,” she said.
	She turned around now, because it was allowed, and got up from her bench.  His eyes went right to her breasts and she let him look, too tired to bother with covering up.
	“Just  don’t mention it to anyone, not even to any of your friends here.  Will you promise?” he asked.
	“You don’t have anything to worry about.  We’re not allowed to talk about our clients outside of the House,” she said.
	This never stopped some of the braver girls from doing so, though, and everyone knew it.  They weren’t supposed to accept bribes, but when he held out the coin to her again she took it without another word.
	“Now you’re as guilty as I am,” he said.  
	It was a strange thing for him to say.  Houses were legal in Jaspertree, and she had even entertained President Keppler himself, when she had first started.  As if she'd had any say in the matter, at fourteen years old.  But she knew better than to say so to a client.  He turned and ran out the door, tearing down the flimsy curtain that covered it in his haste.
	She sighed, and went back to her table to finish cleaning herself up.  The fox had ripped the dress she had been wearing in his haste to get her naked, and that was a shame because she’d rather liked it.  Elizabeth was willing to buy her girls all the clothes they could wear, whenever they needed some, but she was smart enough to let them go out and buy what they wanted on their own.  That small measure of independence kept most of them from grumbling too much the rest of the time.  Jess enjoyed it, too, even though she had been with the House long enough to know how the game worked.  For now, she put on a loose fitting blouse that was the same shade of light brown as her fur, and her one pair of long pants.  She fussed with them for ten minutes, and when she finally gave up, they still clung uncomfortably around her legs and crotch.  It was a mystery to her how anyone could be comfortable in anything but a skirt.
	She picked up her black leather collar, and hesitated.  She didn’t really mind what she did, as long as she didn’t have to think about it. It was beyond her understanding why anyone would pay what amounted to two months wages for sex, when there were more interesting things to do, but it meant that she was safer than most females in Jaspertree, and she could walk the streets without worrying about being molested by anyone. Slaves were worth a lot of money, and thus more valuable than ordinary people.  It was only wearing the collar that bothered her.  No matter how long she'd worn it, no matter how light the material, it always felt like she had a great weight on her neck that was dragging her down.
	Her thoughts were broken by a sharp knock on the doorframe.  She wrapped the collar around her neck and turned to face the curtain, forcing herself to smile in case her visitor turned out to be another customer.  Instead, it was Lady Elizabeth, who shoved back the curtain and came into the room.
	“Another last minute?  Can he wait until I’ve got some feeling back in my legs, or is he one of the impatient ones?” she said.
	“There was one, but I gave him to Jennifer instead.  She needs the money, and the experience, more than you do. No, I have something else I want you to do,” Elizabeth said.
	“As long as they’re not as bad as the puppy I just got done with.  I don’t mind when they want to play rough, but they could at least try to be interesting,” Jess said.
	“When that happens you have to teach them, Jessie.  I’ve tried to tell you that before.  But this doesn’t have anything to do with a customer.  We have a new girl,” Elizabeth said.
	“Doesn’t bother me.  I’ve got more than I can handle right now, and it would help to have someone who could pick up my overflow, if you think she’s any good.  Was she born into service, or just fall behind on her debts?” Jess aid.
	“Neither. She's been bought for a private collection,” said Elizabeth.
	This time, Jess couldn’t entirely repress a small grimace of distaste, which bared the tips of her teeth.  Elizabeth gave her a little smile and took the collar out of her hands to put it on properly for her.  The old vixen hadn’t touched her since she’d been a child, but Elizabeth’s hands were just as soft as remembered.
	“It’s bad enough that they can trick some of the girls from the Houses into their private collections, but at least they're used to this kind of life.  Nobody should be allowed to buy someone else just off the street like that, not for any price.  Why is she here?”
	“Because President Keppler wants you to train her yourself,” Elizabeth said.
	“Does he?  What if I say no?  I don’t have time to teach anyone anything, not and see to my customers too,” Jess said.
	“You won’t.  I told the president you’d do it, and he has agreed to pay you for your time.  Which is more than I expected him to do, so you should count yourself lucky.  Jennifer will take care of your customers.”
	“What if I can’t?  Technique is no problem, I can teach her how to get anyone to come begging at her door. But all the fancy rich bastards up in their mansions expect something more than my little tricks,” Jess said.
	“You won't have to worry about that, either. She already knows everything you could teach her, and much more,” Elizabeth said.
	“Then what—“ Jess began, but Elizabeth put a finger over her muzzle and cocked an ear back towards the door.  No more than a heartbeat later there was a crash from the other end of the hall that sounded like a door had been torn off its hinges.  There were shouts and someone growled, a long, drawn out sound that made all of Jess’s fur stand on end.  She cringed and clenched her fists, but Elizabeth shook her head and moved them both away from the door.
	There was another growl, closer this time, and a big fox in an old fashioned leather cuirass fell into the room, right where they had been standing.  He got up and started back out into the hall, but two more foxes came into the room, dragging what looked like a vixen in with them.  She had the same red fur as her guards, marked here and there with patches of black.  But she was much taller than either of them, and there was a distinct mane of black fur on the back of her neck.  It stood straight up, and it made her look much bigger than anyone Jess had ever seen..  She had too many teeth, and there were little flecks of blood on her muzzle.  Her arms were tied behind her back, and her handlers had her on the ends of two long ropes, but they all looked frightened of her.
	“They want you to teach her self control,” Elizabeth said.
	“Are you serious?  If three foxes can’t control her, I’m going to get eaten,” Jess said.
	“Oh no, you'll be fine.  She’s just young and scared,” Elizabeth said.
	“She’s scared?  She’s the biggest thing in the House.  What is she?” Jess said.
	“She's a maned wolf, all the way from the Southern Lands.  They do like their exotics, up in the big houses,” Elizabeth said.
	The old vixen grinned the way she always did when she was showing off and she stretched up on her toes to put a hand on their new student’s shoulder.  The girl spun around, ears flat.  But when she saw Elizabeth still smiling up at her, she subsided and looked slightly embarrassed.
	“Megan, this is the person I told you about, remember?  This is Jessie, who's going to help you get settled in and look after you for a while.  You won’t eat her, will you?” Elizabeth said.
	“Only if she insists,” said Megan.
	Her tone was polite enough, but her face had gone blank and she kept her head down and wouldn’t look up at any of them.
	“Will you do as she asks?  And will you do anything that she wants you to?” said Elizabeth.
	“Yes.  As long as I’m here,” said Megan.
	Elizabeth’s smile widened, but Jess felt an uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.  There were wild stories about what the girls in the private harems were expected to do, and even the tamest of them was too nauseating to think about.
	“You didn’t tell me it would be anything like this.  I’ll teach her anything I can, but I’m not going to break her for you.  Everyone should be allowed to have things they refuse to do,” Jess said.
	“Well yes, you're right.  Of course you are.  I picked you to do this because I knew you wouldn’t abuse her.  It's going against my contract a little, but I’m not going to see any girl who comes out of my House get mistreated,” Elizabeth said.
	“I don’t want anyone else to hurt her, either.  I don’t care who thinks they own her, as long as she’s under my care—“
	“That’s why she’s going to be staying with you, here, until you’re finished.  You can use the big private room on the top floor.  I’ve already had it fixed up for you, and I moved your things up there myself,” Elizabeth said.
	She took a small silver key out of her pocket and held it out for Jessamine to take.
	“I don’t need anything that fancy.  Anyway, where will you sleep?  The rest of the House is too cold for you, and the beds are too hard,” Jess said,.
	“That’s what I tell you girls so I can get my way, and you're all silly enough to believe me.  But I’ll survive without my luxuries for a while.  I survived for fifty years in rooms just like this,” Elizabeth said.
	“Yes but you’re seventy-four now, and your back—“
	“I’m seventy-three, and my back is fine.  No more arguing, now, I refuse to listen to it,” Elizabeth said.
	She held out the key again and Jess took it and slipped it into a pocket.  Elizabeth smiled at her and bent down to kiss her on her forehead.  It was a motherly gesture, which Jess had never accepted from her own mother when she’d been alive, but the old vixen had earned it if anyone had.
	After they had gone, Megan sat down on the bed with her head raised toward the ceiling and her eyes closed.  She muttered to herself for a long minute with her hands folded in her lap, then she fell silent.  But she still didn’t move.  Jess picked up her shredded black dress, suddenly embarrassed to have bits of her clothes lying around where strangers could see them, even though it happened every day.  She did her best to fold the pieces neatly and put them on in the top drawer of her dresser.
	She jumped when Megan grabbed her arm, and just managed to avoid crying out and embarrassing herself further.  Megan snarled, showing off a mouthful of large white teeth, and pulled Jess down so that she could feel the girl's breath on her throat.
	“Stop and think a minute.  If you do this, there’s nothing I can do to stop you.  But you’ll be in a lot of trouble, and you will have lost the only friends you’ve got in this city,” she said.
	“Coward,” Megan said.
	“If that’s what you call surviving, then yes, I am.  I’ve lived in this House all of my life, and I found out early that you can’t make it if you’re reckless,” she said.
	“I don’t give a shit about what you think you had to do to survive.  It’s because you know what they’re going to do to me and you’re going to help them,” Megan snarled.
	Jess felt the girl tense for a shove, and she braced her arms against the dresser and leaned forward, pushing Megan back.
	“Don’t think it’s because I want to.  I don’t have any more choice in this than you do,” she said.
	She pushed forward a little more, forcing Megan to lean away.  She was afraid, but she couldn’t back down now.
	“Don’t you dare compare yourself with me.  You’re here because you were stupid with money.  Once you pay your little debt, you'll be free. Nobody owns you.  You’re not being trained up as someone’s toy,” Megan said.
	“Oh yes, it’s the simplest thing in the world, isn’t it?  Nobody who belongs to a House owes less than ten thousand dollars.  Do you know how long that takes to pay back, when you’re only paid fifteen dollars a week?” Jess said.
	“You still have a choice,” Megan said.
	She wrenched her arm out of Jess’s grip and stood up.  The girl was six feet tall, a full foot taller than Jess, and the tips of her ears brushed the ceiling, but Jess held her ground and didn’t look up, as if even an angry wolf wasn’t worth the effort.
	“We don't.  Most House girls are here because it was that or see someone they loved in here instead.  The rest of us get born into a House., like I was.  Then the city pays for everything until you’re sixteen, and they stick you with the bill,” she said.
	Megan grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her backward, away from the bed.  When there was enough room between them Megan tried to dart for the door, but Jess held on to her and tripped her to the floor.
	“Anyone who is born into a House is in debt from their first breath.  They pay you what you’re worth, but the better you get the more valuable you are, and the more someone has to pay to rent you.  By the time you realize what's happening, you owe so much you can never pay it back,” Jess said. 
	“Why are you telling me this? To make me feel sorry for you?  Or are you trying to trick me? I’ll be damned if I give in without a fight,” Megan said.
	The girl jumped up and made for the door, but Jess was still in her way and there was no way to leave the House without being seen.  Megan paced around the room, occasionally pounding on the walls with her fists and leaving dents in the plaster.
	“I’m trying to help you,” Jess said.
	“You don’t care about anyone but yourself.  You and that lying, one-eyed old bitch,” said Megan.
	Jess’s vision blurred with sudden anger, and she shoved the girl against the wall.  Megan hit her head and her knees buckled.  Jess grabbed her muzzle to force her to look up, but she stopped when the girl whimpered.
	“Lesson one.  Know who your friends are.  Lady Elizabeth runs this house, but she belongs to President Keppler, just like we all do.  She’ll do everything she can to help you, but she has to look like she’s doing what he wants to keep us all safe,” Jess said.
	She let go and sat down on the bed, still facing her new student.  Megan stayed on her knees and hid her face with her hands.  She didn’t make any noise, but tears slid down her muzzle. Jess sat and watched her for a while, and tried to ignore the guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach..  She wanted to pet the girl and comfort her, but it was dangerous to show your feelings too much.
	“You have to understand the way things are,” she said.
	“I don’t care.  I want to go home,” Megan said.
	“I know, and you will if I can get you there.  But you have to listen to me, and do what I tell you,” she said.
	“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?  If you really are going to help me, I’ll listen.  But I’m not your servant, and I don’t like girls,” Megan said.
	“I don’t like anyone.  Now get up and come here,” Jess said.
	Megan wiped her eyes on her sleeve and came over to kneel at the foot of the bed.  She kept her head down, and she trembled slightly under Jess's touch.  Jess picked the brush up off her table and set to smoothing the girl’s fur back out.  As Megan relaxed under her attention, she began to feel the same sense of optimism that always came to her when she had a new problem to fix.  Most of the girls she’d helped had been born into the House, like her.  It was mostly a case of giving them money or of teaching them some of her tricks, to help them out.  She didn’t have any idea how to get Megan free of her obligations, but she was sure something would come to her eventually.