Ann: The Married Years Ch. 12

"Mary Ann?"

"Charles?" she answered coyly.

"Can I offer a suggestion... as the financial advisor in this partnership?"

"Certainly."

"That room we were in... don't change it."

Puzzled, she replied with a quick shake of her head. "Pardon?"

"Don't change that room. Leave it just the way it is when you renovate."

"Really? I'm worried about space as it is."

"Then we'll do something to let you add storage off the back. There's room out there. But you need to leave that room alone."

"Why?"

"This house deserves to always be a brothel Mary Ann. I think it would be offended if you tried to take that away. The history it represents practically demands it still has that tie to it's past. Hell, I would think the historical society would agree. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Very. Look, I know you're going to be very successful with your store. I have no doubt of that. But you said it yourself, this house sells happiness. And if that room isn't the reason, well, then I've missed the point of this entire day. And I really don't think I have."

"You haven't. I promise you."

"Then please. Do this for me."

"Okay. The room stays," she nodded.

"Good. I know I'll sleep better tonight knowing that. Goodnight Miss Dawson. You were incredible."

"So were you, Mr. Danielson."

Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it. She knew she was going to be sore for days. She refused to look at her knees, knowing it would be a sight she didn't want to deal with. Making her way to the kitchen, she took some aspirin, not just for the wine she drank, but for the aching she knew she'd wake up with in the morning. She had trouble climbing the stairs, to the point she considered just sleeping on the small couch in the parlor. It didn't help that the rail to help her up the stairs was on her left, each grasp of her hand a reminder of the blister she had.

At the top, she reached in to turn off the light in the room. Peering inside, she smiled, thinking of how Charles had just lobbied to save it.

"He's right. It would be criminal for there not to be one bedroom left," she sighed.

Spotting the cash he'd dropped on the table, she grinned. There were a lot of bills, which she assumed were tens or twenties. The whole thing was for effect, and it worked. Just like earlier in the day, she got a perverse thrill, her pussy becoming wet at the idea that she'd literally lived out her fantasy. That he thought enough of her dark desires to play along made her melt a little.

That is until she picked up the stack. There weren't just a few bills, there were twenty of them; all crisp new hundreds. Falling onto the mattress, she counted them again, not believing her eyes.

"I'M A WHORE, JUST LIKE YOU!" she yelled, the images of Bonnie and Henrietta in their pictures on the stairway coming to her mind. "I hope I made you both proud!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ann was leafing though a scrapbook, having completed most of the paperwork Mary Ann had given her to fill out. A lot of it was stuff she'd done before, like her W-2, and payroll information. She'd just done the routine a few months before when she started her job at the bank, so it all seemed familiar. Still, there were a couple of things she needed to have her new boss look over. In the interim, she was told to look through the scrapbook. It was a historical overview that Camilla had put together as part of new employee orientation.

It had taken Mary Ann's mother a while to accept her business venture as something more than a tawdry enterprise like the one her grandmother had started. It wasn't until Mary Ann showed her things she'd learned in her research that she began to accept that the woman in her family tree were more than some simplistic stereotype.

Mary Ann actually scolded her one day, saying the only reason she was able to go to college was because of the hard work and sound business sense of the women who raised her. She said that Henrietta and Bonnie were the two most successful businesswomen the county had ever seen, and they never went to college like she had. It was only then that Camilla began to see the light.

Her daughter gave her access to things she could have discovered for herself if she'd not been so repulsed by the vocation. And Camilla started reading. In fact, she did it in much more depth that Mary Ann had. It became a cathartic experience; she began to view it as if she was researching her genealogy, figuring out for the first time who she really was. The discoveries she made were life-changing.

Gone was the sense of dread and guilt that came with being the daughter of a prostitute. Vanished was the shame of being a direct descendant of the woman that started the local brothel. Those feelings were replaced by a sense of pride in seeing how they carefully navigated their way in a predominantly man's world. Mary Ann had been correct. The bottom line of the business alone could only be viewed as a success story, but there were also the innovations they started.

It came as a surprise to Mary Ann that Camilla approached her one day, wanting to be a part of the new Henrietta's House. But she embraced the idea, wanting her mother to share in the joy the old place offered the world. Instead of just hiring her, she asked Camilla if she wanted to become her partner, offering to sell a stake in the business to make it worth her while.

Camilla agreed, becoming a quarter-owner, with Mary Ann holding on to the rest. Yet Camilla wanted nothing to do with actually selling clothes. She was more interested in design, hoping to use her passion for sewing as a way to make her own mark. And it worked. Their partnership, and the business, flourished. Camilla's custom designs were a big hit, to the point they had to hire a second seamstress. And they were currently interviewing for a third.

But in the moment, they were now hiring what they felt was the perfect addition to their fun little family in Ann. Her experience in the fashion industry was something they dearly needed. Her incredible imagination brought with it a fresh approach to sales techniques. And the woman practically exuded sex in everything she did. The wedding dress she'd described in detail for Camilla to create for her proved she was a perfect fit.

If that wasn't enough, she'd actually embraced what little she knew about the store the first time she visited, to the point she took her husband upstairs to the one room that remained as it had as a brothel, fucking his brains out while shoppers mulled about below. It was that kind of free sexual spirit that convinced both Mary Ann and Camilla that she could lead them and the store where they needed to go in the future.

Flipping through Camilla's scrapbook, Ann read, and studied. It was hard for her not to be excited about working there. If she had to be in retail, this certainly was the job that spoke to her. It was women's fashions, combined with sex; how could she not love it?

Mary Ann sat next to her, picking up the pile of papers Ann had filled out, checking them for completeness. Ann was humming to herself, when she stopped at a picture in the back of the book; a copy of one on the wall in the stairway.

"So this is Henrietta in 1955?"

Mary Ann looked to her right, nodding her head. "Yes. That was her last day on the job. Right after, actually. Even though it's black and white, you can see her glowing," she laughed.

"And this is Bonnie," Ann pointed to the photo on the opposite page. It too was a copy of the bigger framed version hanging in what Mary Ann felt was a place of prominence.

"In 1969. You'd think she'd be sad... that was the day she closed the business."

"Well, she's got the same glassy look in her eyes that her mother has. I suppose there's a reason she's smiling."

"There was," Mary Ann sighed.

Ann leafed through pages of other pictures, those of women that had worked at the brothel in its heyday. They weren't necessarily dressed for work, or lying on a bed. But there were pictures of them around the house, all of them smiling.

"There were some beautiful women that worked here beside Bonnie and Henrietta," Ann commented.

"And all shapes and sizes. I love how they weren't all just size three women. And for a town like this, Grandma Bonnie was progressive. She actually hired a black girl a couple of years before they closed."

"I saw her picture. She was cute!"

"I like to think of them being one of the first true equal opportunity employers in town."

"No men?" Ann laughed as she turned the page. Then her jaw dropped. "Holy shit! When was this taken?"

She was looking at the photo of Mary Ann taken the day she signed the paperwork to start the process of owning her own business.

"Four years ago. That was the day I got the loan to make this place happen," she sighed fondly.

Ann let out a huge laugh. "I think you got more than that. Who took it?"

"My husband," Mary Ann replied as she was signing the one form that mattered most; the one that officially made Ann an employee at the store. She slid the form over to Ann, who had to sign above.

"You have beautiful handwriting, Mary Ann Danielson."

"Are you going to tell her the rest?" Camilla laughed, standing in the doorway.

"Mom, not now. I don't want Ann to think badly of me on her first day at work."

"What are you talking about? How could I think badly of you... ever? You saved me from that awful bank. Wait... Danielson? Is your husband one of the Charles'?"

"He's the Vice President. And he's none to pleased about losing you to me," Mary Ann chuckled. "Word is he's even more upset with Bernice. She didn't get the manager job, Ann. She's been demoted to a teller."

"You're changing the subject," Camilla teased.

"I'm trying to. I'm sure Ann is more interested in Charles being upset."

"Not really," Ann smiled, although she was intrigued by the news about Bernice. She ignored that for the moment, more interested in where Camilla was trying to lead the conversation. Leaning onto the table, she cradled her chin in her hands. "Tell me, what's your mother talking about?"

Mary Ann sighed and said, "She wants me to tell you about how I stole my husband from another woman by pretending to be a prostitute for a day."

Camilla scoffed. "My goodness, Mary Ann. Why do you have to be so dramatic? That's not what happened and you know it. If you're not going to tell her the truth, I will."

"Fine. Charles's wife at the time was having an affair. Worse, she was sleeping with a man that was a president at another bank. Charles found out, and he filed for a divorce. He was a couple of months from having it all wrapped up when I met him. I just didn't know that."

"You didn't know it until you slept with him," Camilla winked.

"I didn't sleep with him. I fucked him, mother. And it was great!"

"Apparently," Ann said as she looked at the picture again.

"She's leaving out the best part, Ann. She did it to secure the loan for the business. She did it so she could be just like Henrietta and Bonnie."

Ann nodded, understanding the appeal. After all, she'd used that same bed with Neil the first time they were ever in the store. But she didn't live out the part where she felt like a girl that worked there. It was just her and her then fiancé having an incredible experience at the encouragement of the two women who had just now become her bosses.

Still she couldn't help but comment. "So, you did what Bonnie and Henrietta did?"

Mary Ann took the time to explain the history between the bank and the brothel. More importantly, she told her about the history between the Danielson men and the women in her family, prior to her meeting up with her future husband.

Ann listened intently, captivated by the tale. When Mary Ann finished, she sat back with a puzzled look on her face.

Seeing it, Mary Ann said, "You look like you have a question."

"Yeah. I do. It's obvious you did it to get what you needed for you to open the store. And you obviously enjoyed it from the way you tell the story. And at some point, you and Charles got together and got married... so there was a connection beyond just the transaction, as you called it. I get all of that. But there's one thing I don't get."

"What's that?" Mary Ann asked.

Ann pointed at the photo of Mary Ann lying on the famous bed, posing much like Henrietta and Bonnie had, and she wondered, "Why isn't there a big framed picture of like this hanging on the wall next to theirs?"

Camilla answered for her. "She's still madam of the house... and it's still open for business."

"Well, I think you should make an exception. That wall should show the past... and the present."

Mary Ann smiled, looking at her mother. "See Mom, Ann's officially worked her five minutes, and she's already making great suggestions!"