I've had this idea for a little while, but was reluctant to release it simply because I'm not 
sure it would be widely accepted. I deeply apologize for any offense anyone might take 
from this, if for themselves, or on behalf of the characters. I'm taking some serious poetic 
license here by shaping these persons to my will, and I warn you ahead of time, this isn't 
something that should be read by young readers. While I'm only 18 myself and refuse to 
cross the line into blatant hentai/ ecchi/ lemon, I am using some imagery that is not for 
young eyes. If you are offended by the plot or basis of this story, please try to refrain from 
the obligatory flames. I am placing this disclaimer at the beginning for a reason, and it 
will be your own fault for proceeding further. ^^ Thank you. 

That being said, I'd like to explain a few things first - 

First and foremost, this has moderately strong language, meaning it has some curse 
words, but since I'm not particularly fond of such terms, I try to use them sparingly, or at 
least keep the characters away from situations where they would be used. I say that 
because this story's setting makes that hard. 

I am rating this R - (a low) NC-17, simply because of the main plot. I hate to spoil the 
surprise, but I've made Usagi a prostitute in the RLD in Amsterdam. The first chapter 
will pretty much have the bulk of what my friends have called "lemon scented" material; 
the remaining duration will be toned down even more than this, which, IMO, isn't at all 
bad. I know it may sound like I'm harping on this, but I really don't want anyone getting 
mad if they feel that this is sprung on them. However, I hope it doesn't sour you on the 
story. ^^ I believe the ending makes it worth it. 

A few Dutch terms explained ahead of time - 

"Liefje" = "darling" 
"vrijster" = "lover" 
"Walletjes" = another name for the Red Light District. Also referred to as Wallen.

And now that all the yucky, unappealing stuff is over with, I hope you enjoy and I greatly  
appreciate any and all feedback! I don't particularly care for flames, but I resign to the 
fact that I can't exactly stop them. I'd love to know what you think!


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Rouge, Part I of ?
By Sailor Europa (Ciel Envoyé)



	The lighting was subdued. Each of the strategically placed oil lamps were 
dimmed this, as in every, evening. Even in the darkened atmosphere though, Mamoru 
could make out the chic, almost to the garish point, décor. The period pieces decorated 
and laid all over seemed so unassuming; so oblivious. The cramped quarters that blended 
so well into the classic architecture outside, were well crafted in the same fashion inside. 
Tiny cherubs smiled, nude and innocent, holding candles, ash trays and couches, gilded 
to a sheen. Their solid eyes had seen all there was to see, in this of all places. They had 
been there for centuries; living through a loving marriage in which they began their life 
as a principle gift, gently set aside the dwelling. And now, to weary travelers and regular 
clientele, they provided a refuge; a recovery from the modern. 
	The deep mauve undertones of the setting were mood-inducing, to be blunt. It was 
a happy coincidence that this business should select this location with its almost perfectly 
fitting emotional feel. It was at home in these furnishings, as if they had been made, 
hundreds of years earlier, under such opposing circumstances, to sit where they were 
now, for the purpose they now filled. 
	Velvet curtains were drawn aside in a classic fashion and led the raven haired 
gentleman  further through the establishment. He was Asian, although one would have to 
be prompted to openly notice such a detail. His eyes were a deep navy hue, and his 
creamy, rich complexion off-set the contrast of the liquid pools. He was part American, 
proudly and openly. But his accent was laden with the tones of a native Japanese tongue. 
	He was obviously handsome, and unlikely as the skeptical might assume, not an 
uncommon site at such a business. The shunned and the shy were a staple; but the staff 
was accustomed to all varieties of clients. The well-placed clothing was a tip-off that the 
young man was looking for thrills from such an infamous establishment. To the 
entertainers and escorts of the Walletjes, nothing was surprising. 
	The gentleman, obviously a bit uncomfortable in his new surroundings, walked 
tentatively to the bar and sat. Perched at the edge of his stool, he leaned forward and 
stared straight ahead. The femme's in the room gave each other an amused eye; typical. 
While the man had, of course, never been to this type of club before, he knew what to do 
and what not to do. He didn't speak a word, and played it cool; or tried to, at least. His 
stance was so rigid, anyone could see with an untrained eye that he was all a twitter with 
nerves. 
	"He's cute. I wouldn't mind." 
	"Oh please! Do you ever?" 
	"Of course! What the hell kinda question is that?!" 
	"Well for God's sake, you can hardly keep those washed-up limbs of yours 
from..."
	"You little whore! Shut the fuck up!"
	The dark haired man looked up as the male bartender approached his side. With 
the flick of his wrist, he sent the servant away and let his calm façade droop; he stared at 
his shoes for minutes on end. The girls rated their consumer as soon as his attention was 
once again locked elsewhere. 
	"He's fresh. He won't be picky." 
	"Not like it matters. He doesn't need to be." 
	"Now if he went down the street...."
	"It'd be like trying to find a flower in a garden full of weeds." 
	The few who participated erupted into laughter. His ears perked up from 50 feet 
away, and he tilted his head in their direction. One of the more brash elders moved to 
steal his gaze. With slow deliberation she licked her lips as if spotting her prey and 
anticipating the inevitable kill. A couple of the others picked up on his unease; or was it 
disgust? It didn't matter. The selection was narrowed down a bit at the sign. Once the 
introductions were over he would have weeded out her and those of her like. And those 
who knew the houses, knew that innocence was a rare and precious commodity. And 
sincere naiveté appeared to be nil. His choices would be few. 
	"Liefje..." Annemie snuck up like cat from behind and sprung, slipping her arm 
smoothly around his shoulders. A few of the newer members of staff watched in envy and 
admiration. To start up the relationship in such a bold and sassy approach was something 
only seasoned veterans dared to do. And slight show of self-consciousness was suicide to 
a girls career. Confidence was a necessity, and only a select dared to use it, while even 
fewer succeeded. Many a customer had been thoroughly turned off by such vulgar 
utterances and left without even ordering a drink. Of course,  it often ended with a 
worthwhile tip; the sign of a cocky client who would, without a doubt, return. 
	"Hello." His dutch was broken, and even he could see her eyes immediately 
widen at such a simple word. His tone was indeed untainted; such a delicious sign of 
youth. He wouldn't be here if he weren't curious and yet, he wouldn't have stayed so 
collected if he were "inexperienced", either. This was the job women fought over. 
	 "Do you have a name, vrijster?" She cooed into his ear. He was growing more 
visibly queasy by the second. She knew it wasn't going over well, and she backtracked at 
a last ditch attempt to save herself. "How are you doing?" She abandoned her previous 
approach and sat at the seat next to him. She slipped one leg expertly over the other and 
arched her back to get closer. 
	"Mamoru." He  choked out. Silently she sighed. Lost cause, and she was not 
about to throw herself and risk a probation. Madame Isabelle hated to see her ladies act 
like anything else than she boasted them off. She needed the money, and being stuck with 
a week away from the house was not an option. 
	"I hope you enjoy yourself, Mamoru." She let his name roll off her tongue, 
curving the edge of her lips into a devilish smile, preserving and holding her reputation 
by a thread. She'd let someone else take a crack at the marble figure, now holding a 
Guinness in his left hand, untouched. Her movements away from the scene were as fluid 
as her approach had been, but her expression was defeated; a sight he couldn't tell from 
his vantage. 
	Two more tried the same with similar results. They had all seen their share of 
fickle customers, but rarely did they find such a well-bred foreigner who had his eye 
finely tuned to the point where he could tell within seconds if he would spend his money 
on you. The Student, as they quickly dubbed him, was rapidly become a-typical, as 
clientele ran. He was young and handsome, but looking for something in particular. Not a 
quick romp, pet, massage or the like, but a serious formulated plan. A few of the ladies in 
the establishment wondered why, with such tastes, he wasn't engaged in the act with a 
more serious and committed relationship. He was seeking their company, but wanted his 
own needs met and by someone he was willing to pick out. 
	"Mamoru, is it?" 
	Almost as if he had forgotten where he was, the broad shoulders jerked around 
into the cushions of his seat-back. 
	"Yes." He replied shortly. He bristled, waiting for her caress as the others had 
given, but instead found her hand thrust into his own and being shook vigorously. 
Shocked, he checked her glowing expression. 
	"Serenity." 
	She was short, and it was quite an amusing spectacle as she pulled herself, after 
much hesitation, onto the unoccupied stool next to him. He was watching her every 
move. She was different than those who had come before. 
	"Serenity...." He chewed on the name for a few seconds, and she cocked her head 
to the left, then the right, waiting to see his reaction. He could not sense her pounding 
heart, the same throb that occurred each time this event began. The initial exchange of 
formalities was grueling, for both parties involved. 
	Out of the corner of his eye, in the hushed lighting of the room, he watched her 
easy movements. They weren't seductive; at least not deliberately. He blinked and 
realized instantly that she was who he had come here for. Her long blonde hair was 
slightly curled at the ends of the pig-tails, which were in turn tied in duel buns on either 
side of her head, and he was hypnotized by the dancing light from the whale oil lamps at 
the corners of the bar. Her make-up was pointless. Perhaps he could request that she 
remove it. He gave a half-smile at the idea. 
	"Where are the rooms?" 


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	"I'm not sure how this works...." The young man had let his confidence slip 
around his ankles, and now stuttered slightly before his new purchase. Serenity was 
seating herself comfortably on the grand, four poster bed, watching him contentedly. 
	"Don't worry. Your nerves will let up soon...." Her painted lips urged lowly. She 
leaned back on her hands and slowly crossed one leg over the other, eyes locking with 
his. He stared at her light blue gaze for a few moments before removing his jacket and 
clutching it in front of him. He was obviously fidgeting mercilessly, and her cool persona 
was not wavering in the slightest. Mamoru could imagine that she was designed to be this 
way; steady in such shaky company. He mused that this must be what kept customers 
paying. She wasn't impatient, and a disconcerting question nagged him. How many 
others had been the same way as he? 
	Sensing his unease, she let her loose limbs unclench as she stood up to approach 
him. A reflex in his mind asked his body to back up; he wasn't accustomed to this. But he 
stayed. She was wearing an easy smile, dark liner circling her eye-lids expertly, covering 
any secrets she could have been hiding. Had he been in his natural state, he might have 
contemplated all the problems and mysteries a woman in her profession could have. 
	"Sweetheart..." She cradled his head with her arms as she spoke, stroking his 
cheek and letting her breath waft across his skin. His shoulders were unwinding with 
each breezy word she uttered. "Don't be scared. I won't bite." She stood on her toes to 
ruffle her eyelashes over his face in butterfly kisses. "Unless that's your fancy."
	He was absently staring down at his shoes, but with her in close proximity, it was 
increasingly harder to avoid seeing her movements. She smelled like citrus and soap. He 
was praying that he could overcome his momentary fears soon; he had already laid down 
the money, and it would be such a shame to let it rot. 
	"Mamoru...." Her voice was low and lingering, testing the name and pretending 
to find it to her liking. She rather enjoyed this particular part of a job. The actual "act", so 
to speak, was not bad, but it had become meaningless and almost mundane. In these 
rooms, to the guests, everything was happening for the first time. But the girls saw the 
same walls of each of the six rooms more than once a week. The décor was romantic to 
outsiders; quaint and appropriate. But Serenity found it hard to see the charm in anything 
that took place in here; it all equaled out to payroll, and she couldn't imagine it any other 
way. 
	"Let me help you relax, Mamo-chan...." His head jerked upwards at her 
command of his native tongue. He hadn't any idea how she could have guessed his 
nationality; he was mistaken for a bloody American more than anything else. Either not 
noticing his shock or choosing to ignore it, she kissed his cheek tenderly, reminding 
Mamoru of a maternal instinct more than seduction. She lifted her arms gingerly from his 
shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. "Close your eyes, love..." She whispered. He 
complied obediently. With expertise, she wove her fingers into the muscles in his back, 
bending and moving them at will. His whole body desired to please her and he felt 
immediately at her mercy. He had envisioned this experience to feel unnatural, but as she 
massaged his overworked body, he couldn't conjure up a more correct scenerio. The 
oddities that took place in the bar were in the past; a surreal dream. He hadn't a clue how 
he had wound up in this room with Serenity, but he was content with it. Very content. 
	Without asking permission, her speed escalated as she pulled the jacket from his 
grasp with little reluctance on his part. She was humming as she moved, but Mamoru 
kept his eyes closed. He was far too comfortable to change things, and she didn't request 
anything else. He found it a bit amusing that she was calling the shots, even while she 
now held his money in her wallet. He could feel her fingers tracing the seam on his white, 
button down shirt. As her fingers walked their way up to his neck, she pulled back his 
collar and lightly kissed the defined bone structure. He craned his neck backwards, his 
lips parting in the act. He wanted to smile, but felt it inappropriate. 
	There was a pause as her mouth detached from his skin, and Mamoru opened his 
eyes slowly, as if awakening from a sweet dream. Not even thinking, he held her serious 
gaze and placed his hands on her shoulders gently, then trailing them down her bare, 
exposed arms and back up again, finally encircling her svelte neck. Smiling slightly, eyes 
narrowed in precision, she lifted her hands again to his chest and fingered the iridescent 
buttons. She unclasped the bottom one slowly to begin with, and worked her way 
upwards. His mind had reverted to autopilot, and he voluntarily let his fingers unfasten 
each of the tiny buttons clinging to her skimpy black shirt in retaliation. 
	With the scene unraveling as expected, she hooked a finger through the belt loops 
of his khaki's and pulled his partially exposed body to her own. She gingerly pulled her 
arms around his neck and completely slipped the useless shirt from his frame, letting her 
hands trail down his now bare chest. His back was quivering at her deft actions, surprised 
and pleased at how she handled him. He sensed that his time was running low, and he 
found himself anxious for the accepted progression of events in such a case. His nerves 
were all but unfounded; he had banished all the misgivings he'd initially poured on 
himself during his trip up here. He was imagining it ascending to a higher level still 
tonight even. 
	Instead of leading him onto the plush, velvet bed though, he found her pressing 
his upper body downwards into a deep red sofa, and then kneeling before him. He 
watched her intently, her expert hands pulling her body forward so that he appeared to be 
straddling her bust. She had entered the next level, slowly and deliberately avoiding his 
eyes as she tugged on his belt, finally unclasping it and leaning in to press another gentle, 
out of place peck on his navel. He found his mind falling into a blissful abyss, and 
drowning in whatever spell she had cast over him. He listened to her small, almost 
vulnerable giggle as she joined him in removing her top completely, revealing a pink lace 
bra underneath, almost ironically too innocent for such a professional. She placed her 
hands on either side of him and rose to her feet, yet bending over so that her face was 
centimeters from his. 
	The low light from a crimson bulb on the left wall was cascading onto her 
features, and he found the best look at his gift for the first time all evening. Her make-up 
was as heavy as he had first imagined, but after such an encounter, bits had worn off and 
he did a double take at a few stray freckles dancing across her cheeks. His breathed 
halted in his lungs, and he furrowed his forehead. His brain was thinking under his lusts' 
sincere contradictions, and his movements were paused. Arms laid dormant around her 
thin waist, and his brain ignored his companion's insistent urges towards progression. 
	"Mamo-chan...." Her voice rose in a high pitched giggle. His heart pounded in 
his ears, and even his lust and hormones receded when her innocent tone punctured his 
ears a second time. He pulled away. 
	"M...Mamoru?"
	The vomit rose in his throat, and he stood, his feet barely able to stand still. His 
disgust was impossible to deny or hide, even from himself. His stomach lurched as he 
turned his back to her and crossed his arms over his exposed body, suddenly unbearably 
cold. 
	Serenity was kneeling still, on the floor where he had once been with her. She 
stood, mistaking his sudden change in mood for a second guess on his own part. She 
strode to his side and touched his back, beginning to massage it once more. He jerked 
around, slapping her arm violently away. His eyes roved over her body with an intensity 
that scared her, and she tried in vain to cover the exposed skin she had so willingly left 
vulnerable moments before. 
	"How old are you?" He hissed at her, and she felt her next breath freeze in her 
throat. The thick, seductive air had dropped like a stone, and along with him, she shivered 
at the latest mood. 
	"W....What?" 
	"How old are you, Serenity?" He asked once more, more sternly, his eyes almost 
horrifyingly abhorrent. She shook her head, unable to answer. "I know that there are 
limits here...." 
	"If you weren't happy with the service..." She began, scrambling desperately to 
cover the tracks she was leaving. This had never happened to her before; no one had ever 
been so bold as to question her ethics. 
	"It's not the service I'm upset with." 
	"Sir-." 
	"I want to know your age." His octave rose, and with a swift gesture, grasped her 
wrists in steel fists. She let a terrified squeak escape, and felt a few tears threaten to fall. 
The consequences of being caught were too awesome to think about, and no one had ever 
been able to approach her with this before....The tears fell eventually, and she closed her 
eyes, shaking her head violently. He jerked her body, not so gently, and practically 
snarled. 
	"Please....Please, don't tell them you know." She sobbed, staring downwards, 
practically falling apart. He unwound his fingers, and she immediately fell to the floor, 
hands pulling on the carpet, small, underdeveloped hands turning white with such 
pressure. He blinked at her, not sure whether to be angry with the young girl, or to pity 
her. She had known what she was doing was wrong, but had committed the crime 
anyway. 
	She looked so pathetic, a heap on the floor at his feet. Just a few minutes prior he 
had decided that nothing in the world was going to keep him from letting their 
relationship climax to a mind-boggling point. He was incredibly disgusted; with himself 
for coming to this establishment in the first place, with the sad, pitiful young woman in 
his company, and with the whole of Amsterdam for letting such an unforgivable 
indiscretion happen in the first place. It was no wonder he was attracted to her innocence; 
she was innocent to the core, even after living in this place long enough to be familiar 
with these lewd acts so well. 
	"Oh God, please don't tell anyone...." She whimpered, her whole frame 
collapsing at his feet. He felt his anger escape right from his fingers, and he shook his 
head. "I'll do anything..." She choked on the words. 
	The girl was so different, so completely naïve that he collected her up into his 
arms and sat beside her. He sighed heavily, holding her as she cried uncontrollably on his 
still bare shoulder. He mused at how similar this was to a few moments ago. But his 
emotions were tapered now, and he stroked her back in a more brotherly fashion. 	
	"I suppose you'll want a refund now...." She whispered after she had pulled 
herself together again. 
	"No." They both rose, and he retrieved his discarded shirt from the floor and 
pulled his arms through the sleeves. She still stood, half naked and trying desperately to 
cover what he assumed was a body no older than 16. He handed her her own shirt and 
turned his back to button himself up. 
	When he turned around, he found her more composed, physically, at least. She 
was dressed, but her eyes were still frightened. He suspected she didn't believe his 
intentions were true; but he disregarded her fears. In a day or two she would realize he 
had not revealed her secret, and she could return to her normal routine. 
	If you could call it normal.
	He exhaled through his nose, and walked to the door, listening as he heard her 
soft footsteps pad slowly behind. He heard the hinges squeak, and before exiting, he 
turned around and impulsively pulled Serenity's delicate frame into an embrace. He 
inhaled her scent, the one he was drunk with 10 minutes before, and then kissed her 
tenderly on the forehead. Startled she pulled back a bit, and gave him a confused look, 
trying to wriggle from his arms. He pulled her tighter and shook his head, saddened 
beyond belief. 
	"Good night, Serenity." 

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AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Chew on that for a while.......

slr_europa@yahoo.com

http://www.geocities.com/slr_europa/

AIM :: SeeShelliRun