“Ah, Detective Victor Nikiforov, sit, sit. I’ll get you our finest vodka,” the scantily clad woman said as she greeted the tall silver haired man before she stepped around to the bar to grab a glass and alcohol. Victor glanced around the room, noticing the less than appealing gaudy decor, with plumes of feathers collected in vases and photos of barely dressed women and men decorating the walls. The man adjusted in his seat, uncomfortable in the smoke-filled, tasteless environment. He was thankful the woman that greeted him took him to a private bar area instead of talking in the main sitting room where men would size up their nightly bed mate.
The makeup covered woman sat the glass of higher shelf vodka on the table. “So, what brings you here, sir. We don’t usually get detectives. I have all my papers if you want to see them.”
Victor nodded and attempted a smile. “No, ma’am. I’ve heard the local police did their rounds already; you checked out fine. You’re still legal unless I find something unsavory.” The woman straightened her corset, making her breasts stand out even more. “You may not like how my girls and boys come to me, but they have a roof, food, and clothing. There is nothing unsettling here, all legal. I hope you aren’t here to interrogate me on moral grounds.”
“Um, no, Madam Maldova—actually, I was hoping I could interview your…employees, who worked two nights ago. There was a grisly murder, not a block from here. I was hoping someone heard something if they were on the balcony soliciting.” The Russian man tried to sound as non-accusatory as possible. He didn’t much care for the whore houses, but they were legal, and they could help with a case, so he had to be polite at least.
The Madam sat down next to the nervous man and put her arm around his muscled shoulders. “Well, why didn’t you say so earlier! If that’s all you need, sweety. Let me think…now it was slow two nights ago, it being a holiday and all. You know how some men want to act like they’re all about family, so we were about empty.” She put a finger to her red lips, tapping them in thought. “I think only Marsha and Natalia were on that night.”
Victor looked hopeful. “May I speak with them. It won’t take too long.”
“Sure, but it will be a bit. They both have clients at the moment.”
“Ah, well, in that case, were you on the floor two nights ago? Did you hear anything, see anything?” The detective asked, almost pleadingly. All the other leads in the area brought nothing. No one wanted to help the police in the slum district.
“I was here, roaming around as usual, but I don’t remember seeing anything funny going on. Well, besides the usual loud-mouths and handsy men that come in.”
“Please, if you remember anything, contact me, won’t you?” The man handed her a slip of paper with a name and number scribbled on it.
The den mother took the paper and gave him a wink. “Sure thing. And if you want to wait, you’ll have to do it in one of our rooms. I’m having a little show in this one in a few minutes, and I can’t have you out in the lobby. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of while you wait, don’t worry.”
A slow blush crept up on the Detective’s face. “Um, no…I…don’t like…ah…” The man stumbled for words, utterly embarrassed at the turn in the conversation. He was on duty after all and didn’t find used company that appealing.
The woman about choked on her cigarette just looking at the man’s face. She attempted to stifle a laugh, but failed, then realized she didn’t really care. “Oh, honey, if you like men, we don’t care around here. Darlin’ we have those too. I’ll fix you right up.”
Victor bolted up, almost knocking over the untouched drink on the table. “No, no…no thank you. I don’t need anything. Just need to interview the two ladies for the investigation.”
“Alright then,” she said as she crooked her finger for the man to follow her. “Come with me; you can wait in one of the empty rooms, out of sight, so we don’t scare any customers off.” The detective nervously followed the woman up the stairs and to the last door down the hall. Victor took a seat in the room’s lone chair and stared at the rickety bed in the corner. “I’ll send the girls up when they are done.” The man nodded as the door was shut.
The minutes ticked by as Detective Nikiforov waited for the interviewees. Tired of sitting, the man stood and looked around the room. It wasn’t much to look at, dirty walls, no pictures, a bed that looked like it was beyond its life, and a small dresser that had knobs missing. He was facing away from the door when it slowly opened. “Oh, good, I thought the Madam had forgotten to send you up, I…” he stopped as he turned around, realizing the person that opened the door was not the two women he expected.
A dark headed boy, no man, upon a better look, stood in front of the now closed door. Looking down at his feet, he mumbled something—an apology maybe? Victor looked the man up and down. He appeared to be covered in bruises, the small shorts and mesh top did nothing to hide the purple and yellow markings on his muscular looking body.
“Umm, I think you are in the wrong room.” The detective rubbed the back of his sweaty neck nervously and glanced at the man still standing in the same spot next to the door. “I was waiting for two women. I mean, not to…I mean, to interview them, for a case…”
Finally the other spoke, more clearly than before. “I…I know.” The dark haired man slowly lifted his gaze from the floor to meet a pair of icy blue irises. A tear trailed from one of the bruised man’s chocolate brown eyes as he started to remove his tiny shorts and sad excuse for a shirt.
“Whoa, what are you do…” Victor started to ask, turning away from the now naked man.
“She told me to come up here. You’ll have to wait awhile for the others. I’m on the house.” The dark haired man moved to the bed, getting on his hands and knees, rear facing the detective. Victor was speechless, flabbergasted. Peeking from one eye, he looked to see where the man was. “Oh my god, you…” He turned around fully, putting his hand in his mouth. The unexpected peek of the naked man gave the impression the other was Japanese and apparently very well muscled.
The man on the bed seemed unsure on what he should do; he hadn’t had a situation like this happen before. “It’s okay. I’m a gift for you to use.” A sniffle echoed throughout the room. “You can…you can do whatever you want. You don’t need lube if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m..” Another quiet sob had reached the detective’s ears before the other cleared his throat. “I’m used to being taken without anything. Just, I’m not supposed to ask but—if I could—please, don’t use a baton to open me.”
Victor felt the bile rise in his throat. He wanted to forget what he’d heard. It was sickening. The man before him was raped, probably on a daily or even hourly basis, and that Madam thought that was completely acceptable!? He would have a talk with his Captain later regarding the lax laws governing these houses. He couldn’t keep his thoughts in any longer. “For God’s sake, put what little clothes you have back on. I do not need your services!” The detective tried not to raise his voice too much. He wasn’t angry at the man. He heard shuffling and feet hit the floor a few seconds later. “Are you decent now?”
“Yes. But please, use me! If you don’t I—I—you don’t understand!”
The Russian detective opened his eyes and gazed upon the other. The man was shaking, obviously in fear of something. “Don’t be upset. I just don’t want to…” He sighed. “Look, what is your name? We can start with that.”
The whore looked up at the detective, giving the man a clear view of his face. The Russian’s breath caught in his lungs. The trembling man was beautiful, despite the bruises, tears, and dirty face.
“Yuri. It’s Yuri Katsuki.”
“Well, Yuri Katsuki…” Victor moved closer to the other and extended his hand. “…I’m Detective Victor Nikiforov with the Moscow Police.”
Yuri lowered his eyes, staring at the offered hand.
“It’s okay. You can shake my hand. It’s greeting…like when you meet new people,” Victor explained. Yuri just glanced at the other, still in confusion.
Victor lowed his hand, feeling awkward as it hung in the air. “Well, it’s good to meet you,” he said as he walked back to the lone chair and sat down.
Instantly Yuri went to him, falling to his knees as he reached the other in the chair. Victor didn’t have much time to speak as the other man quickly went for his fly, opening his mouth wide as if it show the seated man that a massive girth could fit. The prostitute startled when the detective grabbed his hands, removing them from his person as gently as he could, trying to conceal his discomfort.
“No, no. You don’t need to do this.” Victor rose from his seat and rushed past Yuri so he could get to the door. “I need to go. I’ll speak to the others a different time.”
“Wait! Please! Yuri begged the Russian. If I don’t please you, I get in trouble. Let me at least suck you off. I’m told I’m really good. My teeth won’t touch you, I swear!” The boy like man clasped his hands as if in prayer toward the towering detective.
“I—I’m sorry. I can’t. Excuse me.” Victor rushed out of the room quickly, unintentionally slamming the door behind him. He took the stairs two at a time and almost ran over the Madam that was ascending the stairway.
“Mr. Nikiforov!? Is everything alright?” she asked.
Nervously, Victor tipped his head. “Yes, yes. I must be going now. A lot of paperwork to do. I’ll come another time.” He continued down the stairs, nearing the door.
“Did he do something wrong?” She spat the word he like it was a curse, glaring up the stairs toward the room she put the detective in. “I’ll punish him at once! He knows he better do literally whatever it takes to make my guests happy. Let me go…”
The detective waived his hands in front of his face frantically. “No! He was fine. Very good boy…umm…I just forgot about my meeting…paperwork—meeting and paperwork. I’ll visit later on. He did fine; no need to discipline!”
With that the detective was out the door, running down the street to where his car awaited him. The vehicle bounced as he jumped in and slammed the door. He grabbed a handkerchief out of the glove compartment, dabbing the cloth on his sweating face and chest. He checked his hair in the rear-view mirror before starting the engine and putting it in drive. “That was—unusual,” he uttered to himself as he adjusted the uncomfortableness in his pants. Clearing his throat he pressed on the gas, taking off down the darkened road. He would have to decide how he was going to pursue the investigation. He needed statements from those in the area. It was possible the victim was a past customer of the popular brothel; however, he knew he couldn’t see that man again. That gorgeous yet sad Yuri Katsuki—never had the detective experienced such a reaction from a whore before. He tried to tell himself that as he drove, Yuri was just a prostitute, a body that was sold for pleasure, certainly not something he could get aroused over. The Russian tried to tell himself that fact over and over, yet the hardening in his pants refused to go down.
“What have I become? Acting like a schoolboy with a crush on a pretty face? Shameful for a detective.” Victor muttered to himself the entire way back to the station. It was going to be a long investigation, he was sure of it.