One Night a Week

The request arrived eleven days after Daniel’s disastrous second booking, and Kyrrha nearly deleted it immediately because they had agreed that repeat clients were becoming too dangerous, but then she saw the name, remembered the woman who had spent an entire evening alternating between nervous laughter and complete astonishment, and handed the prepaid telephone to Sileth. Marianne. Saturday. All three. Whatever your price is. Please come. Sileth smiled almost immediately. “I remember her.” Vaeris, who was standing beside the apartment window fastening one of her earrings, glanced over. “Of course you remember her, because she spent half the night looking at you as though you had personally invented happiness.” “She looked at all of us that way.” “She looked at you longer.” Kyrrha took the phone back. “That is not the important part.” “The important part,” Vaeris said, “is that she is a repeat.” “The important part,” Sileth corrected, “is that she wrote whatever your price is.” Kyrrha looked toward the little metal cash tin sitting above the refrigerator, then around the apartment they had gradually stopped pretending was temporary, because temporary had somehow become weeks and the mattress on the floor, unreliable shower, cracked kitchen tiles, thrift-store mirrors and sagging furniture had become the closest thing they had to a home. “We charge more.” Vaeris looked at her. “How much more?” Kyrrha named an amount. Sileth stared at her. Vaeris stared at her. Then the phone vibrated less than a minute after Kyrrha sent it. Yes. Sileth laughed. “I like her.” Vaeris folded her arms. “You like anyone who agrees too quickly.” “No. I like anyone who agrees to Kyrrha’s ridiculous prices too quickly.” “They are no longer ridiculous if people pay them.” “That,” Sileth said, “is possibly the most human thing you have ever said.” Marianne had not booked a hotel room. She had booked the penthouse. The private elevator required a keycard before it would even display the floor, and when the doors opened directly into a vast marble foyer with floor-to-ceiling glass beyond it, Sileth walked out first, stopped so suddenly that Vaeris nearly collided with her, and whispered something in their own language that Kyrrha had not heard her use since they first arrived on Earth. Vaeris looked past her. “Oh.” Kyrrha, who usually had something more intelligent to contribute, said nothing at all. The penthouse stretched across the upper floor of the hotel with a sunken living room, two terraces, a dining table long enough for people they could not imagine inviting, a fireplace built into an entire wall of pale stone, a kitchen larger than their apartment, and windows surrounding everything with the glittering city laid out below them like a piece of jewelry. Marianne stood near the bar in a dark blue dress, holding a glass she had apparently forgotten to drink from. She looked different. Not unhappy. Nervous. Very nervous. But when she saw them, something in her face simply opened. “You came.” Sileth slowly turned in a circle. “You live here?” Marianne smiled. “For the moment.” Vaeris walked toward the windows. “People live like this?” “Some do.” Kyrrha gave her a sideways look. “And you?” Marianne hesitated. “Yes.” Then she crossed the room and placed an envelope on the table without being asked. Kyrrha opened it, counted enough to confirm the amount, and closed it again. “You paid too much.” “No.” “You added another third.” “I know.” “Why?” Marianne took a long breath. “Because I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” Sileth studied her. “We came.” “I can see that.” “And now?” Marianne laughed nervously. “Now I am trying very hard not to embarrass myself.” Vaeris finally turned from the window. “You already booked three women you have met before and paid more than they asked.” “That is not the embarrassing part.” Sileth grinned. “This evening may become interesting.” It did. Marianne had arranged dinner in the penthouse because she did not want to go anywhere, and for nearly two hours the four of them ate, drank and talked, with Marianne gradually losing the nervousness she had greeted them with until she was laughing the way she had the first time, touching Sileth’s hand when she spoke, allowing Vaeris to tease her, and asking Kyrrha questions she already knew Kyrrha would not answer. “Where are you really from?” Kyrrha smiled. “You know we do not answer that.” “I know.” “Then why ask?” “Because someday you might.” “No.” Marianne laughed. “See, that is exactly why I ask.” Later, when the city had become nothing but light beyond the glass, Marianne stood between the three of them near the fireplace and looked almost overwhelmed again. “I thought I imagined it.” Sileth tilted her head. “Imagined what?” “The first time.” “That is insulting.” “I didn’t mean it that way.” “How did you mean it?” Marianne looked at all three women. “I mean I went home afterward and spent eleven days thinking nobody could possibly feel that happy for that long.” Kyrrha’s expression softened. “And?” “And apparently I was wrong.” What followed lasted far longer than Marianne had planned, and by the time the lights beyond the windows had begun changing from night to the first gray hint of morning, she had stopped trying to understand why everything felt different with them and simply allowed herself to enjoy the answer. She had been with each of them. She had been with all three together. She had laughed, cried once from sheer emotional overload, laughed again because she was embarrassed about crying, and eventually fallen asleep between Sileth and Vaeris while Kyrrha lay across the bed watching the city brighten. When Marianne woke again, it was almost eleven. She opened her eyes very slowly, discovered Sileth asleep with one arm across her waist, Vaeris stretched beside her, and Kyrrha sitting against the headboard drinking coffee. For several seconds Marianne simply smiled. Then she began crying. Kyrrha lowered the cup. “That seems contradictory.” Marianne laughed through the tears. “I know.” Sileth stirred, opened one eye and looked at her. “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Unhappy?” “No.” “Then please cry more quietly.” Marianne laughed harder. Vaeris opened her eyes. “What happened?” “Nothing,” Kyrrha said. “Apparently she is happy.” Vaeris closed her eyes again. “Humans are exhausting.” Marianne sat up, pulled the sheet around herself and wiped her face. “I need to tell you something.” Kyrrha’s expression changed immediately. Sileth was awake now. Vaeris was too. Marianne looked at all three women. “I left my husband.” Nobody spoke. Sileth sat upright. “When?” “Three days ago.” Vaeris frowned. “Because of us?” Marianne took too long to answer. Kyrrha noticed. “Marianne.” “I don’t know.” “That means yes.” “No, it means I don’t know, because nothing was wrong exactly, and that is what makes this so impossible to explain. He is not cruel, he did not betray me, he did not suddenly become someone else, but after that first night with you I went home and looked around at everything I had built and realized I had been living inside a life that made sense on paper and nowhere else.” Sileth watched her carefully. “You left him after one night with us?” “I left him after seventeen years with him.” “That is different.” “Yes.” “And this?” Kyrrha gestured around the enormous room. Marianne took a breath. “I moved here.” Vaeris stared at her. “You moved into a hotel?” “Into this penthouse.” “For how long?” Marianne looked at her. “For good.” Sileth blinked. “You can do that?” “I can afford it.” Kyrrha looked toward the windows, then at the marble bathroom visible through an open door, then toward the sitting room beyond the bedroom. “You live here alone?” “Yes.” “For good?” “Yes.” “And you brought us here to tell us this?” Marianne’s face changed. “No.” She slid out of bed, pulled on the robe lying across a chair, then walked several steps away before turning back toward them with such obvious fear that Vaeris sat upright. “What is it?” Marianne did not answer. Instead, she walked back toward the bed. Then she lowered herself to her knees. Sileth immediately moved forward. “Marianne, what are you doing?” “Please.” Kyrrha put down the coffee. “Stand up.” “No.” “Marianne.” “I need you to listen before you say no.” Vaeris swung her legs off the bed. “You do not need to kneel.” “Yes, I do, because if I stand there and pretend this is some business arrangement, I will lose my nerve and let you leave.” Sileth stared at her. Marianne looked from one woman to the next. “One night every week.” Nobody responded. Marianne’s voice trembled. “One night every week, all three of you, exactly like last night, or whatever you want it to be, and in return you live here.” Kyrrha stared at her. “Here?” Marianne nodded desperately. “This penthouse?” “Yes.” “With you?” “Yes.” “For free?” “For one night a week.” Vaeris looked around the room. Marianne continued before any of them could speak. “You would have your own room, a huge one, bigger than this one if you want it, and I know you sleep together because you told me that the first time, so I had them remove two of the beds from the guest suite this morning and put in one enormous one, and there is a private bathroom and dressing room and another sitting room and—” Kyrrha interrupted. “You already prepared a room?” Marianne’s eyes filled with tears. “I hoped.” Sileth looked astonished. Vaeris looked suspicious. Kyrrha looked very still. Marianne reached for her hand. “Please.” Kyrrha allowed the touch. Immediately, she felt it. No trick. No attempt to own them. No plan to control them. No expectation that one night would become two, or three, or whatever Marianne could demand later. She felt desperation, certainly, and desire so intense that Kyrrha almost pulled away from the force of it, but beneath both was something astonishingly simple. Marianne meant exactly what she said. She wanted them there. She wanted the apartment filled with their voices, their shoes by the door, their clothes in the closets, their strange food in the refrigerator, their laughter in rooms that had been silent since she moved in. And she genuinely believed one night a week was enough. Kyrrha released her hand. Vaeris immediately asked, “Well?” Kyrrha looked at Marianne. “She is telling the truth.” Sileth’s eyes widened. “All of it?” “Yes.” Marianne began crying harder. Vaeris stood and walked slowly toward the window. “You have identification?” Marianne looked confused. “Of course.” “Bank accounts?” “Yes.” “Vehicles?” “Yes.” “Access to this building whenever you want?” “Yes.” “Private elevator?” “Yes.” “And nobody asks questions about who stays here?” Marianne shook her head. “No.” Kyrrha looked at Vaeris. Vaeris continued staring out at the city. Sileth looked around the bedroom, then toward the enormous bathroom, then down at Marianne kneeling on the carpet. “Do we still have to pay for food?” Marianne laughed through her tears. “No.” “Clothes?” “No.” Vaeris turned. “Do not say no to that.” Marianne laughed again. Kyrrha finally smiled. “Stand up.” Marianne did. “You are not buying us.” “I know.” “You do not control where we go.” “I know.” “You do not decide whom we see.” “I know.” “You never ask us to use our abilities for you.” Marianne hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “I know.” “And one night means one night.” “Yes.” Sileth looked at Vaeris. Vaeris looked at Kyrrha. Kyrrha looked at the city. Then she said, “Show us the room.” Marianne stared at Vaeris as though she had not understood the words. “Our room,” Sileth repeated with a smile. “Before you start crying again.” That did it. Marianne laughed, wiped both cheeks, and took Sileth’s hand as she led them across the penthouse toward the guest wing, talking too quickly because she was still overwhelmed. “It was two rooms, technically, but they connected, so I had everything opened up yesterday, and before Kyrrha says anything, yes, I know that was presumptuous, but I was hoping.” “You were very hopeful,” Kyrrha said. “I was desperate.” “That we noticed.” Marianne opened the double doors. All three women stopped. The room was larger than their entire apartment, with one enormous bed beneath a wall of windows, a sitting area, a private terrace, and enough empty space that Sileth slowly turned in a circle before looking back at Marianne. “One bed.” “You told me you sleep together.” “You remembered.” “I remembered everything.” Vaeris crossed the room and opened another door. She disappeared inside. Sileth waited. Then came Vaeris’s voice. “There are closets inside the closet.” Marianne laughed. Kyrrha looked through the dressing room, where illuminated shelves waited for shoes and jewelry they did not yet own, while Sileth opened the next door and found the marble bathroom. “Vaeris.” “What?” “Six shower heads.” Vaeris joined her. There was a long pause. Then she looked at Marianne. “Rich humans are strange.” “Very.” Sileth walked back to the bed and dropped onto it. “I vote yes.” Kyrrha looked at her. “You do not vote for all three of us.” “I vote enthusiastically for my portion.” Vaeris sat beside her. “I vote that we collect everything from the apartment.” Marianne’s face fell. Vaeris continued, “And bring it here.” Marianne covered her mouth. “Oh no,” Vaeris said. “Not again.” Marianne ignored her and hugged her anyway. Sileth joined them immediately, and after several seconds both women looked toward Kyrrha. “No.” “Kyrrha.” “No.” Sileth reached out and pulled her in. A few minutes later Marianne finally looked at the time and groaned. “I have to go to work.” Sileth stared at her. “Now?” “Yes, now.” “You are leaving us here?” Marianne picked up her handbag. “You live here now.” All three women looked at her. Marianne smiled. “Stay, explore, eat whatever you want, use anything you want, and nobody reaches this floor without the private elevator.” Vaeris visibly approved of that. Marianne stepped toward the elevator. “I’ll be home around six.” Sileth caught the word immediately. “Home?” Marianne turned. “Yes. Home.” Then she smiled at all three of them. “I left my husband after one night with three alien goddesses who made ordinary life feel terribly boring, so trusting you with the penthouse does not seem particularly reckless anymore.” Sileth grinned. “Alien goddesses.” “Do not encourage her,” Kyrrha said. Vaeris nodded thoughtfully. “I rather like it.” Marianne laughed as the elevator doors closed. For several seconds the three women stood in silence. Then Sileth looked around the enormous penthouse. “We live here.” Vaeris walked toward the windows. “Apparently.” Kyrrha looked across the city toward the neighborhood where their shabby apartment sat somewhere far below. “We should collect our things.” Sileth smiled. “All of them?” “Yes.” “That will not take long.” Vaeris looked toward the enormous dressing room. “No.” Then she smiled. “But filling those closets might.”