Sam does not know yet that his every tell, normally well hidden from the eyes of most people that would get annoyed and leave him be, is laid out for this man to see. He steps forward at the suggestion, of course not caring to have this conversation from the front step. His business here was his own.
"What sort of clientele do you take? Anyone that can pay?" He's prodding a little bit, seeing where he might be able to keep something of an upper hand.
Erik steps back for him with one arm extended in a pose of hospitality. It reveals the sleeves of his robe to to be kimono style.
"Generally speaking, yes, but I do have standards. I've no qualms turning out a rude or disrespecting customer. But I'm sure there's nothing to be worried about with you."
Erik motions to a love seat in the parlor that's made of plush fabric and finely carved wood. Clearly, he isn't wanting for money if he has such lavish furnishings.
"I am male, so of course I cannot be of service to those with no taste or desire for men touching them, but I am happy to negotiate almost everything else. May I ask what you are interested in? I think that might be more productive as a starting point."
Samuel steps inside quietly, brows arching up at the comparative opulence of the decor in here. There is a bit of distrust as he sits in the proffered seat, sinking in cautiously. Ridiculously comfortable. He tries not to let his guard down too far.
"There are worse things to be touched by than another man," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. His weight leans forward on his elbows as he contemplates Erik's proposal, trying to put to words what it is he wants. That...had been something of a secondary thought, truth be told.
"You'll forgive me that I do not have words for every possible lewd act," he starts gruffly. "I am...curious. This place has all of its facilities indoors. In my life there was really no such thing. Shit pits, washbasins, whore's baths in troughs. You have such a thing here, yes?"
"Very wise words, indeed." That's one less concern now.
"That's alright. It is my job to do the lewd acts, and even I cannot name all of them. Curiosity is the key."
He leans forward to match Samuel's posture, "Ah, I thought I recognized your accent. Sir, I do not know exactly what era you came out of, but I would wager it is one I have lived through. We have much better things in contemporary times. And, yes, of course I do. The water is even changed after every patron."
"Names change over time, but in my life the city was Kuttenberg, in central Bohemia. The Jewish Quarter was home," he confirms, looking Erik in the eye. his head tilts subtly, brow furrowing more deeply. "It was the year fourteen-hundred-and-three. My...patron was John the Second of Lichtenstein, burgrave of Znojmo Castle. I don't expect names to mean much to you, of course."
The prospect of a warm bath in clean water is a good distraction from his missing the weight of a certain ring around his finger.
"What is your procedure here, then? Pay up front, or is it hourly?"
Bohemia. Oh, that is nostalgic. Mention of the Jewish Quarter as home doesn't phase him, but he can see in this gentleman's eyes that he expects it to mean something. No mysteries why, Erik can still remember enough of his history.
"I'm not familiar with the names, no, but I do recognize your region. And, please, you can relax. It makes no great difference to me that you came from the Jewish Quarter rather than from any other. If that requires specific etiquette you will have to instruct me on it, but I hold no prejudices against Jews." He really does hope that puts his guest more at ease.
"I accept several forms of payment, but I always insist on a written contract. I have taken the liberty of having the baseline of that contract printed in advance, with space to fill in details, for efficiency sake."
Erik reaches into the side table top drawer and pulls out a crisp print on a sheet of thick paper. It still smells of the ink from Gerry's press. He offers it to Samuel to read for himself, assuming he can.
It's a generic form written in language just slightly below legalese that outlines the liabilities that Erik will not let himself be held responsible for (such as a heart attack caused by his overpowering sexual prowess), as well as the general consequences of failing to uphold the contract in good faith, starting with immediate dismissal without refund and moving on from that to formal complaints at the constabulary. Most of the document is fairly inoffensive but he may find one part of it eyebrow raising. Erik decides to point it out proactively just in case.
"You'll note that on this paper, one of the options of payment, besides brass or traded goods, comes in the form of blood. That is strictly optional, but I would like to make you aware of the reason why before we go much further...
"I am a vampire, Sir. I am technically an undead corpse animated by blood magic that even I do not fully understand the mechanisms of. Blood is my only source of sustenance, so I am obligated to drink it, but I only do so from those who have given explicit consent."
This time it's Erik who is making piercing eye contact. "Is that going to be an issue?"
Samuel's face goes on a distinct journey, between Erik's assurance that he has no problems with or on Jews, to the contract and its wording, to the explanation that payment in blood was also acceptable. He stares at the paper, hoping that he was parsing it correctly; the text here is foreign, but the magic of the Isles allows him to read it, and the note about payment in blood brings up several Talmudic passages immediately in his mind. He's quiet for a long moment, then looks up at Erik once more and sits up, maintaining that eye contact once more.
"You certainly are confident, with your disclaimer of death by a good fuck," he points out sarcastically. Then, more seriously, "How much do you need to take to survive? You seem to be quite well established here so I can't imagine that you're hurting for a meal. I don't have anything else to offer you presently and I despise the idea of handing you an IOU."
In other words, he's talking himself into that being how he pays.
That's another hurdle crossed, and Erik can let himself relax more now, too. That sticking point is always the one that gives him the most to fear. Now that it seems like his new friend's face journey has concluded at 'interested', it's time to upsell it.
"I am over one thousand years old and I have had a lot of time to practice, so, yes, I'm confident. My reviews are glowing. I've even been featured in the newspaper. But, to answer your question, I need no more than two full goblets of blood in a month to survive. To feel satiated, I tend to triple that amount. Given my spread of patrons, that comes to perhaps a shot glass worth from each donor. It's less than you might lose from a nasty nosebleed and will do you no harm. As a vampire I am also immune to all forms of disease, so there is no chance you will contract anything venereal from me. Lastly, as a courtesy, I always provide a snack and drink service at no charge as well, to ensure there will be absolutely no ill effects. I do try to be as accommodating as possible, you see?"
Sam is a man that is going from a world firmly grounded in the reality that things like magic, and creatures like Vampires, are only fairy tales. Fortunately though, he's also coming from a time in which the phrase "this might as well happen" could well have been coined by the people having to live in it tertiary to the war efforts.
Listening to the more detailed breakdown of Erik's needs, it settles it more or less in Samuel's mind. His arms cross as he looks from the man, back to his contract, then reaches for a pen to be able to put down his name. Part of him is already thinking he may return later for more, if this goes well.
"Do you keep a schedule? I am aware that your card offers walk-ins, but if you have appointments waiting, I will not keep them waiting. Otherwise, I think I would like to see your bath."
"I do, yes, but you have the good fortune of coming during a dry spot. My next scheduled client isn't for several hours."
With the contract signed from Samuel, Erik gathers it, marks down blood as the payment of choice and the date, then signs it himself. With that matter tidied, he stands and offers his hand to the man.
"I will be very happy to show it to you. Follow me this way. The first door there is my working space."
Erik will guide his guest through the door, then shut it and lock it firmly behind them both. To the left is an elegant room divider stood in front of a large copper tub. Erik goes to turn on the hot water tap, a very modern invention indeed. As the water begins to fill, he'll indulge Samuel in a tour of the rest of his facilities.
"As you can see," he says gesturing to the wooden cross standing upright in the other corner with straps attached that make it look very much like a torturing rack. It sometimes is. "I am well prepared to handle any kind of taste no matter how unsavory it may seem to some. That, of course, is not for novices."
Next he gestures to the gorgeous canopy bed with luscious maroon velvet drapes and another set of restraints nailed to the headboard. "There's no need for shame, whatever you desire is a secret that stays safe with me."
While the contract is tucked away, Samuel stands and tugs down the hem of his tunic under the belt keeping it snug against his body. He puts his hand into Erik's, noting its chilliness with dull acceptance. He had just confirmed that he was a dead man, after all.
Following after him from the main room, Samuel takes a deep breath, then pauses and plugs his nose against a sneeze. He hasn't smelled lavender since the last time he'd gone traveling and found a massive field of it, and after the initial surprise he finds himself picking out individual scents. It's cleaner in here than anything he's experienced in a long while, and so rather jarring. The locking of the door behind them starts some alarm bells, but he comforts himself that for the sake of privacy he would have wanted it sooner or later anyway. The thought is driven soundly out of his mind as he steps deeper into the room, lips pursing at the sight of the finely crafted wooden torture device that he keeps himself from commenting on only through sheer power of will, at least until Erik brings it up himself.
"Yes, I see that... That is not exactly to my taste," he comments with a note of amusement, fine to be joking about it. Then his attention turns to the tub, and the steam that's drifting from the hot water. That keeps his attention, more even than the absolutely decadent bed, though he does privately want to sink into those blankets.
"I daresay that I do not want for much," he replies thoughtfully. "Perhaps I will ask after other things at a later date. For now, where do we begin?"
"Not to worry. I think I know just what to do with you," Erik answers, seating himself on the edge of the tub and lazily shutting the water off now that it's full. He lightly runs his hand through the water to test it is not too hot, then playfully flicks the droplets from his fingers toward Samuel.
"I could start by undressing you. Unless you want to do so yourself? I also leave the option to you if you would like me to disrobe and get in the tub alongside you." It will be a tight fit, but sometimes that's the idea.
Samuel's expression remains unchanged at the drops in his direction, but here merely shakes his head and goes to undress himself.
It's strange, not to be wearing the layers that he'd become so accustomed to, down to only that thin tunic, his pants, boots, and smallclothes. Each comes off and is hung over the back of a chair, and with each garment discarded there is a brief glance back at Erik. Samuel's body is lean, very little body fat to be found, scars here and there denoting a perilous life that would surprise nobody that knew anything about the time that he'd lived in. Body hair that hadn't been trimmed, and circumcised as taught by the culture and the faith. He really isn't that different from Erik himself in size, and he still holds himself with an air of slightly prickly dignity even without his clothes.
"I would not waste your water, trying to fit you in and spilling it on your floor," he replies even as he tests the water with one foot, then eases himself over the edge of the metal tub that has already warmed to match the heat of the water. There is a temptation to completely submerge himself, wanting to feel it surround him completely.
He merely rests one arm on the edge of the tub near where Erik has perched himself, his chin on it while the other hand reaches for one of Erik's, feeling the cool temperature of his skin in contrast to the heat of the bath.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lordoftheozarks) wrote2023-06-13 08:20 pm
no subject
"What sort of clientele do you take? Anyone that can pay?" He's prodding a little bit, seeing where he might be able to keep something of an upper hand.
no subject
"Generally speaking, yes, but I do have standards. I've no qualms turning out a rude or disrespecting customer. But I'm sure there's nothing to be worried about with you."
Erik motions to a love seat in the parlor that's made of plush fabric and finely carved wood. Clearly, he isn't wanting for money if he has such lavish furnishings.
"I am male, so of course I cannot be of service to those with no taste or desire for men touching them, but I am happy to negotiate almost everything else. May I ask what you are interested in? I think that might be more productive as a starting point."
no subject
"There are worse things to be touched by than another man," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. His weight leans forward on his elbows as he contemplates Erik's proposal, trying to put to words what it is he wants. That...had been something of a secondary thought, truth be told.
"You'll forgive me that I do not have words for every possible lewd act," he starts gruffly. "I am...curious. This place has all of its facilities indoors. In my life there was really no such thing. Shit pits, washbasins, whore's baths in troughs. You have such a thing here, yes?"
no subject
"That's alright. It is my job to do the lewd acts, and even I cannot name all of them. Curiosity is the key."
He leans forward to match Samuel's posture, "Ah, I thought I recognized your accent. Sir, I do not know exactly what era you came out of, but I would wager it is one I have lived through. We have much better things in contemporary times. And, yes, of course I do. The water is even changed after every patron."
no subject
The prospect of a warm bath in clean water is a good distraction from his missing the weight of a certain ring around his finger.
"What is your procedure here, then? Pay up front, or is it hourly?"
no subject
"I'm not familiar with the names, no, but I do recognize your region. And, please, you can relax. It makes no great difference to me that you came from the Jewish Quarter rather than from any other. If that requires specific etiquette you will have to instruct me on it, but I hold no prejudices against Jews." He really does hope that puts his guest more at ease.
"I accept several forms of payment, but I always insist on a written contract. I have taken the liberty of having the baseline of that contract printed in advance, with space to fill in details, for efficiency sake."
Erik reaches into the side table top drawer and pulls out a crisp print on a sheet of thick paper. It still smells of the ink from Gerry's press. He offers it to Samuel to read for himself, assuming he can.
It's a generic form written in language just slightly below legalese that outlines the liabilities that Erik will not let himself be held responsible for (such as a heart attack caused by his overpowering sexual prowess), as well as the general consequences of failing to uphold the contract in good faith, starting with immediate dismissal without refund and moving on from that to formal complaints at the constabulary. Most of the document is fairly inoffensive but he may find one part of it eyebrow raising. Erik decides to point it out proactively just in case.
"You'll note that on this paper, one of the options of payment, besides brass or traded goods, comes in the form of blood. That is strictly optional, but I would like to make you aware of the reason why before we go much further...
"I am a vampire, Sir. I am technically an undead corpse animated by blood magic that even I do not fully understand the mechanisms of. Blood is my only source of sustenance, so I am obligated to drink it, but I only do so from those who have given explicit consent."
This time it's Erik who is making piercing eye contact. "Is that going to be an issue?"
no subject
"You certainly are confident, with your disclaimer of death by a good fuck," he points out sarcastically. Then, more seriously, "How much do you need to take to survive? You seem to be quite well established here so I can't imagine that you're hurting for a meal. I don't have anything else to offer you presently and I despise the idea of handing you an IOU."
In other words, he's talking himself into that being how he pays.
no subject
"I am over one thousand years old and I have had a lot of time to practice, so, yes, I'm confident. My reviews are glowing. I've even been featured in the newspaper. But, to answer your question, I need no more than two full goblets of blood in a month to survive. To feel satiated, I tend to triple that amount. Given my spread of patrons, that comes to perhaps a shot glass worth from each donor. It's less than you might lose from a nasty nosebleed and will do you no harm. As a vampire I am also immune to all forms of disease, so there is no chance you will contract anything venereal from me. Lastly, as a courtesy, I always provide a snack and drink service at no charge as well, to ensure there will be absolutely no ill effects. I do try to be as accommodating as possible, you see?"
no subject
Listening to the more detailed breakdown of Erik's needs, it settles it more or less in Samuel's mind. His arms cross as he looks from the man, back to his contract, then reaches for a pen to be able to put down his name. Part of him is already thinking he may return later for more, if this goes well.
"Do you keep a schedule? I am aware that your card offers walk-ins, but if you have appointments waiting, I will not keep them waiting. Otherwise, I think I would like to see your bath."
no subject
With the contract signed from Samuel, Erik gathers it, marks down blood as the payment of choice and the date, then signs it himself. With that matter tidied, he stands and offers his hand to the man.
"I will be very happy to show it to you. Follow me this way. The first door there is my working space."
Erik will guide his guest through the door, then shut it and lock it firmly behind them both. To the left is an elegant room divider stood in front of a large copper tub. Erik goes to turn on the hot water tap, a very modern invention indeed. As the water begins to fill, he'll indulge Samuel in a tour of the rest of his facilities.
"As you can see," he says gesturing to the wooden cross standing upright in the other corner with straps attached that make it look very much like a torturing rack. It sometimes is. "I am well prepared to handle any kind of taste no matter how unsavory it may seem to some. That, of course, is not for novices."
Next he gestures to the gorgeous canopy bed with luscious maroon velvet drapes and another set of restraints nailed to the headboard. "There's no need for shame, whatever you desire is a secret that stays safe with me."
no subject
Following after him from the main room, Samuel takes a deep breath, then pauses and plugs his nose against a sneeze. He hasn't smelled lavender since the last time he'd gone traveling and found a massive field of it, and after the initial surprise he finds himself picking out individual scents. It's cleaner in here than anything he's experienced in a long while, and so rather jarring. The locking of the door behind them starts some alarm bells, but he comforts himself that for the sake of privacy he would have wanted it sooner or later anyway. The thought is driven soundly out of his mind as he steps deeper into the room, lips pursing at the sight of the finely crafted wooden torture device that he keeps himself from commenting on only through sheer power of will, at least until Erik brings it up himself.
"Yes, I see that... That is not exactly to my taste," he comments with a note of amusement, fine to be joking about it. Then his attention turns to the tub, and the steam that's drifting from the hot water. That keeps his attention, more even than the absolutely decadent bed, though he does privately want to sink into those blankets.
"I daresay that I do not want for much," he replies thoughtfully. "Perhaps I will ask after other things at a later date. For now, where do we begin?"
no subject
"I could start by undressing you. Unless you want to do so yourself? I also leave the option to you if you would like me to disrobe and get in the tub alongside you." It will be a tight fit, but sometimes that's the idea.
no subject
It's strange, not to be wearing the layers that he'd become so accustomed to, down to only that thin tunic, his pants, boots, and smallclothes. Each comes off and is hung over the back of a chair, and with each garment discarded there is a brief glance back at Erik. Samuel's body is lean, very little body fat to be found, scars here and there denoting a perilous life that would surprise nobody that knew anything about the time that he'd lived in. Body hair that hadn't been trimmed, and circumcised as taught by the culture and the faith. He really isn't that different from Erik himself in size, and he still holds himself with an air of slightly prickly dignity even without his clothes.
"I would not waste your water, trying to fit you in and spilling it on your floor," he replies even as he tests the water with one foot, then eases himself over the edge of the metal tub that has already warmed to match the heat of the water. There is a temptation to completely submerge himself, wanting to feel it surround him completely.
He merely rests one arm on the edge of the tub near where Erik has perched himself, his chin on it while the other hand reaches for one of Erik's, feeling the cool temperature of his skin in contrast to the heat of the bath.
"Do you warm up, or stay cold I wonder..."