Chapter Text
The Pipeline was in full swing. The hazy, purple lighting and slow, bassy music was disorienting Cosima. She swivelled around on her stool and folded her arms on the bar top, turning away from the leggy women dancing on poles behind her. She blinked hard to stop the purple spots from blocking her vision.
She only spent time on the third floor of The Pipeline. The sleazy, young men with their parents’ credit cards on the first floor were too slimy. It was ideal if you were in the mood for dancing and the staff there were excellent; They had to be. The boss of Pipeline had a brutal reputation. If you made it through your first week, you have done better than most. Staff on the first floor were constantly renewed to keep the floor fresh.
The second floor was a step up. The guest list was invite-only from whoever had the cash and the status to book the floor that evening. This is where A-listers from all over the world would come to visit. You party in The Pipeline before you die, it’s the unspoken rule in the celebrity world. The drugs and the glamour never appealed to Cosima.
The third floor was the exclusive. Security stood at every entrance with their backs to the dancers. Most of the world didn’t know there was a third floor. The staff on the other floors didn’t even know there was a third floor. Mob bosses would gather in the corner with their cigars, foreign royalty would offer the world to the men and women on stage, politicians would clink glasses and sink into their seats to watch dancers hanging from ribbons on the ceiling before taking one home or to a private room down the hall next to the bar.
This is the only floor the boss would step into, and that would only be a few times a year, if at all. There were stories of a dancer fainting when the boss took a seat offered by the president of the country at the time to watch her. A barman actually cried when the boss asked him for a drink. With a reputation so retched, one slip up would mean your job, your seven figure paycheck and no chance of you working in this industry again.
“Hey, doll, long time no see.”
Cosima squinted one eye at the barmaid pouring a drink in front her.
“Bobby? You got promoted to the third floor?”
The blonde slid the drink to her, receiving a nod of thanks.
“You have been gone a long time. I’m a manager now, thanks to you. I choose my hours and I get to boss these young tushes around,” Bobby beamed, slapping her hand to a passing waiter’s behind. Cosima grimaced at the sparkly red speedos he wore.
“New uniforms?” she asked regretfully.
“Hell yeah!” Bobby stepped back and posed so her friend could see her entire corset and stocking ensemble. “Boss wanted something a little more festive for Winter. Hot, right?”
Cosima’s answer was interrupted by a deeper voice.
“Hey, woman. Let me buy you a real drink.”
A slim man in tight, green shorts and a waist coat slid into the space between the barstools. She may have been gone for a few months, but she still knew new staff when she saw them. They are overbearing and ooze cockiness. This boy was clearly from the first floor and he definitely had no business being anywhere but there.
He flashed as many bleached teeth as he could. Cosima stared amazed at the man, then at Bobby. Bobby returned her look.
“He’s not actually that stupid.”
“He can’t be.”
The man stood to his full height and slipped an arm around Cosima’s waist, his thumb rubbing her hip.
“He is.” the ladies said in unison.
Cosima stood from her place, forcing his hand to fall. His face twisted and he ugly pouted.
“Aw, come on, beautiful. You’re here alone, I’m just trying to be friendly.”
Cosima shook her head, her dreads swinging.
“You really don’t want to.”
He opened his mouth again and Cosima waved her hands.
“Shh! Please, stop!” She whispered hurriedly, “You have got to le-”
Cosima felt an arm fall heavily onto her shoulders. The man’s eyes shot to the other woman now standing before him and shrunk into himself, his macho facade melting.
“Well, hey there, friends!” the new-comer’s English accent boomed.
Cosima put a hand to her face.
“Oh god.” The man mewled.
“What’s the matter, buddy? We’re just being friendly, right? You, me, Bobby, my little sister” she shook Cosima’s shoulders for emphasis. Cosima smiled apologetically at the now cowering man.
“Sister?” he squeaked.
The woman smiled toothlessly at him and wrinkled her nose before she bared her bottom teeth.
“Now, get the fuck out of my sight.” she growled.
“Right away, ma’am! Thank you, Miss Manning!” The boy couldn’t scramble away fast enough. Two security men caught him under the armpits and escorted him out. Cosima had a feeling he was getting a new face for Christmas from his two new pals.
She followed him with her eyes until he disappeared through one of the plush, purple curtains hiding the stairs, his body jerking in desperation, his screams drowning out the music. No one in the room payed him any mind. Sarah Manning was above the law. She could take down any business she pleased and shoot any man. Court Supremes frequented the second floor under her invitation, and with the top lawyers in the world on her team, she was invincible.
The intimidating woman swung around to her red faced sister and clapped her on the back.
“Nice to see ya, Cos” she chirped. Cosima replied with a meek “You too, Sarah” as she tried to catch the breath her sister had knocked out of her.
“Bo-” Sarah began. Bobby was already holding out an unopened bottle of bourbon with a sneer. Sarah snatched it out of her hand with a wink and a click of her tongue, and whisked Cosima to her private elevator. Cosima kept her head low while staff jumped out of the sisters’ way.
_____
Sarah sank into her leather chair and threw her booted feet onto her chunky, marble desk. She watched her sister inspect the city lights below through the glass wall, her heals clicking echoed around the mammoth office. Her dreadlocks had grown longer since Sarah had seen her last, and her skin was noticeably darker. Sarah took a swing from her bottle and smacked her lips together in approval. Cosima took that as a cue and sat on the square sofa against the wall perpendicular to her sister’s desk.
“How’s life been, Cos? You’re looking good. How was Africa?”
“Wonderful.” she said, her face splitting into a smile. “I mean it, you would have loved the food there. And the sun goes down so fast, it’s day time one minute, night the next.” Cosima let her head rest in her palm. “How’s life running the biggest sexcort service in the country?” the younger woman enquired.
Sarah let her head hit the back of her chair and smiled at the ceiling. “It’s pretty damn fine, sis.”
They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute before Cosima spoke up again.
“I missed you.”
“Yeah, missed you, too. How’s mum?” Sarah asked quietly.
Cosima kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up beside her.
“I only saw her briefly before I flew out here. She’s good. Still smiling, still thinking Vic can change and they can save their marriage. She says hi. She really wants to see you.”
Sarah hummed in acknowledgement.
“And how’s Lady Lorna?” she sang. Cosima rolled her eyes and chuckled.
“She’s gone. I broke up with her.”
Sarah’s head whipped forward so fast, she felt her neck crunch.
“You bro- Well, shit! Look who grew a backbone!” she raised her bottle in respect. “What did the dragon woman do this time?”
“Eh, ‘who’, actually…”
“Ah, shit. I’m sorry, Cos. Want one of my goons to go give her another new nose?”
Cosima laughed and let her eyes explore the office. White marble floors, white marble pillars, two chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A heavy wooden door faced Sarah and a smaller door faced Cosima. The only furnishings were the sofa she sat on and Sarah’s desk and chair. A raised eyebrow prompted Sarah to rub the back of her neck and let her feet fall to the floor.
“Paul.” she supplied. “He’s in another ‘minimalist but expensive’ phase. I let him do what he wants as long as he keeps out of my hair when I’m working”
A thought popped into Cosima’s head as Sarah spoke.
“Oh! I almost forgot! I saw Mrs. S, too,” she grinned. “She was asking for you.”
Sarah’s face lit up. Siobhán Manning was one of the few people Sarah loved. She was their nanny when they were little. Sarah took ‘Manning’ as a stage name of sorts when her businesses began to take off. Legally, she is still a Niehaus.
Mrs. S home schooled the girls and loved them like her own. She introduced Sarah to Wallace and Gromit, the show that Sarah’s English accent began to form from. She used to tell the girls stories of the years she lived in London, although she is still proud of her natural Irish accent. “You’d never find a prouder woman than an Irish mammy” she would say.
It was those stories that encouraged Sarah to leave San Francisco and live in London in her early twenties. There, she began what Cosima liked to call her pimping business. Sarah returned to America just three years ago and has since become one of Forbes’s Top 100 Entrepreneurs Under 30. And Sarah would never let her forget it. Cosima would never let her forget that she only has a year and a half left on that list.
Cosima began to put her shoes back on, bidding Sarah a good night.
“Hold up.” Sarah said. Cosima closed her eyes. “You don’t have to be anywhere right now. Your work asked you for reports early again, didn’t they? And you said yes, didn’t you? I know you work for a charity, Cos, but you can’t let them guilt you into extra work like this. No kids will starve if you don’t fill out your release papers a few days after you get home. For god’s sake, Cosima, learn to say no!”
“I can say no.” Cosima mumbled.
Sarah raised her eyebrows at her and jammed a finger in the intercom button on her desk, muttering while it rang.
“Yeah, you can say no. We all kn- Marcus. Now.” She sat impatiently with her arms crossed until there was a brisk knock at the heavy door. Cosima looked defeated already.
“C’mere!” Sarah bellowed at the door.
A blonde, chiseled man in black slacks and a tight black t-shirt stepped inside and approached Sarah’s desk cautiously.
Sarah snapped her sharp eyes up to him and Cosima was impressed when he only flinched a little bit.
“Ask my sister out.”
Without hesitation Marcus turned to Cosima and let his posture slouch, slipping into character.
“Miss Manning is hosting a ball this Thursday, would you do the honour of accompanying me?” he asked.
Cosima immediately blushed and looked at her sister with pleading eyes. Sarah dismissed the look and gestured back to Marcus with a wave of her hand.
“It’s social suicide to show up to a Manning Ball alone,” he continued “and I’ve always been too shy to approach you before, Miss Cosima. You’re just so beautiful.”
Cosima shuffled nervously.
“Marcus, you are very sweet, but-”
“Never mind. I’m so sorry for bothering you. Of course someone as spectacular as you would never even consider someone like me.” He looked at the floor dramatically and sighed sadly. Cosima’s reached out a hand, but brought it to her chest, her face looked horrified.
“Well, maybe for a while? We could-”
“Cosima, you absolute twonk. You’re gay! Tell him no!” Sarah yelled. Cosima matched her volume.
“But if it’s just for a while, I don’t want him to be lo-”
“Marcus, out! Cosima, sit!”
Marcus slid out silently. Cosima flopped back on to the sofa throwing an arm over her eyes and let out an almighty groan.
“They’re taking advantage of your need to put other people first, Cos. You’ve got to get out of that job.”
“But, I love it most of the time.” she whined.
“I know. Listen, we don’t need to talk about this now. Take one of my girls home tonight, you look like you need a good lay.” Cosima’s mouth turned down.
“Sarah, I’m not taking one of your ‘escorts’ into my home.” Her back shivered for good measure.
“’Ey, don’t talk about my hookers like that.” Cosima narrowed her eyes at her incredulously.
Sarah suddenly jumped up and ushered her to the door, a vice grip on her arm.
“Don’t over think it, I’ll have someone send one of the newbies with a wretched whore name. Take my Jag. I can’t have my sister taking a taxi- It’s embarrassing. Buh-bye, now.”
The weighty door slammed behind Cosima before she had a chance to protest. She felt the car keys Sarah had pressed into her hand and she looked up at the giant of a bodyguard that appeared beside her. His dark eyes burrowed into hers as he waited for her to take the lead to the underground. She considered asking him to carry her. Conversations with her sister required a lot of energy.
_____
Wood creaked under Cosima’s heels as she stomped upstairs to her flat. She muttered angrily to herself. She was tired and mad at her choice of bag that evening. Her arm was elbow deep in her oversized bag as she fished for her apartment key. She never kept it on the ring with the front door key because she is prone to losing things and would rather not lose both at once.
Rounding the top of the stairs to a dark corridor, Cosima spotted a shadowed figure leaning against the banister opposite her door. Cosima put on a cautious smile as she approached.
“Eh, hi. Can I help you?”
The figure glanced at her then slowly stepped forward under the halls dim light. She stood with her feet apart, one hand bent on her hip, the other straight at her side. She wore the most mouth watering seductive smile Cosima had ever seen. She gripped her found keys and gaped at the tall woman in front of her.
Her coat was open reveling a classy dress that hung just above her knees and showed off her collar bones and slim arms. Her blonde hair was poker straight and pulled back into a tight bun. Cosima noted the way it waved on top like it was trying to curl. The effect of the snow falling outside, no doubt. The woman batted her fake lashes purposefully at her.
Cosima let out a strangled gurgle.
She jammed her key into her door and held it wide enough for her guest to saunter in. She peeked down the hallway to make sure none of her neighbours saw and slammed the door shut. Her bag was clutched to her chest, protecting her from the lady taking in the apartment. The blonde ran a polished finger over the back of her Cosima’s chair and looked over her shoulder at her. Her tongue poked out from between her teeth as she smiled, eyes raking over Cosima’s body.
“I was told you were someone special,” she cooed. “but I couldn’t have dreamed you would be this cute.”
The blonde’s French accent melted Cosima’s insides and made mush of her brain. Her body tremored and she placed her bag down, her feet still anchored to the floor. She was under the taller woman’s spell.
“I’m Delphine” she continued. Cosima smiled nervously.
“Delphine? So, is that your whore name?” Cosima joked before she could stop. “No! Oh, god, no, that’s not what I wanted to say at all.”
Delphine looked less than unimpressed. A very fake smile stretched across her face.
“Well, ma caboche. I get paid either way.” she retorted simply.
Cosima ran a hand over her scalp.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t plan this. It was my stupid sister. You’re really, really beautiful, Miss Delphine, and I’m very sorry, but I think it would be best if you left.”
Delphine inspected Cosima’s face. She really was cute. And no one had called her something as respectful as ‘beautiful’ since she started working at The Pipeline. She tilted her head and strode into the smaller woman’s personal space. She cupped her terrified face and eyed her confidently. Her lips refuged on Cosima’s without permission. Cosima squeaked in surprise. Her hands hung lamely at her sides as the French woman ridded her of her heavy winter coat having already deposited her own in Cosima’s chair. Delphine pulled back an inch.
“How about we start over,” she gave Cosima’s bottom lip a nip. “Hmm?” An arm around Cosima’s waist flattened their bodies together. Cosima automatically stretched on to her tip toes and clutched at the blonde’s arms for balance.
Delphine backed up, pulling Cosima with her and blindly pushed at items she had mapped out as soon as she entered the apartment to clear a space on the desk. She twirled around and hoisted the smaller woman onto the desk, leaning into her kiss. Cosima would have been impressed with how smooth she was if she wasn’t so turned on.
The seductress straddled Cosima’s lap with her long, bare legs and pushed her to lie down.
“Bonjour,” she rumbled and licked the shell of Cosima’s ear. “My name is Delphine.”
“Cosima.” she replied in a puff. She was really enjoying the ministrations on her ear.
Delphine paused and slowly returned to a sitting position, her lips still puckered. A confused Cosima squinted at her, the ceiling light silhouetting her frame. Far too hot and bothered, Cosima sat up and began kissing her neck. Delphine gripped her face and tore her off. Her eyes stared past Cosima, and her eyebrows pointed down in concentration. Cosima attempted to kiss her again but Delphine restrained her.
“No, I can not.” Delphine stated distractedly.
“Nuh-uh, you’re doing great.” Cosima hushed, lust hazing her usually logical head. She attempting again to place her lips anywhere on the beauty.
“Stop!”
Cosima snapped out of it and looked up to the dilated kaleidoscopic eyes now piercing her own.
“Oh, god, Delphine. I don’t know what came over-”
“Your sister planned this?” Delphine rushed, squeezing Cosima’s cheeks for an answer. She nodded, Delphine’s eyes bugged out even more.
“You’re Cosima! Miss Manning’s sister Cosima!?” Cosima looked just as frightened now and fixed her glasses as Delphine clambered off her lap. The reality that she had just been making out with an escort on her kitchen table/desk slapped Cosima across the face.
“I knew this was a bad idea!” Cosima said to herself.
“I snapped at you!”
“I made out with a whore!”
“Je ne suis pas une fichu pute!”
“Oh god, no! You’re not, I’m sorry! I’ve just been listening to my sister for too long!”
“Your sister! I’m going to be fired! She’s going to kill me!”
“She won’t kill you!”
“I’m dead! I’m worse than dead! You’re her SISTER!?”
Delphine was holding her own head by now and spewing out strings of French. Cosima’s mind was reeling. She felt her chest tighten and the walls around her started to bend.
“Delphine!” she gasped trying to make herself heard over the French woman. “Delphine, you have to stop. Del- Whoo- phine, please. I’m- I’m ha- I’m having-”
Cosima sank and scratched at the floor trying to get Delphine’s attention. The blonde looked over at her.
“Oh MERDE!” Delphine cried.
“Shhhut up! I’m having. A panic- Pan- Panic- Attack!”
“You’re having one NOW!? I’m not that sort of doctor!” she hissed.
Cosima’s head tilted.
“You’re a doctor?” she remarked.
Delphine ogled her in disbelief.
“I hardly think now the time to discuss this!”
“Ahhh! Stop yelling at me!”