Without taking them, Surreal riffled the stack with her fingertip. “If I accommodated them all, I could end up being here for months.”

Deje tilted her head. “Would that be so bad?”

Surreal grinned, but there was something sharp and predatory in her gold-green eyes. “I’d never get my asking price if my”—she twiddled her fingers at the papers—“friends thought I’d always be around. That would cut into your profit margin, too.”

“Too true,” Deje said, laughing.

“Besides,” Surreal continued, hooking her black hair behind her delicately pointed ears, “I’ll only be here for a few weeks, and I’m not looking for a heavy schedule. I’ll work enough days to pay for room and board and spend the rest of the time sightseeing.”

“How many ceilings do you want to see? That’s all you’ll look at in this business.”

“Why, Deje!” Surreal fanned herself. “That’s not at all true. Sometimes I get to see the patterns in the silk sheets.”

“You could always take up horseback riding.” Deje stuffed the papers under the desk. “I hear there are some pretty trails just outside the city proper.”

“No thanks. When the work’s done, I’m not interested in mounting anything else. You want me to start tonight?”

Deje patted her dark, richly dressed hair. “I’m sure there’s someone who made a reservation tonight who’ll rise to the occasion.”

They grinned at each other.

Deje called in a slim leather folder and removed a piece of expensive parchment. “Hmm. A full house. And there’s always one or two who’ll show up sure that they’re too important to need a reservation.”

Surreal propped her elbows on the desk, her face in her hands. “You’ve got an excellent chef. Maybe they’re just here for dinner.”

Deje smiled wickedly. “I try to accommodate all kinds of hunger.”

“And if the special’s taken, the main entrées are still delicious.”

Deje laughed, her shaking bosom threatening to shimmy out of her low-cut gown. “Well put. Here.” She pointed to a name on the list. “I remember you saying you don’t mind him. He’ll probably be half-starved, but he appreciates appetizers as well as the main course.”

Surreal nodded. “Yes, he’ll do nicely. One of the garden rooms?”

“Of course. I’ve done a little redecorating since you were last here. I think you’ll like it. You have a true appreciation for such things.” Deje reached into one of the little cubbyholes in the wall behind the desk and pulled out a key. “This one will suit.”

Surreal palmed the key. “Dinner in the room, I think. Is there a menu there? Good. I’ll order ahead.”

“How do you remember all their likes and dislikes, particularly from so many places, so many different customs?”

Surreal looked mockingly offended. “Deje. You used to play the rooms before you got ambitious. You know perfectly well that’s what little black books are for.”

Deje shooed Surreal from the desk. “Away with you. I have work to do, and so do you.”

Surreal walked down the wide corridor, her sharp eyes taking in the rooms on either side. It was true. Deje was ambitious. Starting out with a packet of gifts from satisfied clients, she had bought a mansion and converted it into the best Red Moon house in the district. And unlike the other houses, at Deje’s a man could find more than just a warm body in a bed. There was a small private dining room that served excellent food all night; a reception room, where those with an artistic temperament made a habit of gathering to debate each other while they ate the tidbits and drank good wine; a billiards room, where the politically ambitious met to plan their next move; a library filled with good books and thick leather chairs; private rooms, where a man could get away from his everyday life and be catered to, receiving nothing more than a good dinner, an expert massage, and peace; and, finally, the rooms and the women who would satisfy the carnal appetites.