"Um..." Riley stammered, unsure how to explain her mysterious circumstances. "My name's Riley and this man was trying to rape me."
The woman peered at Riley with a blank expression, then glanced downward at the prostrated man on the floor.
"You do realize this is a brothel?" she said. "And that this man was simply partaking in what call girls are expected to provide?"
"I'm not a call girl," Riley said.
"Then what the hell are you doing buck naked in one of my private rooms?"
Riley stared at the woman for a moment, realizing she'd never believe her far-fetched story of traveling through time from a different era.
"To be honest, I'm not exactly sure how I landed here. It's all a bit of a blur, really..."
"Well, this wouldn't be the first time a drunken patron found themselves led upstairs unawares," the woman chuckled, looking around the room. "Where are your clothes?"
"I guess they got lost somewhere in the shuffle," Riley said, picking up one of the bed pillows to cover her bare midriff, noticing the edge of her smartphone sticking out from the side of the other pillow.
Suddenly, the man on the floor groaned, rubbing the side of his bruised head. The woman helped him to his feet, and when he recognized Riley, he stepped toward her threateningly. The woman grabbed his arm, moving between him and the schoolgirl.
"Whoa there, Amos. This girl doesn't actually work here. There's plenty of other saloon girls that can look after your needs if you're still feeling in the mood."
The man glared at Riley for a moment, then bent down to pull up his clothes.
"She has a funny way of showing it," he said, running his eyes up and down the girl's partly covered body. "This won't be the last time the two of us have words. Next time, try locking the door if you don't want any extra company."
After the man exited the room, the woman closed the door behind him, latching it shut with an old key.
"You seem plenty sobered up now," she said, turning back toward Riley. "Where is your home?"
"Somewhere pretty far away," Riley shrugged. "I was just passing through..."
The woman walked over to a chest of drawers lining the opposite wall and pulled out some fresh clothes.
"Well, we can't have you prancing around naked and distracting all my customers if you're not going to service their needs. You can wear these for now."
She held up a corset, petticoat, and camisole for Riley to put on, then placed the items on the end of the bed.
"Thank you," Riley said, glancing at the old-fashioned garments. "But I'm not sure I'll be able to find my way back home. May I stay here until I find my bearings?"
"I suppose so," the woman nodded. "But you'll have to earn your keep like all the other girls."
"You mean as a–"
"We can probably find something for you to do downstairs if you prefer. Do you think you'll be able to manage your temper if I set you up as a barmaid?"
"You mean serving food and beverages to your customers?" Riley said. "That sounds easy enough."
"You'll have to share a room with one of the other girls," the woman said. "Room and board will be provided as long as you prove yourself useful. Get yourself cleaned up, then meet me downstairs, where I'll introduce you to the kitchen staff."
The woman placed her key in the lock and opened the door, preparing to exit the room.
"Wait!" Riley said, calling out to her. "I don't even know your name."
"You can call me Madame, like the rest of the girls and customers."
"Yes Ma'am," Riley said as the woman closed the door softly behind her.
Then she shook her head, peering down at the Victorian-era undergarments lying at the foot of the bed.
Next time, remember to put on some clothes before turning on the phone, she murmured to herself before placing the time travel device above the window valence, where no one would find it.
Riley picked up the strange vestments lying on the bed, unsure what to put on first. She rolled the fabric of the knee-length stockings between her fingers, nodding approvingly.
Silk, she said to herself. Thank heavens they haven't invented nylon yet.
She pulled the stockings on, fastening the garters above her knees, then pulled the baggy bloomers over her hips, squinting at the large buttoned flap at the front.
It's a far cry from Victoria's Secret, she chuckled, stepped in front of the dressing mirror next to the armoire to look at herself. But at least they're comfortable enough.
Then she picked up the V-shaped corset, wrapping it around her waist. It had metal clasps on the front, and she had to suck in her stomach to close the two sides. When she looked in the mirror, her waist was tightly cinched, with the top of her breasts spilling over the top of the bodice.
Jesus, she said. How do women breathe in this thing? So much for wearing comfortable clothes.
The next item was a ruffled petticoat with a wire cage at the back to make it flare over the hips. She pulled it up over her bloomers and tied it around her waist, then turned sideways to peer at the strange shape of her derriere formed by the contraption.
Eat your heart out, Jennifer Lopez, Riley laughed, looking at the flared bustle. At least I won't have to go to the gym to keep my ass firm and round.
When she wrapped the knee-length embroidered skirt around her waist and clasped it in the front, she noticed the lower edge rested a few inches above the ruffled hem of the petticoat.
A bit of a tease, she nodded, turning her body from side to side, admiring her hourglass profile and plump breasts.
The last item to put on was a lacy camisole that barely covered her corset. After she buttoned up the front, she glanced at the full ensemble in the mirror, nodding softly.
It's funny the ways women highlighted their female assets in different eras, she thought. The wire bustle and push-up corset were the opposite of the modern-day aesthetic of skinny jeans and plunging cleavages. But she rather liked the look, even though it felt strange to sit on the edge of the bed with the wire cage pressing in to the side of her waist as she stooped down to put on the patent leather pumps.
When she stepped out of her room and headed down the hall toward the stairs leading downstairs, some of the passing brothel customers peered at her, wondering who the new girl was. As she descended the stairs toward the noisy saloon, all eyes seemed to follow her while she tried not to trip over her bulky train and high heels.
She noticed the madame standing at the edge of the bar talking to a customer wearing a black cowboy hat, and when she approached the couple, she smiled.
"That looks a little more presentable," she nodded. "Did everything fit alright?"
"I don't know how you manage to breathe in this outfit all day long," Riley chuckled, adjusting her tight-fitting corset with two hands. "Not to mention go to the bathroom with all these layers on."
"I don't know where you come from," Madame said. "But this is how women dress in these parts."
"Are you going to introduce me to the new girl?" the man in the black hat said.
Riley peered at his leather vest, noticing a silver star on his chest.
"Of course," Madame said. "Riley, this is our town sheriff, James Mason. James, this is my new barmaid, Riley."
"Pleased to meet you, Riley," the sheriff said, extending his hand as he peered down at her puffy breasts. "Though I must say I'm disappointed to hear you'll only be working downstairs."
"Um, yes," Riley said, unsure how to respond to his thinly veiled pass. "Technically, I haven't started working yet."
"Well, it appears that I'm not the only one looking forward to your getting started," he said, peering around the room at the patrons ogling the comely newcomer.
"Let's get you introduced to the rest of the staff," Madame said, intertwining her arm around Riley's. "I'll be seeing you around, James."
"I'm sure you will," the sheriff said, stealing another glance at Riley's cleavage before he ambled off to chat with some of the other saloon patrons.
