Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of being in the Saddle ❯ The Talk ( Chapter 11 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

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I bought some time by finishing my second glass, then marching over to the booze cabinet. "I'm in the mood for something harsher right now." I glanced at her over at the table. "I reckon you are too."

Vodka would do, nice high proof Vodka.

And so, Ranma had accidentally gotten another guy off before me. A good lesson for me to be more cautious -and more thorough- in the future. I hadn't even considered those two teenage "friends" of his, and the quotes were justified, as I lined up what I knew.

By the time I was back at the table with the bottle of strong Vodka and the plastic bottle of "Genuine American 7up" from the fridge, I knew what I needed to say and roughly in what order.

Wasn't going to be easy by any stretch though.

Ranma waited with ill-kept grace as I mixed a glass of half-an-half for myself.

Well, she didn't say but her body language screamed it, just like it did way back when I missed being there a day.

I took a sip, sighed, and looked her squarely in the eyes. "Look, I'm going to have to do a lot of talking now, more than I have in a long time. And it's going to begin with a very unpleasant question."

My gaze and voice were dreadfully serious. "I have to ask it, now, because everything is still fresh in your mind. You have my word that I'm only asking it to help you, understand?"

When she nodded, I gestured for her to finish her drink.

After she did, I dropped the mother of all bombs on her.

"When you were with those two, in the shower, did you enjoy any of it?"

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The glass in her hand exploded.

Not cracked, not shattered, exploded.

It was terrifying, being the sights of a martial artist, one who could destroy me like I did an ant.

I kept my eyes squarely on hers, unflinching. I had to.

Even as I heard fragments grind into powder in her hand.

Her expression was almost murderous.

After a few more tense seconds she finally was able to speak. "Ya' got five seconds to explain that."

I frowned back, though mine was nowhere near her level. "And I'll tell you. After you clean that up."

I pointed to the few fragments that had landed on the table. "No breaking my stuff, remember?"

Our staring game of chicken continued for almost a minute before I added. "You have my word remember?"

"Do I have yours?"

Finally, she faltered, and she opened her hand and let literal ground glass trickle on the table.

Without a word, she went to fetch a dustpan.

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If I was expecting it to take long enough that she'd calm down I was sadly mistaken.

I couldn't even see her hands as she collected every bit of glass.

It was done in seconds. And then she was half-back in her seat.

I say half-back as it looked like she was ready to bolt at any second.

"Now talk." Her tone brooked no argument.

I nodded and started carefully.

"Hypothetically, we could, right now go and hop on a couple trains." I began. "In less than an hour, we could be in a bar. A bar that has no sign, no advertisements. A private bar."

I looked at her across the table. "Do you know what might be in that bar Ranma?"

I asked, then pressed on, not giving her time to answer. "Girls. Pretty young girls who will sit in your lap and serve you drinks."

This wasn't what she was expecting as an answer and it showed.

"I won't even bother asking you if you could guess what their dress code is, I'll just tell you." I reached for my glass.

"They have these tiny little skirts..." I paused for effect. "And nothing else."

That startled her out of her anger.

"I could sit you down Ranma, even as the girl you are right now, and you could point at any girl you liked the look of." I was subtly leaning forward across the table as I said this. "She'd sit in your lap and pour you your drink. And if you paid a little extra..."

Again I paused for effect. "You could feel her up for five minutes. Pay her a little more and you could suck on them too."

Ranma's expression had shifted into deer-in-the-headlights. I wonder if it was at the thought of being a girl and playing with another girl?

"W-Why-" She stammered. "Why would you do that?"

"An interesting question you just asked Ranma, one with a few ways to answer."

I paused as if in thought.

"If you meant 'why would I do that for you', I'd answer 'to try to make you feel better' as I think it might." I knew it wasn't what she'd asked, but I used it to push the hint across.

"If you meant 'why would they do that', well, you already answered that yourself. They'd say 'I needed the money', just like you did."

Yes, I just indirectly hinted to Ranma that she'd accidentally whored herself out, and she was smart enough to put the pieces together too. Her expression, her posture, her bearing, it crumbled right there at my kitchen table. The booze helped.

Ranma Saotome, the heir of the Saotome School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts, broke down and wept.

And I savored it, mostly because unlike other pieces of her life, this was mine and mine alone to have.

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Finally, after her sobs died down, she looked up from her arms and at me. I took that as my cue.

"Those girls, at that bar, when the day is over they go into the back, they wash off any sticky bits, and go on with their life," I explained, waving my half-empty glass as I did. "It's an unpleasant job for most of them, I doubt no more than a couple actually enjoy it, but it pays very well, it's not too hard a job to do, at least labor wise."

I looked at Ranma's tear-streaked face. "And that brings us back to you."

She was still missing the point. "Whaddya mean?" She asked quietly.

Good, she was talking now.

"The reason I asked you if you enjoyed any of what you did, is because of how upset you were when I saw you."

She didn't seem to understand so I went on. "You aren't a stranger to enduring unpleasantness to reach a goal. So if it was just something you had to get through I know you could do it and move on."

And she had endured so many things, both bizarre and degrading.

"And so I ask again, Ranma Saotome." She looked so small in that chair now, so vulnerable. "With what happened in the shower with Hiroshi and Daisuke, did you enjoy any of it?"

She sat there, frozen. A minute passed, then another. Finally, without a word, she pushed her chair back, marched over to my booze cabinet, and retrieved another glass.

She gestured for me to fill it.

She sipped, grimacing slightly at the taste. Not a vodka fan.

"I don't know."

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And there it was.

I know her booze tolerance was extremely high. Akane had to jam an entire bottle of sake down her throat in one go to make her tipsy, and if rumors were correct, he had to bathe in a sake hot-spring to get fully plastered. So I don't think it was the booze that pulled those words out of her.

That meant what I was doing was working. Ranma was getting closer to my grasp.