The working girls drift toward us, drawn like moths to gold.
“You’re a big boy,” a young girl with tight blonde curls giggles, leaning onto the table to give Kalix a better view of her cleavage.
“You have no idea,” he replies with a wink, taking a slow sip from the drink the waitress delivered before the round began.
She soon ends up in his lap, giggling while we play. Occasionally, she presses her hips back into him with every excuse to shift against him. Despite his charming smile and flirtatious remarks, I can feel that his thoughts are elsewhere. Iris. He’s trying to stay present; she consumes him.
A woman approaches me with deep black hair and blue eyes, she’s breathtaking, which gives me pause.
“Hey handsome,” she purrs. Her voice lulls over me like smoke. “You look lonely. I can fix that.” Her hand slides boldly up my shoulder.
“Come,” I say, leaning back in my chair and parting my legs before patting my thigh. “Keep my lap warm.”
She straddles me without hesitation, her ass soft and plush against my lap.
I slip a hand across her hips to her pelvis, guiding her back until she’s flush against me.
“You’re demanding; I like that,” she murmurs, glancing over her shoulder. Her grind is slow, she’s teasing me.
A predatory grin tugs at my lips. “Let me finish my hand; then I’ll play with you.”
Focusing on the men playing cards, I still manage to keep a mental note of where the girls are.
Iris leans over a bar, laughing and chatting with a group of men and the little devil accompanies her. Millicent’s presence has morphed into one that is rather inviting. The typical dark cloud over her is missing.
Glimpsing at to them occasionally to ensure no issues arise, I find it fascinating how these men will see women as both sweet girls and those they can fuck. In reality, Iris is inside dead things all day and Millicent would probably eat all four of men absorbed in them within a few minutes.
Wolves in sheepskins.
THE CARD GAME YIELDS MORE than coin. Merchant woes, extra marital affairs, and personal tastes slip out between sips of alcohol and ego. I focus on the more submissive men, those who prefer to be dominated. That’s where our manipulator will strike.
My next lead is perched on my lap, sipping the drinks I keep feeding her. She thinks she’s seducing me.
The game will wrap up soon. I refrain from scouring the minds around me just in case a manipulator lurks nearby. My defenses must remain high. Once the game ends, the real work begins. I get to have my fun and extract what I can from her between whispered promises.
A commotion stirs the room in a wave of laughter that cuts through the smoke-drenched air. I glance up, scanning until I see her.
There she is.
Millicent isn’t entertaining four men. She’s enthralled an entire circle now. They’re slouched on floor cushions, dazed from whatever herb they smoke that drifts around her.
Her laugh, fake and lilting, rings out while she is passed from lap to lap, treated like meat in a pack of starving dogs.
She lands between two men. Their mouths descend, one to each side of her neck.
I watch, captivated, as her head falls back, exposing the soft column of her throat like an invitation. Her back arches. Her breasts push forward, and she parts her mouth in false pleasure.
One man slides his hand beneath the high slit of her gown, brushing the inside of her thigh. The other palms her breast.
Desire spikes with the next beat of my heart, driving straight through my chest to my cock.
The woman on my lap, Morana, I’ve learned, grinds against me again, mistaking my arousal for interest. Her pride blooms with the motion.
Millicent halts any further exploration. With a coy smile, she rises and takes one of the men by hand to lead him through the crowd toward the stairs.
What are you up to, little devil?
Morana leans close, her breath a teasing whisper against my ear. “Take me somewhere quieter.”
