The second-story bedroom was as grubby as expected, but that didn’t bother Farris in the slightest. A frigid draft came down from somewhere amongst the rafters overhead, bringing a hint of condensation to his breath. A thick candle stood tall on a bedside table, tears of wax running down its sides as it burned.
Lucy was already laid out upon the bed, naked as the day she was born. That day wasn’t all that long ago, but Farris tried not to focus on that minor detail.
She’s young enough to be your daughter, said a voice from somewhere at the back of his mind, but he ignored it. He focused instead on the dark nipples on the centre of Lucy’s supple breasts, covered in silky fur gilded under the candlelight.
“Do you always keep girls like me waiting?” she asked, shifting amongst the sheets to drape her legs over the bed, the manoeuvre as smooth and rehearsed as a gymnast’s act. She smiled and leaned her head to the side, revealing every inch of her prominent jawline.
“No,” said Farris, promptly pulling his shirt off. “There aren’t many like you.”
She laughed, doing a rather convincing job of making it sound genuine, but Farris hadn’t meant it as a compliment.
There are none as green as her, or as naive to the way the world works. She’d mistake a mercenary for a knight if she ever went to Cruachan.
That same, strange thought from before began to form in his mind, but Lucy was walking towards him now, one step right in front of the other.
“None like me?” she said, reaching out towards Farris’s waist. “But we haven’t even begun.”
She fumbled at the knots holding up his trousers, clumsily undoing them one at a time, digging her nails into each loop as she went.
Nicole probably would have figured that out in seconds, he thought, just as the last knot was undone and the trousers fell bundled to the floor. Only as Lucy put her hands against his smallclothes, did he realise how strange a thought that was.
He shook his head, trying to vanquish the memory of Nicole’s smile.
Skies above, it was only a smile. A firm hand grabbed hold of his exposed member, quickly bringing him back to reality.
“Is something… wrong?” asked Lucy. She took another step closer to Farris; something he wouldn’t have thought possible. “We can take more time to—”
“It’s fine,” said Farris, taking one of her dainty little hands in his. He gritted his teeth in frustration, and his heartbeat quickened.
Don’t think about it. Just focus on this now.
He stooped his head closer to hers, and planted a quick kiss on her lips, though he couldn’t taste much over the thainol on his breath.
Lucy pressed her mouth against his with a surprising force for Simian of her size. Both of her hands grasped at the nape of his neck, pulling him towards her. He loosened his body and let her spin him round until his back was facing the bed.
“Relax,” she whispered, gently pushing him down onto the mattress. “I’ll take it all from here.”
He landed on the bed softly, and Lucy was on top straight away, both legs straddled over his own. She leaned forward, palms stretched out against his chest, and shifted herself towards his hips.
A slight look of confusion crossed her face, but she quickly resorted back to her calming, seductive expression.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said sitting straight up, giving Farris a full view of her naked torso. “We’ll take all the time you need.”
Farris closed his eyes, but flashes of images from the meeting kept interrupting his attempt at tranquillity. The way Nicole looked up to the Silverback, the way she and Garth seemed to share some secret between them….
Lucy. Focus on Lucy.
But even as he let his eyes roll over every inch of her body, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of life choices would cause a girl so young to turn to whoring.
What was it she said about her father? he thought, now making no attempt to react to her kissing. She was down at his chest now, groping through his thick fur. He wasn’t around. That’s one thing they all have in common.
She pressed her lips against his again now, her hands moving furiously beneath his small-clothes.
He was a traveller, or a sailor. Someone who told her all about the Seachtú, distilling false tales of the wealth and wonder of the aristocracy.
She moved to his neck, lips and tongue working their way to his chest.
Such a shame, he thought, looking back up at the ceiling. She’d probably be proud to work in the Grey Keep, emptying chamber-pots for the lords and ladies of—
A pang of realisation struck his chest. He breathed in deeply, but Lucy mistook it for a reaction to her, and began working even more enthusiastically with her hands.
“Your father, what was his name?”
She looked up at him, something between horror and confusion in her eyes.
“What?”
His heart pounded as he felt his chest constrict. The images from that night long past came flooding back. The waterfront. The canal. The tavern.
“You said your father worked on an airship. What was his name?”
He barely noticed that he had grabbed her arm now, pulling her towards him, desperate for her to say a name, any name, that wasn’t the one he thought of.
Terror struck her face, and instead of answering, she screamed.
It was only now that Farris realised how tight his grip was. He let go, and the door to the room slammed open. The Simian bouncer came thundering across the room, grabbing Farris beneath both arms and shoving him off the bed.
Farris didn’t give a fight as he let the bouncer pull him down the stairs.
