Anatoly leaned in, grinning over a mug of frothy ale. "Come on, mate. I know you've never done this before," he rasped, his voice coarse and breath reeking of stale beer. "It's been, what, three weeks since we got back to the city? You really need to finally get your rocks off." He slapped his hand on Bram's shoulder, nearly causing him to spill his beer.
Bram shot him a look and got an amused grin in response.
"No," he muttered, shifting in his seat to put some space between himself and Anatoly. "I have to work in the morning. And I'm not a whore-fucker."
The way he said it, as if it were some great achievement, made Anatoly burst into a fit of drunken laughter. Bram just stared into the distance, taking a long sip from his drink. A few strands of brown hair clung to his sweaty forehead, and his grey eyes remained unfocused, lost in thought. He was a big man, but his lack of experience with women had always been obvious. His awkward reactions to Anatoly's dirty jokes had long since become a running gag among their comrades.
The heat of the room was nearly stifling, filling the air with the mingled scents of sweat and smoke. But the silver lining--for Bram, that is--was that most of the women around wore light clothing, some in thin white shirts that clung to their generous curves in the summer heat, revealing glimpses of their nipples. It was just enough to keep a soldier's gaze lingering.
Anatoly, a man in his late thirties with a sizable beer belly, let out a long sigh and wiped his ale-moistened lips with his sleeve."You've never fucked one, that's true, but I bet you're aching to get your dick wetted, ain't ya, lad? So I don't see what the problem is."
Bram snorted. "Look, spending gold on that kind of thing... it just feels wrong, you know? Like there's no honor in it."
Anatoly smirked, leaning back. "Huh? And who exactly are you trying to impress with all this honor, my friend?"
Bram rolled his eyes. "Maybe not you. Paying for a quick fuck--that just screams desperation to me. Guess it suits you perfectly." He spat to the side and took another sip.
The waitress who'd brought their drinks shot them both a questioning look before backing away, and Bram could almost hear her laughing about it with the others in the kitchen.
Anatoly, too drunk to care, just shrugged off the insult. "Yes, you're anything but desperate, my friend," he said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. "Say what you want, lad. But you're the one here who's never been laid. I doubt you'll have many chances before you die." He said it as casually as if he were announcing the weather. "If I were you, I'd take the opportunity while you can."
Bram's fingers clenched around his mug. In just a few days, he'd be leaving the city for the frontlines, and he didn't need anyone reminding him of that looming reality. He took a long, deep sip, closing his eyes as he drifted into thought. He didn't want to consider Anatoly's words, but the reality of the situation was hard to ignore. He really needed a break. A release.
Anatoly groaned, rolling his eyes at Bram's silence. "C'mon, lad. I'm really worried you're going to spend your last days of freedom alone in this tavern," he said in a mockingly sweet tone, tapping his temple with a finger. "Or maybe you're gonna go to the shrine instead and ask the pretty priestesses if she needs some dick inside her while you're here? I know that she has a thing for you."
Bram's gaze snapped back to Anatoly. "That's none of your business." He straightened up in his seat and narrowed his eyes, feeling embarrassed--especially since Anatoly's words had brought an image of the pretty priestess to mind. And her pretty, round ass, when she was praying on her knees.
Anatoly's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, ho! I think I hit a nerve." He gave Bram's shoulder another hearty pat. "I get it, boy. It gets lonely--I know it well, trust me. Been there myself." He gestured toward the door. "Believe me, the girls at the Red Door know what they're doing, and they'll take care of that little friend of yours. They like soldiers like us and would be more than happy to welcome a big lad like you. You know no priestess would ever let you get that far, no matter how much you beg or pray." He laughed, fishing some coins from his pocket and tossing them on the table to cover the ale. He looked ready to head out.
Bram scowled, well aware that Anatoly was only trying to rile him up.
"You know," Bram said, fixing him with a blank stare. "I don't know what I'd do without such a good friend like you." He sighed, and pushed his chair back. "I'm done hearing your bullshit. Let's just go and get this over with."
Anatoly smirked and stood up from his seat. "All right. That's the spirit," he chuckled, putting on his cloak, "I know the way, so just follow me, lad."
* * *
The Red Door was nothing like the fancy brothels with plush red curtains and ornate decor. From the way Anatoly had talked it up, Bram had expected something along those lines. Instead, he found a worn-down wooden building marked only by a red-painted door and a hefty iron knocker shaped like a lion's head. Anatoly swore it was the best place in the city--and Bram supposed he'd have to take his word for it, since he didn't exactly have a lot of experience in these matters.
Bram watched Anatoly push open the door and stride inside like he owned the place. Hesitating, Bram stepped in after him, immediately hit by a thick mix of sweat and overpowering floral perfume. He could hear a mix of moans and giggles and it all was making his head spin.
"Shit," he muttered, his stomach churning. "This was a mistake."
Anatoly turned, smirking. "Oh, quit whining. You're not backing out on me now, are you?" He spat to the side and let out a sharp tsk, shaking his head. "Come on, lad, don't make me drag you in by the collar."
Bram clenched his fists and forced himself to follow. "I can't believe I agreed to this," he said, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "... and that I'm supposed to spend my gold on some whore's pussy."
Anatoly chuckled, hands in his pockets, utterly at ease. "Just wait until you meet the girls, my friend," he said, giving Bram a sly grin. "I'd wager you'll change your mind."
The room was small but felt spacious, dimly lit by candles and flickering oil lamps that cast more shadows than light. A purple curtain partially divided the space, and from its edge, Bram glimpsed half-naked women moving around. He tried to avoid staring, but found his gaze drifting towards their smooth bodies bathed in the candlelight. At the far side of the room, a woman stood behind the counter, her pale skin and sharp blue eyes striking beneath a crown of dark hair. Bram could almost feel her weighing his pockets with her gaze, already guessing how many coins he had and how to make him part with them.
