Cold, steady rain hissed against the mantle of the gas lamp, the dim light casting more shadows than illumination in the gloomy afternoon as people hurried past. Strangers made faceless by wide brimmed hats pulled low and collars of oilskins and peacoats flipped up, great sheets of muddy water cast into the air with by leather boots in their haste.
Shia stood motionless, the rain falling on her long, red gold hair to cascade down her chill cheeks and bare chest, nothing more than a half seen ghostly shape in the inky depts of the alley.
A man, tall and wide shouldered glanced into the alley as he passed before taking a stumbling half step away into the muddy cobblestone street. She could taste his sudden surge of fear, savor the spike of his emotions before he convinced himself that it was only a scrap of laundry hanging forgotten from a line seen in the depths of the alley. He turned and hurried away at almost a run, Shia amused at his reaction without a smile ever touching her pale lips.
The crowd continued to flow past, calloused hand and hunch shouldered stevedores next to the finer dressed chandlers and apprentices passing the alley oblivious the predator that lurked within.
Shia cocked her head slightly as a man paused, lean, long armed and spidery, a topman from one of the many ships tied up to the quays.
'Are yea seekin' a l'lle company, a warm lass ta help pass this cold night?' Shia asked without making a sound, her lips never moving.
The man took a step towards the alley, his heart surging with adrenaline at Shia's suggestion, his eyes transforming the limp, torn shreds of the wet linen camisole into a sheer silk gown, Shia's alabaster skin into the pink glow of youth.
"Aye, I might be at that," the sailor said causing a passing man to glance sharply in his direction and hastily move away.
'Two shillings an I'll be keepin' yea warm all night,' Shia replied and took a gliding step backward deeper into the alley.
The sailor licked his lips and took a step forward, his eyes drawn to the sight that he saw, Shia's dark areolas beneath the sheer white cloth tented out by her hard nipples. His eyes darted lower at the darker hint between Shia's thighs. The sailor nodded and stepped into the alley, Shia reaching out a hand to take his before leading him on.
The man suddenly flinched at the sudden cold of Shia's hand in his own before his mind's eye changed her cold, clammy gasp into the long, slim handsome pink fingers of a young maid.
"I be Jacob of the Iona, and you?" the sailor asked.
Shia turned back with an actual smile playing across her lips, the taste of the sailor's emotions quickening her so that her alabaster skin took on the slightest hint of a blush.
"Shia," Shia replied, her voice a silken purr barely heard over the patter of the rain.
Shia reached behind her and opened a door, the tenement only three tiny rooms for a family of five. A coal fire sputtered and seethed in a potbelly stove, the room warm with a dozen candles already lit to cast a yellow glow. The extravagance of so much coal wasted, so many candles set to waste would have caused untold anguish to the family who had called the hovel their home only yesterday. But yesterdays were worlds away, the family no longer needing to worry of such extravagance from where they slept eternal in what had been the children's room.
"Shia," Jacob said breathlessly as he closed the door behind him, "Name the port, yer a fine a whore as I've ever I seen!"
Shia smiled again and let the tattered and ripped remains of the linen camisole slip from her shoulders to fall to the floor. Jacob's eyes crawled over her naked body, Shia tilting her head back to savor his thoughts and emotions.