Jasha Sill lay on his silk sheets, fingers locked behind his head, staring at the ceiling. If one had to be a prisoner, he figured, this was the way to do it. Still, for one such as him the boredom of routine and comfort were tortures enough.
It had been three days since he'd last escaped, but the memories of it were still vivid in his mind, bringing a small smile to his lips. Was there anything more beautiful and satisfying than looking a pretty girl in the eye while she came wildly from your ministrations?
Why yes,
he smirked to himself,
doing it twice.
He looked over to the hourglass and considered. It was past sunset, he was safe to leave until dawn. Emerald worked until midnight, though. Jasha ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. Then he laughed.
"Time for a good old-fashioned outing," he said aloud.
He got to his feet and closed his eyes, concentrating. This was the hardest part of the whole operation: the invisibility spell. While normal invisibility spell was as easy to him as clicking his fingers, it only worked on non-wizards, which precluded everyone in the whole Dome.
The darkness behind his eyes turned to a rich purple, and he wrapped the essence of the everyday invisibility around himself. Then, with a manoeuvre he likened to magical slight of hand, he turned it over another spell, then instantly back, letting the second spell fail. Voila. An invisible invisibility spell.
He let his power fade and opened his eyes. The mirror on the wall showed only an empty room.
Perfect.
He opened his door and quickly thrust his head out, checking that nobody was around; doors that casually opened and closed by themselves would tend to arouse suspicion.
The coast was clear, and he strode out, walking briskly but silently through the long corridor. He followed it to its end and turned right, then went down a huge flight of stairs, silently passing three of the Learned on his way.
Five minutes, eight spells and two picked locks later, he stood outside the massive marble dome and took a deep breath of the night air.
Gods, it's good to be out.
Without hesitation he made his way through the city streets, going ever downwards, both figuratively and metaphorically. He was headed for the Pickaxe district, that wild hub of violence and debauchery.
He walked with an eager tirelessness, all the while thinking of Emerald's body. In his opinion, she had the definition of a perfect ass. He'd noticed it with approval when he first saw her, but only when he'd seen in bare in the moonlight, tight and hard and milky smooth, had he realised the full extent.
He forced himself to stop fantasising after a while, noticing that he was getting the beginnings of an uncomfortable erection at the thought of those toned, round—
Just wait, you idiot. Look, there's Milliah's Chapel. Ten more minutes, at most.
He cleared his mind and noticed nothing else until he was standing, invisible, in front of the wide-open doors of The Rising Moon: a cheap, sprawling brothel. From the noise within, it sounded like the early rush was in full swing as labourers shrugged off their day's cares before heading out to get drunk.
The front room was small, home only to five doorways and a bored-looking nude girl. She was quite pretty, really, with big, pink-nippled breasts. This was probably why, at first, Jasha didn't notice that there were more people there. In an alcove to the right were an old, greasy man and a young burly one, sitting at a table, facing each other. They were playing checkers and swigging from a large bottle. Jasha, still invisible, decided to explore the place.
Through the first door was a room which was frankly horrible, the sort of room you would only find in a dump like this. Five dirty, rough men stood in a line against a wall, waiting and looking on, as two naked whores showed their hands' prowess. One of them was old, and might have been pretty in her youth. The other was fat, and was never pretty. Still, their two current customers leered and groped them as if they were queens, as they had their members pumped. Jasha left quickly.
The next door from the front led through a cramped, dingy hallway to two small rooms. Privacy, again, didn't seem to be an issue, with the rooms' doors wide open. In one of them a small, petite blonde sat, staring at the wall. In the other, a whore with a long, thin scar down the side of her ribs, was on her knees, unenthusiastically fellating a big, bearded man.
Cheapest to most expensive,
was Jasha's realisation of the layout. He ducked into the hallway and had to jump aside as another man made his way to the blonde's room.
Skipping over the next two doorways, Jasha, curious now, wanted to see the Rising Moon deluxe package.
Another hallway, much like the last, curved ninety degrees and opened out a spacious room which clean, and had seats, and even a large bed. The seats were occupied by five nude whores (none of them Emerald), gossiping and even laughing, paying no attention to the bed.
On the bed a red-headed, and now red-faced girl was gasping and whining in doggy-style position. A tall man, cleaner at least than any Jasha had seen here so far, was rhythmically thrusting into her.
Jasha, fighting off a moment's hesitation, moved closer to see. The redhead's ample breasts swayed and jolted beneath her. She cried out, and it seemed a little disproportionate. Jasha bent his head to look between the kneeling man's legs.
Wait, that's anal?
Jasha exclaimed to himself. The man's broad shaft was plunging into her back hole, stretching it wide. Again and again, he pushed himself into her tightness. Despite feeling sorry for the poor recipient, Jasha had to acknowledge the heat in his loins, his thickening cock.
He walked quickly from the room, and tried the next door down.
It was fourth time lucky. There were two small beds in this room. On one of them a man was ardently ploughing into a black-haired girl in the missionary position, her small hands on his back.
"Oh yes!" She was crying in what Jasha could tell was utterly fake pleasure.
On the other, Emerald was kneeling between a man's legs, holding his upright cock and running her wet tongue all over it. She began to pump it slowly with her hand.
"No!" The man cried, his voice slurred with drink, throwing her off him with a twist of his hips. "I told you not to do that, whore!"
He rose up to his knees. He brought up his arm to hit her, and Jasha saw not red, but gold.
OUTSIDE!
The command revealed Jasha's presence to the man's mind, even if not his eyes. He knelt where he was for a moment, then shook his head.
"Gods, I've left something in the alley," he mumbled, and got off the bed, looking for his clothes. He put them on hastily and stumbled out of the room. Jasha followed in his wake.
Out in the darkness of the side-alley the drunk became confused, and turned around in circles. Jasha let the invisibility fade until he was seen.
"A man doesn't hit a lady," he growled at the swaying man.
"Naw, but I never seen a lady, and you can belt a whore up some!"
"Addi!" Jasha roared, summoning one of the few words of power he knew to aid his next spell.
The man turned to fire for the briefest of instants, then to nothing.
Panting, and slumping down against the wall, Jasha tried to collect his wildly reeling mind. Certain words were not meant for mortals.
After a few minutes his thoughts returned, if not the strength in his knees.
What the hell was that?! Are you mad, are you trying to kill yourself? You're squabbling with riff-raff over a whore's honour now? Who are you?
Jasha couldn't find answers. The corner of his mind was raging, but the grand majority of it was still dazed.
He did eventually find the strength to stand, and later to stand without he wall's help. The fog was clearing, though he still felt like his head was underwater. He couldn't seem to capture himself completely.
When he'd regained some measure composure and equilibrium, he walked cautiously from the alley and back into the Rising Moon, this time visible. The woman behind the counter gave him a big fake smile, but he moved straight to the old man playing checkers.
"I want Emerald for the night," he said. The skinny man, who Jasha had correctly presumed was the owner, looked him up and down.
"She's working," he finally said. Jasha pulled a coin from behind his specially-designed collar pocket, placing it on the table.
You're using a Gleecoin to buy a
whore
?!
His brain shrieked.
That took weeks to create!
The old man's transformation was astounding. His eyes bugged as he looked at the golden disk, as if it were the most precious item on earth.
"I'll take her for the week," Jasha was on the point of saying, but then reconsidered. The Gleecoin was a greed-trap, of sorts: a satisfied man would find it only a pleasant, shiny object. This old goat had enough greed to transform it into a hundred diamond thrones.
"I'll buy her," he said simply.
No, no, no,
a part of his mind panicked, but he quashed it. "I take her, and you leave her alone."
At that, Jasha saw those grey brows knit in consideration. Emerald was surely a profit-maker for the brothel. But then, the Gleecoin would always be too much for one whose life revolved around money.
"Done," he finally conceded, and Jasha bowed slightly to him.
"Good health," he saluted, and walked to Emerald's room.
When he entered, Emerald – who had been sitting on the edge of her bed, conversing with her likewise unoccupied fellow worker – shot a fake, wall-eyed smiled in his direction. Then she recognised him.
Her eyes widened, and he thought he heard her gasp. The other whore, apparently did not.
