Author's note: This story has a pretty long build up before it gets to the actual sex. It's more of an exploration of an erotic fantasy universe in which I've been daydreaming and scribbling. If you just want a quick fix, the sex starts a little less than halfway through.
***
"Go fetch me a whore for the evening, would you my dear? I'm coming over a bit randy. Jikk, give her some money."
Tecia Naywin beamed at her fat, balding husband, accepted a silk purse rattling with coins from his Chamberlain, and then rose from her seat. She'd been sitting on the carriage bench across from them, calmly reading a story. She put that aside when she stood. She had to double over almost to the waist inside the carriage, though, and the rough road meant she knocked her head a couple times even so. She opened the door to see scenes of the city passing by outside, then lowered herself to the step outside the door.
"We're not far from Ilson's manor, dear. You should have no trouble walking the rest of the way."
Tecia turned back slightly to acknowledge that she'd heard, then gave a small leap to carry her from the moving carriage down to the solid earth. Her husband's retinue saluted her dutifully as they trotted past.
She sighed and reached up to pat her brown hair. She tugged at the bodice of her dress to make sure the small jump hadn't left anything out of place.
In the throng of people walking on the street, Tecia stood out for a number of reasons. To begin, she was a beautiful woman. She had a curvy, hourglass figure with generous breasts like firm, ripe melons. The thin fabric of her dress barely hid her pert nipples and full, soft areola. She narrowed slightly in the middle to her waist and then, through the thin fabric of her dress, she showed the barest outline of strong, well-rounded hips and an excellent rump. There were other pretty girls on the street, but even among them Tecia still drew gazes.
Also, there was her dress. Noblewomen of Ellemal wore a very specific kind of dress. The bodice would be white or woven in House colors. The skirt could be in any color, though House colors were often chosen. But it was always hard to tell the color of the skirt, because there was an artful weave, long kept secret by the Tailors' Guild, that left them very nearly transparent but not quite so. A noblewoman's dress always showed the entire outline of her lower body, but none of the details. It always gave the impression that, if the light were just a little bit better, one could see everything. It was a false impression -- it was always just the outline and never the details no matter the lighting -- but it was an alluring one.
The priests of the Order of the Flame said the dress was good for reminding noblewomen of their place -- that however much station and rank they might have, they were still and always only a couple steps away from the night house. Tecia had been told that by her mother when she was old enough to begin wearing such dresses, and she would have told her own daughter if she were ever likely to have one.
When she first came of age, in her eighteenth summer, and she wore a lady's dress for the first time, Tecia had felt almost naked. But that was long past. It had been many years since she worried about why her dresses were the way they were. She simply wore them while she went about her life.
Now she scanned the crowd for prostitutes. None were to be found. Well, the carriage was heading toward Ilson manor -- to the east. That meant the market district would be to the west. No one built manors next door to banks and trade houses -- or night houses.
She walked west, smiling at each commoner who averted his eyes or sketched a salute. She pondered -- not for the first time -- how many of Ellemal's social conventions were built on polite fiction. Wives were best for picking prostitutes for their husbands because they had experience of what he liked in bed. Hah! She'd had about ten direct experiences with that before he got her with child. Once the child turned out to be a boy, and there was no more reason to produce an heir, it was his harem girls who got all the experience -- or hired prostitutes. The only reason she was good at the job now was eight years of observing what kinds of girls worked and which got her yelled at the morning after.
Brown hair. Large breasts. Generous, rounded hips. And plenty of fur between her legs for him to run his fingers through.
In short, her husband liked girls who looked like her. In a way, that galled -- it meant she had been chosen as a wife based only on her appeal in bed, rather than any advantages of her House or her schooling. But in other ways it was pleasant. Her husband must still find her pretty, if he found girls like her pretty. Which meant there was at least some chance -- perhaps if they ever visited a tiny village with no night house -- that she would enjoy his bed once again.
She knew she was getting close when she began to pass nude women on the streets. Common prostitutes weren't allowed clothing, the better to make sure everyone knew they were available. Blondes, brunettes, redheads -- they breezed by her, barely remembering to sketch the most casual salute. Their interest was in the males on the street, not a lone lady.
None of them, alas, were quite the kind her husband enjoyed.
She found her way to Peach Spice, a prosperous looking Night House, after about fifteen minutes of walking. Outside was a sign with a picture of a peach, but like all Night House art, it put one in mind of a woman's flower more than an actual peach. One of the prostitutes who worked there stood nude on a pedestal outside, dancing and swaying her hips, trying to entice passers-by.
Tecia walked in through the open arch; there she found the usual Night House layout. The House Mistress smiled at her from where she held court in a fairly nice chair, guarding the door to their silver room. A burly, scowling male guard stood behind her, back to the door.
To Tecia's left were silk curtains concealing the staircase to the high prostitutes' chambers. Another man stood guard beside those. Tecia knew by the weight of her purse that she'd been given enough coin to hire a high prostitute, but she wasn't about to make that mistake. Her husband enjoyed a healthy bush around a flower, and high prostitutes usually shaved.
To her right was another open arch, from which emmanated grunts, coos, giggles, moans -- the sounds of whores at work. That was where she'd find a girl fit for her husband.
The house mistress rose from her throne. She was getting on in years, and her hair was now more white than gold, but she had clearly been a beauty once. Night house mistresses were almost always former prostitutes who had outgrown the work. She smiled and curtsied, then held out a cup of tea. Tecia took it, sipped, handed it back, then smiled back at her.
"What is my lady's husband's pleasure this fine day?" the Mistress asked, after sipping from her own teacup.
First she had to endure some conversation with the house mistress about what her husband liked in girls -- all of it lies, since she could never publicly admit to his vulgar tastes. Then she had to go search among the high prostitutes -- a complete waste of time, since they were all too fancy for him, but necessary since nobles were expected to want noble prostitutes. Then she had to pretend to be about to leave, and agree to look among the common whores only as a matter of courtesy to the mistress. It was all fake, both women knew it, but none of it could be skipped.
When the preliminaries were finished, Tecia headed for the common room. The mistress offered her a large cup of tea to take in with her, and Tecia walked in to brave the common room. Even after years of doing this task, it still made her... uncomfortable. Any good noblewoman would hate a night house common room, of course.
The fact that Tecia didn't hate it was what made her uncomfortable.
The first bed she passed was occupied by a whore and her client. She tried her hardest not to look at all as the man took his sweaty, grunting pleasure.
Ladies didn't like sex. Ladies were happy once they bore a son, and could expect not to have to do it any more. Ladies most certainly did not feel warm all over when they saw a common man roughly stuffing some cheap whore; they didn't feel the first traces of dew on their flower at the powerful, musky scent of his pleasure. And no lady would ever, EVER envy a prostitute.
Tecia clenched her jaw and walked on, trying to ignore her body's reaction.
She passed bed after bed. Some were occupied by waiting prostitutes, who all smiled eagerly at her, hoping to be chosen. To be hired by a lady to come home and please her husband meant a whole night of only one client, taking her ease afterward, and all the while being paid more than she would have made staying here and servicing many men.
But all of them had something slightly off: breasts not large enough, too skinny in the hips... something.
Finally she found a likely prospect. The girl had long brown hair, well below her shoulders, and remarkably it still looked freshly washed. She must not have been very busy today. As she lounged on her bed, Tecia could could see the full thatch of soft brown hair between her legs, and the heavy way her soft, heavy breasts fell to the sides.
"May I offer you a sip of tea?" she asked the girl.
She stood up and smiled, accepting a sip from Tecia's cup. Tecia sipped as well. Facing her, Tecia discovered, was almost like facing a looking glass. This prostitute would suffice, she knew already, because the woman was a virtual mirror image of herself. Oh, there were differences -- the prostitute had higher cheekbones, her hair was longer, her eyes weren't quite the same color -- but still, the resemblance was remarkable.
It made Tecia angry. If Count Naywin wanted women who looked like this, why couldn't SHE get stuffed?
"My name is Tecia Naywin. My husband is Count Bon Naywin. He's visiting town, and asked me to find him a prostitute who could entertain him tonight."
The girl saluted her with open right hand touching her left breast, palm down. "I'm Oira, and I would love to serve your husband tonight. Thank you so much for gracing this humble public woman with your attention."
When she dropped the salute, Tecia cupped the girl's left breast and hefted slightly. Soft skin but firm, more than filling her hand, and a pleasant weight, not quite so large as her own but very nearly -- her husband would approve. She walked around behind the girl and squeezed a cheek of her rump, finding it firm and soft.
